Chapter 29 Parker
PARKER
The house we were parked in front of told a hundred stories all on its own.
From the garden beds surrounding the front porch, their dormant flowers brown and waiting for the spring warmth to once again reach them, to the way the paint on the window shutters looked brand new, despite evidence of old wear layered beneath.
It was a single-story house with an old tire swing hanging off a giant oak tree in the yard. Christmas decorations were spread around the porch: a wreath hanging on the front door, and a snowman holding a Happy Holidays sign beside an aged bench.
It was a home, yet it held so much more than families and beds. The warm light emanating from the sheer-curtained windows boasted of home-cooked meals and laughing with friends. Warm fires and s’mores under the starlight.
It was a picture of everything I dreamed of wanting as a child. It was everything I hoped to give my own baby.
Beckham stared at the house, a heavy breath lifting his shoulders. I let him have however long he needed. Ten minutes later, he looked over at me with a look in his eyes that spoke a little of his fears, but a lot of his relief.
With a small nod of encouragement, I released his hand and grabbed the casserole dish and Tupperware. Beck eyed the movement, but with the way his nerves seemed to have a chokehold on him at the moment, he seemed to silently agree that the food was better off in my grasp than his.
We both got out of the truck and joined in front of the grille before he led me up the creaky porch steps. Beautiful garlands hung around the banister, tiny fairy lights weaved throughout. From the porch, I could smell sweet vanilla laced with a hint of cinnamon wafting from the house.
Without a knock, Beckham opened the storm door and let us in through the chipped oak main door.
“Ellis?” Beckham’s voice floated into the house as the warmth from a crackling fire in the small living room to the right surrounded us in comfort.
“In the library, hon,” a soft female voice replied from down a narrow hall.
Beckham took the casserole from me, disappearing for a moment to likely set it in the kitchen before appearing back at my side and weaving his hand in mine.
He led me down the hall. Paintings of horses and vast landscapes and herds of cows hung on the wall in rich wooden frames, some with people among the animals and nature, and others more bare.
We turned into a room with a wide entrance and were met with cherry wood shelves full of hundreds of books. The nostalgic smell of aged books hit me, bringing me back to winters in the library when I wanted to snuggle up with a book and not freeze in my parents’ house.
With her back to us, a woman with graying hair set a book on a shelf, attempting to squeeze it into a narrow slot between two others. The ends of the strands were a rich brown tinted with hints of red, while her roots grew in silver.
As she tried to shove one of the books to make more space, Beckham dropped my hand and crossed to her, leaning over her small frame to do the hard work for her. With an airy, sweet laugh that sent a wave of peace washing over me, she successfully shelved the book.
Beckham dropped his massive bicep, the muscle looking even bigger next to her, and looked down at who I presumed to be Ellis.
She faced him, brushing her hands on her faded jeans. “Thank you, dear. I think I may have one too many in my collection.”
She must’ve spotted me out of the corner of her eye, because her head swiveled in my direction. As soon as we locked eyes, a heartwarming smile lit her lips. I couldn’t help but do the same.
“There are never enough books,” I reassured her.
That only made her eyes brighten more.
“Ellis, this is Parker Summerhill. Parker, this is Ellis Swan. Garrett’s mother.”
A pressure like none I’d ever felt before lit behind my eyes, and I internally forced myself not to cry. The last thing this woman probably wanted was for me to sob at her feet the moment we met. To her, I was a stranger. To me, she was so much more.
With unhurried steps, she crossed to me, a slightly wrinkled hand held out. “Hi, Parker.”
I took hers, her skin soft and warm. “Hi, Ms. Swan. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Please, call me Ellis. And who might you be to Beckham?” Her eyes darted suggestively to my stomach, her eyebrows waggling with excitement. “He didn’t tell me he was having a baby.”
Beckham’s nervous laugh flitted up from behind her.
“I’m his girlfriend.” The title passed my lips with confidence, and it only made her smile widen.
“A girlfriend, huh?” She looked over her shoulder at Beckham. “Is this new?”
“As new as this house, Ell,” Beckham said.
She waved a hand in his direction, an incredulous puff of air coming from her. “You weren’t even born when this house was built.”
But one look at Beckham told me exactly what he was thinking. That he and I were fate. Written in the stars. In the making of the universe. We’d find each other in this lifetime, over and over again, and in every other.
Ellis, still grasping me, turned my hand over and inspected my fingers. “And is there a reason you haven’t put a ring on her finger?”
Beck rubbed at his neck, a sly smile tilting the corner of his mouth. “I’m working on it.”
Oh, the things I would do to him in this moment if Ellis wasn’t around.
“We brought shepherd’s pie,” I told her, figuring a change of subject would be appreciated by Beckham. She seemed like another mother to him, one who wouldn’t hesitate to grill him on his dating life. It was sweet, really.
She released my hand. A sort of heaviness settled in the air, yet she still kept that playful lilt in her tone.
“That boy brings me a casserole every other Sunday. First Sunday of every month, I get Garrett’s favorite dish.
” She cupped her hand on the side of her mouth, leaning closer like she was about to whisper a secret, though she barely quieted her voice.
“He just won’t leave me alone, you know? ”
Beckham’s brows rose, a palm plastered to his chest. “Me?”
I inched closer to Ellis. “Oh, trust me. I know the feeling.”
Ellis snickered while Beckham’s mouth popped open like he was hurt. “Maybe having the two of you meet wasn’t the grandest idea.”
Ellis looped her elbow with mine, leading me out of the library and to the kitchen where a small four-seater table sat beside a tiny counter. The space wasn’t large by any means, but it seemed perfect for her.
She let me go so she could grab plates and utensils, so I scooped up the casserole and Tupperware and brought them over to the table. They nearly filled the space, but she worked around it, putting out three settings. Beckham grabbed glasses of ice water, and then the three of us sat.
Across from me sat an empty chair that spoke louder than any person could. It screamed of memories and love and so many smiles.
It symbolized walking through the pain and never forgetting.
Beckham served all of us, and we began eating.
“You can’t bring a pregnant girlfriend into my house and not tell me,” Ellis chastised before taking a sip of water. “Are you the father? Or do I need to get my shotgun?”
Beckham’s eyes turned to saucers. “Ellis, no.”
She shrugged. “I’ve got to protect someone.”
She might as well have held the gun and shot it right through my chest, because a crater of hurt dug itself a home right there with her words.
Before, I might not have taken her statement as hard, but with a baby growing inside of me that I’d do anything to keep safe, it hit differently. How could you lose a child and ever go on? He was a part of her, and—
A frail hand covered mine where it was gripping my fork. I looked up, a trail of moisture making its way down my cheek.
But she didn’t speak. She didn’t tell me it was okay, or that I shouldn’t be sorry. She only gave me her eyes. Proof that she was still living. Still here. Still finding ways to cope and smile when all she felt like doing was suffocating.
I sniffled quickly, swallowing the trace of emotion in my throat. Swiping at my cheek, I said, “He’s Beckham’s.”
This time, Ellis’s eyes took on a sheen, but no tears fell. “It’s a boy.”
I nodded, and her hand slid away from mine to grab her fork again.
“Well, if he’s anything like Beckham was after he met Garrett, you’ve got your hands full,” Ellis commented before taking a bite of food.
“Hey. I wasn’t that bad,” Beckham defended.
“Shooting squirrels with BB guns, bursting my water pipes trying to dig a swimming pool in the backyard, snapping my couch in two when Garrett threw you at it during one of your wrestling matches.” Ellis’s shoulders moved from side to side, weighing the severity of each memory.
“Nope. Not bad at all.” But she cupped her hand around her mouth again, leaning closer to me, and whispered, “Prepare yourself.”
Beckham’s eyes narrowed playfully. “I heard that.”
Ellis feigned innocence, her gaze searching the room. “What? That must be the breeze. Those windows need to be resealed.”
“It’s on my list,” Beckham mumbled before having another forkful.
“List?” I questioned.
Ellis rolled her eyes. “That boy thinks he needs to fix everything around here. I tell him its charm—he tells me water leaks turn into black mold.”
“They do,” he grumbled as he brought his glass to his lips.
“The house is old,” she said by way of excuse. “You can’t get mad at it.”
“I can still fix it.”
Conversation flowed seamlessly as we finished dinner, stories of Garrett and Beckham coming up now and then.
I’d never met Garrett, as he and his mom lived a bit outside of Bell Buckle and I never left that small town, but it seemed that he and Beckham were a rowdy couple of teens when they got together, if her stories were any indication.
Ellis and I did dishes while Beckham did a quick second coat of paint in her guest bathroom. He’d recently taken out some moldy drywall and replaced it. There were only a few finishing touches to go, and it’d be done.
I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t put the pieces together that he wasn’t going to his family’s house every other Sunday for dinner.
Beckham had never really hid anything from me, though, so I hadn’t thought too far into it.
For some reason, asking felt like sticking my head where it didn’t belong when I already felt like I was intruding on his privacy by living in his double-wide.
But I’d have to get over that. We were different now that we were officially together.
The night passed as we sat around the fireplace in Ellis’s living room. As the flames died out, she hung on to every word we spoke. I almost didn’t want to leave knowing she’d be alone here, but when her eyes grew heavy, I knew we couldn’t stay forever.
“We’re going to head out, Ellis,” Beckham said, noticing the same thing I did.
He stood from beside me, holding out a hand to help me off the sunken couch.
I wondered if it was the same one they’d broken and she’d just never replaced it.
At first, maybe she’d hated it, but some items held memories you could never recreate.
While he helped me to stand, my back stiff and my mind fighting any hint of exhaustion, Ellis got to her feet as well. She folded the wool blanket that had been slung over her legs and draped it over the back of her sitting chair.
“You better bring Parker back,” Ellis started, and though her voice sounded tired from hours of talking, her teasing held firm. “I was getting bored just seeing you every visit.”
Beckham let out a small chuckle, pulling her in for a hug. “I know you love me.”
She patted his back, her arms barely making it around his torso. “I do.” She receded a step, setting a palm on his stubbled cheek. “So very much.”
Unspoken words passed between them, and I waited until they were done to move in for a hug of my own.
“No more handshakes?” Ellis asked as we squeezed each other.
“I think I like your hugs better,” I said.
“Good.” She smiled, bright and warm. “I do too.”
We said our goodbyes, and Ellis waited in the glow of the porch light while we got in the truck and drove off. Beckham’s large hand wrapped around mine on my lap, and I looked over to find a small, satisfied grin on his face.
“So this is where you’ve been running off to,” I said, stroking a thumb over his own.
He nodded. “Every other Sunday.”
“Since he passed?”
This time, his confirmation was a subtle dip of his chin. “I came for dinner on and off before, but without Garrett, Ellis has been lonely. Even though she doesn’t want to admit it. She says those books keep her company.”
I was sure they did. “Where’s his dad?”
“Died when he was young. It had been just the two of them since. And now…”
“Now it’s Ellis, you, and me.”
His eyes met mine in the dim light emanating from the dashboard, a hint of melancholy reflecting in them.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“I was scared,” he admitted.
My brows pinched. “Why?”
His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “Didn’t want you to think I was diving into this with you to cope with Garrett.”
My head swung back and forth of its own accord.
“I know you’re still grieving him, and if I had known, I’m sure that would have crossed my mind.
But we have a past, Beckham. A lot of what’s going on is new, but we’re not.
” I squeezed his hand. “You got me through some hard times. Let me hold you through yours.”
“Okay.” He squeezed me back. “I will.”
“Is he why you quit doing rodeo?” I asked carefully, not wanting to bring up too much after the emotional night.
“He is.”
Silence followed, and I let him decide if he wanted to branch out on that or not. He’d finally let me in on the pain he was feeling, and the last thing I wanted to do was push him too far.
“I just couldn’t do it anymore without him.” His voice cracked on the last word, and I held his hand a little tighter. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be sorry.” I wished for nothing more than to climb over the center console and hug him.
I didn’t ask any more questions, and when we were almost to his property, he spoke up.
“Thank you for tonight.”
“You don’t have to thank me. If Ellis is a part of your life, then she’s a part of mine too. That’s how family works.”
The word had him slowing the vehicle as he turned into his driveway, his gaze focusing on me while he let the truck cruise up the gravel, memory taking over as he’d done this a hundred times before.
As he shifted into park, eyes still on me, he wasted no time sliding off his seat belt and leaning over the center console to kiss me.