Chapter Seven – Avery
Chapter Seven
AVERY
My heart hammered in my chest. After he kissed my cheek so sweetly, I had to look away. The last thing I wanted was for him to see how much I’d wanted him to kiss me— truly kiss me.
“We should head back. Like you said,” I managed, as I stepped around him and headed to the door. I could feel Beck walking silently behind me, and I tried to ignore the way that made my body hum with awareness.
Friends. That was what we were, and clearly, that was all Beck wanted. It would do me good to remember that.
As we made our way down the hall, Beck’s phone went off. I glanced behind me to see him rejecting the call. It looked like he silenced his phone as well. Once we were back in the kitchen, all eyes were on us. My father frowned slightly, my mother smiled softly, Grandpa beamed with happiness, and Grams had tears in her eyes once again as she watched Beck’s every move.
“I showed Beck your office and a picture of Uncle Beck,” I said as I walked in and reached for the basket of rolls. I turned and started out of the kitchen and into the formal dining room, where it was clear we were eating.
“Did you have many photos of your father?” Grams asked Beck.
“My mother had a few photos. Truth be told, after I found the letters, I stopped looking through her personal items.”
“Letters?” Grams asked.
“My mother had some boxes that she asked me to go through after she’d passed. The first box had letters from Beck…um, my dad in there. That’s how I found out who he was. I, of course, knew his first name, but she had never told me his last name.”
Merit silently motioned for everyone to head into the dining room as Beck took the bowl of salad out of Grams’s hands. He set it on the table and then held her chair for her. My heart tripped over itself at the sweet gesture. My father quickly jumped up and went to get my mother’s chair. She shot him a scathing look, which caused Bradly and me to chuckle.
Bradly was still standing, so he mimicked Beck’s move with Mackenzie’s chair. When he sat down, he shot my father a smirk.
Mom gave them both looks that clearly told them they were idiots and to knock it off.
We all sat down, and Grams said a quick prayer.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do all the talking while we eat dinner,” Grams said. “But I would love to learn more about you; then we can talk about the letters after we eat.”
Beck placed a napkin in his lap. He was clearly raised with manners. Nodding, he reached for his tea and took a drink.
Grams picked up the large salad bowl with the help of Beck. “But let’s get our salads first.”
After we all got our food dished out, we ate for a minute or two in silence before Grandpa said, “Beck, did you know you were named after your dad?”
He quickly finished chewing, wiped his mouth, and answered. “I did. My mother told me very early on that I was named after my father. She didn’t give me much personal information about him, other than his name was Beck and his family lived in Montana. I asked her, when she was sick, why she’d never told me more.”
“What did she say?” Grams asked.
“She wasn’t sure if my father’s family ever knew about her, and she never wanted to bother you or make you feel obligated to accept either of us. I’m afraid my grandfather put a lot of that doubt into her head. Looking back over the years, and thinking about the things he would say to her, I don’t believe he wanted her to find out more about you all. He was afraid of losing her, I think.”
“That’s terrible,” Merit whispered. “Did she ever remarry?”
Beck shook his head. “No, much to my grandfather’s dismay. He’d always wanted her to marry the son of his closest friend and business partner. His name was Joshua Hannover. Another family in the oil and gas industry. My mom liked Joshua, but she always said she could never marry him. They were friends, and that was all. When I was a mouthy teenager, in my rebellious years, I asked why she couldn’t remarry to at least give me a father. She got so angry with me,” Beck said, actually smiling at the memory. “She told me if I ever suggested something like that again, she’d rinse my mouth out with soap, no matter how old I was. I was sixteen at the time. When I got a bit older, she explained that Beck was the love of her life, and that she could never imagine herself ever loving anyone the way she still loved him .”
Grams sniffled and wiped at a few tears.
Beck went on. “She talked about him a lot when I was younger. Never pertinent details, if that makes sense. More like…how brave and strong and protective he was. How he made her feel. And when I was struggling in any way, she would make up stories about him. When it stormed, for instance. I was always afraid of the thunder. My mother would tell me how my father loved thunderstorms and how they reminded him of home. I love storms now. They make me feel closer to…well… to him , I guess.”
My heart felt as if it was breaking in two. Poor Beck. Why had his mother never told him more about his father? It was so strange.
“As I grew older, the stories were less and less frequent. But she would often tell me I looked like him. That the resemblance was crazy. A part of me wondered if it made her sad.”
Grams reached for Beck’s hand. “No, don’t even think that. I would imagine it made her happy to see him in you. To know that she had a piece of him with her.”
Beck nodded. “I eventually stopped asking questions, and I didn’t really bring him up again until she was diagnosed with cancer. She told me all the information I needed to find my father’s family was in boxes that she kept in the attic. You would’ve thought I’d run to look for them, but it took me a few months to even walk into the attic after she died.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Beck,” Grams said, squeezing his hand.
“I am as well, son,” Grandpa added. “We know what it’s like to lose someone you love so much. It leaves a forever hole in your heart.”
Beck nodded, and then started to eat again.
Grams gave everyone several minutes’ reprieve before she spoke. “Tell us about you, Beck.”
He smiled and set his fork down, wiping his mouth once again. “Let’s see. I’ll be twenty-eight in July. I received my degree in petroleum engineering from Texas A&M, and I work for my grandfather. He also has a large cattle ranch outside of Dallas. When I’m able to, I sneak away and spend time there. I’d much rather be sitting on a horse than behind a desk.”
Grandpa and my father exchanged a knowing smile.
“My first airplane ride was here to Montana. My mother had one brother, so I have an uncle and aunt and some cousins. We don’t see each other often though. So I don’t really have a large family.”
“On your mother’s side,” Grams added with a wink.
Beck chuckled. “Yes, on my mother’s side. I, um…I enjoy hunting, working on the ranch, being outside. My mother and I used to go camping a lot when I was younger, and I wish I had the time to do that more often. I’m a sucker for chocolate ice cream, and this fruit dip my mother used to make with cream cheese. I don’t like sushi or swimming in the ocean, and I really don’t like fishing, much to my grandfather’s disappointment.”
A sob escaped Grams’s mouth, and Beck quickly looked over at her. She suddenly stood from the table and walked out of the room. Grandpa stood as well.
“It’s okay, you didn’t say anything wrong. Please excuse us a moment.”
Beck watched as Grandpa followed after Grams. He looked at my parents with a stricken expression. Daddy gave him a reassuring smile and shook his head. “Like Ty said, you didn’t do or say anything wrong. I think it all just hit too close for her.”
Beck looked at me, and I wanted more than anything to reach for his hand.
“Which part? Clearly, I must have said something ?” Beck asked my father.
For a moment, Dad seemed to be choked up.
Bradly cleared his throat. “Uncle Beck didn’t like to fish.”
Dad finally found his voice. “He hated sushi as well. He loved to camp, and his favorite place to be in the world was sitting on top of a horse. You may have never known your father, Beck, but you’re the mini version of him in more ways than just your looks.”
“I’m sure it simply just brought up a lot of memories for Stella.”
Beck nodded. “This was why I wasn’t sure whether or not I should even come. The last thing I want to do is hurt anyone or cause them pain.”
“You’re not.”
All eyes swung to Grandpa, who was standing just inside the entrance to the dining room. “Beck, would you mind if the three of us spoke alone together? We can heat up our dinner in a bit.”
Beck stood. “I don’t mind at all, sir.”
Grandpa smiled and motioned for him to follow. I craned my neck to see where they were going. Most likely, Grandpa’s office.
“You’re going to fall out of that chair if you lean any farther, Avery,” my mother stated dryly.
I sat back in the chair and pushed the pasta around with my fork.
“That’s crazy that Beck has so much in common with Uncle Beck,” Bradly said as he looked over to my father.
Mackenzie, who’d been silent throughout the meal so far, finally spoke. “I don’t think so. You have many of the same traits, and even the same likes, as your father.”
“Yeah, but I grew up with my dad, so it makes sense. Beck didn’t know his father. It’s like it was bred into him or something.”
Mom set her fork down. “My best guess is at some point in Beck’s life, his mother most likely told him little things about his father. Maybe that he didn’t like fishing or sushi, and subconsciously he took on those same traits.”
Mackenzie nodded. “That makes sense.”
Dad looked at Mom. “Do you think the fruit dip is the same dip?”
She laughed. “I don’t know, but I’m sure he probably told Heather about it.”
“What dip?” I asked.
“The cream cheese fruit dip that Grams always makes and everyone goes crazy over,” Dad said with a grin. “One time, I think it was Beck and Ty Junior who took a bowl of it and went up to the loft above the barn and ate it all. They were so sick afterward.”
“I love that dip!” Bradly exclaimed. “I think we should make some later, Kenzie.”
Mackenzie smiled at him, then sobered. “I feel bad for Beck. I wonder why his mother chose not to tell him who his father was. I mean, I know she told him that his family was from Montana, but why not tell him everything?”
“I’m not sure, sweetheart,” Mom answered. “Only she knows the reasons why she kept information from him. A part of me wonders if she was afraid as well.”
“Of what?” I asked.
Mom and Dad exchanged a look before she focused back on me. “Sometimes when we lose someone we loved so dearly, we want to keep ourselves wrapped up in the memories we shared with that person. Heather might have been afraid to see the other side of Beck’s life. She may have been worried his parents wouldn’t like her, or maybe the thought of little Beck being hurt by possible rejection was something she couldn’t handle. I think the words her father put into her ear didn’t help. It sounds like he was the one who’d instilled doubt into Heather’s mind.”
“How do you think Uncle Brock, Ty, and Tanner will react?” I asked.
“Probably the same as Stella and Ty Senior, I’d imagine,” Dad replied.
We went back to eating. When it was clear that Beck, Grams, and Grandpa weren’t returning to eat, we all cleared the table. Mackenzie and my mother put the leftovers in containers while Bradly and I loaded the dishwasher. Dad had cleaned and dried off the pots before he put them away. Just as he finished, his phone buzzed.
He took one look at it and walked out of the kitchen.
“What was that all about?” I asked no one in particular.
Mom shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
As if on cue, he walked back into the kitchen. His eyes were filled with concern.
“Dirk, what’s wrong?” my mother asked, making her way over to him.
“Brock’s on his way over here.”
“What?” the rest of us all said in unison.
“Why?” Bradly asked.
“I guess Stella told him we were all coming over for dinner. He texted and asked if we were done eating. I said we were. He said he was on his way over with something to discuss with me.”
My mother bit her lip. “We need to let Stella and Ty Senior know.”
Dad nodded, turned on his heel, and headed back out to do just that.
“Oh dear,” Mackenzie said.
“Oh dear, is right,” Mom said as she walked over to me and wrapped her arm around mine. “I think we’re going to get an answer to that question you asked a few minutes ago, Avery.”
I nodded. “The one about the uncles’ reactions?”
“Yep,” she said, popping the P. “That very question.”