Chapter 39
Chapter 39
Calvin threw himself into his work; it was all he had. Two days after the arrests at his mother’s vow renewal, he gave a press conference to the island’s media, explaining that a long-term embezzlement scheme had been uncovered.
Along with the video of Archie Jr.’s confession, Bobby Troy had given them the entire story. Ready to wash his hands of the whole thing, he’d cooperated fully, explaining that he’d been taking payments for being the registered agent of the company. He had years of texts and emails that proved Archie Yarrow Jr. had been the leader of the scheme, siphoning public funds into his pockets via the companies.
There were falsified invoices leading back close to a decade. The most egregious of them had been the sheriff’s department renovation.
Daphne had spotted the inconsistencies as soon as she’d started looking into it. He wondered if someone else would have been able to untangle the old records. She popped into his head constantly. When he walked by the interview room that had been her office. When he had to approve work expenses for his team. Whenever he opened his freezer and saw that lonely pint of mint-chip ice cream.
Burying himself in work didn’t seem to help the way Daphne lingered at the edges of his consciousness day in and day out, but it was the only thing he had left.
A week after the vow renewal, Calvin drove to his mother’s house to pick Ceecee up for their hangout day. The weather was nice, so they’d planned to go for a hike around Fernley National Park. He mounted the steps that led to the front door, trying not to think of the moment Daphne had nearly fallen and he’d reached out to catch her. It was the first time he’d had her in his arms.
He’d thought it meant something. He’d thought he’d finally found the missing piece.
He was a fool.
Shaking his head, Calvin made his way to the front door and rang the bell. Ceecee’s running footsteps announced her arrival, her smiling face appearing in the doorway a moment later.
“Hi!” she said, and let him in.
“No running in the house, Ceecee!” his mother’s voice called out. She appeared at the end of the hallway and smiled when she saw Calvin standing there. “Oh, good! You’re here! I packed you guys some food and a thermos of hot chocolate for your hike.”
Calvin’s first instinct was to refuse his mother’s offer, but Ceecee closed the door and slipped her hand in his. He made his way to the kitchen, glancing around the room as he remembered the shattered glass and the panic he’d felt when he hadn’t known what Daphne was up to.
“You still like turkey clubs?” Eileen asked, glancing over her shoulder as she wrapped a sandwich in foil. “I wasn’t sure; I can make something else if you prefer.”
“Turkey club’s fine,” Calvin responded, frowning. “You remember what kind of sandwich I like?”
Eileen’s eyes filled with a flash of sadness, and she turned back to the food, fingers moving in deft, practiced motions as she wrapped the sandwiches and slid them into a bag. “Of course,” she answered, her voice artificially bright.
“I like ham and cheese,” Ceecee announced.
“Classic choice,” Calvin said with a solemn nod, and his little sister grinned.
Eileen packed their lunch, moving periodically to the stove to stir the hot chocolate warming in a saucepan. She poured it into the thermos and fit the lid before packing it in the same lunch bag. Calvin felt like he was watching a stranger. She hadn’t packed him a lunch since he was eight years old. He’d survived on peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, cereal, and crackers for years.
Now, decades later, she was packing him a perfect little lunch with hot chocolate and apple slices like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Ceecee said the two of you had fun at the driving range on Wednesday,” Eileen said.
“We were both terrible at it,” Ceecee said with a big smile on her face, “but I was better than Calvin.”
“Golf isn’t my strong suit,” he conceded, a smile finally curling his lips. He relaxed into a chair as his mother worked and Ceecee chatted, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. Ceecee jumped up from her chair when Eileen asked for help putting the sandwich fixings away, the two of them moving in the kitchen like they’d done it a thousand times.
He watched his mother bend down to kiss Ceecee’s head when they were done, a soft “Thank you, honey. Have fun with your brother” whispered into her hair, and wished he wasn’t so bitter. He wished he could see the efforts his mother had made to make amends, wished he could forgive her for all the ways she’d failed him.
When everything had exploded with Archie Jr., Calvin’s first instinct was to look at his mother with suspicion. Had she known about the embezzlement? Had she been involved? What about her husband?
So far, he hadn’t been able to find any evidence of culpability pointing to either of them. From what he gathered, their relationship with Archie Jr. had never been close. It should have been a relief, but as he sat in her kitchen and watched her be a mother to his half sister, he realized a part of him had wished she were a criminal. He wished he could point to her and say, See? I knew she was rotten.
Instead, he had to face the reality that his mother wasn’t the evil, neglectful, selfish monster he’d thought her to be. She was human. She’d gotten pregnant with him at seventeen. She’d had to struggle her way through her young adulthood; Calvin knew exactly how that felt. He’d come out the other side. Was it so unbelievable to think that his mother might have done the same?
Now they were both here, dancing around the edges of a relationship neither of them knew how to approach.
Like they always did, his thoughts turned to Daphne. Outside the holding cell, she’d told him their connection had been real for her. Maybe that wasn’t a lie. Maybe, just like his mother, she was a complicated, messy person who couldn’t always see through the tangle of her own emotions. She made mistakes, just like they all did.
Just like Calvin did.
He knew what her ex had said to her, how deeply that had hurt her. When Calvin was hurt, he lashed out and self-destructed. When Daphne was hurt, he bet she retreated to the safety of her comfort zone.
He’d never told her how he felt because, he realized now, he was waiting for her to take that leap, just like he’d waited for her to come to him physically. Wasn’t she in a better position to put her heart on the line than he was? With her family and her privilege and all the support she took for granted? Intelligent, determined, dependable Daphne who could take the world on and win.
Wounded, lonely, tentative Daphne who worked so hard to live up to sky-high expectations.
Had he expected too much of her?
If he had, why did it feel so impossible to forgive her?
“Here,” Eileen said, handing the lunch bag over to Calvin.
He took it and thanked her, then followed Ceecee to the front door. Ceecee had her hiking boots on in minutes and was out the door like a rocket, but Calvin found himself lingering on the stoop. He turned back to his mother and watched the way the spring sunshine lit the tired lines of her face.
“Thanks again for this,” he said, lifting the food.
The smile she gave him reminded him of Ceecee. Bright as the midday sun. “I’m just glad you’re here,” she told him. “Ceecee lights up every time you guys make plans together.” She hesitated, brows drawing together slightly, then said, “If you wanted to come for dinner sometime during the week, we’d all love to have you—”
“I’ll think about it,” he said, knowing he was being rude for interrupting her but not able to accept yet another peace offering. Not right now, when he was confused and hurt and alone.
“Sure,” Eileen answered, painting another smile on her face. This one trembled at the edges, and it didn’t reach her eyes. It was familiar, that smile, and it still hurt to see it on his mother’s lips all these years after his father’s death. “You just let me know, and we’ll put out another plate.”
“Come on!” Ceecee called out, waving from the bottom of the hill. “Let’s go!”
Calvin snorted, nodded to his mother, and followed his little sister to the truck. They spent the day looking at moss and mushrooms and centuries-old trees. Ceecee talked so much they didn’t spot a single animal, but Calvin didn’t care. They sat on a bench overlooking a cliff with waves crashing at their feet, ate their sandwiches, crunched on apple slices, and sipped warm, rich hot chocolate.
Ceecee wiggled over on the bench so she could lean against him, then said, “Why does Mom always get sad when you come over?”
Calvin jerked. “What?”
“She tries to hide it, but I can tell. Is it because you’re mad at her? She told me she wasn’t a good mom to you when you were my age.”
Calvin kept his eyes on the San Juan Islands in the distance, tracing the hazy horizon as Ceecee’s words sank in. “She said that?”
“Yeah. Is it true?”
Not knowing what to say, Calvin took a sip of hot chocolate. Finally, he admitted, “It’s true.”
“And it hurt your feelings?”
A huff slipped through his lips. It was funny how a nine-year-old could distill years of pain into one simple sentence that encompassed it all. “I’m trying to forgive her,” he admitted, “but it’s hard.”
“My dad once told me that the hardest thing is to let go of bad feelings. But then he said that when you’re mad, you hurt yourself more than the other person, and that kind of made sense. Like one time, I was mad at my mom because I didn’t like this one girl on my soccer team and I didn’t want to go anymore, but she wouldn’t let me stop until the end of the season. But then my dad made me see that the madder I got about it, the less I enjoyed practice. So I tried not being mad anymore, and it worked. And then we won the championship.” She kicked her legs out on the bench, her gaze on the cold, crashing water below. “Being mad for the sake of being mad doesn’t help anything.”
She looked up at him and gave him such a hopeful smile that all Calvin could do was laugh. “That’s very wise of you,” he told her.
Ceecee nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
That evening, Calvin took the pint of mint-chip ice cream out of the freezer, grabbed a spoon, sat on the couch, and ate the whole thing in one sitting.