Chapter 50 Cecily
Cecily
With Dom's help, every member of the Hampton family is at the motor home within the hour.
"It's just a little snow," Kerrigan complains, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "It probably won't be enough to make a snowball. You know how the Arizona weather forecasters get about a little precipitation." She rolls her eyes. "So dramatic."
"A bit like somebody else I know," Savage Grandma volleys.
Kerrigan gasps, pretending to be offended. "Shots fired."
Dom and Duke load everybody's belongings into the RV. They are both quiet, their body language stiff.
"It's Cecily's turn to drive," Grandma says when we load into the vehicle.
"Absolutely not." My head shakes vehemently. "I have no intention of driving this thing at all, but especially in snow."
"I'll take her turn," Dom offers.
"Nope," Duke says, domineering as ever. "I'll drive."
"Whoever is driving, put your ass in the driver's seat and drive," Grandma commands, officially out of patience. "There are a few things I'd like to do before I die, and being stuck in snow is not one of them."
Duke takes his place as the driver. Dom and I sit at the kitchenette table, both working on our phones. I peek at his screen. It holds an email with nothing in the body or subject line. The recipient name is dee@
Duke nibbles at his bottom lip, lost in thought.
Gently, I elbow his ribs to get his attention. "You doing ok over there?"
With only a few inches between our faces, he lets his eyes travel over me. "Just fine. How about you?"
I nod, letting him know I'm ok. Better than ok. As I laid in bed this morning, waiting for Dom to return, I replayed our middle of the night conversation. Nothing monumental was revealed or said, but I came away with a feeling that was more important than anything else. Strength.
For so long, I thought my parents behaved the way they did in reaction to me.
Even if I knew the way they acted was wrong, I saw it as actions that were brought about because of me.
Last night was the first time I considered that their behavior belongs to them, and only them.
Putting this together was freeing and empowering.
I haven't forgiven them because they haven't asked for forgiveness, but one day it might be something I do on my own, for me.
Dom flicks on the light fixture attached to the end of the table.
Grandma goes back to the bedroom to lie down, and Rainbow accompanies her.
My dad has taken the passenger seat, and my mom and sister sit in the swivel bucket chairs on the opposite side of the RV.
The further we drive, the darker it gets.
The winding road gives way to towering pines with skinny trunks.
We pass a yellow caution sign warning us of elk crossings.
"Snowflakes on the windshield," Duke announces.
Like the snow-starved desert inhabitants we are, everyone is out of their seats and crowding around the front of the RV to see the sight. Everybody except Dom, who probably views snow as a nuisance after spending so many winters in the city.
"It's so cute," Kerrigan says, wonder in her voice.
I go back to Dom, snuggling into his side. "You don't want to see the snow?"
"I've never liked snow, here or anywhere else."
"I think you might live in the wrong place, Dom."
Dom gazes at me. "I think you might be right about that."
As we drive, the landscape turns into a winter wonderland. Grandma comes out from her rest, peering out the windows in awe like the rest of us.
The snow falls heavy now, in thick, wet clumps. The RV inches along, the visibility going from bad to worse.
Duke does his best, I'm sure, but we are no match for the snow in our giant, heavy vehicle. He guides the RV to a shoulder, not bigger than a small clearing, right off the road.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Dom says loudly, so Duke can hear. "We're going to get stuck."
Duke turns around, glaring at Dom. "What is it you think we should do?" he asks.
Dom motions outside, where the white falls in sheets. "It's probably too late."
"What does that mean?" Duke asks through clenched teeth.
"It means we are probably already stuck."
Duke turns to face front again, staring out the windshield. Hands on the large steering wheel, he presses a foot to the gas pedal.
And then comes the sound nobody wants to hear. The rev of the engine, followed by the spinning of tires.
We are stuck.
I share a look with my mom and Kerrigan. Mom, always useless in a crisis, retrieves a bottle of champagne from the fridge. She pops the cork, sips, and hands it to Kerrigan.
Duke and my dad open up the door and step out, a blast of cold air whipping through the RV.
"I better go see if they need help," Dom says.
I scoot off the bench so Dom can follow. After a few minutes, I make a decision. "I'm going to go, too," I say, grabbing a sweatshirt and threading my head through. Somebody has to make sure Duke and Dom don't end up in fisticuffs.
The three of them stand at the rear of the RV, examining the way the tires spit snow as they spun. Tension rolls off Duke, his jaw set tight.
"How's it going?" I ask, because I don't know what else to say.
Duke explodes. "What kind of stupid fucking question is that, Cecily? How does it look like it's going?"
Here we go. Looks like it'll be me and Duke going round for round.
But I didn't account for my husband.
He steps in front of Duke, big and broad-shouldered and defensive. "You might be her brother, and you might have a problem with me, but you watch your tone when you're talking to my wife."
Despite the cold, I've never felt warmer. More safe. More loved.
"Oh shit," Kerrigan sings. I didn't know she and my mom followed me out, but there they are, huddled together and snuggled up with their bottle of champagne. Grandma and Rainbow stand beside them.
Duke sneers. "Your wife? Don't you mean the person you got drunk and convinced to marry you in Vegas?"
"Thanks a lot, asshole." I turn to Kerrigan. "Thanks a lot to you, too, big mouth."
"Sorry," she hollers.
"You said you got married in Vegas," my dad says.
Oh goody. My dad has decided to be flabbergasted.
"I did," I grit out.
He sends an accusatory look at Dom. "You made it sound like Vegas was where you chose to get married, not that you got drunk and then got married."
Snow trickles into my sandaled feet. "It's Vegas. Alcohol consumption is implied."
He rubs his hands together, presumably for warmth. "I guess we're back to the beginning."
Snow falls, and I square off with my dad. "What does that mean?"
"You're getting an annulment, just like I told you to from the very beginning."
"First of all, no. Second of all, an annulment is not an option."
"Why, because you've slept together?" Duke scoffs. "Who cares? Lie."
I take Dom's hand. "An annulment is not an option because we want to be together."
Duke blows out a harsh breath. "You won't want to be with him when I tell you what I found out about his father."
Dom cuts in. "I talked to my dad this morning, Duke. He explained everything. And I told Cecily everything, too."
"And I don't care," I say to Duke, chin tipped high.
"Un-fucking-believable," Duke yells up at the sky spitting snow on us. "Of course you don't care. Why would you? Why would you ever lift a finger for this family?"
I open my mouth to respond, but Duke is on a roll.
"You left," he spits at me. Then he points at Kerrigan, who at this moment is drinking champagne.
"She runs around doing God knows what. Who does that leave?
Me. I'm left doing everything for this family.
I've been left to deal with him." He points a stiff finger at our dad, who pales.
"And her," he says, pointing at our mom, who is now holding the champagne Kerrigan pawned off when Duke called her out. "You left, Cecily. You abandoned me."
"Kerrigan comes home," I say, defensive but not really.
"But not you," he says. "You never do."
Something in my chest fractures at the sight of my big brother breaking down. He's not angry, even if he sounds like it. He's hurting. And he has been, for who knows how long.
A loud engine roars from the other side of the RV, and we scamper around, our fight momentarily forgotten.
Duke throws up his arms at the sight of the snowplow. "Fucking figures. The snowplow was behind us."
"Great," my dad says. "Gives us time to figure out what you meant when you complained about being left behind to deal with your mom and dad."
Duke looks at him, and for what is probably the first time in his entire life, he simply says, "No."
Dad sputters. "What do you mean, no? Don't tell me you're going to start acting like your sister."
Duke strides over and swipes the bottle of champagne our mom holds by the neck. "Which sister?" he asks, tipping back his head and finishing the bottle.
Dad stares at him, not speaking.
Duke steps closer to me. Kerrigan steps forward, flanking me. Our dad looks us over, unsure of what we're doing. I'm not sure of what we're doing either, but we're together.
Another sound comes from the road, the rumble of an engine.
Around the crest of a turn appears a giant four-door pickup truck.
The vehicle pulls off the road, coming to a stop near us.
A man hops out and walks our way, a cowboy hat on his head.
He's tall and lean and, most importantly, not a grizzled old fart.
"Hello there," he calls, in that cowboy way. "Do you need some help? I have a chain. I can tow you out."
Kerrigan turns her lips to my ear. "I can think of some ways he can help me."
My lips press together to keep from laughing.
"That was louder than you think," Duke mutters. But there's mirth in his tone, and that's what matters.
The cowboy introduces himself. His name is Christopher, and he works at a ranch not too far away from here. "Quite a snowstorm," he says. "It came on hard and fast."