CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Naomi
Lennox dropped Mabel off at Gabrielle’s, then hopped into Jagger’s truck with Maverick and Jagger so the guys could all head over to Tom’s for a beer.
Over the last month or so, this had become their thing.
Every Monday, they met at Tom’s, sat in beach chairs at the top of his pasture with an unencumbered ocean view, and talked about life.
The horses, donkeys, goats, and other animals frolicked behind them, while Portia flitted from one man to another for butt scratches.
I considered it a big deal that they were welcoming Lennox into their little group, especially since he wasn’t officially my anything yet.
Of course, when he messaged Tom to cancel and told him why, we were all quick to rally and figure out how we could help. It made sense that Mabel come here, and she didn’t seem upset about the idea at all.
Damon came out of his cave, and he, Austin, and Marco took off to go kick the soccer ball around in the driveway while Honor, Laurel, and Sam baked in Gabrielle’s kitchen.
Neither of those activities appealed to Mabel, but she seemed happy to hang out with my cousins and me, putting labels on wine bottles.
I’d given all three of my cousins a heads-up beforehand that some topics were off limits to ask Mabel. Particularly regarding her dad’s age and her mother.
“Why don’t you pay someone to do this?” Mabel asked, giving the bottle a thorough wipe with a cloth and rubbing alcohol before passing it to Gabrielle so she could glue the label on.
“We do have staff, and they start in a couple of days. But we’re very hands-on here. Also, the more we do and don’t have to pay others to do, the more money that goes back into the business and into our pockets,” I replied.
She shrugged. “I guess that makes sense. I don’t like the taste of wine.”
I snagged the gazes of my cousins and we all smiled. “It’s definitely an acquired taste. Maybe when you’re older.”
“Maybe. But probably not. I don’t think I’ll drink alcohol when I’m older.
Liver disease, a decline in cognitive function, impaired decision-making capabilities, heightened aggression.
None of that sounds fun to me. Besides, my grandfather was a horrible alcoholic and used to beat my dad.
Not that I want kids, but if alcoholism can run in the family, no thank you. ”
Lennox didn’t tell me that his dad was an alcoholic. He told me that he tried to kill Lennox when he found out that Kyla was pregnant with Lennox’s baby, and that he was abusive, but nothing about him being an addict.
I exchanged looks again with my cousins as we sat in the tasting room in the comfy booth.
“I’m really sorry to hear that about your dad and grandfather,” Gabrielle said slowly. “My father and husband were also alcoholics and abusive.”
Raina, Danica, and I all nodded.
“Ours too,” I said.
“So then why do you drink if alcoholism can be genetic? Aren’t you worried that you could become alcoholics? I’m constantly worried that my dad will. I hate that he’s off having a beer right now.”
Whoa.
“While I definitely think there is a genetic component to being more susceptible to addiction,” Gabrielle said gently.
“I think a lot also has to do with strength of personality. And reason. My reasons for not over-indulging in alcohol are numerous. I don’t like how I feel when I drink too much.
So I know when to stop. I also don’t want to be incapacitated in the event my children need me.
I also have no desire to put my children through what I went through as a child or a young married adult.
It was horrible. And those are just some of my reasons, and why I have the strength to stop, and know when I have had enough. ”
Danica, Raina, and I all nodded.
“I think your dad is the same, Mabel,” I replied. “He can enjoy one beer and not finish a six-pack. He knows what it’s like to grow up with a parent who drinks too much; he’s not going to do that to you. He has a strong enough personality to know when to stop.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She met my gaze. “Did you know he went swimming today? In the ocean?”
“Yes, Austin told me that he did. I’m guessing you don’t approve?”
“He could’ve died.”
“Well …” Raina said. “I doubt it.”
“Jellyfish, sharks, rockfish, urchins, barnacles and sepsis, undertows. There are so many ways he could have died.”
I met my cousin’s gazes for the umpteenth time.
“Honey,” Danica started. “While all those things are possible, the likelihood of them happening is low. You’ve probably done more math and harder math than any of us; I’m sure you can work out the probability of those things happening to your dad.
And in Bumbo Bay, which is where they go when they’re at school, it’s really safe.
No undertow or current; I doubt sharks or jellyfish go that shallow. ”
“Yeah, but if he dies, then what? I go back to live in Florida with Dawn and Irv? Where Kyla can find me?”
I froze. My stomach jolted and all the muscles in my torso tightened, as if bracing for impact.
“Who is Kyla?” Gabrielle asked gently.
I shot my cousin a look, telling her to drop it.
“My birth-giver,” Mabel exclaimed. “She just got out on parole and now she’s wandering around Tallahassee, probably looking for me. And if my dad dies, then I’ll have to go back and then she’ll find me.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Gabrielle said, already in full matriarch-mode. “That’s not going to happen.”
Mabel stood up from the table abruptly. “How do you know? You don’t know anything about the situation.
Anything about me, or my dad, or my family.
” She turned to me. “You do. You know what Kyla did to him. Why I … why I even exist in the first place. She’s a monster.
A pedophile, and if something happens to my dad, I’ll get shipped back to Dawn and Irv—who I love—but it’ll be in the same town as Kyla.
” She shook her head, then started to rub her thumbs against her index and middle fingers, almost like she was trying to snap them.
“What if she comes here? What if she petitions for visitation or custody? What if—?”
“Hey, hey, hey. Let’s not go there.” I got up and wrapped my arm around Mabel, but she brushed me off and stepped out of the booth.
“Don’t touch me.”
I lifted my hands in the air. “Sorry. No touching.”
“Do you want us to call your dad?” Raina asked.
Mabel shook her head. “No. He deserves a night with friends. He needs friends.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” I said.
She shook her head again and blinked rapidly, staring straight ahead at the top of the table.
“A-and now that stupid Island Mouth woman won’t leave us alone.
We’re not safe anywhere. Not here, not there.
Where can we go to be safe?” She glanced at me and my cousins, asking for answers.
We had none. “Where people don’t need to know us?
Where we can be invisible? I just want to be invisible.
” Grinding the heels of her palms into her eyes, she growled low in her throat for a moment, then tossed her hands into the air and started to pace.
“I just want to watch birds and have nobody pay any attention to me. I just want to be … I just want to be not here! Not anywhere.”
“Mabel,” I approached her cautiously, and she stopped her pacing without me having to touch her.
“Honey, when you are feeling this way, how does your dad help you? I’m new to this.
I’m not scared. I’m not worried. I just want to help.
Help me help you. How do you calm your nervous system down when you’re dysregulated like this? ”
Danica cleared her throat and approached Mabel with caution as well. “With Tom and Sam’s anxiety, it's deep pressure. A hand squeeze, a tight hug, even a weighted blanket. I have a weighted blanket in Sam’s room. Would you like it?”
Mabel nodded. “I have a weighted blanket.”
“I’ll be right back.” Danica rushed out the door.
“Th-then my dad asks me to name things for my senses.”
That was a new one to me, but Raina’s nod implied she understood.
“Gotcha,” Raina said. “All right, Mabel. Tell me five things you can see.”
Mabel glanced around the tasting room. “I … I see the wine bottles.”
“Good,” Raina praised. “What else?”
“I see the wrought iron light fixtures. And the labels. And the bottle of rubbing alcohol. And the cloth.”
“Now four things you can hear,” Raina said, without missing a beat.
Mabel closed her eyes, her eyes moved quite a bit behind her lids. “I can hear birds outside.” Really? Because I couldn’t. “And the hum of the fridge over there.”
The fridge was irritatingly loud. I’d need to look at that later.
“I hear … I hear the boys outside yelling as they’re playing soccer. One of them just cheered.”
That was definitely Austin. He had a bellow like a silverback gorilla.
“And I hear my pulse in my ears.”
“Mabel,” Gabrielle said, prompting the young girl to open her eyes.
“All of your concerns are valid. Every single one of them. We are not trying to dismiss you, or what you’re saying.
Those are real, big worries. I can see why you’re so upset.
Your mom just got out on parole, your dad is all you have, you’ve started this new life and nosy people won’t let you live in peace.
That’s a lot for a thirteen-year-old to process.
Even a gifted one. But honey, even though you feel like you’re alone, like it’s just you and your dad against the world, you’re not. ”
Raina and I both bobbed our heads.
“Do you need to keep going through your senses?” Raina asked her.
Mabel nodded, her thumbs still moved over her fingers like she were trying to snap. I thought they call that “stimming.”
“Okay, what can you smell?”
“I can smell rubbing alcohol, and wine. And cleaner—it’s lemony.”
Should we have called Lennox even though Mabel told us not to? Would that be betraying her? I would want to be called if this were my kid. But I also knew my kids would be pissed at the person who called me. They were also younger than Mabel.