Chapter 26 #2
“I know,” she replies, patting her hair again. “And I understand you felt obligated—”
“It didn’t have anything to do with obligation. I love her.”
She sighs. Neither of my parents are well-acquainted with the concept of love. “You’re both so young, Caleb.”
“That’s what you said when I told you we were dating. It’s been almost three years. We’re only a year younger than you and Dad were when you got married.”
My mother swallows, then looks away. “It was a different time,” she states.
It’s a more passive response than what she’d really like to say. But she’s wary of pushing me on this topic. If it comes down to Lennon or my parents, my mom knows which side I’ll choose.
My father has no such qualms. We’re already at odds. He doesn’t have any desire to protect the happy family image my mother is so intent to curate.
“Don’t be an idiot and tie yourself down, Caleb,” he tells me. “There are plenty of women out there. Not to mention, that girl is a sinking ship. We passed Matthews Farm on our way here. She must be swimming in debt by the look of that property. Elaine always said—”
“Who’s Elaine?”
My father looks annoyed. With me, with being here, who knows. “Earl’s daughter. We were in the same year at school.”
“Lennon’s mother?”
My mother interrupts before my father responds. “We came to show our support, Caleb.”
There was a brief moment, when I saw my parents here, where I thought their presence was an olive branch.
That they were finally acknowledging how much Lennon means to me.
Now, I see it for what it really is: calculated optics.
There’s not a single person in Landry who won’t hear about how Austin and Abigail Winters attended Earl Matthews’s memorial service.
It’s their way of cloaking true intentions.
Public support covering private meddling.
“You should go, Mom.”
That’s all I say. They’re not going to change their views, and neither am I. I know we’ll have more arguments that come to the same conclusion, but I’m too drained to engage in one now.
My mother nods. “Tell Lennon we’re sorry for her loss.” She steps forward to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Expensive, flowery perfume surrounds me in an invisible cloud.
They’re not even going to acknowledge Lennon directly. It doesn’t surprise me; it does piss me off.
All I manage in response is a stiff nod.
My father holds out his right hand in farewell. I stare at it for a long moment before I give it a firm shake. Before I’ve fully turned around, they’re swept up in a conversation with Luke’s parents, making plans to have dinner tomorrow evening.
Lennon’s still surrounded by well-wishers, so I don’t approach her. I head over to where Colt, Luke, and Jake are standing, next to the rose bushes that line the front path of the church.
“Your parents are here,” I tell Luke.
“Yeah, I know. They asked why I was coming, and I mentioned you, and then it turned into this whole thing about how if your parents might be here, they needed to be too.”
I shake my head. I can’t stand social posturing, and Landry is overflowing with it.
“Did you know your folks were coming?” Jake asks me, nodding to where my parents are still conversing with the Evanses.
“No,” I reply. “Their attempt to soften the blow of warning me off Lennon again.”
“Oh,” Jake replies. He doesn’t need to ask how I feel about that. Or if I want to talk about it.
I glance at my watch. “I have to head to campus. I’ve got a weight session at four.” It’s just past noon now and I’ve got a three-hour drive to Clarkson.
I say goodbye to my friends, then head toward the lone figure standing at the edge of the parking lot.
Lennon speaks first, which is good. I have no clue what to say to her.
“How soon do you have to leave?”
I search her face, trying to figure out if this is just a simple inquiry or something more.
“Soon-ish,” I reply vaguely.
If she asks me to stay, I will.
Lennon nods, staring away at nothing. “I need to pick up his ashes. They’ve been ready for a couple of days, but I haven’t…”
My eyes close for a second, trying to block out the lost expression on her face.
“Lennon…” I’m at a complete loss for words. My heart bangs painfully against my ribs as I’m confronted with the impossible situation of watching someone I love struggle and being powerless to help.
“I don’t know what to do with them,” she admits, still looking at the line of cars departing from the church’s parking lot.
I swallow. “You could spread them on the farm.”
She nods once. “That’s all I could think of. But… I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like enough.”
“I think it’s what he would have wanted,” I tell her, praying I’m not overstepping.
She nods again. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I can come…”
Lennon shakes her head. “I need to do this myself. And I know you have to get back.”
“Okay.”
“I wish I’d been there, but I’m also glad I wasn’t.”
I nod. “I know.”
There’s a stretch of silence, long enough I think this might be how we say goodbye: five feet apart. But then Lennon turns toward me and closes all the distance between us. I can taste the salt of her tears on her lips before she buries her face in my neck.
“I love you, Matthews,” I whisper. There’s a lot more I want to say. About Earl and about Clarkson and about the future. But I’m not sure if she’s ready to hear any of it. If she needs time and space to adjust to everything that has suddenly changed in her life, I’ll give it to her.
“I love you too, Winters,” she replies. “Drive safe.”
Lennon walks away first, leaving me standing here.
I head for my truck and hoist myself into the driver’s seat. The moments right after leaving her are always the worst. When I can still see her, but know I need to add to the distance between us.
This time is especially tough, for obvious reasons.
I know she’s grieving.
I know the rug just got pulled out from under her feet.
I know more change probably seems like the most unappealing thing in the world right now.
But I also know Earl wanted Lennon to go to a good college. If he were still here, nothing would have made him happier than seeing her thrive at a school that challenged her.
The harsh reality of his death—one I know Lennon doesn’t want to face yet—is that she has more options. Horses and land don’t have a fraction of the hold on her that Earl did. She spent every moment with him she could, and now there aren’t any left to share.
If she still stays in Landry, it will feel less like familial obligation and more like lack of love. That’s probably not fair, especially in the wake of the three words she just told me. And since I haven’t given up anything for her.
The night we got together, she told me she was scared to compete against other parts of my life.
Now, I’m experiencing the same fear.
Because I feel like I’m losing.
* * *
The brick house I’ve lived in since sophomore year is in total chaos when I open the front door.
“Hey! Winters!”
I turn to see Drew Maxwell, one of my teammates and housemates, strolling up the walk behind me.
“Hey, Maxwell.” I bump his fist when he reaches my side.
“Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?”
“Could say the same to you,” I reply.
Drew grins. “Blame Jessica Oxford.” I roll my eyes. Drew’s smirk fades, as he studies me. “Everything good with you? We were all worried.”
I was vague with the guys about the reason for my delayed return to Clarkson.
They all know I have a serious girlfriend, but I’ve kept Lennon and my life in Landry almost entirely separate from who I am at Clarkson.
And it didn’t feel right to mention Earl.
Doing so would seem like passing Lennon’s loss off as my own.
“I’m good.”
Drew nods. “Glad to hear it. Anderson’s arm sucks.”
“He’s better than you could throw,” I retort.
“Yeah, but I’m not the back-up pitcher,” he replies, heading for the stairs. “Nice monkey suit, by the way,” he calls over one shoulder.
As he disappears upstairs, there’s a pounding sound that suggests Elliot’s descending them. Sure enough, he appears seconds later, dragging a hand through his shaggy brown hair.
“Thank fuck,” he breathes when he sees me. “Dude, I thought you had some sort of injury and couldn’t figure out how to break it to us.”
“Nope. I’m healthy as a horse,” I reply, heading for the stairs myself. “Going to get changed.”
Out of all the guys I live with, Elliot is most likely to ask questions.
Part of me would love to get the perspective of an unbiased observer, but I also know it would never do what Lennon and I have justice.
Most of our history is woven in moments and memories impossible to explain.
Telling someone my girlfriend’s grandfather died and she’s been mostly distant since doesn’t describe the situation accurately.
“All right,” Elliot replies as I pass him. He eyes the suit I’m wearing, but doesn’t comment or ask why I’m dressed up.
My room is the last one on the second floor. It overlooks the big oak behind the house. It’s also the largest, which I learned when Drew took it upon himself to measure each bedroom. Unfortunately for him, I’d already chosen this one.
I change quickly, then check my phone. I skip past all the messages except two.
The first is from my mom. It’s a paragraph explaining she didn’t mean to upset me earlier.
At least, that’s what the first two lines are about.
I skim them, then skip to the end. It’s a request to let her know when I’ve arrived on campus.
I’m certain she’s got my phone on a tracking app but I respond anyway, letting her know I have.
The other text is from Lennon.
Lennon: You back?
I reply to let her know I have, then gnaw on my bottom lip as I consider what else to say. Asking how she is won’t go over well. Neither will inquiring if she’s eaten.
Caleb: I miss you.