Chapter 4
Teague
I t was clear by the time we got all of Oakley’s things inside that he was dragging ass. It made sense. Oak made the thirty some odd hour drive in two days, barely stopping to sleep. But on top of the physical exertion of that kind of drive, and maybe more importantly, was the mental and emotional strain he’d been under. All that hurt and anger and worry and fear, now that he was somewhere safe, crashed in on him. When my nephew said he wanted to lie down for a while, I pointed him to the tiny guest room in my small cottage, and figured I wouldn’t see him again till morning.
I’d been right.
When I checked on him around dinner time, he was passed out cold, star-fished on the full mattress I’d squeezed into the room. I let Dad know that I had Oak and that he was okay, but that he wouldn’t see us until tomorrow at least. Though I was sure Oakley was hungry, the exhaustion won. He’d wake up when he got hungry enough, so I left him to sleep and made sure to leave a note that he could help himself if he woke up.
He didn’t though, and when I wandered into the kitchen the next morning, everything was exactly as I left it. Including the sleeping nephew. I brewed a pot of coffee and was trying to decide if I actually wanted to cook breakfast or just have cold cereal, when my phone rang. I snatched it up, hoping it hadn’t woken Oakley.
“Hey, Bob,” I greeted, surprised the mechanic was calling this early. It was barely eight.
“I took a look at the car.”
Not surprised by Bob’s lack of greeting, I braced myself. “And?”
“Alternator is shot. Whole car is toast.”
I winced, not at Bob’s blunt tone, but at the news itself. “It can’t be fixed?”
Bob grunted. “I mean, I can. But it’s a temporary stop gap. I could replace the alternator and it could get another few weeks. But shit, Teague. This thing isn’t safe. I’m afraid if I put it up the whole chassis will pull away. It’s nothing but rust. Hell, the engine has over two hundred thousand miles on it.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s a Honda though.”
“A fifteen-year-old Honda,” he said dryly. “The engine, despite its high mileage, is not the problem. It’s everything else.”
“Yeah, okay.” I opened my eyes and stared off, trying to get my pre-caffeine brain to work. “So better to scrap it, eh?”
Bob hummed. “You probably could get a few hundred if you traded it in. But, yeah, it’d be worth more as parts and scrap.”
The pot spit out the last of its brew, and I pulled a mug down from the cupboard to make myself a cup. I sorely needed it. Though the news wasn’t a surprise, it was still not what I wanted to hear. I was thankful the car had made it all the way here before breaking down though. I took a second to inhale the rich scent of coffee before I responded.
“Can you hang on to it for a bit? I need to talk to my nephew, tell him what’s going on, and then I’ll have him call you.”
“Sure, sure.” Bob sounded like he was ready to move on. “Have the kid call me and we can work out a deal.”
“Thanks, Bob. Talk to you later.”
“Yep.”
He hung up first, so I did the same. Then I took a long drink of coffee, even though it was too hot. It burned a little going down, and I made a face, but I needed the hit. I decided I wasn’t in the mood to cook or eat cereal, and I would grab something from Regan’s when I got there. Regan made the best pastries in the county, and no one could convince me otherwise. I’d work the sugar and carbs off at the sawmill.
I didn’t know if the phone woke Oakley, or if he’d just had enough sleep, but a few minutes later, he shuffled into the kitchen looking bleary eyed and pale. He gave me a sort of smile and a head nod, and beelined across the floor to the coffee pot.
“Can I have some?”
“Mugs are there,” I said, pointing to the cabinet on his left. “I thought Mormons didn’t drink coffee.”
The look he shot me would have burned me to ashes if he’d had magical powers, and I held my hands up in surrender. I watched as he poured a generous mugful and then stood there, holding it between his hands. For a few seconds, I didn’t know what to say. But since I’d already said the wrong thing, I needed to fix it.
“I don’t have any creamer or anything, but there’s milk. We can pick some up if you like it. There’s sugar there, on the counter, if you want that.” That was a good place to start at least.
“Black’s good.” Oakley just stared at me, then sighed. “I left the church a long time ago.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. Really it was more…if it’s not something you drink regularly, you might not like it. Or, you know, caffeine might hit you hard. My mouth just said the other thing first. But you do you, boo.”
At that, Oakley cracked a smile. He crossed the room and joined me at the small café table I had in the kitchen. The cottage didn’t have a dining room, so this was the only place to sit and eat. Oakley studied me over the rim of his cup as he took a drink.
“So, you were looking out for me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in that way I’d always wanted to be able to do but couldn’t make my face cooperate. I nodded quickly, and Oakley’s smile was a good thing to see. “Thanks, Uncle Teague.”
“I got your back, man. Even if my mouth doesn’t always cooperate. Don’t doubt that, okay?” I waited for Oakley to nod before I continued. “Okay, good. Do you wanna ride along with me today while I make deliveries? Or just chill here? Either way is good.”
“Deliveries?”
“First for Regan, because I have a couple of stops to make for them. Regan’s so busy at Sugar Rush that they can’t do their own deliveries, and I like to help. And then later I have to drop firewood to a couple of people.”
Oakley contemplated that while he drank more coffee. “Aunt Regan named their bakery Sugar Rush? That’s awesome. Wait.” Oakley frowned. “Do I still call them aunt?”
“Hmm. Good question. I dunno. Probably best to just ask them, eh? Regan probably won’t care, but if they do, they’ll tell you what they want.”
Oakley nodded. “We can stop in and see Grams and Gramps too?”
“If you want, then yes, absolutely.” I settled back in my chair, stretching my legs out. “I know they want to see you. It’s been a while.”
Oakley scowled. “Mom.”
“I know.”
With a sigh, Oakley rolled his shoulders. “At least she let us talk to them. I wouldn’t have been able to get your number from them if she hadn’t. She’s just—”
My phone rang, interrupting us, and I glanced down. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was an 801 area code, which could only mean one thing. “Calling.”
“What?” Oakley’s voice went high, and I showed him the screen. He blanched and gave a single tiny nod. When I lifted my thumb over the answer button he squeaked out, “Don’t!”
“It’s okay, Oak. I got you.” I stared at him as I hit the button, putting the phone on speaker as I held my finger to my lips. I didn’t want him to speak, but I also wanted him to know exactly what was going on. “Hello?”
“Is my son with you?” My sister’s voice was shrill, sounding nothing like the person I’d grown up with, and a little panicked. The part of me that knew she was a mom felt for her. The rest of me who knew exactly what she’d said and done to her son, whom she was supposed to love unconditionally, didn’t give a rat’s ass.
“Good morning, Erin.”
She scoffed, not wanting to exchange pleasantries, I guess. “Is Oakley with you? He’s not answering his phone.”
I glanced at Oakley and the determined set to his expression. He mouthed “blocked” and I understood that he’d blocked her number. Probably his father’s too, and any number of other people from the ward who would try to talk him out of his choices. I wasn’t going to confirm anything, so I simply said, “He’s safe.”
“So, he is there!” she crowed. Oakley went paler, and I didn’t think that was possible.
“I didn’t say that. I said he was safe. I assume that’s what you’re worried about, being you’re his mother and all.” So what if I couldn’t resist the dig. There was a part of me that still loved my sister and hoped she’d realize the error of her ways, but mostly I was just pissed that she’d treat her family, and especially her son, the way she was.
“Don’t try to lie to me, Teague. I changed your diapers; I know when you’re fibbing.” Erin was heated; it was in her voice. The way she was trying to sound calm but there was a bite to her words. It had always been like that. I’d bet her face was turning red, too. “You send that child right back home to me, right now, so he can get the help he needs to—”
“Man.” I tried not to interrupt people—it was a bad habit I had when my brain thought of something I needed to say—but I couldn’t let that pass.
“Get right with—what?”
I sighed. “Oakley isn’t a child. He’s an adult, Erin. Twenty-years-old. He’s going to be twenty-one in a few weeks.”
“I know when my son’s birthday is,” she bit out through clenched teeth.
“I know you do. But I thought you might need a reminder. Like you might need to remember that once a person turns eighteen, they get to make their own decisions. At least in this country. So, if Oak doesn’t want to be there anymore, he can be anywhere he wants.”
“Oak ley ,” she said, stressing the second syllable because she never liked it when anyone shortened his name, no matter that he himself liked it, “needs to repent of his sins and get right with God. I’m concerned for his eternal soul and what will happen if we aren’t sealed as a family in the celestial kingdom.”
And there it was. I had no doubt that she was worried about Oakley’s soul, but she was more worried about their family unit. I didn’t believe the way she did, and I had some major doubts about the LDS Church as a whole, but I wouldn’t begrudge her her faith. Except for the fact that she used it to cut me and Regan out of her life and was now using it as a way to hurt her own child.
“I think you should be more worried about his life and happiness in this life, Sis.” My tone was snide and a little bit rude, but I was done with this. How dare she call me up demanding I return Oakley to her like he was some brat throwing a tantrum? This was far more serious.
“Teague!”
“Oakley gets to make his own choices, Erin. You and Bart, and your church, might not agree with them. But that doesn’t matter. Oakley is who he is, and that isn’t a choice. But if he doesn’t want to talk to you, or be with you, that’s his decision to make. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“So, help me, if you don’t—”
“Goodbye, Erin.” I hung up, getting a little satisfaction from ending the call. Two seconds later, the phone rang again, but I just sent it to voicemail. And I would keep doing that until she could learn to have a civil conversation. It was too much to hope for a change of heart.
“You okay, Oak?”
“I…I dunno.”
I nodded. “Fair. Do you wanna talk about it? Process in your own head and talk later? Pretend it didn’t happen and play ostrich for a while and do other things? Pick your poison.”
Oakley gave me a shaky smile. “The last one.”
“Great choice. We’ll deal with all of this later. Next week maybe.” I winked. I wouldn’t let him ignore it forever, but for right now, he could pretend it didn’t exist if it helped him breathe easier. “So, what do you say? Wanna ride along with me today?”
“Sure, Uncle Teague. Sounds great.”
“Aces. Go start your day, take a shower, get dressed, whatever. We’ll steal breakfast from Regan, and I’ll tell you about your car.” I gave him a sympathetic smile.
Oakley grimaced as though he could guess what was coming and then downed the rest of his coffee before hopping up from the table. I watched him go, my heart breaking for him. I knew from our conversations over the years that he expected this to happen when he eventually let his parents in on his truth. But that didn’t make it easier. And being outed against his will and not on his timetable added to the trauma of it. I’d help him through it, help him find someone to talk to if he needed it. But right now, I was happy to be a distraction.
Oakley needed to know he was loved and accepted. He’d run to me—and Regan and Dad and Mom—though he didn’t have the opportunity to know them well, because it was the only safe place he could think of. I wouldn’t take his faith in me lightly.