Thirteen
Tait
Once inside the privacy of my cabin, I waste no time before taking a shower hot enough to match my temper. The shower might not be in its own spa-like room, but it’s clear that the place has been done up with high end finishes. It took me a solid ten minutes to figure out the various side jets and the handheld option. Something turned on a radio, another thing turned on some lights. Long after I was done, I stood under the scalding water—hot enough to hurt a bit—until it almost succeeded in melting the thoughts away.
Look like my mother? If only. The man had to have been blind not to see how I much I look exactly like him. Me thinking I could ever play him for a fool and have him not recognize me—it would have been futile. To be so aloof, and then to not even attempt to remedy the situation.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the confused, almost accusatory look on his face when he was drawing conclusions about me being at Henry’s, though. As if Charlie Logan deserves any say in my life, let alone my sex life.
I get out and catch my reflection in the mirror, looking like the Heat Miser with my reddened skin and steam curling off of me. I’m starving again, so I’m determined to get into town to buy groceries as quickly as possible before I have to start the rigmarole of getting a new camera. I check the weather app on my phone, and in the process see multiple missed texts and calls from Ava, and one missed call from Gemma.
Ava is going to have to wait until I am open to hearing her reasons for keeping me out of the loop, because for the time being, I’m oscillating between angry, confused, and hurt. I already know that I’m not in the place for hearing her side. The one thing that is unforgivable (that she is well aware of) is making me be the last to know. While she didn’t necessarily lie outright, she never once shared her true feelings—which clearly leaned more open to rekindling with the Logans, since she’s already established some form of connection. Not communicating this to me, though, when I’ve laid myself bare to her, in the depths of my most vulnerable times… I’m at a loss as to why she felt she couldn’t share.
I steer my thoughts back to the present, back to what I need to do to get this all over with as quickly as possible. I’d better get the camera resolution (again, along with my food situation) at least started before I call Gemma.
The weather is warmer than usual according to the app, so I throw on an easy sundress and my favorite denim jacket before I head out. I manage the basics with makeup, but lack the patience to dry my hair, so I leave the windows down in the truck to assist .
I’m relieved to see that both Henry and Charlie’s trucks are missing from Henry’s place, so I won’t need to deal with getting Henry off of my case with replacing the camera.
Just as I’m losing myself to the music in the truck and the warm wind coming through the windows, I see that I’m approaching the big house, and that Grady, along with another boy who looks to be around his age, are standing in the middle of the road, waiting. I inwardly groan, outwardly pound my fist lightly on the steering wheel in frustration. Can’t a girl just go get a greasy breakfast and some alone time? It’s barely six thirty A.M. and I’ve already been swept up in this twister again. Pre-caffeine, too.
Grady ambles up to my window with a smile, and since I can’t exactly speed off in a cloud of dust without it being glaringly obvious, I return it. I’m sure it looks more like a grimace.
“Good morning!” he says, and is immediately followed by Grace coming out onto the porch and yelling “Breakfast!” before turning around and heading back inside.
“So, how about getting one meal over with, so you can leave the rest of us with something to talk about, but not enough reason for us to keep getting in your way?” Grady says, arms folded on my open window. Wise beyond his years, I suppose.
I laugh through a sigh. “Why not?” I am hungry, after all, and need to regain my footing here. I slide out of the truck and offer my hand to Grady’s friend. “Hi, I’m Tait.”
Grady chimes in before he can respond, “Oh! Sorry. This is my boyfriend, Caleb.” Caleb goes to speak again, but Grady says excitedly, “Come on, we’ve got waffles!”
I’m not shocked that he’s gay, but I am happily surprised that he’s been made to feel so comfortable in his own skin—to the point that his boyfriend joining his family for breakfast is no big deal. My heart warms up a degree or two to the family for that. It shouldn’t be anything but that way, but I’ve found across the world that it too often still is.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Caleb manages, Grady steps ahead of us. He’s almost as tall as him, with the kind of cute face that’s reserved for teenage boys and young men—the not-yet filled out look that’s both angular and soft. I immediately mentally compare that to Henry’s face, one that’s nothing but masculine, hard angles and rough edges.
The smells wafting off the porch have me swaying on my feet, but I clamp down on my dignity, and make my steps slow and determined.
I’m hit with a massive wave of nostalgia the moment we step inside, though, and feel like swaying for a completely different reason. The entry is a massive (or so I remembered it, now it seems like a normal-sized) hallway that’s filled top to bottom with photos. I avoid lingering and head toward the kitchen behind Grady and Caleb. Things have been updated, but the layout is generally the same. A big built-in dinette has been added off of what is now an open kitchen. The built-in bench part resembles a huge booth, with an oval table big enough for ten between it and the four chairs across from it on the other side. I notice now, so much more as an adult, how there’s an abundance of light in each place here, how the windows and large doors are always featuring the outdoors.
Grace smiles warmly and hands me a plate.
“We do buffet style here, so why don’t you start us off?”
“Thanks.”
I grab a waffle the size of my face, topping it with a berry syrup concoction of some kind, some scrambled eggs, the most burnt bacon I spot out of the batch, help myself to some coffee, and head over to the table.
“Don’t wait to dig in, the door will be revolving all morning so just go ahead and eat,” Grady says.
Grace backhands his shoulder lightly. “You don’t need to rush her, leave her be.”
I go for something in-between and methodically cut my waffle so I can eat slowly. I want to get this meal, and any of the discomfort it promises, out of the way, so I want to be sure to get some chat in. “Thank you, this is delicious,” I say, and mean it.
“You’re welcome any morning,” Grace replies with a nod. I smile at her, her expression pinching. It’s not pity, nor is it sadness that I see in that expression. It’s a tentative nervousness.
Caleb adds, “When the cast and crew gets back you’ll probably want to get here earlier though, they clean house at group meals.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you. I’ll probably get to the store today and get some things for back at the cabin since I keep odd hours with… lighting and such anyway.” Bullshit, but this has already been enough for today. The familiarity slices.
Grady, sporting a cat-with-a-canary grin, says, “Oh, Henry swung by on his way to the stables and told me he has to go to town with you for a new camera today. Hopefully that won’t take too long for you.”
“What happened to your camera?” Grace asks, brow folding.
I spot Grady chuckling out of the corner of my eye and realize that having a little brother would have indeed been as annoying as I’d suspected. I take a sip of my coffee before I launch into the explanation, but I’m saved as we hear the front door chime.
“Where is she?!” A loud, deep, and melodious voice chimes in. “Where’s my granddaughter?!”
“I don’t know, Mother, I doubt the girl is even here, the last thing she needs is you barreling in at her. She’s petrified as it is.” I recognize LeighAnn’s voice.
“Bullshit, LeighAnn.”
“Jesus, that woman knows how to make an entrance,” Grady mutters.
Everyone’s paused in their chewing, eyes wide and looking at me when Emmaline Logan and LeighAnn round the corner to the kitchen.
Grandma Logan is the same intimidating woman from my memories. I don’t remember being scared of her exactly, just anxious of her lack of fear, and her lack of gentleness. She was always loud, always laughing, or yelling. She was always squeezing us. I remember sensing my mother’s tension around her the most, though. She must be over eighty now, and looks exactly the same… olive skin, white hair cut in an elegant sort of pixie cut—think Princess Diana in the early nineties—always in blue jeans and boots, even now. She darts her hazel eyes, the same shade as mine, to me, and her hand flies up to rest against her mouth. Her eyes immediately fill with tears and she approaches the table, never once breaking eye contact.
“Well, stand your ass up so I can look at you,” she booms, and I jump before I immediately comply. She’s all of five-two, but is as straight-backed as I am, and she commands the entire room. Everyone sits up a little straighter, pauses in their eating. I haven’t finished chewing the waffle in my mouth, so I hope she doesn’t ask to inspect my teeth or anything. She drops her purse abruptly onto Grady’s lap and takes my face in her hands.
“Well, look at you. You finally made it.”
She seems so genuinely happy, and the gesture, her voice—that damn familiarity again. The sense of déjà vu, and the deceptive level of comfort all overwhelm and confuse me. Why now, why after this long? It makes me desperate to return the love, desperate to live in the warmth of knowing that there is a group of people that might drive me crazy at times, but because of some shared DNA, want to love me and have my back. I hate how much I want to return it. I’ve been to enough therapy to recognize this as something hollow in me, seeking them out to fill a void. I’ve worked hard enough to build my own life to know that I shouldn’t need it, not if it’s coming from a place of convenience or control—and what other reason could there be? I’m not some unknown illegitimate; they’ve always known I was out there. Why didn’t they come sooner? I feel like I’d hardened myself into stone; solid, steady, strong. But, in the short time since arriving here, I’ve been continuously chipped away at from all sides.
I swallow the dry lump of waffle and manage to smile back, feeling my eyes well up in spite of my efforts. The anger is already less sharp, her proximity filing it down immediately, but the confusion and the sadness settle in deeper.
“How is it possible that you look exactly the same?” I manage.
“Oh honey, if you don’t use it, you lose it. And I use all of it,” she winks. Then gestures for Grady to move out of his seat. He rolls his eyes but obliges .
I take that as my cue to sit back down also.
“Well, let’s get to it. Caleb, be a dear and go get me some fruit. Tait—” She levels me with that stare again. “Keep chewing honey, we aren’t picky about manners here. I’m old and I have no time to beat around the bush.”
“Momma, let her eat,” LeighAnn pleads.
“Oh shove off, LeighAnn. Tait—I want you to know that your dad forbade us all from you girls. He managed to keep your information hidden from us for years. I love my son, but he’s a damn idiot for not standing up to your mother. While I used my own resources to keep tabs as best I could, I’m sure you can understand that, even as a grandmother, I needed to respect your mother’s wishes.”
At this, Grace stiffens and interrupts. “Emma, let Charlie.” I cast her a grateful look.
“Absolutely not, Grace. I understand that there are parts of this that aren’t mine to tell, but I am allowed to speak my piece here. Lord knows I’ve earned it.” They exchange knowing glances.
“Tait, I want you to know that we’ve never stopped wanting to be in your lives. And the moment that you were old enough that it was no longer up to your mom, we did what we could to keep track of you while respecting the fact that you, as a grown woman, knew your mind and didn’t want to be involved with us. I thought maybe when you were gifted your wedding present you might reach out, but again, that’s water under the bridge—”
“Wait.” She looks momentarily shocked to be interrupted, but I need to clarify something. “What are you talking about?”
“The money. The money we gifted you to go towards a house. It was $150,000, dear, I would hope you wouldn’t forget.”
I search her face for a moment—I received $150,000 shortly after I got married, but was told it was my inheritance from my grandparents—as in, my mother’s parents. The only stipulation on it was that it was to go toward a house. We’d used that to buy property and build… the house that Cole and Alex currently live in. I suddenly can’t be bothered with the rest of my meal, regardless of how good it is.
I stand up, feeling my palms start to sweat and my throat beginning to thicken… Mom wouldn’t have—would she have lied like that? And why? What would the point have been?
Still standing, all of their eyes on me, skin prickling every place they touch, I say, “The only money I received was from my mom’s parents. I was told it was inheritance.”
“I don’t know anything about that, but I know that we gave your mother money from your trust to gift to you as a wedding gift. Are you telling me you never received it?”
“I—I don’t know. But, thank you? I think. I need to get going, though.” I have a trust ? Why am I here then? I don’t dare ask.
It feels like I’m approaching the top of a rollercoaster, about to see over the edge just how deep the drop is. And I realize that I’m not ready. I start to rush out, but Emmaline grabs my arm. “I need to run errands today, too. Could you give an old woman a ride?”
LeighAnn sighs. “Mom, give her a breath.”
“Jesus, LeighAnn, what has giving them space accomplished so far? I’m eighty-two years old, I refuse to die without getting to know her for a bit,” she snaps, and gets up to go with me despite not getting a reply.
I throw a desperate look at Grady, hoping he feels like he owes me one, and thankfully he gets it again. Sibling eye language extends to half-brothers, apparently.
“I should… run out for a bit, too… can I tag along?” he asks.
Grace throws her hands up, but good-humoredly replies, “Alright, well, I guess Caleb and I will get all the chores done ourselves, then.”
Caleb grins, clearly unbothered. LeighAnn smiles apologetically, and I take my leave, with my grandmother and half-brother in tow.