Chapter 28 Molly
MOLLY
“Is he back yet?” Laurel asks as I move away from the front window later that night.
“Not yet,” I say, shaking my head. “He’ll be back soon, though. He just needed some time to clear his head.”
I hope that’s true. Chase left in his truck several hours ago, and I have no idea where he went or when he’s planning to return.
It’s been raining for hours, and the wind is howling outside.
The house seems to tremble at each deep rumble of thunder, and the walls feel like they’re shaking with emotion.
Which is relatable. I’ve been doing the same thing off and on since the confrontation this afternoon.
I couldn’t hold back my tears as I put ice on Luke’s cheek, the skin angry and swollen where Chase’s father hit him. He’s been in his room most of the night, skipping our dinner of frozen pizza. I placed a plate with a couple of slices on his bedside table even when he told me he wasn’t hungry.
It’s the first time my kids have experienced physical violence firsthand. Teddy wasn’t a great father, but he never would have hurt one of our kids. Linda can cut me down with a well-placed barb, but she’s always kind to her grandchildren.
“That man was bad,” Luke had said in a small voice as he held the ice pack to his face.
“Yes,” I agreed without hesitation. “We won’t let him come back here.”
“Chase won’t let him,” Laurel clarified.
I chose not to address the fact that we witnessed Chase beat the shit out of his dad in front of us. I don’t condone violence, but I wanted to do the same thing after that man struck my son. I figure there’ll be time to sift through things once we’re settled.
Once Chase comes home.
Because this is his home.
“Should we watch a movie before we paint our nails?” I ask my daughter as I step away from the window. “Or paint our nails and then watch a movie?”
“Nails first,” Laurel says. “And Luke should pick the movie. Can we make caramel popcorn? It’s his favorite.”
I cup my daughter’s cheek. “You’re a good sister. You know that, right?”
“Not always.” She bites down on her lower lip then whispers, “Today was scary, Mommy.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head. “Kind of. Did you know Chase could get that mad?” Laurel looks at me with solemn eyes that make her seem older than her years.
I wonder if she’s asking if I still trust the cowboy we’ve let into our lives and our hearts.
“I didn’t, but he was defending Luke and you and me,” I tell her. “I’m not saying that excuses what happened, but he’s still the Chase we know.” And love, I add silently.
“I think so, too,” she answers.
I should tell her violence isn’t the way to handle problems. But I’m still too upset at the memory of seeing my child knocked to the ground by a grown man to make that particular point.
“Let’s get this mini spa night going.” I make my tone bright, both for my daughter’s sake and to remind me that I won’t let other people’s ugliness steal our happiness.
Laurel climbs off the couch. “If Chase is back when we start watching the movie, can we invite him or are you mad?”
“I’m not mad at him.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wish today didn’t happen, and I have a feeling he’s plenty angry with himself. But people aren’t perfect, and I know Chase is a good man.”
“Daddy was a good man,” she says softly, but there’s a question in the statement.
“Yes, he was,” I assure her. “He loved you and your brother.” I take a deep breath and continue, “He loved all of us.”
“I miss him.”
“Of course you do.”
“Sometimes I forget what he looked like.” Her honey-colored eyes fill with tears. “I know we have pictures, but I can’t remember him in my mind. Does that make me a bad daughter? Am I going to forget him?”
“Sweetie, no.” I pull her into a hug. “You’ll always remember him in your heart. But it’s okay for us to be happy without him. He’d want that, Laurel.”
“I feel happy. Not right now because of Luke, but mostly I feel happy.”
“Your brother’s upset, but he’ll be okay. Without the times we feel sad or angry, it would be hard to appreciate the happy feelings. A full life has both. That’s what I want for you, and your father would want that, too.”
She runs a hand across each of her cheeks. “Let’s go tell Luke he can pick the movie. He’s probably gonna choose something babyish.”
I shrug. “Well, I’m in the mood for babyish.”
She rolls her eyes but takes my hand as we walk up the stairs, still slow with the boot, but I’m so close to being free of it that I barely even mind.
Luke is lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling when we walk in.
“Hey, buddy,” I say. “We’re going to paint nails. You want to join us?”
“No.”
“You want to talk about anything yet?”
“No.”
“We’re watching a movie tonight,” Laurel tells him. “And making caramel popcorn because it’s your favorite.” I squeeze my daughter’s hand, then let go so she can take a step closer to Luke’s bed. “We can be sad sometimes, Lukey,” she continues. “And we can be happy. Because they’re both okay.”
He shifts on the bed, looking at his sister like she has a unicorn horn growing out of her forehead.
“Just think about what movie you want to watch,” I say softly.
I gather my small stock of nail supplies from the bathroom, and Laurel and I spend the next twenty minutes on the floor next to my bed painting each other’s nails. She’s better at it than I am, which thrills her to no end.
“Piper gave me all her tips,” she reports as she smooths a final coat of gloss over my nail beds. “She’s got like a million colors.”
“I’m pretty partial to this one,” I tell her, holding up my right hand to examine my nails. The color a deep shimmering red called Not a Waitress, and I think it fits my current vibe.
“I’m going to ask for a gel machine for my birthday,” my daughter tells me.
“Aren’t you a little young for gel nails?”
“Miranda and Lola get theirs done at the salon with their grandmas every month.”
“Wow.” I smile. “Somehow, I can’t see Nana at the nail salon.”
She giggles then asks, “Did your mom get her nails done?”
I try to remember back that far.
“I don’t think so.” I take Laurel’s hand in mine. “But her hands were delicate, just like yours.”
“You remember her hands?”
“Yep.” I smile because I don’t think about my mom often. Mostly when I do, thoughts of her are conflated with vague feelings of being hungry or cold or hiding in the closet when her rowdy friends came over.
But I remember her hands smoothing over my hair when she’d brush it. My mother loved the bright color so much that until I went to live with my grandparents and somebody made fun of redheads at my new school, I thought having red hair made me pretty.
We both startle as a deafening crack of thunder pierces the air. The storm has been gaining steam, and as if on cue, the lights in the room flicker on and off.
“Let’s get your brother. I’ll put this stuff away later, but I want us all together and to pull out the flashlights in case we lose power.”
I follow Laurel out of the room.
“What movie did you pick?” she asks as she pushes open his door.
Only his room is empty.
“Luke, what movie?” she shouts, turning for the stairs.
There’s no reply.
“I know you hear me.”
She thunders down the steps as I take a moment to grab the untouched plate of pizza from the nightstand.
My kids shared a room up until Linda left for her trip.
Luke is now in his father’s old room with mementos from Teddy’s childhood—sports trophies and adventure posters—surrounding him on the walls and dressers.
But there isn’t much that represents my son besides a bookshelf filled with his completed Lego sets.
When I buy the farm, the first thing I’m going to do is let both kids pick new paint colors and themes so the bedrooms feel like they belong to them.
“Mom!”
The panic in Laurel’s voice makes my breath catch.
“Luke’s gone!”
I hurry down the stairs as fast as I can with the blasted boot. “Luke,” I call. “This isn’t funny.”
The lights flicker again. “Buddy, come out now. I know today was rough, but—”
I head toward the laundry room, continuing to yell for him, and grab two flashlights from the cabinet across from the washing machine.
Laurel follows me. “He’s not here.”
“It’s pouring rain, plus he hates thunder. Why would he leave?”
“I don’t know, but his boots are gone.”
“What?” My heart is pounding so loud I can feel it in my throat. “What do you mean his boots are gone?”
“His cowboy boots. The ones he wears when he rides Gumdrop. They’re not by the front door. Neither is his rain jacket.” She stares at me, her eyes wide. “Mommy, I’m scared.”
“Get your shoes on. Let’s go to the barn,” I tell her without hesitation.
Even without the missing boots and rain jacket, I know enough to trust the twin bond. If Laurel says her brother isn’t in the house, I believe her.
I don’t bother with the waterproof cover that goes over the orthopedic boot, but as I open the door, the lights go out. The property is so dark I can’t even see through the torrents of rain.
“Take my hand, honey. I’m sure he’s in the stall with Gumdrop.”
“When is Chase coming back?” Laurel yells, as if his return will make everything better.
“I don’t know. Hopefully soon. Right now, we need to find your brother. He probably wanted to make sure the horses were safe and dry.”
I’m not sure she hears my words or if they’re swallowed by the wind howling around us.
We’re wearing rain jackets but are still soaked to the bone by the time we enter the barn.
“Luke,” I call, shining the flashlight toward the end of the wide aisle.
A horse’s whinny is my only answer.
“Luke, you’re scaring your sister.” I pitch my voice low, soothing. “I need you to come out.”
Laurel squeezes my hand more tightly as I stalk down the aisle. “Seriously, Luke—”
My voice cuts off, and my heart drops to my toes as I peer into Gumdrop’s empty stall.
Fancy lets out an agitated snuffle, like she’s telling us to get our asses in gear because this isn’t good.
As far as I’m concerned, that could be the understatement of the century. My son is out in a violent storm on the back of a horse.
A horse he has very little experience riding.
“Mommy, where did he go?”
“I don’t know, but we’re going to find him.” Yet my mind races as it catalogs all the terrible ways this night could end.
We both jump and grab each other as thunder booms around us so loud it rattles my teeth.
A moment later, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the sharp crack of lightning that’s too close.
There’s a horrible sound of glass breaking, and I run to the end of the barn and pull open the door to see that a giant branch from one of the old cottonwoods has landed on the greenhouse roof.
“Your flowers,” Laurel sobs.
“They aren’t important now. We need to find your brother.”
I shoved my phone in my jacket pocket when we left the house, and I pull it out, ready to call emergency services. I’m sure they’re inundated, but I don’t know what else to do.
No service. Damn.
I turn the phone off and on again, hoping for a signal. Nothing.
“Laurel, I need you to go back to the house while I search for your brother.”
“I want to stay with you.”
“It’s too dangerous, and—”
Just then, headlights sweep across the far window of the barn, casting shadows along the wall.
“Chase is back,” Laurel says.
God, I hope so.
“Take the flashlight while I—”
“I’m staying with you,” she insists, her voice trembling.
“Okay. Fancy, you’re good here, right?”
The horse’s eyes are wide, and she’s pawing at the ground.
“I know the feeling, girl,” I say, then grab Laurel’s hand and head out of the barn.
It doesn’t feel like my flashlight makes a dent in the sheets of rain, but a moment later, I see a brighter light moving toward us.
“You need to go back to the house,” Chase says, all business. “I’ll take care of the horses.”
“Luke is gone.” I try to keep the fear out of my voice for Laurel’s sake. “So is Gumdrop. We didn’t realize he’d left the house.”
He goes perfectly still, like he’s the eye at the center of the squall. I don’t know what I expected of this man—for him to freak out or curse or lecture me on my son’s recklessness—but he reaches out and takes my hand, the warmth of his touch giving me the hope I desperately need.
“Get in the house,” he repeats. “I’ll take Fancy to find him. Call the authorities.”
“I have no service.”
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his phone. When the screen illuminates, I can see the mark on his cheek left by his father. Raindrops drip from the brim of his hat, but his eyes are steady when they meet mine again.
“Keep checking,” he shouts over the wind. “As soon as you have service, tell them I’m heading southwest toward Miner’s Peak. Then call Ray. Gumdrop is a creature of habit, so he’ll stick to the trails he knows.”
“You’ll be able to find them?” My throat burns as I force out the question over the roaring storm around us.
Chase hears, or maybe he’s just guessing the question, but he squeezes my fingers and nods.
“I’m going to bring your son home.”
“And Gumdrop!” Laurel adds in a trembly voice.
He bends down and slicks the wet hair off my daughter’s face. “And Gumdrop, baby. I promise.”
Another round of thunder booms, a little further off this time, and I lift Laurel into my arms and run as best I can to the house.
“Your ankle—”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. I don’t think I could feel pain in my body right now if someone took a mallet to my foot.
When the door closes behind us, I sink to the floor.
Laurel keeps her thin arms wrapped around my neck. “I’m scared.”
“Me too. But Chase will find him. We have to be brave.”
“That’s what you said when Daddy had his accident.”
I suck in a sharp breath, refusing to believe this is anything like that awful night.
“Chase is going to bring him home, sweetie.”
“He promised,” she whispers.
I nod. “I believe him.”
I have to believe.