4. Callum
4
CALLUM
“Something smells delicious.” I inhaled the fresh scent of coffee and bacon as I walked into the kitchen and found my mom standing at the stove with her back to me.
The sizzling popping of grease combined with the delicious aroma wrapped around me like a warm hug. It had been so long since I’d had any of my mom’s home cooking. She visited Arizona several times a year, but I never let her cook when she came to see me because I wanted her to relax while she was on vacation, even though she reminded me her life was a vacation because she was retired now.
Growing up, my mom spent the majority of her time in the kitchen when she was home. She made everything from scratch. Not only all of our bread, tortillas, pasta, sauces, soups, cakes, cookies, brownies, and ice creams, but she also made her own condiments. We had homemade ketchup, mustard, hot sauce, BBQ sauce, mayonnaise, and salad dressings. It didn’t stop there. Other kids had store-bought snacks in their lunch boxes; I had homemade fruit roll-ups, Twinkies, chips, applesauce, granola bars, and pretzels. We grew everything out on the farm, which Buzz always tended to, so the ingredients were literally farm-to-table.
Just like the town, I never appreciated it growing up, but now I did. Now that I had a child, whom I had to feed, and I worked full time, I had no idea how she did it. Sure, she had Buzz, who helped, but other than that, she was pretty much a single mom because my dad always worked long hours. He only made it home for dinner or before my bedtime—maybe two nights a week. I thought my dad was always so busy because of the demands of his job as mayor. Hindsight and a will reading being 20/20, it turned out his time was being spread thin because he had a whole other family.
“When did you get home?” I asked.
“A couple of hours ago.”
“You should’ve gotten me up.” I crossed the kitchen toward her.
“No, you need your sleep.”
I hadn’t gotten much sleep at all these past few nights. This town, this house was like one giant photo album of snapshots I’d tried to erase from my mind. Everywhere I looked, I saw her. I saw Nadia. Her home life hadn’t been ideal, so she’d spent a lot of time out here at the farm. Every square inch of these four walls contained her. She’d been in every room; we’d shared moments in each space. There wasn’t any place I could be on this farm to escape her.
When I went into town, it wasn’t better. Each outing turned into a stroll down memory lane, whether I liked it or not. There was the added pressure of would I or wouldn’t I have a sighting of her. Every blonde that I saw, I thought was her. I would freeze and wouldn’t exhale until I saw that it wasn’t. Each time I was both relieved and disappointed. I knew that it was inevitable; I would run into her, but I didn’t feel ready yet. Somehow, ten years hadn’t been enough time to prepare me.
“Thanks for letting us stay. I missed you.” I walked behind my mom and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, which at five feet, I had to bend over to reach.
“Where else would you stay? This is your home. I missed you, too.” She turned to give me a hug before returning her attention to the skillet of bacon.
As she did, I noticed a few changes in her since the last time I’d seen her. First, she had a new hairstyle. All my life, my mom had the same look. She had what she called mousy brown straight hair that was always cut in a bob with bangs. But now her hair fell a good few inches past her shoulders in beach waves with blonde balayage highlights, which was a term I only knew because Felicity was a beauty influencer. I’d learned all sorts of beauty terms over the seven years we’d been together. My mom’s bangs were gone, replaced with a middle part and layers that framed her face.
And her transformation didn’t stop there. Her face was dewy and sun-kissed, which I could attribute to her being on a cruise, but her eyes even appeared to be brighter. She was wearing mascara and a deep red lip stain that complemented her glowing golden skin.
“Wow, Mom, you look… so beautiful. I love your hair.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she downplayed. “It’s something Caroline’s been wantin’ to try for years, and I finally let her talk me into it. No big deal. Do you want some coffee?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Yeah, I can get it. You didn’t have to do all this.” I reached over her head and grabbed a mug from the cabinet.
“I don’t mind. I’ve missed having someone to cook for. You know how Buzz is.”
Buzz ate the same thing every day—Quaker Oats plain oatmeal with a dash of honey for breakfast. A peanut butter and banana sandwich for lunch. And chicken and veggies for dinner. Sometimes, for dessert, he’d have strawberry ice cream if my mom made it. But that was it. He never branched out; never tried new foods. It didn’t matter what else my mom cooked; that was all he ate. It didn’t matter if we went out to dinner; he ate before we left or when we got home.
His diet wasn’t the only thing that stayed consistent in his life. The man wore overalls and a t-shirt every day. Even to church. He had ‘church’ overalls, which were the ones without stains or holes in them. In my thirty-three years, I couldn’t remember a day I’d seen him dressed in anything else, not even at my dad’s funeral.
Out the bay window above the sink, I could see Buzz and Matty feeding the chickens with Bandit and Betty circling around them. Every day we’d been here, Matty had been getting up before dawn with Buzz. He loved working on the farm. It looked like he was already dressed for school.
“Did Matty eat?”
“Yep. I made him his favorite, blueberry pancakes. And his lunch is packed.” My mom motioned toward his backpack, which was sitting on the counter by the fridge.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Once I got the kids dropped off at school, I planned to come back and see what I could do to help Buzz. I’d been gone so long I hadn’t thought about him getting older and the fact that he’d need help around here. I should have hired someone. I’d been so focused on myself, my career, my family, and wanting to put this town and everything it represented in my rear view that I hadn’t taken care of the people in it that I loved.
“How was the cruise?” I walked over to the coffee pot.
“Good.” My mom dipped her chin in a nod.
Never in my life had my mom described anything in only one word. She was a talker. She overshared—never under shared. Our interaction may have only been a few minutes, but typically there wouldn’t have been a moment’s silence between us in that time. She would have filled it with a question, anecdote, observation, story… anything.
Something was off. I wondered if something had gone wrong or if maybe having Chloe here was affecting her more than she was letting on.
“Are you sure this is okay? Us staying here. I can get an Airbnb.”
Without skipping a beat, she grabbed a tea towel from the counter and swiftly swatted my arm with it. “Don’t you dare think about staying somewhere else and taking my grandbaby away from me.”
“I’m not.” I grinned as I rubbed the area she’d just struck, pretending it actually stung. “I just..” I lowered my voice. “You know, I don’t want it to be weird with Chloe being here.”
“Why would it be?” Her eyes lifted to mine. “That girl had nothing to do with anything that went on. And she just lost her mama. Plus, she’s half of your daddy. She’s family. This is where she should be. With family.”
I still couldn’t believe how well my mom was taking all this. Even though I knew that she’d known about Danielle and Chloe for a decade now, it still blew my mind that she’d handled the situation with so much grace. Even at the time, she’d never, not once, been mad at him. At least, not that she’d shown me. Although, in fairness, I left two days after finding out and hadn’t been back since.
If Chloe wasn’t what she was acting strange about, then it had to be something that happened on the cruise. I realized then that I hadn’t asked her too many questions about it. I’d just assumed that she’d gone with her two closest friends, but she never actually said that.
“So the cruise…” I poured coffee into my mug, then turned around and leaned against the counter. “Did you go with Shelly and Carol?”
“No, I was with just…you know, friends…a friend…you don’t know them.”
As she stumbled over her words, I noticed she was wearing a gold bracelet with a diamond on it that I’d never seen before. She’d been to visit over the summer, and she hadn’t worn it then.
“Did that friend give you that bracelet?” I grinned.
She picked up the tea towel and swatted me with it once more. This time it actually did leave a little bit of a sting. I could see that she wasn’t ready to talk to me about her ‘friend’ yet, but I was happy that she was seeing someone. Or, at least, I was happy if he was a good guy who treated her right. If not, there would be problems.
“Does your friend know that your son is an MMA light heavyweight world champion, and if he hurts you, he’ll be getting a visit from me?”
“Stop,” she warned, her brows lifting as she poked me in the chest with her finger, indicating she meant business. “Don’t.”
“What?” I lifted my hands, palms facing her in mock surrender.
“Sit down and eat your breakfast.”
“Yes ma’am.”
It was funny how quickly my mom could make me feel like a kid again. I couldn’t stop smiling as I crossed the kitchen and sat at the table. My butt had barely touched the seat when a plate filled with four strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and two pieces of toast on it appeared in front of me. I’d never been a big breakfast eater, but I wasn’t going to argue with my mom about eating it. It was an argument I’d never won in my life, and I didn’t think I’d have any better luck now.
My mom continued preparing the bacon, dabbing it with paper towels before placing it on a separate plate. “So what’s your POA today?”
I didn’t know if she was speaking in riddles or if I was just too tired from all the life-altering events of the past few days. I’d found out I had been named as guardian to my thirteen-year-old sister, packed up in the span of one day, and driven across the country, only for her to run away on my first night of being responsible for her.
“POA?” I questioned.
“Plan of action. That’s what they say on Love Island.”
“Right.” My mom loved reality dating shows. She was a hopeless romantic despite everything my dad did. “I guess my POA is that I’m going in to see an attorney after I pick up the kids from school. Reagan something.”
I took a bite of my eggs and once again thought how unique the name was. I’d only ever met one person named Reagan. It was Nadia’s college roommate, Reagan York. I’d only met her a few times, but I liked her.
“Comfort,” my mom filled in the blank as she set the pile of bacon on the table. “She’s married to Billy Comfort.”
I nearly choked as the eggs went down my throat. “Billy Comfort is married?”
“All the Comfort boys are. And do you remember their baby sister, Cheyenne?”
Cheyenne. Cheyenne. Cheyenne. I wracked my brain trying to come up with a who…
“Oh!” I snapped my fingers. “Yes, yes. I do. But she doesn’t live here, does she?”
A phantom memory materialized of her leaving town after her mom died to go live with her grandparents up north. After that, it was like she’d never existed. I didn’t remember anyone speaking about her.
“She’s back, and she’s married to Cash.”
“Cash Malone?”
“Yep.”
I wondered how well that went over with Billy. If I remember correctly, Cheyenne was Billy’s shadow, and Cash was Billy’s best friend. I didn’t have siblings, but from what I’d seen, most of the time, brothers didn’t appreciate their friends hooking up with their sisters. Wait, I guess I did have a sibling. That was going to take some getting used to.
“Who did Hank and Jimmy marry?”
“No one local. Hank married a sweetheart from Seattle. A single mom named Skylar, they have a daughter the same age as Matty named Luna. They just had a baby boy, Mason. And Jimmy married a girl from New York named Isabella. She’s a doll, and they have a one-year-old.”
Damn. It was crazy for me to hear that all the Comfort brothers were married, but especially Billy Comfort. There were a couple of reasons hearing that they’d settled down surprised me. First, there was an urban myth attached to their family name called the Comfort Curse.
Legend said that their great-great-grandfather Phillip Comfort, who was a longshoreman, had a secret, forbidden love affair with Lucille Abernathy, who came from generational wealth. When her affluent family learned of her betrothal to someone so far beneath her station, they demanded that she call off her engagement at once or be disowned and disinherited. When faced with that heartbreaking ultimatum, Lucille chose Phillip.
Unfortunately for Lucille, Phillip did not choose her. Lucille was left at the altar when Phillip eloped with a chambermaid who worked for Lucille’s family. Lucille was heartbroken and tried to go home, but her father was an asshole and turned her away. The next day, when the family woke up, they noticed the window in the parlor was broken. They searched the entire estate; they found Lucille un-alived in her childhood bed. She’d left a note explaining that she’d poisoned herself, and with her dying breath, she placed a curse on Phillip Comfort and all of his male heirs, dooming them to a lifetime of the same heartache and despair that she had endured. Each of them would fall madly in love, only to have it end in tragedy.
Since that day, the rumor is Lucille roams the halls haunting her family home, Abernathy Manor, which has been featured on over a dozen paranormal television shows and is regularly listed in the Top Ten most haunted places in the US.
Growing up, I’d never believed in the curse, but a lot of people in this town, this county, hell, even the state did. The curse wasn’t the only reason I was surprised that the Comfort men had all said I do. They were notorious for three things: fighting, fucking and flirting. Hank, the oldest, was the fighter. He got into brawls in bars before he was even legally allowed to vote. The youngest, Jimmy, was the flirt. He could charm the pants off anyone. Literally. Just like his brother, Billy, whose nickname was Panty Dropper and was known for fucking.
My interest was officially piqued to meet the woman who’d tamed the Panty Dropper.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of movement and turned my head and saw Chloe walking quietly to the front door.
“Chloe.”
She stopped but didn’t turn toward me. Over the past two days since she’d gone missing, she’d said a total of ten words to me. They were all one- or two-word responses to questions I’d asked her. I knew that she was dealing with a lot, and I was doing my best to give her space and respect what she was going through without putting any expectations on her behavior.
I’d told her that I was here for her if she needed anything and that she could talk to me about anything. I took her shopping to make sure she had essentials for school. Her mom hadn’t wanted a funeral or any sort of memorial service. She’d been ill for quite some time and had made plans to be cremated, which she was, and Chloe had already been given her remains. From what I’d been told by Reagan over the phone, Danielle was diagnosed with kidney disease four years ago and was placed on dialysis two years ago. Her health deteriorated rapidly over the past nine months.
I couldn’t begin to imagine how scary that must have been for Chloe to go through. At her age, watching the one person you have in this world die right in front of you. I wished there was something, anything, I could say to make Chloe feel better or make her feel supported at least, but every time I spoke, it seemed to have the same effect as nails on a chalkboard to her.
“Do you want some breakfast?” I asked as I got up from the table and walked into the front room.
“No.”
My mom walked around the corner. “Hey, sweetie.”
Chloe turned toward my mom, and from the expression on her face, it was clear that she and my mother knew each other, and Chloe was happy to see her.
“Hi, Mrs. Knight.”
“I told you, it’s Nora.” My mom handed her a bag. “I made you some snacks just in case you get hungry later. There’s some extra in there if you want to share.”
I wasn’t typically paranoid, but I was beginning to think that it was only me she had a problem with. She seemed to like Matty, Buzz, and my mom but barely tolerated me. In fact, I wouldn’t even say she tolerated me.
I grabbed my keys from the table and Matty’s backpack and was heading toward the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Taking you and Matty to school.”
“I don’t need you to take me to school. I can walk. I always walk.”
The school was over two miles away. Even if she left now and speed walked, she wouldn’t get there on time. “If you walk, you’re going to be late.”
“My mom died .” She adjusted the strap on her shoulder as she leveled her stare directly at me. “I don’t think anyone is going to care if I’m a few minutes late.”
I didn’t know what I’d expected when I got the call that I had been granted temporary custody of Chloe, but an angry teenager who hated me was not it.
I glanced up at my mom for help, not sure of what I was supposed to do.
“Well, sweetie, if you’re gonna walk, let me get you my umbrella. It might rain, and you don’t want your hair to frizz.”
Chloe’s expression tensed. I could see that my mom’s comment had hit a nerve.
My mom went to the coat closet, but before she opened it, Chloe sighed. “Fine. You can drop me off.”
Apparently, frizzy hair was enough of a threat to warrant a ride to school. Noted.