Chapter 5
Five
So troubled by Steven’s attitude and the contradicting things he said, Angela needed a break and some fresh air. Emma had long since gone to bed, Brandon had instituted an early bedtime for the kids, and the dogs were happily searching for missing snacks on the couches and the floor.
Sitting on the patio, Angela looked up at the clear, cold night sky and thought about Evander and her father.
“His eyes are just like yours, Evander. Sometimes I wonder where you are, wishing I could talk to you. You’d be shocked to see how much he sometimes resembles you.
It's all my fault, even if you don’t realize it—every bit of it.
If Steven had you in his life, he’d have grown up differently.
What a terrible thing to say and do. I forgive Dad, and maybe someday we will meet again. ”
She knew that finding him in the military after so many years was unlikely. However, when a shooting star streaked across the sky in front of her, Angela closed her eyes and made a wish for good luck.
“That’s all I can do, pray that he finds himself, even without having a father figure. Maybe someday.” In that moment, she found peace and hope, quietly speaking her words aloud in the surrounding air, with no one specifically listening.
The days that followed were a mix of emotions as the children and dogs got on everyone’s nerves. Brandon seemed immersed in his ranch from afar, spending more time on his computer, managing things than he did eating.
Angela found her spot in the kitchen, a place she could go to unwind and bake away her cares for as long as it took. She dusted off her hands, then added another scoop of flour to the bowl of gingerbread cookies she was making.
“Well, I hope you plan on baking Christmas cookies because we are going to have the biggest, best Christmas celebration here at Dad’s house—bigger than anyone in our family has seen.”
Another spoonful of vanilla was added to the mix, and Angela set it aside. “Dad hated Christmas, so why would you want to do a thing like that? We have a lot of work to do around here, and now you want to add that to the list. No way, that’s for you on that giant, fancy ran—”
The front door crashed open, cutting off Angela’s words. “Emma, we got the biggest tree we could find. I think it's about fifteen feet tall.” Brandon called, holding the huge tree and his saw.
“Oh! Let me see, let me see!”
Clumsily, the children helped Brandon drag the tree inside.
Shaking her head, Angela continued to stir the batter for what she hoped would be a truly delicious gingerbread cookie, her favorite.
She hadn’t intended to make something Christmas-related, but the soothing scent always reminded her of this time of year.
“Why did we have to get a tree, Emma?” She refused to acknowledge the tree taking up half the living room as she dotted the cookie pan with dollops of cookie dough, tossing a tiny morsel to Sadie at her feet. “Shh, you got nothing, you understand.”
The dog barked happily, causing a flurry of wagging tails heading toward her. “What. I don’t have dog biscuits!”
The deafening sound, which only Emma seemed to truly ignore, erupted into a riot of children’s laughter, and chaos started again as furniture was moved, nearly toppling over in the process.
The house vibrated with a strange mix of life and death from her father’s passing that Angela found hard to ignore. Lost in it, after baking the first batch, she’d had enough and stored the rest in the refrigerator.
Quietly, she slipped out to the patio, shut the door, and sat in a distant chair. “I can’t believe they all don’t notice that.”
“What?”
Her son stood across the patio, leaning on the wooden house so casually that he appeared to be on a makeshift movie set. Taking it all in—the alone time she thought she had and the sadness in his eyes—she worried.
“Emma and her family. They create so much noise and chaos that I can’t believe they don’t notice it, like you or I.”
“I’m not out here for that. I actually like it. I think they do, but after years of being that way, they probably don’t notice.”
She smiled, admiring his ability to see through what most ignored. “You’re probably right. Good call, Steven.”
A pang of sorrow struck her deep in her chest, feeling she might have wronged him by not having a big family and a house full of chaos. “You seem sad. Do you need to talk?”
His eye roll, a classic Steven trait, didn't make her flinch at all. “No. Mom, I don’t need to have an in-depth conversation like when I was little with you when I have something on my mind. I love you, but you're suffocating me.”
She hated that word because everything about it seemed to scream helicopter mom. Choked up by how it made her feel, she turned her head away to admire nature and think.
“Well, I’m not trying to do that. I was just seeing how you look, and at a time like this, I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to. If not me, then Brandon or Emma or whoever.”
“I get it, and I don’t really think I need you to tell me that. I know I can go to them or whoever—you know I do have friends, too.”
Inside, Angela bristled at the thought of her son going to someone else to reveal things she believed she should know. Still, in her heart, she knew that didn’t matter, even if it hurt her.
A buildup of difficult emotions was ready to burst forth from somewhere she couldn’t identify. The struggle was real, and tapping her hands on the side of the chair did nothing to alleviate it.
Work was her outlet for perfectionism. Now that she had nowhere to go with it, and her phone was missing, Angela didn’t know what to do. “Well, that’s good, Steven. I’m happy for you. I love you, you know that.”
She felt the footsteps more than heard them as he approached. When she turned, Steven was right beside her. “Seems to me you might need someone to talk to.”
“Actually, I just need to get back to work and bury all this. It's the only way I can ever get anything done. The relationship I had with your grandfather wasn’t easy, and it hurt me just as much as it hurt you. Maybe it hurt him, too, even though he didn’t admit it.”
She saw the sympathy in his eyes just before he masked it and looked away.
“Yeah, well, I can’t help with that. This whole place is a mystery to me, and I’m kind of just along for the ride since you made me come.
So it’s more like a vacation than mourning for my family.
Can’t say I would have picked this place, but it has its charm, I guess. ”
Angela struggled to keep her composure, the emotions inside clashing with the coldness outside, not just in the air and atmosphere. She gripped the chair. “Well, I’m glad it's a vacation for you. Are you planning on getting a real job when we get back home?”
He moved away, walking carelessly to the edge of the patio. The jacket he wore, fluttering in the cold breeze, reminded her of their strained relationship.
“I know you’ve built your career working yourself to death, Mom. You’ve hardly taken a vacation during all my childhood, but that’s not how I want to live. I want a life, not one driven by work.”
She regarded his profile, thankful he was finally talking to her. “I understand.”
“I’m not sure what I want to do, and you hounding me isn’t going to make me figure it out. I need time, and I’m not as lazy as you think I am.”
“I don’t think—”
“Yes, you do, and you know it. Heck, I do, too, but that’s not the point.
I have things on my mind that you wouldn’t understand, and that’s just one of them.
If you could stop hounding me about this, I will eventually figure it out.
I’m not looking to freeload off you forever.
You act like I’m thirty-five or something. ”
She swallowed the retort, ready to let it slip off her tongue—a knee-jerk response from dealing with his struggles alone all these years.
“Sorry, but being here should give you time. I know you and Grandpa weren’t really anything to each other but blood, but Mistletoe Harbor is a beautiful place.
And Emma is determined to have a Christmas like we used to, when our mom was alive. ”
“Why can’t we just go home now? I don’t really want to be here; I don’t really want to celebrate Christmas with them, as much as I love Aunt Emma and her family.”
“Because then we wouldn’t all be together, and I have a lot of other things to do.
I have to help Emma get this place cleaned up and figure out what’s happening.
Grandpa didn’t have a will, and all of this is left to us.
We’re going to be here for a while, though I might take a break here and then go home quickly and come back.
Not sure yet. It's a lot, and it depends on how my staff handles things.”
“Maybe I should go.”
“You know how I feel about that. And while I don’t control you, Steven, you're a grown man. I am here to support you, and I really need your help around here. There is too much for us all to do and not enough strong arms to do it.”
Speaking the truth from her heart and from a family-oriented mindset helped Angela, who wasn’t going to let Steven off the hook on this one.
“Fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going for a walk.”
Silently, she watched him go, the chill in the air bothering her.
She wished he had taken a hat or something to stay warm.
Maine winters were unpredictable. The ocean influenced the weather, causing it to either freeze quickly or grow warmer, with new temperatures that only the ocean’s vastness could bring.
As his form disappeared, to where she didn’t know, the memory of Evander floated into her mind. She’d sat on this very patio countless times, watching him come in from the same direction Steven had just left, his black and red flannel jacket billowing in the cold breeze.