Chapter 11
Remy was miserable. And he had never felt quite so alone. Because he couldn’t call Matthew, and obviously he couldn’t call Lydia. Because the only other place he would go was the Clay house, but . . .
He found himself there anyway. His chest was sore, and he felt disappointed in himself. But it was just . . . She loved him. And it felt like such a big thing. It felt like something that could be explosive. Wonderful even. But terrifying. Hell. It felt so damned terrifying.
Because he’d never wanted somebody to be stuck with him the way he’d been stuck with his father.
Because everything about domestic life, the very idea of it, terrified him.
Unto his soul. He didn’t mean to go see Nancy.
He just ended up at that house. Ended up walking up the steps and knocking on the door.
She opened it a moment later, wiping her hands on her apron. “Come in,” she said.
“Can I get a hug?”
She pulled him in without any questions. And he just let her hold him for a second. He had so many things he wanted to ask her. He had so many questions, so many . . . so many things he didn’t understand.
“Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“You might revise that offer when you find out why I’m here.”
“I won’t.” She poured hot water out of her instant hot water tap, and stuck a teabag in it, sliding it across the table to him.
Express service, as if she knew this was an emotional emergency that needed immediate attention.
She sat down across from him and gave him the kind of maternal stare he had never gotten from anyone else. “What’s going on, Remy?”
“For starters I . . . I’m cleaning up some of the mess my dad left behind, taking care of his animals.
I’m just so angry at him. Because he was the one who should have taken care of them.
Given them normal lives. And he couldn’t do that one fucking thing.
Sorry. Language, I know. But he couldn’t. . . . And then I think . . .”
“He couldn’t do it for you either,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “No. And it would be easier if I hated him,” he said, his chest aching as the revelation he had been avoiding rose to the surface.
“He’s your father, Remy. It was never going to be that easy. You were born loving him. He probably beat a lot of it out of you. But you’re a good person, with the capacity to care a whole lot. So of course, it’s hard. Of course, your feelings are confused.”
“It’s more than confusing. It feels impossible. And I just . . . I know those animals didn’t deserve the way he treated them. But sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that I didn’t deserve it.”
“Of course it is. That’s how every child in that situation feels. Because your parents are supposed to love you. But the problem was with them. Not with you. Think about it. There can’t be a problem with you, and Hank, and those horses. Right?”
“No,” he said.
“What’s the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?”
He took a deep breath, his chest aching. “Lydia said she’s in love with me. But it feels like . . . like it’s not fair to her. Because she doesn’t deserve some broken stray who has to learn how to be a husband or father. . . .”
“You listen to me,” she said, moving her hand across the table, her expression never wavering, and not anywhere near as shocked as he had expected it to be.
“Lydia has always known her own mind. I learned that I couldn’t argue with her about the things she’s passionate about the day she brought home a nest of baby squirrels and just about scared twenty years off my life with them.
She is going to love the way she’s going to love.
And as fiercely as she’s led to. You were denied a lot of love, and it seems to me that if you are lucky enough to have Lydia’s, you should grab hold of it with both hands. ”
“But . . . don’t you think I should maybe stay away from her? Don’t you think I’m not really good enough for her?”
“I brought you into this house when you were a sixteen-year-old boy. And I had a young daughter who looked at you as if the sun, the moon and the stars were created by your very hand. I’ve always put a lot of trust in you.”
He had never thought about it that way. Mostly because he hadn’t realized that Lydia . . .
But even if she hadn’t had a crush on him, he supposed it said a lot that her parents had been willing to let him move in with a teenage daughter in the house.
“You have proven to be a wonderful, honorable man. I couldn’t ask for a better man for my daughter. If you love her.”
He did love her. That was such an easy thing for him to identify. He did. How could anyone not love Lydia?
“But I don’t know how to do all this.”
“Well, you can provide for her financially,” she pointed out.
“Yeah. But . . . I didn’t grow up seeing a marriage function any kind of way. Not till I moved in here.”
He half expected her to say that he should simply copy the Clays.
But she didn’t. “You imagine all the things you would’ve loved.
The kind of love you would’ve wanted filling your house.
And then you fill your house with it. Because it’s your choice.
Because your father is dead. He doesn’t have power over you anymore.
He doesn’t get to decide what you deserve to have.
That’s the bottom line. You get to decide.
If you love Lydia as much as she loves you, then live with her.
Give her credit for being a strong, grown woman who can tell you what she wants. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“But I worry that if it’s not, our relationship will only deteriorate. Because of my parents . . .”
“You’re not your parents. Look at the life you’ve built. You’re not your parents.”
Lydia had already said that to him once. And so he was really left with only one reason why he couldn’t be with her. Probably the truest thing.
“I’m just scared. Scared to want too much. And lose too much.”
“I’ll bet that Lydia would tell you the same thing that I’m about to.
Because she has loved a whole host of animals, some of whom really were lost causes, though she’ll never admit that.
And I’ve given a lot of love in my life.
To my own children, to my husband. To a teenage boy whose parents wasted themselves, wasted their lives by not loving.
And I’ll tell you, I have never been sorry for risking my heart. Not even one time.”
Love filled him now. Certainty. A sense of stability. He had never really felt as if he belonged, but his loneliness had nothing to do with the Clays. It was him. Being too afraid to risk his heart.
But he could see what she was saying. He was keeping himself back. Allowing himself only as much happiness as his father had decided he ought to have.
He had gone to college. He had made his fortune.
Why shouldn’t he have it all? Why shouldn’t he have love?
“Thank you,” he said. He stood up. “I have to go to Lydia. I . . . I love you.”
Nancy went over to him and pulled him into a hug. “I love you too. It’s been good to have you as a surrogate son. But I think I’d like to have you as a son-in-law even better.”
Yes. That was what he wanted.
He had spent the better part of his life not caring what anyone thought.
But he cared desperately about this.
He was finally going to see it through.
* * *
Lydia heard a knock at her door, and she wondered if it was Matthew, come to commiserate.
It was very him to do that.
She got up off the couch, and all her animals descended upon the front door. “Stop, stop,” she said over the barking and other noises of malcontent filling the air.
She jerked the door open, but it wasn’t her brother on the other side. It was Remy.
“Oh.”
“I thought it over. A lot. And most importantly, I talked to your mom. Because she’s really the closest thing to a mother that I have.
And I needed some guidance. I guess that’s where I differ from a raccoon.
I know that if I don’t know how to do something, I can ask.
Because I did have that soft place, Lydia.
But I’ve been trying to exist outside it. ”
“You didn’t have it easy.”
“No. I didn’t. But I had it better than most. Because I had your family.
And I have you. Lydia, I love you. There’s never been a question of that, actually.
The way I love you has changed. It shifted.
What I want from our relationship has changed.
But my love . . . That’s certain. And now I know I want to take the chance.
I want to be with you. I want to marry you. ”
She gasped, backing up just slightly from the doorway, and he came in. The dogs were jumping up on him, but he didn’t seem to care. Even Pascal reached toward him, and he didn’t react. Because he was pulling her into his arms.
“I was scared. I was scared to care too much, because I was afraid I didn’t deserve it and that you would eventually figure that out. I’ve been waiting for that. This whole time. But that’s a bad way to live. I’m done with it. My parents don’t get to decide how happy I’m going to be.”
“Oh, Remy. I love you.” She kissed him. Deep and long. She didn’t feel so weird anymore. She felt right. Because the truth was, she had known. That he was the one. She had known before he had, and so no other man had seemed right.
It wasn’t weird if it was love.
And this certainly was.
“I got some very good advice from your mom. She said that I need to listen to you. To love you. That we can change for the better. We don’t have to get it perfect right now.”
“I think we’re going to be pretty perfect. The thing that I’m not sure about is . . . how we integrate all the animals. Mainly because of your aversion to raccoon hands.”
“We could have five raccoons, and I wouldn’t care. Because I love you. Not just the idea of you. And you come with all this.”
There was nothing more wonderful that Remy could’ve ever said to her.
“Does that mean Pascal can be the ring bearer?”
“Absolutely not.” He grinned and leaned in to kiss her. “I have to draw the line somewhere.”