Chapter Fifteen
Driving into Tessa’s childhood neighborhood always came with a heady hit of nostalgia.
Only ten minutes from downtown, the familiar streets made her feel a little like she was traveling back in time.
Not into history, but into her history. These were the kind of streets that cameras panned into at the start of movies, the visual definition of southern Virginia.
Ancient oak trees lined uneven brick streets, their gnarled, reaching limbs entwined gently overhead. The faint amber glow of the sunset filtered through mossy, web-covered branches, creating a gorgeous fall mosaic across the ground.
Tessa smiled as she drove, appreciating the peacefulness and beauty of the moment and the drive, despite the needles of anticipation pricking her spine.
Growing up here, within walking distance of the river and downtown, had made for an idyllic childhood and adolescence.
Her dad never tired of taking her to parades, out for ice cream, or to watch the annual rubber duck race from the cobblestone bridge.
Anything and everything she wanted to do, he went cheerfully along.
He’d made her life without her mother manageable on the hard days and downright wonderful on the others, despite the pain.
Above all else, Tessa’s dad had taught her compassion and patience.
He’d made it clear that, eventually, everyone would encounter problems in their lives.
Some problems were tough enough that the person would need help, and no one could make that happen except the one in need.
Tessa’s mom had an alcohol problem. She’d needed help, but she had to handle that on her own.
Until she did, her dad monitored and preapproved her every interaction with Tessa.
The gatekeeping had been fine, until it wasn’t.
For years they continued to share meals and take family walks, when her dad believed her mom was sober. He’d never cut her out of Tessa’s life. But he protected her with the vigilance of a prison guard, until her mom had stopped coming around altogether.
To this day, no one knew if her mom was well, dead, or living somewhere under an assumed name with a new family.
Perhaps she was clean and too ashamed to show her face in Harbor Heights again.
Tessa hoped the latter was true. Better to be sober and alive with a new life than the alternative. But she never stopped wondering.
Her dad had worn the pain of their divorce, and her mother’s affliction, like an open wound for all of Tessa’s childhood.
Then he’d met Alice, and for a while, he’d been truly, blissfully happy. They all were.
Then she died.
Life really wasn’t fair.
Tessa turned onto the cracked cement driveway outside her childhood home and parked behind an unfamiliar blue pickup truck, presumably Devin’s. She took several steadying breaths and shook out her hands hard at the wrists, then stepped into the twilight.
The tidy brick one-story home wore a black roof and shutters. A seasonal wreath hung on the matching black front door with a large wooden letter M for Michels centered in the grapevine and faux leaves.
Tessa climbed the steps slowly, noting her last chance to feign sick and return home, but the door swung open before she reached the small porch.
“Tess!” Her dad appeared and dragged her into a hug. He rocked foot to foot and planted a kiss on the top of her head. He smelled of Old Spice, a cologne he’d worn all her life, and something ashy, like a campfire.
“Hi, Dad,” she said.
He released her with a proud smile and motioned her through the door. “We were just enjoying a little fire out back while we waited for dinner,” he told her. “Come on in. Dinner’s in the oven. We have a little time before it’s ready.”
Tessa moved into the foyer, lined with framed photos of her annual school pictures from preschool through college graduation. She hung her jacket on a peg above the bench where she once sat to put on her shoes.
Rich, savory scents of warm bread and melting butter wafted from the kitchen, followed quickly by the tangy zip of marinara sauce. “Smells delicious in here,” she said on a dramatic inhale. She pulled the mouthwatering scents deep into her lungs.
“It’s one meal I can’t get wrong,” he said. “I’ve had thirty years of practice.”
Tessa trailed him into the kitchen, taking in his tall, thin frame. “Are you losing weight?” she asked. It definitely appeared that way. He worked long hours, slept very little, and likely didn’t bother with dinner when no one was around.
“Eh,” he said.
“Are you eating enough?”
“I eat,” he said. “I have to go easy. I get heartburn and indigestion.”
She frowned, a flicker of fear igniting in her core. “Did you tell your doctor?”
“Uh.” He looked over his shoulder as he bustled around the space. “He knows. He gave me a pill. I’m fine.”
“I worry about you,” she said. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said and fixed her with a bright smile. “My little girl and my son are here for dinner. It’s the best night of my year!”
She sighed, resigned, but wishing he looked more like the thriving man she’d known in her youth.
Would he ever look that way again? She wondered. Could he?
Fresh silver hairs had overtaken her dad’s previously dark hair and beard. His cheek bones were more noticeable, his face not quite as round. He’d been nearly Tessa’s age when she was born, which meant he was over sixty now. A fact she knew, logically, but one she hadn’t quite let settle in.
Her dad could retire anytime. But people who retired were old. They stopped working because they needed the break. Her dad was the strongest man she knew. He’d been a soldier. A football player. Someone who’d once carried her on his shoulders.
“You okay?” he asked, turning to peek back at her.
“Yeah.” Her voice cracked on the little word, because her dad couldn’t get older. If he did, then one day she’d lose him, and she’d never be old enough for that.
“You’re unusually quiet.” He checked the oven, then raked a hand through his hair. The move parted his unbuttoned plaid flannel shirt to reveal a navy blue T-shirt beneath. When he picked up a can of soda from the counter, she laughed.
“What?”
“If Kate was here, she’d say you look like Charlie from Twilight,” she admitted. Though a slightly older version, and Charlie would be drinking a Rainier beer, not a cola.
“The vampire?” he asked, returning the can to the counter with a frown.
“No.” She waved a hand, still fighting her smile.
“The wolf?”
Tessa laughed. “The dad.”
His expression warmed. “That’s the best role.”
Tessa opened her arms for a hug. Her dad pulled her greedily into his embrace.
“I’m so glad you’re here, sweetie,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”
She opened her mouth to tell him how much she missed him, and that she wished he invited her more often, but an unexpected rock of emotion clogged her throat.
Maybe it was time she invited him to her place or out for a walk along the river sometime. Maybe she wasn’t too young to be the adult once in a while. “Dad—”
The back door opened, cutting off her words with the familiar squeak.
Her muscles stiffened as she pressed away from her dad.
“Hey,” Devin said, moving into the kitchen from the patio. A plume of gray smoke curled outside the window behind him. “The wind was picking up, so I put out the fire. It took longer than I expected.”
Something in his tone and expression made her believe he might’ve been allowing her time alone with her dad before making his appearance. If that was true, she appreciated it.
“It’s been a while, huh, Tess?” Devin asked, moving nervously forward.
His voice seemed a little deeper than she remembered. His shoulders slightly broader. Maybe he was just standing straighter or speaking slower. She couldn’t be sure.
Something was different, though.
He looked—cleaner. Freshly shaven with neatly cut hair.
It’d been more than a year since he’d last come to call.
“You missed Christmas.” Her cheeks heated with equal parts indignation and embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, but she realized in the moment she was still hurt by the fact that he’d promised to come, then he simply hadn’t shown.
“Tess,” her dad warned.
“Sorry,” she said. “Yes, it has been a while.”
“Devin would’ve been here if he could have,” their dad said.
“Well,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”
“Thanks. You too.” Devin shucked the jacket from his shoulders and hung it on the back of a nearby chair. He moved to the cupboards and collected three plates, three bowls, and three glasses. “I guess Dad told you about what happened with me.”
She watched him carry the dinnerware into the adjoining dining room and set the table.
Her dad glanced in her direction without saying a word.
Tessa let her eyes shut for a moment. She grounded herself by her senses, the way she did when she ran. She smelled the fried chicken and rigatoni, heard the sounds of her childhood home at dinnertime, felt the warmth of the kitchen, heated by a full oven.
“You all right?” Devin asked. He stood empty handed before her.
She nodded, and he stepped around her on his return trip to the kitchen.
The heroine of her story would find peace for her future and release the frustrations of her past. She’d know she couldn’t change the past, nor could she control what anyone other than herself chose to do, say, think, or feel. She’d heal. Choose peace. And move on.
“I’m good,” she said. She forced her shoulders to lower, releasing tension from her neck and back. “Anything I can do to help?”
“I think we’ve got it covered,” her dad said.
The men worked in tandem, as if they’d done this dozens of times before.
Dad removed a tray of rigatoni from the oven, then a sheet of dinner rolls as well.
Devin pulled a pretossed salad from the refrigerator and added a large pair of tongs to the bowl. “You still like ranch,” he said.
“Who doesn’t?” Dad asked.
Devin laughed. “Based on the thirty-two-ounce bottle in the fridge, you’re this dressing’s biggest fan.”
Tessa waited awkwardly, wanting to be useful without any idea how. “You should let me do something,” she said. “Can I open the wine?”
Their dad stilled, briefly exchanging an odd look with her brother.
“It’s fine,” Devin said. “Pick your favorite.”
Tessa moved to the cabinet where bottles of wine collected dust in wait for family dinner nights.
“Hon,” Dad said, meeting her at the counter as she opened the walnut door. “I don’t have any wine right now.”
She sensed the warning in his tone and turned to see Devin look away.
“I told him not to worry about it,” her brother said. “I’m fine.”
They’d all heard that before, but there had always been wine at dinner.
She opened the cupboard and stared at the empty shelves.
Their dad had removed every bottle. “No problem.” She had an absentee, alcoholic mother.
She’d seen all the flashing neon signs warning of the same disease in her little brother.
But this was the first time anyone acknowledged it in any real way.
And Dad had never gotten rid of the wine.
His movements were tight as he fussed with the meal. He’d spent the last twenty years trying to save a boy who wound up just like his first wife, even after he’d given his heart and soul to the task.
Tessa ached for both men. They each deserved so much better.
She hoped the nonstop worry hadn’t caused her dad to age faster. That it hadn’t taken a toll on his health. Because something in his posture and appearance said he wasn’t doing as well as he claimed.
And suddenly she felt doubly glad to be here with him and her brother. No one was promised another day.