CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ANSWERED PRAYERS
That night, I took Aunt Stormy and Uncle Charlie out for dinner at a nice place called Turner's to thank them for their hospitality, even though Aunt Stormy insisted on paying.
Sitting across from them at the table, I observed their shared glances, the silent conversation they had with their eyes and nothing but. I felt like a third wheel to the party at times, yet I didn't mind.
I just missed Meg.
And I wished that she were here.
The conversation was steered in directions away from my whereabouts for the day, focusing more on the wedding and the never-ending plans for the house.
Aunt Stormy insisted they would visit soon to check the place out, but I knew better than to expect anything to come from it.
Uncle Charlie didn't often get time away from his duties at the cemetery, whether by choice or otherwise, and I suspected they wouldn't be down to Connecticut at any point before the wedding.
But that was okay. I knew people had their lives to tend to, and right now, sitting in this restaurant, I couldn't wait to get back to mine.
“You okay?” Aunt Stormy asked before polishing off the last bit of a shrimp taco.
My gaze was turned toward the window, looking out at a city that wasn't mine.
I liked Salem—don't get me wrong. I appreciated its history and the love its people had for it, but it wasn't home.
It never would be, and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd be capable of feeling that way about anywhere but River Canyon.
Maybe I was more like Meg than I realized.
Settled. Comfortable.
I sighed and looked back at my aunt and every bit of silver pierced through various parts of her face, glinting beneath the restaurant lights.
I forced a smile I didn't feel, swinging my eyes toward Charlie's, then back to Stormy's as I said, “Yeah … yeah, I'm fine. Just …” I rubbed a napkin between my thumb and forefinger absent-mindedly. “I don't know. It's weird, not being home.”
Aunt Stormy offered a little laugh, her eyes reflecting the sympathy she felt. “You've been gone for a day, and you're already homesick?”
I laughed at my own expense and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. I was …” I shook my head, unsure of what to say next because what the hell was I even doing here?
I wasn't sure anymore. My jaw shifted, my tongue poked at my inner cheek, and my gaze fell to my glass of beer. Some local IPA I hadn’t caught the name of, but it’d sounded good.
“I was hoping this trip would be more … worth my time.”
Instantly, I felt ashamed of saying such a thing to my hosts, and I lifted my gaze to theirs. “I don't mean you guys. You're fine. It's just … my … my friend—”
Charlie stopped me with a lift of his inked hand. “Noah, you don't have to apologize to us. We get it.”
Aunt Stormy rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she nodded. “I can't tell you how many times I've gotten together with an old friend, thinking it was gonna be a good time, and it was so not. People change. They turn into someone you no longer know—”
“Or you're someone completely different than who you used to be,” Charlie interjected softly, nodding knowingly.
“Yep, and you just end up spending the whole time wishing you had just sent a thinking of you text or whatever instead of wasting hours of your time with essentially a stranger.”
God, I felt horrible for lying. I felt horrible that they had no clue why I was actually spending the weekend in Salem.
But that didn’t make what they were saying any less relatable, and before the web of lies could weave itself any bigger, I just nodded and said, “Yeah, exactly, so, um …
I don't know. Maybe I'll cut it short or something. Go home tomorrow and surprise Meg.”
Aunt Stormy propped her chin against her hands. “You miss her, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, swinging my gaze toward the table, knowing damn well my cheeks had turned the color of a fucking tomato.
“Because you love her,” she teased, nudging my boot with the toe of hers.
“Obviously,” Charlie groaned, side-eyeing my aunt. “The kid's marrying her.”
“I know,” Aunt Stormy said, her happiness for me glinting in her eyes.
“I just love seeing you happy. You know, with, um …” The smile dropped in slow motion from her face, and I could almost see the memories coming back to her one by one.
The history that had been bred into me. “You could've turned out a lot different than you did—that's all.”
I filled my lungs and exhaled as I said, “It's not a lie.”
And I thought about Tommy. About his son, Benjamin, and where he might be at this very moment and how badly I wished I'd been able to meet him and apologize for everything.
And I hoped he'd been as lucky as me.
I hoped he'd turned out okay.
***
“So, you didn't find anything?” Meg asked.
I paced from one side of the patio to the other, completely unfazed by the surrounding headstones, as I shook my head.
“Nada,” I muttered. “The funeral-home guys weren't helpful, and I cannot for the life of me find any fucking trace of Benjamin, Benny, Ben … nothing. The guy's as much of a ghost as his father.”
I lifted my eyes to the blackened sky and the endless expanse of stars twinkling above.
The moon was high, looking down on me in this graveyard, and I found an odd comfort in knowing that, from where it hung, it could also see my house in River Canyon.
It knew where Meg was, it knew she was okay, and for one silly moment, I imagined it was watching over her, protecting her, until I got home.
Soon.
“I mean …” Meg hesitated for a moment, as if to carefully select her words. “I don't wanna say it, but … maybe he is.”
“What? A ghost?”
“Think about it. Think about the life his father was leading. You don't know that his son didn't get mixed up in the same mess.”
“No, I guess not,” I conceded, walking over the patio again to drop into one of the two plastic lawn chairs. “I just wish I could've said something to him.”
“I know,” she replied, her tone sympathetic.
“I keep thinking about what he must've seen that night,” I said, dropping my voice to a whisper, not wanting Aunt Stormy or Charlie to hear.
“Like … God, I know what I felt that night, and I know what I felt when Seth came to us with a fucking gun in his hand, but I wasn't alone. You know? I had Seth, for whatever it’s worth, and then I had Dad. I had him telling me what to do, and then …” I swallowed, wiping a hand over my mouth. “And then I had you.”
I closed my eyes to touch base with that kid, the younger version of myself, running through the thunder and rain. Listening to the voice of an angel while the devil invaded our home.
Benjamin hadn't had that the night his father was taken from him.
“Who did he have?” I asked, knowing she didn't have the answer. “What did he do?”
“I don't know, baby,” Meg replied softly. “And maybe the reason you can't find him is because it'd be better if you never knew.”
I swallowed to wet my throat as I considered the sentiment. “Maybe you're right,” I choked out.
Abruptly, she laughed as she sniffled, and I realized she was on the verge of tears herself.
“And I swear I'm not saying that because I want you to come home.
I mean, I do, but I also just … I know this is going to eat away at you, and I understand why, but, God, Noah, imagine how terrible it'd be if you found out he'd lived a horrible life.
I can't imagine what that'd do to you, the survivor's guilt that would cause, and I need you.”
I nodded continually as she spoke until she was finished, and I said, “I know. And you're right. I know you're right. So, I'm gonna—”
“I'm pregnant.” She blurted the words out, and on impulse, I sprang to my feet, clutching my hand to my forehead, my nerves vibrating beneath my skin.
“What?” Holy hell, I wasn't aware my voice could reach that high of a note.
Meghan laughed through a shuddering sob. “Oh my God, I didn't mean to say that now. I-I-I was going to wait until you were home, b-but I just … I just said it.”
“You're pregnant?” I squinted my eyes, still unsure I'd heard her correctly.
“I am,” she replied, the words whispered through a smile and countless tears.
“You're sure?”
“I'm sure.” She released a sigh. “I have an appointment with the OB-GYN in a couple of weeks, but I took, like, four pregnancy tests last night and this morning, and every single one of them is positive.”
I was too scared to be hopeful. Too scared to believe it. We'd gotten our hopes up before, and what if … what if it was wrong? What if every one of those tests had been expired or broken or—
“What about false positives?” I asked, thrusting my hand into my hair.
“All four of them though?” She giggled again like I was the most ridiculous man on the planet. “They're different brands, babe. And according to every single one of them, I'm very pregnant.”
The admission had landed on me like a bomb, and now, it was settling gently, resting against my heart and soul with a featherlight touch. Delicate and soft, something so fragile that I was terrified I might break it if I stayed away for any longer.
It needed to be protected. She—Meg—needed to be protected, and who the hell was going to do that if I wasn't there?
“I'm coming home,” I announced, barreling toward the back door.
“What? Like, now?”
“Yes,” I said, determined. “Now. I shouldn't be here. I never should've been here. You were right. This whole fucking thing was stupid, and I'm an idiot, and—”
“Baby, as much as I love having you tell me all of this, it's also one o'clock in the morning. You're exhausted, you were drinking at dinner—”
“Meghan, I had, like, two beers hours ago,” I argued, pulling the door open and closing it behind me once I was inside the kitchen. “I'm not drunk. I can drive.”
“Get a few hours of sleep at least. Please.”
I stopped in the middle of the tiled floor, looking into the dark living room.
Aunt Stormy and Charlie were asleep. I'd stepped outside for some air and called Meg when I was tired of tossing and turning, unable to turn off the incessant noise in my head.
I would feel terrible if I left without saying goodbye, and I'd feel equally terrible for waking them up in the middle of the night when they'd only gotten to sleep a couple of hours ago.
Charlie would be up by dawn, and although Aunt Stormy wasn't much of an early bird, I knew I could talk Charlie into dragging her out of bed long enough to give me a hug goodbye.
“Okay,” I relented, but not without a little reluctance. “I'll leave after Charlie wakes up. I mean”—I huffed a laugh, remembering an important detail I'd almost forgotten—“I can't exactly get out of here without him unlocking the gate anyway.”
I was trapped, and I shook my head, chuckling at the entire situation I'd gotten myself into needlessly.
Should've gotten a hotel.
Should've looked this fucking guy up online.
Should've called the funeral home instead of making this trip up here.
Should've stayed home.
Lesson learned.
“It's okay,” Meg said. “We'll be here.”
We. I nearly gasped at the reality that it wasn't just me and her anymore. It wasn't just the two of us, and it never would be again.
We were going to be a family. All three of us.
I released a shuddery breath and scrubbed a hand against my cheek as my gaze swung to the ceiling, wishing my view of the moon weren't now obstructed.
“God, Meghan, I love you,” I said with an aching exhale. “I'm sorry I left.”
“Oh, stop it,” she replied. “Don't be sorry. Just come home.”
“I'm coming, baby. Tomorrow morning, I'm coming. I'll be there before you wake up,” I promised.
“Good,” she said. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I said again.
I could never say it enough, and as I hung up, I wished I'd said it more.
So, so much more.