Chapter 7
RACHEL
With a fresh iced chai in one hand and a tall black coffee in the other, I clamber up the front steps of my childhood home.
I don’t get to see my dad nearly as often as I’d like during the school year and with the kids’ schedules, but I make a point to visit on Saturdays during the summer.
This year, I’ve come to look forward to our visits more than usual. Dad and I have always been close, but after my mom died, our bond grew even stronger. It remained that way for the six years when it was just the two of us at home. My brother Felix Jr.—FJ to the citizens of Cole Creek—had just started college when Mom had an aneurysm, and instead of coming back home like so many kids might’ve done, he stuck it out. I think putting his head down and working was his way of coping, just like mine was spending as much time as I could with our dad.
That is, until Craig and I started dating and my priorities shifted. In every aspect of my life, not just my relationship with my father.
“Hi-de-ho,” I call out as I let myself in. Immediately, I’m assaulted by the smell of paint. “Uh, Dad? What are you doing?”
My father pops up from behind the kitchen table with a roller covered in lime-colored paint. His gray hair is doing some kind of Einstein tribute, and his denim overalls are more green than blue.
“Hiya, sweet pea. I’m painting. What does it look like I’m doing?”
As he goes back to work on the lower part of the wall, I consider whether this could be one of those weird dreams I have every now and again rather than reality. In those dreams, I’m back at home like this, but it’s usually my mom who’s up to something wild and crazy, not my dad.
“You do realize that’s neon green, right?”
Dad glances over his shoulder at me with raised brows. “No need to break out the crayons, Ms. Perry. I’m well aware of my colors, thank you.”
Someone’s feisty today. Jeez.
“And for the record, Emma picked it out.” Standing back, he inspects his work. “She said I needed some color in my life, and I happen to agree.”
Oh, Emma. My heart pangs at the thought. The two of them have such a sweet relationship.
“Anyway, what brings you over?” He returns the paint roller to the tray and puts the lid on the paint can.
“I just wanted to visit.” And maybe talk.
“I appreciate that.” He leans in, careful not to get paint on my dress, and kisses my cheek. “No kids today?”
“No, they’re with Craig this weekend. Which reminds me… Emma’s last game is next weekend. Do you want to come along? It’s in Copper Crossing, so I was thinking we could do a little shopping and maybe grab something to eat afterward.”
“Chinese food?” The eagerness in his voice is almost childlike.
I laugh softly. “Sure.”
“I would have gone along anyway, but you know how I love those raccoons.”
“Rangoon.”
“That’s what I said.” He scowls as he wipes his hands on an old towel and sets it aside.
Right. “Anyway, I brought you a coffee.” I hand it over and turn my attention back to the paint. “Do you want some help? I could get on the ladder and—”
“Nope. If you help, it’ll get done faster, and we both know I like to keep busy.”
That’s true. He retired early from the iron mine, and if he isn’t playing bunco with his buddies or working in his gardens, he gets restless and cranky.
“The fumes are getting to be a bit much in here,” he says, holding his coffee aloft and motioning for the door. “Let’s sit on the porch and get some fresh air.”
So we do, and while Dad rocks in a rocking chair that once belonged to his mother, I claim the chair that was my mother’s.
A warm summer breeze slips across the front porch, carrying the scent of fresh flowers with it, as if to remind me even more of her.
Dad’s maintained her flower beds since she died almost twenty years ago. Most of them are significantly larger than when she kept them, because Dad can’t let any of them go. It’s one of the ways he pays homage to her still, after all this time. His way of letting her know that he still thinks about her. Still loves her.
“So, what’s on your mind, sweet pea?”
“Who said there’s anything on my mind?”
He rolls his head against the back of the chair, his all-knowing eyes seeing right through me. Damn him.
“I’m not sure where to begin,” I admit. We’ve already talked at length about my split with Craig and what that means for the kids and our future. Early on, my focus was on making sure they were okay. Now that we’ve settled into a new normal, I’ve come to realize that I have a lot of work to do on myself. And that’s perhaps the hardest part in all this.
“Start at the beginning,” Dad says gently.
“We’d be here for hours.”
“So? I like the company.” He winks, and it takes me right back to when I was a little girl and he’d sneak me pieces of butter rum candy before dinner. He would always wink to make sure I knew it was a secret just between us.
I only wish the secrets I’ve been keeping these past few years were that simple.
“I think I’ve spent a lot of my life going through the motions,” I tell him quietly, focusing on the chai I’m clutching. “Like a zombie.”
“You look pretty alive to me,” he teases. “And I noticed you got your hair cut. I like it.”
I touch the locks, which I had trimmed this morning, thanks to Jinx pointing out how little I do for myself.
“Thank you. But what I mean is…” How do I explain this? How do I tell him that I spent most of my marriage living a lie? “It’s like I was playing a role.”
He nods, but he doesn’t speak. He just keeps on rocking, waiting for me to continue.
“I feel so stupid for not realizing sooner. I’m thirty-two. Plenty old enough to know better. So, I have no excuse or reason—”
“You’re human, Rachel. That’s your reason.”
Emotion builds in my chest, tightening around my lungs. I examine my mother’s flowers, letting the comfort I always find there ease the ache. Their colors are vibrant in the sun. Shades of pink, purple, yellow, and green. And their leaves and petals flutter in the late morning breeze, standing so strong against it and inspiring me to garner a little strength, too.
“You’ve also spent the last decade raising a family, sweet pea. You’ve been busy. It’s understandable that you’d find yourself distracted from time to time.”
“It’s more than that, Dad.” I set my drink on the small table between us. “It’s like… like I was one of those Stepford wives, running on autopilot. Like I was following the instructions in a manual rather than actually living my life.”
More to the point, it’s like I was doing everything I could to emulate my mother. The perfect mom, the perfect wife, the perfect teacher.
But somewhere along the way, I realized that wasn’t what I wanted. At least not to the extent I’d taken things. I’d worked so hard to be the person I thought I should be that I almost lost who I was at the core.
Mason and Emma were young when I had that revelation, and I’ve battled with the worst kind of guilt since, trying to be what Craig needed me to be and what the kids still need me to be, all the while letting myself down over and over again.
And that doesn’t even touch on the shame I feel for not wanting to be just like a woman who isn’t even here anymore. A woman who was amazing and smart and… everything.
I’m grateful for what she taught me. Grateful that I had such a wonderful person to show me the way.
But I begrudge her, too, and that only compounds the shame. Especially because, according to Craig, I wasn’t even that good at it. Or maybe I was too good. I don’t know.
It just… it sucks. And for years, I’ve been stuck in this cycle of guilt and shame and confusion.
“Throw the manual away.” Dad lifts his hands, as if the answer is that simple. “Burn it if you have to.”
How the heck am I supposed to do that? That side of me is ingrained into every fiber of my being.
“Your mother wasn’t perfect, sweet pea.” He tilts his head and smiles sympathetically. “She’s who you’re thinking about, isn’t she?”
I pinch my eyes shut and force myself to take another breath. “Yes.”
“She wouldn’t want you to be just like her. In fact, she’d want you to be as different as possible.”
“I don’t know about that.” I laugh softly and wrap my arms around myself. “She was pretty amazing.”
“And so are you.” He says it so confidently, but I don’t know if I agree.
I don’t even know who I am anymore.
And I don’t have the first clue how to be the woman I need to be for me while also being the mom my kids need.
“You gotta figure out what you want.” He taps his chest with a weathered and paint-speckled hand. “In here.”
In response, my own chest aches. If only my heart wasn’t all over the place these days.
“If you listen close enough, you’ll hear what it has to say.”
I smile, even as I chase a tear away with my fingertips. “I might need to borrow your hearing aid for that.”
He chuckles. “I’d let ya. I know there’s been a lot of noise in your life lately. But things will settle down. You’ll hear it and figure it out eventually.”
“How long are you talking? Months? Years?”
His gaze drifts out across the big yard as he sighs. “That’s the part we can’t predict, sweet pea. Healing is complicated like that.”
Much to myfather’s dismay, I spent the rest of the afternoon helping him paint. And when we were finished and everything was cleaned up and put away, even I could admit the lime green looked pretty good. I drew the line, though, when he suggested continuing the color into the living room. From there, we ended up at the hardware store, where he picked out a nice creamy coffee shade instead.
Now, at almost ten o’clock, I’m finally home with achy feet and sore muscles. The bed is calling to me, but my body has other ideas. Seemingly of its own accord, it heads straight into the master bath and the big tub I haven’t used in far too long.
While it fills, I add a little of the coconut and brown sugar oil that Crystal bought me for my birthday a few months ago, then I undress and slip into the steamy water. Once I’m fully submerged, I nearly weep.
When Craig and I bought this house, I took baths all the time. Of course, I was pregnant with Mason, so life hadn’t become crazy yet. Looking back, that summer after I graduated from college, before I started teaching, may have been the most peaceful period of my life.
Craig loved this house, but if I’m honest, the only reason I caved and agreed to put in an offer on it all those years ago was because I loved this tub and the huge bathroom so much. I would have preferred a piece of land outside of town and a home that we put our own blood, sweat, and tears into, but we were young with a baby on the way. So I set that dream aside.
Along with my plans to get my master’s degree.
And my dream of becoming a school principal.
I also wanted to travel. Nothing too crazy, but at thirty-two, I’ve only visited a handful of states, and each one of them is within driving distance.
Eventually, I will travel. I still have plenty of time to make that particular dream happen. Even if I have to wait until the kids are in college or out on their own, I’ll still be young enough to take that first flight. And if I’m alone, I can go anywhere I please.
With a sigh, I reach for my phone to turn on some music to occupy my mind before I fall back into the negative thoughts that have been plaguing me so much lately. Phone in hand, I tap the screen and am met with a new text message notification.
Unknown number: Hey Rachel. It’s Jinx. You got a second?
Jinx? What the heck?
Me: Depends on how you got my number.
Jinx: Stalked you online and paid for it on one of those info websites.
Oh my god, this man.
Me: Nice. I hope someone uses your credit card to buy a bunch of granny panties and has them delivered to you.
Jinx: *laughing emoji* As long as they’re not used.
I snort-laugh and sink a little farther into the water.
Me: Ew. Anyway, what’s up?
Jinx: Hold on. I’m going to call you.
No! Don’t do that! I’m in the—
And then my phone rings.
Shit. I can’t ignore him when he knows I’m by my phone. And after he’s done so much for me lately.
Taking a deep breath, I hold still, desperately hoping I won’t splash or slosh water against the side of the tub, and accept the call. “You realize it’s after ten, right?”
“Is it? Shit, I’m sorry.” There’s noise on the other end of the line. The opening and closing of the fridge, if I’m not mistaken, and then the sound of buttons being pressed on a microwave. “I just got home. Wasn’t paying attention to the time.”
Obviously not. Also, why is he eating so late? “You weren’t working, were you?”
Silence.
“Oh my god, were you not the one who just yesterday gave me a hard time about self-care?”
He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “It’s sweet of you to be concerned, but I’m good. I promise. Anyway, I wanted to touch base about Mason and football. I talked with Dalton today.”
Ugh. Avoidance at its finest.
“Okay…”
“Mason’s going to need a physical and all of his paperwork done ASAP.”
“He just had a physical in the spring, so we’re good to go there. I’ll get in touch with Dalton tomorrow for the other forms.”
“Perfect. My other reason for calling is about him working with me. With football practice starting so soon, it’s going to be hard to find time during the week. I was thinking we’d start with a few hours next Saturday and Sunday, if that works for you.”
“Um, I think it does.” I rest my head on the edge of the tub, careful to move slowly in the water, and study the ceiling. “I can’t recall of any other plans right now.”
“Great. Does he have a phone? I figured I’d touch base with him about this, too. Is that okay?”
“Of course.” I smile at his thoughtfulness. “But I haven’t had a chance to tell him he can play. Let me do that first?”
“Sure.”
“I also need to make sure it’s all right with Craig.”
Another beat of silence. Then, “Okay.”
Am I imagining the tension in his voice or…?
“Once you give me the go-ahead and his number, I’ll start a group chat and include you so you can make sure our plans align with your schedules and whatnot.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” I tuck a lock of damp hair behind my ear. “How did you really get my number?”
“Bobbie Jean gave it to me. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
I bite back a groan. Freaking Bobbie Jean.
“Uh, yeah. I was just curious.”
The microwave beeps on his end, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing again as he takes out whatever he’s cooked. Probably one of those frozen meals. Poor guy.
“Hold on,” he says, and there’s a thunk, probably as he sets the phone on the counter. A second later, he puts the call on speaker. “Sorry about that. Had to take my shirt off. I got it full of pine pitch today.”
Oh boy.
I bite my lip as the image of him opening the door last night dances across my memory. Not only did he look good, but he also smelled amazing, all fresh from the shower. I don’t know what kind of body wash he uses, but if it comes in candle form, I want to stock up and burn one in every room.
And the sight of him bare-chested? Good lord. He fills out his T-shirts perfectly, but seeing those muscles without any barrier was almost my undoing, right there on his front step.
Jinx Enders is one heck of a gorgeous man. Blue-collar beautiful to the core.
Sighing, I slip down into the water, only to remember I’m on the phone.
“Shit!” I juggle the dang thing like a hot potato, barely saving it from the rice bowl.
“Wait, are you in the tub?” Jinx asks, his voice full of mirth.
“No.”
He gives a husky chuckle that sends a zing down my spine and straight to my nipples.
Goddamn.
Forget traveling. I’m going straight to hell.
“Don’t lie to me,” he admonishes. His low and growly tone reminds me of something else he said last night.
“I might’ve felt a little territorial.”
Sweet lord, I know he didn’t mean it like it sounded, but I went there for a second in my head. I imagined him standing up for me in a completely different kind of way. The kind that made me want to show my gratitude. On my knees.
“Rachel?”
Shit. Dammit. God.
“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry. I’m just… soaking my feet. I was painting with my dad today. They’re, uh, sore.”
“Oh.” He chuckles, though I’m not convinced he believes me.
I scrunch my eyes closed and inhale deeply before slowly letting the breath out through my nose. I need to end this call ASAP.
“Anyway, it’s getting late,” I rush out. “I’ll text you Mason’s number after I talk to him and Craig, and we can coordinate for next weekend, okay?”
“Yeah. That sounds great.”
“All right. You, uh, have a good rest of your night.”
“You, too.”
As I’m pulling the phone away, ready to tap the end button, he adds, “Enjoy your bath, gorgeous.”
And I die.