Chapter 49
Meeting must be over. Nate didn’t hear anything after he popped out his earbuds and started gathering all their wallpapering supplies off the upstairs hallway floor.
Tossing a tape measure, paintbrush, ruler, yardstick, and utility knife into a giant bucket, Nate prayed all the wallpaper he and McKenna had slathered over every surface from here to kingdom come these past couple days never went out of style.
If it did, he’d sell a kidney and pay for someone else to redo it.
Working separately in different rooms while Tricia and Guy Scampy, country music’s current hottest duo, blasted at top volume because that’s what Gus claimed was the best type of wallpapering music, was not what Nate had envisioned for this project.
The only reason Nate happily volunteered to keep at it this afternoon while McKenna ducked away for another meeting was to simply get it finished. Forever.
He hauled the bucket of supplies downstairs, glancing into the dining room in hopes of seeing McKenna, but only spotted empty chairs. Biting back a frustrated sigh, he hauled the bucket down to the basement and set it next to the bottom of the stairs to get it out of the way for now.
She wouldn’t have gone into town, would she?
When he came up the stairs, he stopped off in the kitchen and peeked out the window above the sink.
Her rental car sat in the driveway, so maybe she’d just stepped outside to check on the goats.
Take some more pictures or something. He’d search her out in a few minutes.
Nate opened the fridge, debating between a bottled vitamin water or a can of cream soda as he thought about the words he’d finally worked up the courage to read last night. Words, for some reason, he was now desperate to share with McKenna.
Perfect love casts out fear.
Nate reached for the cream soda only to set it back and consider the glass jug of iced tea Gus had set out to brew in the sun earlier. Then he closed his eyes, recalling more of the words penned out on paper in his mentor’s handwriting.
You have a big heart. One that loves big. Stop reining it in. Stop being afraid to share that love with others—even when they don’t deserve it. Especially when they don’t deserve it.
“Do you think Harry likes pickle salad?”
Nate opened his eyes and slowly let the refrigerator door close before he turned just as slowly to face McKenna because sometimes it takes a slow second to transition from a dying man’s last words to pickle salad. “Hey, I was just looking for you.”
“You must be terrible at hide-and-seek if you thought you’d find me in the refrigerator.
” She held up a piece of scratch paper. “Have you seen this yet? Georgie wrote out a Must Have For Harry list that she wants us to start working on. She wrote down pickle salad three times. Why would she do that?”
Today McKenna was wearing light blue joggers with a white tank top. She had a red bandana wrapped around her forehead like one of Rocky Balboa’s sweatbands. And her curls were gathered at the top of her head, springing upward and outward like an out-of-control firework.
She was, in a word, adorable. And he was, in more words than necessary, so completely and utterly smitten. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure,” she said, frowning down at the list in her hands.
“My mentor wrote me a letter before he died. That’s what was so important to me in the suitcase.”
McKenna slowly looked up from Georgie’s list because it apparently took just as slow of a second to transition from pickle salad to a dying man’s last words. She lowered her hand holding the list to her side, her bright blue-green eyes focused on him with full attention. “I wondered about that.”
Nate reached back inside the fridge to grab the vitamin water. When he offered it to McKenna, she shook her head. He closed the door, then took a seat on one of the kitchen island stools. She slid in next to him.
“I was actually at his funeral the day that I met you,” Nate continued.
“He grew up in Nebraska. Still had family there. His sister was the one who gave me the letter. I was too chicken to read it at the time. Even after I’d lost it and got it back, I couldn’t bring myself to read it until last night. ”
“How come?”
“Because I already knew what he was going to say. He was going to tell me I needed to forgive my dad.” Nate unscrewed the cap and took a drink.
“And?”
“And . . .” Nate twisted the cap back into place.
“I don’t want to. I’m not sure I even can.
To be honest, I’m a little ticked off that he would even bring it up.
As if I need the burden. He should’ve just left it alone.
Now all he’s done has made me feel like a huge disappointment to him because I know I’ll never be able to do it. ”
This road was getting bumpy. Maybe Nate shouldn’t have started down it. Talking about Harry’s possible preference for pickle salad would’ve been smoother. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to unload all my baggage on you.”
Her warm palm circled his forearm. “I could tell all day that something was bothering you.”
Nate dropped his elbow on the counter and gripped the front of his hair. “It’s not just the letter. My dad sent me another text too. Right after we left the airport. Haven’t read it yet. Not sure I will.”
“Has he ever explained why he left you and your mom?”
“Sort of. It’s not hard to guess. He was a musician.
Had stars in his eyes. Thought he was going to hit it big as the next Garth Brooks or something.
Never did, obviously. Eventually settled in Nashville.
Last I heard he works as some hotshot producer.
I don’t know. All I do know is a family didn’t fit into the picture back when he was traveling and doing gigs all the time.
I just wish he’d stop trying to fit us back into the picture now when it’s too late. ”
“Maybe it’s not about fitting you back into the picture. Maybe he just . . . I don’t know, wants a little shot at redemption?”
“Well, like I said. It’s too late.”
“Is it, though?” She gripped his wrist before he could pull away.
“All I’m saying is before I got adopted, I had a dad out there that may not have wanted anything to do with me either.
I don’t know the situation, but I think it’s safe to assume it wasn’t great.
Best case scenario, he didn’t know about me.
Worst-case scenario, he knew and didn’t care.
Maybe he was a huge jerk. I don’t know. But here’s the thing, Nate.
If that man reached out to me today, I wouldn’t care what sort of man he was thirty years ago.
I’d be interested in knowing who my dad is today, because he and that man from thirty years ago?
They may not be the same person anymore. ”
“So you’re saying I should give my dad another chance. Just like that.”
She slid her hand down, clasping his hand inside both of hers. “I’m saying don’t rule it out. Keep thinking about it. Don’t just conclude that it’s something you’ll never be able to do.”
“You’re starting to sound like my mentor.”
“Is that a compliment?”
Nate wagged his head side to side. “Some days.”
She smiled and let go of his hand to grab an orange out of the fruit bowl sitting on the island. “What was his name, this mentor?”
“Philip Cornwell.”
“Philip Cornwell. My, my. Sounds very scholarly. What did he do?” she asked, making a pile of orange peelings and rind.
“Stole cars. Got into trouble. Served time in prison.”
“Sounds like the typical mentor, sure.”
“When I met him he was out of prison and working as a custodian at my college. Became a father figure to me in many ways. Your turn. What does the J stand for in Momma J?”
“Jayla. When I heard people calling her Jay for short, I thought they were calling her the letter J. How did Mr. Philip Cornwell become your mentor?”
“We bonded over poetry in the library.”
“A fellow ponderer. Of course.” The scent of citrus sprayed the air as she began splitting the orange into wedges.
“Tell me about . . . what was your adopted dad’s name?”
“Travis.” She swiveled on the stool toward Nate and held out an orange slice.
He popped it into his mouth and adjusted his legs so that her knees alternated with his, fitting together like pieces in a Tetris game. “Tell me more about Travis.”
A small smile danced across her lips. “He sort of put me in mind of a hobbit.”
“I like him already.”
Her smile widened. “He was always spouting off silly limericks. Had this stocky build. I don’t think he was any taller than Momma J, and she wasn’t all that tall herself. He also had those cauliflower ears from doing a bunch of wrestling in his younger days. Bit of a large nose too.”
“Well, how could Momma J have possibly resisted him?”
“Right?” McKenna laughed. “Perfect package.”
“I’m guessing maybe he had a great personality?”
McKenna’s voice softened. “Honestly, he was the perfect package. Momma J loved him dearly, and I’m sure I would have too if I’d only been given the chance. I was still a shy girl learning how to lower my guard when he died in a car wreck a few months after they married.”
Nate took another offered orange slice. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”
“You don’t even know the half of it,” she said, picking off bits of rind and holding the next piece close enough to his mouth that he leaned forward and took it straight from her fingers.
He’d like to. When it came to McKenna he’d like to know all of it.
McKenna’s smile reappeared with a tenderness tucked in the corners.
“That’s what makes Bobbi so special. Momma J always called her the miracle baby.
She didn’t even realize she was pregnant until about a month after Travis’s funeral.
She said later that knowing a part of Travis was living inside her had been the only thing to keep her going for a while.
She always said Bobbi was her special gift from God. A blessing.”
“So are you, McKenna. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Judging by her wrinkled nose and quick shake of the head, he was guessing not.
“Oh my goodness.” She untangled their legs and jumped from her chair. “It’s almost five o’clock. I told Barb I’d swing by her place to check out this Polaroid camera I’m supposed to use for the Dominoes Dance. She thinks it might be broken, but I told her I could probably get it working.”
“I meant what I said.” He tried grabbing hold of her, but she was already skipping away out of the kitchen, yelling, “Can you believe Harry will be here in twelve days? How am I supposed to make it another twelve days without Harry?”
She then started singing what Nate could only assume was supposed to be “It Had to Be You” as she jogged up the stairs, leaving Nate behind to ponder a question of his own.
How was he supposed to make it without McKenna once these twelve days were over?