36. Melanie
melanie
“Does your person have a moustache?”
“Nope.”
I peer into Bettie and Harry’s living room, finding Oakley frowning down at his Guess Who board while Lanie lounges across from him, her back pressed against the couch. Her mouth is curved into a smug little smile that reminds me a little too much of her uncle.
“Is your person wearing a hat?” she asks knowingly.
Oakley grumbles an affirmative, and Lanie flicks several people down, leaving only two upright. He counts his, his frown deepening when he realizes he still has six possible options for who Lanie’s person might be. He studies each one intensely before glancing up at her with narrowed eyes.
“Is your person wearing a hat?” The question is laced with dramatic suspicion, and I bite back a smile.
Before Lanie has a chance to answer, Bettie calls out to me from the kitchen. “Can you give me a hand?”
“Absolutely.” I look back at the kids just in time to catch Oakley pointing a finger at Lanie.
“I let you win,” he declares.
“Oh, yeah?” she chirps, turning her board upside down and shaking all the people back upright. “Prove it.”
I leave them to their next round out of several, stepping into the kitchen where Bettie immediately passes me a full glass of white wine and a wooden spoon.
“I’m glad I have you to help tonight. If I asked Harry for a hand, he’d offer me a handshake, and then he’d oversalt the stew. Can you stir it for me?”
“If you’re bribing me with wine, I’ll do a lot more than stir.” I move over to the stove, inhaling the fragrant aroma of the beef stew simmering. “This smells delicious.”
“It was my mama’s recipe.” Bettie pulls all the makings for a salad out, washing the vegetables and setting up the chopping board. “Nothing beats a good, hearty stew. How are the children doing?”
“Pretty sure Lanie is schooling Oakley.” I laugh. “Those two are going to be trouble.”
Her knife hits the wooden board with a thud as she slices tomatoes.
“It’s so good for Lanie to spend time with other people, but especially other children.
She’s been so closed off since she and Jaz moved back.
” Her expression is contemplative. “Even before the move, perhaps. I know she’s really enjoyed spending time with Oakley. ”
I sip my wine, telling her, “She’s a good kid. Jaz has done a great job.”
Life hasn’t always been easy for the two of them, but I have to wonder if the reason that Lanie and Oakley found common ground so quickly—especially with the gap in their ages—is because they both know what it’s like to have a shitty father.
“It’s amazing how resilient children can be,” Bettie says, sliding her tomatoes into the salad bowl. “I wish they didn’t have to be.” She glances my way, her smile small, “but I know Lanie and Oakley are both going to be just fine.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” I murmur.
It’s been just over a month since Davis took Oakley…
and died for his actions. Oakley has been okay, slowly finding a new normal, but a veil has been pulled away from his eyes.
The world is not as safe as it once was, and I can’t blame him for it.
Davis was one person who should have kept him safe, and now Oakley is looking at everyone differently.
He’s wary, distrustful of people he doesn’t know, and I don’t know if that will ever change.
I’ve tried to make peace with the fact that Davis is gone, and I can’t hold him accountable for everything he did to us. But there’s nowhere for my anger to go, a seething ball of rage sitting in my chest that never really leaves.
A hand comes down on my shoulder, startling me out of my thoughts. I look up at Bettie as she gives me a reassuring squeeze.
“Have a little faith,” she advises. “You’re doing a great job.”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” I say wryly. “It’s more like I’m walking through a forest at night—no light or map, and surrounded by dangerous animals and steep cliffs.”
She clucks her tongue. “How’s the child psychologist working out?”
Our doctor had referred us to someone over in Ashland, someone who specialized in PTSD and childhood trauma. Oakley’s been going once a week, and although he doesn’t say much about his sessions, he always seems to come away lighter, but that might just be my wishful imagination.
“Good, I think.” I shift to the side as she takes the wooden spoon from me and checks the stew, adding more salt before she switches the element off.
“He’s still sticking to me like glue, but he’s not having as many nightmares.
” I take a generous sip of my wine, not quite meeting her eyes when she looks at me.
“I don’t know if I should be making him talk more or just pretending that everything is fine.
I’m terrified of making it all worse for him. ”
“Oh, Melanie.” Her voice is full of sympathy. “I doubt you could make it worse, even if you tried. And remember, you have us now. You have support for whatever might happen next. As Cale would say, you’re stuck with us.”
I roll my lips inward, hiding my smile. “You mean like if I’m ambushed by Marcy in the bakery again?”
There’s a gleam in her warm brown eyes, but her voice is prim as she says, “I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.
If I did, all I would say is that woman had it coming.
” She pats my shoulder one last time before turning away.
“The stew is done, and the salad is ready. Now all we need is the bread.” She pulls out a loaf of sourdough that she must have baked earlier.
“Cale’s been hinting lately,” I tell her conversationally as she pulls out a bread knife, glancing at me curiously. “I think he wants to talk about downsizing to one house, considering how much time he spends at mine.”
“That’s fast.” Bettie’s brows lift high.
“Especially for someone who has spent two decades of his life telling anyone and everyone that he will never have a relationship.” She rolls her eyes as she efficiently cuts the bread into even slices.
“He gets that off his father. Did you know that Harry and I got married on our six-month anniversary?”
“No kidding?”
“Nope.” Her lips tremble with amusement. “Cale was born six months after that.”
I stare at her, deadpan. “Wow, that’s pretty early. He must have been tiny.”
“Only nine pounds or so.” She laughs. “The Evans men might twiddle their thumbs for an annoyingly long amount of time, but when they set their minds on something? They’re all in.”
“Does Cale know about his miraculously early entrance into the world?”
Bettie shrugs. “I’ve never hidden it, but he either ignores it or…
Well, math was never his strong suit in school.
Back to the subject at hand. Do you want to live with my son?
I wouldn’t blame you if you chose not to.
I don’t understand how he can coach baseball but still can’t manage to throw his dirty socks in a hamper. ”
“Socks are probably the least of my problems,” I say dryly before admitting, “But you’re right, I can’t live with him…
because I’m going to be living with you.
” Bettie looks up, startled, and I point toward the bread.
“Look, you feed me better than he does. You always have good wine, and you’re great company.
I figure I’ll steal you from Harry and keep you for myself. ”
Bettie laughs with delight. “I like this plan, but are you bringing Oakley with you? It doesn’t matter. I know exactly how to bribe him.”
“Like that’s hard.” Cale scoffs as he steps into the kitchen, his eyes already locked on me as he scowls playfully. “You trying to steal my mom, darlin’? I thought we were sharing things these days.”
“Some things shouldn’t be shared,” I say solemnly as he closes the distance. He yanks me into his body, eliciting a surprised gasp from me, right as he stamps a hard kiss against my mouth.
When he pulls back to smirk at me, I continue. “You’ve had her for years. It’s my turn now.”
I’m standing in the bathroom later that night, brushing my teeth, when Cale comes to stand in the doorway, watching me with a thoughtful expression.
“Oakley’s asleep,” he says as I finish up, rinsing my mouth. “He barely even got through one chapter before he was out. Lanie must have worn him out with all that losing.”
I chuckle, putting my toothpaste away and grabbing my nighttime moisturizer, smoothing it over my face. “He always beats Nell, so it’s nice that someone can give him a taste of his own medicine.”
He props his shoulder against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. His expression doesn’t change, and I eye him in the mirror as I close the container, putting it away. “What’s up?”
“He was happy tonight.”
“He likes Lanie, and he likes your family. I think spending time with them is exactly what he needs after everything.”
“They like him too,” he says quietly, pausing a beat. “They like you as well.”
I turn to face him, propping my hip against the vanity. “That’s good, isn’t it?” I lift a questioning eyebrow. He dips his chin, one corner of his mouth curving upward.
He pushes off the door, his arms dropping to his sides. “I have something to give you.” My eyes drop, and he barks out a laugh. “No. Well, yes. But something else first.”
“Well, you should be warned that whatever you give me right now is probably going to be a disappointment.” He narrows his eyes, and I grin. “What is it?”
He digs in his jeans pocket, pulling out a rumpled piece of paper.
I give it a cursory look, mouth open, about to ask more questions, but then recognition hits me.
He’s holding the envelope we’ve been passing back and forth for months with the money for the window, although looking a little worse for wear.
One corner is completely crumbled, and I don’t think it’s my imagination that there’s still a slight sparkle when it catches the light.