Chapter 30
He'd headed into the office for his own eleven o’clock appointment.
After Annelise angrily left him sitting on the side of the hotel bed, he made good use of the shower and tried not to imagine her in there soaping herself up, naked.
Rowan failed, and in fact, more of what he remembered was the two of them years ago, climbing into whatever shower they could find a little bit of privacy in and getting dirtier rather than cleaner.
In his memories she was the seventeen-year-old girl to his seventeen-year-old boy, the two kids who'd always been together.
Who'd been irritated by the few adults who whispered of a Romeo and Juliet love story.
Looking back now, they'd been foolish to think they were sneaking around.
It was clear everyone knew. His own mother, Story, and even Melissa must have allowed it.
But again, Melissa and Vienna had been friends from when they were both pregnant.
It was the older women in town who seemed to think the pairing was a bad match. That it would bring problems.
He’d heard whispers that the flood itself was because of them and their relationship.
No Velascos and Lockhearts together. The magic didn’t mingle, they said.
Which was stupid, because his family didn’t have any.
He’d also almost punched Great Grandma Elborn for suggesting that the two of them breaking up after the flood was finally going to put the town at rights.
Never able to bring himself to believe that, he’d reacted with the flare of anger and hurt of a teenage boy who’d been unceremoniously dumped by the girl he’d thought he was going to marry. Luckily, he’d held himself back, and now when he remembered, the pain wasn’t quite so sharp.
He took I-64 toward Richmond, enjoying the scenery.
But he’d driven this often enough that his thoughts wandered to one day after Annelise had turned thirteen.
They'd been out in the mountains, hiking, jumping through creeks. She’d slipped and fallen.
Nothing dangerous. Nothing too scary but enough to startle them both.
He'd leaned down to take her hand, watching as the water split and flowed around them. She’d stood up and though her ankle was a little twisted, he watched as she made the water drain from her clothing.
She was instantly dry. Even then, she'd been more powerful than he could, or likely should, imagine.
What could she be capable of today if she truly put her effort to it?
He’d heard the whispers around the hollow, tales from Story and the other neighbors down the street about how long she'd held back the flood waters.
He wondered if Annelise knew that her neighbors credited her skill with being able to save their valuables, to get as many things stacked as high as they could, to make reasoned decisions so they could save the right things and leave what they could lose.
If she knew, she wasn't acting like the hero of Belle Hollow. Maybe he should tell her—if he ever had the chance to speak to her again. If he wasn't just livid at her for holding onto this stupid idea about his father. About them.
He knew the same things she did: that her mother and his father had both worked at the factory in between Richmond and the Hollow.
A processing plant, it manufactured all things plastic and rubber from bouncy balls to soda bottles and more.
Melissa and Martin had started on the ground floor at almost the same time, though Martin had graduated high school and gone to work elsewhere the year before her.
Eventually, they'd both been promoted to management, and then to the next level up.
Both had stayed on with the company. Rowan believed it was the primary income for both their families.
Melissa had seemed a bit flighty at home, but she'd managed to promote more as she stayed on at the job. A lot of others came, worked the floor, and left for greener pastures, but not Melissa Lockheart and not Martin Velasco. The job was close to home, and if they stayed, put in their hours, did their due diligence, it paid off. Though the promotions were fewer and further between the further up the ladder they got, the day came when his father and Annelise’s mother had been up for the same position.
He remembered talking with Annelise about it, and they'd been fine. She hadn’t been upset about it then.
It was just before the first flood had come, and they said, hey, one of us will be better off, and it doesn't matter which, because it'll affect both of us. He almost laughed how they’d made their plans as if it was a universal truth that they’d be together.
Rowan had been relatively sure they both knew it would be his father who would get the job.
Martin was steadfast, loyal, and had seven kids to feed by that time.
Melissa was none of those things. By then, Annelise was the only dependent living in the house, then there was Story, and that was it.
The family had dwindled as more and more of the Lockheart women peeled away and disappeared.
Sure enough, he’d been right, and his father had gotten the promotion.
But that hadn't occurred until a few weeks after the flood, and now Annelise was acting as if that was his father's fault. Both families lost their homes. They both had mouths to feed and nowhere to stay. When that happened, they’d both still been up for the same promotion.
The flood didn't really change that, except it must have changed something for Annelise.
Back then was when he’d first learned how homeowners insurance worked.
As the oldest child, he’d been enlisted to help his father file some of the papers.
Whatever company Annelise's family was with, they hadn't paid out quite as well or as fast. She had to know that wasn't his fault, and wasn't his father's fault either. But she’d said her mother should have gotten the promotion.
And that his father knew it, but took the job anyway.
She’d not produced proof. Just said she knew it and she couldn’t tell him how. It was ridiculous. If she had evidence, she should have trusted him with it. But he’d believed he could wait her out, that she’d get over it. What a fool he’d been.
Pulling into the office with no real memory of the drive, he shook off the old memories. Crossing the lobby he said hello to the secretary who'd been there before he hired in. She greeted him with, “You ready for your eleven o’clock client?”
“I am.” He projected a confidence he didn’t quite feel. He was ready for the meeting, but he was still so scrambled from the night before.
When the client left, he ordered in lunch at his desk—the first thing he’d eaten all day.
Then, between clients, he searched everything he could about Melissa Lockheart, about how she died.
All he was able to get from the web was the date she died and the day they held funeral services, but he'd already known those things.
Annelise had already left him by then, and he hadn't even attended the funeral services of a woman whose home he'd spent so much time in growing up.
The obituary had said, after battling an illness.
He frowned to himself, thinking he remembered several.
But he couldn't remember specifically what, and he couldn't find any information on whether it had been cancer or something sudden or what.
He just remembered that after the floods, Melissa had always been sick.
Again, he tried to see Annelise's point of view.
He needed to, if he was going to ever convince her to come back to him.
How else could they find a way through her anger at him for things that didn't have anything to do with either of them really?
For the life of him, he could not begin to fathom how any of that was his own fault, or his father's.
He stayed late working to prep for the next day. All the things he would have done before his first client at eleven o’clock had he come in at a reasonable time. Had last night been anything even resembling a regular night.
When at last he walked in the front door to his home, he found Jasper over the stove flipping omelettes.
From the spread on the counter, it appeared it was going to be served with fresh fruit, berries and sausage.
Jasper had a love of breakfast foods, and Rowan had a love of eating Jasper's cooking.
His brother greeted him with a flip of his wrist as he expertly turned the food in the pan. But the resulting sizzle matched the sparkle in his brother's eye, as if to say he knew what Rowan had been up to the night before. Rowan merely nodded and said, “It smells good.”
Surely, everyone in the house all the way down to Indie had a really damn good guess of what Rowan was doing last night.
He hadn't come home, after all. He'd hoped he'd miss dinner tonight and not need to explain.
But noooo, of course not. He wondered if maybe his mother made them all hold the meal for him.
He hadn't said he was on his way back, simply don't wait for me.
“It's ready in two minutes,” Jasper told him.
How did they time it so perfectly when it was so much later than when they usually ate? Had to be coincidence.
The family sat down, a portion set aside for Alder who was on his usual twenty-four-hour shift. Indie and Ford joined them, Indie complaining about waiting, about how hungry she was. His mother sat last, praising Jasper's cooking and ignoring Rowan's absence from the night before. Thank God.
The round table was mostly full, but he couldn't help thinking that his mother seemed to hold a place for his missing father and for each of her kids, though they at least would return at some point.
Only in these last years was he beginning to understand Annelise a little better for losing a parent.
His mother had bought the table for all nine of them when they’d first moved into the second house.
At the time, they’d all nine lived there.
But by the time they moved here, they were all together only for major holidays and the occasional summer when the Velascos in college returned home.
The table was rarely full. It never would be again, with his father gone.
After dinner, Vienna offered to clean and motioned Rowan to come with her. He knew before the words were out of her mouth. “You be careful with the Lockheart girl.”
“Everybody else warned us away when we were kids.” He wasn't going to quite take the bait, he told himself. Let it sit that he’d heard it all before. Besides there was nothing between them now. She’d made sure of that. “So now you're warning me away, too? Doesn't it seem a little late?”
After I fell in love with her? After I've been with her enough to know that no one else will do? After fifteen years apart, when I finally understand that I'm completely screwed and Annelise Lockheart is the only woman I’ll ever love?
But he didn’t say any of those parts out loud and Vienna didn't address them either. “She’s angry. She’s angry at you, and she’s angry at your father.”
The perfect opening, he thought—something they never discussed: his father, or his passing. Maybe it was time.
“Mom.” He set down the pan and the sponge she was using to clean it. Looking her right in the eye, he hoped he was clear that this was no casual question. “I've been trying to figure this one out for so long because she is so mad at me, and she said she's mad at me because of Dad.”
“You always had your father's back,” Vienna said now, though she wasn’t looking at him. She was still scrubbing the plate in her hand, if a little harshly. “She’s mad at you for supporting—”
She didn't finish the sentence and waved her soapy hand as if to say whatever it was. But she didn't say that Annelise was wrong, and Rowan felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “Mom, what aren't you telling me?”
For the first time, Rowan wondered if maybe Annelise was right.