34. I Have Feelings #2
“It was okay,” she says. Her eyes are glassy, and her voice is the one she uses for things she’s not sure about yet—the small, careful tone she’s been using for the last six months when she’s actively choosing thoughtfulness over spite.
“I think I might possibly be almost done with that ghost.” Her hands fly up in a defensive move.
“Don’t quote me on it. I’ll let you know next week. ”
Junie’s hands hover over her keyboard, but she doesn’t type a word. She doesn’t even attack her mouse. Instead, she falls back against her chair and stares at the ceiling. “I told Bea what I’ve always told myself—that my mother forgot me.”
Daggers to my eyeballs would hurt less than watching my girl process these feelings.
“And I told her the thing I never allowed myself to hear, which is that I sat on that curb and decided no one was ever going to forget me again because no one would be allowed close enough to hurt me.” Slowly, her sad gaze crashes into mine.
“I made a deal with my five-year-old self, and I’ve been honoring it ever since.
I think I’m—” She crinkles her nose. “I think I’m un-honoring it.
Or, you know, whatever the verb is. Bea will tell me the verb next week. ”
“Okay,” I say, knowing she’ll process this information for a day or two, and then, when we’re tucked safely into our darkened bedroom, she’ll tell me.
And that’s more than I ever thought I’d have.
Nana Mae’s little cottage smells like a holiday, sounds like a big happy family, and feels like the home we’ve all needed.
She stands at the head of the table she’s currently placing food on.
She’s made a roast chicken because it was on sale.
Macaroni and cheese because Hudson has, in one way or another, requested it every time he’s seen her since he was six.
She’s even put out the good plates and is wearing her good cardigan—which is exactly like all her others except she adds a pearl pin to make it fancy.
She is, in every way that matters to Nana Mae, presiding, which is exactly what she needs after visiting Devin in prison yesterday. He has yet to apologize, and I don’t know that he ever will. But she’ll continue to visit him because she loved her sister.
I’ve offered to go with her, but she declines every time, saying that “family is complicated.”
Hudson’s to her left with a yellow legal pad beside his plate, which means Nana Mae hasn’t seen it yet and he has about ninety seconds before she removes it from the room.
Fen’s in the kitchen, refilling wineglasses while talking to her over his shoulder.
Nolan’s on the back porch on the phone, speaking in a hushed cadence that reminds me that he and Hudson have a big deal on the table, but neither is willing to spill the details yet.
Junie’s still at the kitchen island with Katie, who’s wearing a pink sequined minidress and is aggressively gesturing at something on Junie’s phone.
Junie laughs. It’s my second favorite sound of hers, and I’d burn down a building to keep the sound around.
Katie notices me watching. “Whittaker.” She’s a pain in my ass. “Tell your woman she’s wrong about the green tile.”
“Excuse me,” Junie says without looking up. “Tell your woman? I’m right here, Katherine. No one tells me anything.”
I chuckle and bow out of this fight.
“All right, all right,” Nana Mae says. “Everyone sit. The chicken doesn’t care about tiles, but it is getting cold.”
A chorus of “Yes, ma’am” fills the room, followed by the sounds of chairs scraping and people vying for elbow room.
I tried to have this birthday dinner at my house, but Nana Mae wouldn’t hear of it.
Everyone’s gathered and ready to eat. That’s when Nana Mae snatches Hudson’s legal pad and tosses it on the credenza.
“It’s one note,” Hudson says.
“You may collect it after dessert.”
He mutters under his breath but doesn’t argue.
“You’d think a man who billed eight hundred hours this quarter would know better than to argue with Nana Mae.”
“You’d think a man who hasn’t paid an attorney fee ever would know better than to cast stones,” Hudson says evenly without looking up.
“Speaking of,” Junie says. “I’ve made a decision about the Brookline house.”
Everyone who was still standing silently drops into their chairs.
Four months ago, Tommy Mercer was arrested for running a scheme similar to what he’d done with Junie’s mom, but this time there was so much evidence, he has no chance of getting off.
As a family, we collectively decided to let that stand as punishment for all his sins once Hudson confirmed there was no way for Junie to get into trouble for the loan her parents took out. It was better than chasing shadows, and the risk to Junie wasn’t worth it.
But the Brookline house, her childhood home, has been weighing heavily on her.
I place my hand on her thigh in silent encouragement. I don’t even know her decision yet. It’s the one thing she hasn’t let me in on.
“I want to sell it,” she says. “It isn’t fair for you all to keep helping me pay the taxes on a property none of us want to live in.”
Everyone nods in agreement. We all have different feelings on our time in that place, but we all respect that it’s Junie’s decision.
“But not just sell it.” She bites her nail, and I sit taller. “I think we—I think we should develop it.”
“What did you have in mind?” Hudson asks, leaning forward.
“Well…” She’s so nervous, her voice wobbles. “The house isn’t worth much, but the land itself, about half an acre, one block from Beacon Street, is worth somewhere between three and five million.” She chokes on the number. “That alone would pay off the loan Cole took out and—”
“No,” I say instantly. “We’ve already worked out that repayment plan. We’re all contributing to the loan now.”
Junie shakes her head. “That house has carried more trauma than memories. I want to…build something. Something that will pay off a debt that was never ours…and something that will honor a loss that was stolen.”
“Baby,” I whisper. “What are you saying?”
“I want you to build a new version of your veterans’ memorial, Cole.”
Nana Mae sniffles.
“Junie.” My throat is tight.