14. Elijah
CHAPTER 14
Elijah
I heard the patter of excited feet before I saw them. Alex, Linc, and Joey burst into my parents’ kitchen like a tiny whirlwind, their faces beaming with pride as they clutched colorful construction paper in their hands.
“Uncle Eli! Look what we made!” Alex exclaimed, thrusting a card covered in glitter and crayon scribbles toward me.
I couldn’t help but smile as I knelt down to their level and admired their handiwork. “Wow, guys. These are amazing. What are they for?”
Joey, barely able to contain his excitement, bounced on his toes and made what I could only assume was his attempt at a monkey sound. “For Papa! To make him all better!”
My heart squeezed a little at their innocent enthusiasm. I ruffled Joey’s hair, careful not to mess up the spiky style he was so proud of. “That’s really thoughtful of you. I’m sure Papa will love them.”
Dad was coming home today, and we were officially the welcoming party.
As I examined each card, marveling at the creativity only kids could muster, I heard familiar footsteps enter the kitchen. I glanced up to see Carla, her presence immediately shifting something in the air. Our eyes met briefly, and I felt that familiar tug of attraction I’d been trying to ignore. No longer, though. I’d held her on the porch for a glorious twenty minutes last night.
“Well, what do we have here?” Carla’s warm smile lit up her face as she joined our little huddle. “Are these masterpieces I see?”
Lincoln, usually the quietest of the bunch, gave a shy smile filled with pride and a little eye roll. “You already saw them, Miss Carla!”
Carla leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes twinkling. “You know what? I think these cards are so good, they might just have magical healing powers.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, catching Carla’s eye again. “Oh yeah? And where did you get your medical degree, Dr. Putnam?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Wells, I graduated top of my class from the University of Awesome Teachers.”
The boys giggled, and I felt a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with soup simmering on the stove. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if this was our normal—Carla and me, surrounded by laughing kids, no family feuds or complicated histories between us.
But reality had a way of crashing back in, and I pushed the thought aside. I had to focus on helping Dad recover, not daydreaming about a future that couldn’t happen. Still, as I watched Carla praise the boys’ artistic skills, I couldn’t quite squash the tiny spark of hope that flickered in my heart.
I couldn’t help myself. Maybe it was the way Carla’s eyes crinkled when she smiled, or how the afternoon sunlight caught her hair just right. Whatever it was, I found myself leaning in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to her lips.
“Eli!” Carla gasped, pulling back with wide eyes.
Too late, I remembered our audience. The boys erupted into a chorus of “Oooohs” and giggles.
“Uncle Eli and Carla, sitting in a tree!” Alex sang out, his gap-toothed grin wide. This was not what I imagined for our first kiss.
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” the other two joined in with glee, Joey tripping over letters without a care.
My face heated, and when I glanced at Carla, her cheeks were just as flushed. “Alright, you little rascals,” I said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably, “that’s enough of that.”
Just then, I heard the creak of floorboards in the hallway. Dad. My stomach dropped as I realized what was coming.
The kitchen door swung open, and there he was. Harold Wells, all six-foot-two of him, filling the doorframe with his presence. The laughter died instantly. He was pale and slightly winded, obviously worn out from the trip home and the walk inside.
“Papa!” Joey, bless his oblivious little heart, ran up to him. “Guess what? Uncle Eli and Miss Carla were smoochy kissing!”
My heart sank.
I watched the storm clouds gather on Dad’s face, his jaw clenching tight. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“Is that so?” Dad’s voice was low, dangerous.
The boys, finally catching on to the tension, fell silent. Their eyes darted between me and their grandfather, confusion written all over their faces.
I swallowed hard, frantically searching for the right words. But how do you explain a decades-old family feud to three confused kids? How do you justify your heart to a father who sees only betrayal?
Carla’s hand brushed my arm, and I turned to see her giving me a reassuring smile. But I could see the worry in her eyes.
“Boys,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, “why don’t we go finish that puzzle we were working on?”
Alex’s face lit up. “Can I do the last piece?”
“We’ll see,” Carla replied, already herding them toward the door. As they filed out, Carla glanced back at me, her expression hard to read.
Then the door swung closed, and I was alone with Dad.
The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I cleared my throat, ready to launch into some explanation, but Dad beat me to it.
“A Putnam, Elijah?” His voice was quiet, but it cut like a knife. “Of all the women in this town, you choose a Putnam?”
I felt my hackles rise. “It’s not like that—“
“Not like what?” he interrupted, his eyes flashing. “Not like you’re spitting on everything this family stands for? Not like you’re betraying your own flesh and blood?” Dad snapped, taking a step toward me. As he did, I noticed a slight tremor in his right hand. My heart clenched.
“Hey, easy,” I said, instinctively reaching out to steady him as he stumbled slightly. “Maybe we should sit down and—“
“I don’t need to sit down!” he barked, but I saw the flash of pain cross his face. He pressed a hand to his chest, and I felt a surge of panic.
“Dad, please,” I pleaded, guiding him gently toward a kitchen chair. “Your heart–”
“My heart’s fine,” he grumbled, but allowed me to help him sit. “It’s you who’s lost your mind.”
I knelt beside him, my firefighter instincts kicking in as I assessed his breathing. “Dad, I know you’re upset, but this stress isn’t good for you. Can we just... can we talk about this later?”
He glared at me, but I could see the fight leaving his eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about, Elijah. You know how I feel about the Putnams.”
I opened my mouth, searching for the right words, but they escaped me like smoke through my fingers. My eyes darted from Dad’s scowling face to the scattered get-well cards on the counter, a stark reminder of why we were all here in the first place. My dad was fragile right now. This was entirely the wrong time for this confrontation.
“Dad, she’s just here to help out. Don’t read too much into it.” If he looked closely at all, he’d see that I was head over heels for this woman. And it might actually kill him.
I bit back a groan. How could I make him understand? The world wasn’t as black and white as he saw it. But as I looked at him, I realized something. Behind the anger in his eyes, there was hurt. Deep, decades-old hurt.
And suddenly, I was very, very tired of this never-ending conflict.
His eyes were pressed shut, his breathing evening out. As much as I wanted to fight it out and to defend Carla’s presence in my life, now wasn’t the time.
Movement by the door caught my eye. There stood Alex, his young face a mask of confusion and worry. His earlier excitement had vanished, replaced by something that made my heart ache – a look of understanding far beyond his years.
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. “Hey, buddy,” I said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on my face. “Everything’s okay. Papa and I are just having a grown-up talk.”
Alex’s eyes darted between Dad and me, his brow furrowed. “Are you fighting because of Carla?” he asked softly. “I like her. She makes you smile, Uncle Eli.”
I felt a rush of affection for my nephew, mixed with a deep sadness. This feud was affecting more than just the adults, and seeing it reflected in Alex’s concerned face made that crystal clear.
“It’s complicated, Alex,” I said, shooting a pointed look at my dad. “But sometimes grown-ups disagree about things. It doesn’t mean we don’t love each other.”
Harold cleared his throat, his anger seemingly deflated by Alex’s presence. “That’s right, son,” he said gruffly. “Now, why don’t you go find your brothers? I’m sure they’re up to no good without you keeping an eye on them.”
As Alex reluctantly left the kitchen, I turned back to my father, feeling drained but determined. “We’re not done talking about this,” I said quietly. “But maybe we both need some time to cool off. We’ll get out of your hair and let you settle back in. I’m glad you’re home.”
My mother bustled in the door, a concerned look on her face. “Harold? Why on earth are you in here? Come on, let’s get you to your recliner.”
My dad gave me one last look, then nodded stiffly and shuffled out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I leaned against the counter, my body suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds.
“Well, that went about as well as a dumpster fire,” I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from the argument was fading, leaving me feeling hollow and exhausted.
I glanced around the kitchen, my eyes landing on the colorful cards the boys had made. They were scattered across the floor, casualties of our heated exchange. As I bent to pick them up, my fingers trembling slightly, I couldn’t help but think about the irony. Here I was, a firefighter who could face down raging infernos without flinching, but a confrontation with my own father left me feeling like I was falling apart at the seams.
I stood there, surrounded by the remnants of innocence and love, feeling more lost than ever.
My mind raced with conflicting thoughts. On one hand, I wanted nothing more than to make my father proud, to finally be the son he always wanted. But on the other... there was Carla. Sweet, funny, beautiful Carla, who made my heart race in a way no one else ever had.
I sighed heavily, placing the cards on the counter. “What am I supposed to do now?” I asked the empty kitchen, not expecting an answer.