Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
CRESSIDA
The time Oliver and I spend with my family is really good, but I miss home. I haven’t heard from Soren since I left. I didn’t think I would, but you know, there’s always that little devil on your shoulder that whispers to you.
Mine needs to shut up.
I’m sitting at the firepit when Izzy approaches. Her daughter is currently running around chasing chickens while Oliver chases her. It’s so cute.
“How is Noah?” she asks.
My other sister, Anna, sits on the opposite side of the fire, holding a glass of wine. Their husbands are inside watching a game as our father is preparing food. Our mother comes over with two glasses and passes me one before she takes the seat next to me.
“He’s doing well. He sent me an invite to his wedding. I told him I regretfully decline.”
“And how is Soren?” Izzy asks, smiling behind her glass of wine.
“Soren? Who is that?” my mother asks.
“Google Soren Nixon,” Izzy tells Anna. And Anna immediately grabs her phone. I know the second she gets to a photograph of him because her eyes go wide, and she stares up at me. Her gaze flicks to Izzy, who nods in confirmation before she looks back at me.
“Who is that man?” Anna asks with a sly grin.
“He’s Cres’s new friend,” Izzy unhelpfully says.
“He’s my boss,” I correct.
Anna hands the phone to our mother, who raises her brows when she sees the image.
“You like this man?” Mom questions.
“No.”
“Now, Cressida, you know not to lie to your mother,” Mom chides.
I look over to where Oliver is and let out a sigh. “I do, but I can’t be with him.”
“Why?” Izzy asks.
“I haven’t told you what happened.”
“What happened?” Mom prods.
I’m sitting with the three most important women in my life.
I heave out a breath because I know they’re going to kill me for not telling them before now.
But everything happened so fast that night, and afterward, I didn’t want to think about it anymore.
Didn’t want to relive the panic clawing at my chest or the silence that followed when I realized he was gone.
“I went to pick up Oliver from the after-school program, like I usually do when I have to work late, but when I got to the school, he wasn’t there.”
My mom puts her hand over her heart, and her gaze searches for Oliver before she lets out a relieved breath. That small motion, the way her shoulders drop, and the tremor in her exhale nearly undoes me.
My voice is shaking, but I stay put together as I continue, “Soren’s sister hates me. She believes I’m the reason Soren cut her off financially. So, she decided the best form of payback was to take Oliver.”
The words taste bitter. Saying them out loud makes it all real again. The helplessness, the fear, the rage that I might never see my son’s face again. I grip my knees to keep myself from breaking.
“She what?” Anna screams.
I wave a hand at her to calm down. “Soren found her, thankfully. And then I stabbed her hand with my heel. She didn’t hurt Oliver, thank God. Her intention was purely to hurt me.”
“That evil bitch,” Anna growls. “Maybe I’ll bring my whip with me next time I visit you, and have some practice with her head.
” She smiles, and despite myself, I can’t help but smile back.
I miss being surrounded by women who do nothing but love me.
I’m pretty isolated where I am, but it’s more by choice.
I have very few friends in the city because I can work odd hours, and by the time I’m finally home, I want to spend some one-on-one time with my son.
“And this man…?” my mother asks.
“Soren.”
“He found him?”
“He did. Then told me where they were.”
“He looks at her as if she’s the only woman in the room,” Izzy gushes.
“Izzy, you aren’t supposed to like him.” I shake my head.
“What? I can’t help it. I loved the way he looked at you. He didn’t even notice I was sitting there.” She smiles. “You want a man who only has eyes for you, right?”
“We ended whatever was building between us, and agreed to just be friends,” I tell them, and they give me disbelieving looks.
Oliver runs over and straight into my mother’s lap, and she hugs him hard to her chest.
“Do you like Soren?” my mother asks Oliver.
“Yes! He’s going to teach me how to box,” he replies.
Once again, they’re all staring at me.
“Oliver, why does Soren need to teach you that?” Mom inquires.
He plays with the end of his shirt, avoiding looking at me, then admits, “Timothy keeps pushing me, and he tells me I’m weak.”
“You want to learn to defend yourself,” my mother says, brushing her hand down his back, comforting him.
“Yes. And Soren is one of the best fighters.”
“Who told you that?” I ask him.
“His sister,” he says, and I cringe. “Can he teach me, Mom? I really want to learn to box.”
“I’ll think about it. Soren is a busy man.”
“He said he would do it. I asked him.”
“All right, I’ll talk to him.” He beams and runs over to kiss me before taking off again to chase chickens.
I’m not sure I’m making the right decision, but it can’t hurt to teach your child how to defend himself. Right?
“How is the rest of Soren’s family?” Mom asks. “You mentioned the sister, but what about the rest?”
“They’re dead.”
“So, they are all each other has?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s cut ties with her?”
“He said he has.”
“Hmm…” The three of them share a glance.
“What?” I ask.
“It seems like he did that for you,” Mom says.
“He hasn’t. And that crazy way of thinking is what allowed her to take Oliver in the first place,” I say, more sternly than I’d intended.
“No one is blaming you. I think maybe you made that man see his mistakes. Maybe he’s trying,” she says.
“Sure,” I say, standing, and then I remember that conversation I had with him about his sister.
“Good. Why don’t you focus on that and leave me alone? She thinks I’m the reason for your sudden change of heart when it comes to her.”
“You are.” His voice is steady. Certain. There’s no softness, just a fact laid bare.
My head jerks back in surprise. “What?”
“You are the reason. I realized it because of you.”
I try not to dwell on those words or what my family said as I head inside to find my father in the kitchen cooking. My mother is the baker of the family, and my father is the cook.
My parents have a fantastic marriage. They’ve been together for more than forty years. Not once have I seen them fight to the point of no return. Yes, they argue now and then, which is healthy for a relationship, but my father is always the first to apologize.
I remember him sneaking up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and telling her he loves her. The bad news is that I thought I had found that with Noah, but I was wrong. I don’t regret that relationship for a single second, though, because it gave me Oliver.
“What’s up, kiddo?” Dad asks.
“Just came in to see what you’re doing.”
“Or are you avoiding your mother and sisters?” He laughs and waves for me to come closer.
I always love helping him in the kitchen. My sisters hate it, and to this day, they still don’t cook. I learned how to cook from my father. I’m not the greatest at it, but he taught me a few things for which I am grateful.
“You know, you’re more like me than they are.” He chuckles. “It’s why I cook. It gives me a break from being surrounded by beautiful, opinionated women. However, I do miss having you around, kid. No one joins me in the kitchen anymore.”
He hands me a peeler to start on the potatoes, then says, “Oliver is so big now. I miss seeing him.”
“I’ll try to bring him home more often,” I tell him. “My life is just so busy. And I know that’s not an excuse.”
“Of course it is. You’re a single woman in a city, raising a son. Life is busy.” His words provide me with some comforting relief. “Though I would like to come visit you. We now have help on the farm since I’m getting older.”
I stop peeling and look at him. “Really?”
“Yes, if that’s okay with you.”
“I would love that.”
“So would I, kid. So would I.”