Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
VIOLET
“ T rick or treat!” Bri and Trey shouted in unison the second my down-the-street neighbor opened the door. As predicted, they were gratified by the presentation of a huge bowl of candy. Bri was always polite and thoughtful, carefully choosing one. Trey, on the other hand, had to be reminded at every house not to take a handful.
Our neighborhood didn’t have a ton of kids, which meant the neighbors were too happy to oblige and often encouraged that each of the kids take more. As a result, we had only been trick-or-treating for half an hour and, already, the kids were on track to take home a nice haul.
Trick-or-treating was one of Chase’s favorite family traditions. The man loved Halloween. And I loved not having to do Halloween alone. I was secretly relieved that Chase had not invited Tatum. I would have welcomed her if she had wanted to come; and, I knew that group trick-or-treating made sense. Tons of families did it. But I was still conscious of my growing dread that the day was soon to come when I would be a third wheel.
Chase had insisted on a group costume. We’d decided to go as the cast of Cobra Kai . I was Mr. Miyagi, as indicated by my white karate gi with the Miyagi-Do logo on the back—a red circle inside of which was a bonsai tree. Trey was dressed as Miguel, on Cobra Kai , and Bri was for Miyagi-Do, dressed as Sam. Chase had agreed to be Johnny Lawrence, mainly because the kids loved his impression. They collapsed into giggles every time he used his growly voice to say, “Fear does not exist in this dojo.”
The kids mostly ran up to doors by themselves. Chase and I mostly hung back, waving at my neighbors and thanking them unless they were people I knew well enough to stop and have a chat. Chase had made us travel mugs full of Baileys-spiked hot cocoa to keep the two of us warm as we strolled. It was a clear night—pleasant and crisp and fragrant with the aroma of crushed leaves.
I was glad for the rest and respite. It had been a bit of a week. The day before, I’d gotten a call from Katrina. There had been another curveball in the case. Just when she’d been about to let me know her investigator hadn’t turned up anything new, she’d received an anonymous tip. She didn’t know what any of it meant yet—it had come in the form of a specific list of procedural details to look into. Someone on our side had given us clues they thought could help us win this.
But who?
The question had plagued my mind. Katrina hadn’t given me much insight. She’d only told me that what had been sent had been postmarked from California. From there she gave me a broader list of who it could be. We’d talked about who might have a motive to give us tips.
It could have been someone in the chain of command—someone who had worked the fire that day who could no longer allow hidden information to weigh on their conscience. It could have been some underling at the insurance company who knew what the defense knew and who felt I had been wronged. It could have been anyone else who had been privy to the investigation or who was taking a fresh look now that both sides were rebuilding our case—another widow or another mother who had come across new evidence, who sympathized with my situation and wanted to see me get justice for my kids.
Regardless of who had sent it, everything about it rattled me. It confirmed with certainty that there was new evidence in the case, which—until this week—had been strong logic but speculation nonetheless. That, plus the sheer fact that the clock was ticking and the retrial was nearing was making me anxious. I was not looking forward to spending days in a courtroom again.
“You feeling alright? About all that’s happening with the case?” Chase asked me in a quiet moment. The kids were ahead of us as they turned the corner and began walking onto a different street.
When I’d heard about the tip, Chase had been one of the first people I’d told. He’d been curious and sympathetic, and commiserating, as always. I wasn’t surprised that he was asking about it now, to check in with me again.
“Honestly? No. All of this…it’s just a lot.”
“It’s almost over,” he pointed out. He said it with a certainty I didn’t understand.
“It doesn’t feel like that,” I admitted. “It feels like we’re at the beginning of going through it again.”
“I know, darlin’. But I think you ought to have faith.”
He said it so calmly, so comfortingly, so steadily that I couldn’t help but lean into him.
“Do we have to go to this house?”
Bri had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and waited for us to catch up, suddenly comprehending what street we were on and pointing to the unassuming ranch style. We had officially reached the most disappointing house in the neighborhood. The homeowner—apparently a dentist—had completely eschewed handing out candy. Instead he handed out toothbrushes inscribed with the name of his practice, and spools of floss.
“There’s nothing wrong with a free toothbrush,” I pointed out.
“Mo-om…” Bri whined out my name until it had lengthened to two syllables.
“You get your toothbrushes and I’ll take you up to the scary house,” Chase promised.
The legendary “scary house” was also on this block. It was a foursquare with a covered porch and a lower roof upon which the homeowners always put an enormous, hairy spider. Michael Jackson’s “Thriller ” blared from speakers hidden on the porch. And you didn’t just trick-or-treat there—they’d converted the entire bottom floor into a haunted house. The rooms connected to one another and, when you walked inside, you took a circle around the bottom floor. Trey loved to be scared but Bri was a bit more timid.
Chase would have taken them inside the scary house anyway, but, when presented with what seemed like a bargain, the kids wisely took it, proceeding to the dentist’s house to receive their dreaded hygiene products.
Fifteen minutes later, Chase and the kids were walking up the front walkway of the scary house. As usual, I hung back. The house was popular and there was always a line and I didn’t love the scary house so much that I had to go in every year. Instead, I stood next to the fence, appreciating the effort. Fake headstones were erected on the lawn and skeletons had been half-buried to look like they were trying to crawl out of their graves.
My phone rang.
Who would call me at prime trick-or-treating hours on Halloween night?
Rodney, apparently, according to the caller ID. He’d left a voicemail earlier that week. I’d called him back and missed him. After that, we’d only texted. I didn’t want to be broken out of my enjoyment of the moment, but I also didn’t want to keep playing phone tag. Letting the latter sentiment win, I picked up.
“Hey there, Rodney.”
“Hey, Violet.” Increasingly, he spoke my name with affection. I didn’t know what to make of that. Rodney seemed to like me but he hadn’t made a real move. I wasn’t strictly complaining about that fact. But I did find it curious. When I’d dated in my twenties, or even just went out places with my friends, sex was all men seemed to think about.
“Our date last week was cut short,” Rodney continued. “I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m just glad that you’re okay.”
I didn’t call Rodney out or tell him my real feelings about his stupid display of masculinity, just like I hadn’t called Chase out for showing off to Tatum.
“So? Do I get a rain check? Will you let me take you out again? Nothing dangerous this time. We’ll just grab some food.”
“Sure. Grabbing some food sounds nice.”
If I wanted to get good at dating, I had to continue to practice. The truth was, I did want a family life. This thing I was doing with Chase tonight? I wanted it locked in. That meant having a confidant and a companion, with whom I had mutually committed. One day, my children would leave home.
“Great. How about Saturday?”
“I think I could get away for a couple of hours.”
“Perfect. I’ll make reservations. I know you’ve got to call your babysitter. Why don’t you look at your schedule and send me some good times?”
I didn’t miss the sarcastic way he emphasized the word “babysitter” when talking about Chase. We were going to have to talk about that.
When Rodney had said we would go to dinner, I’d thought this was finally it—that he would take me to a restaurant. That we would order off an actual menu, and have a relaxed time. Especially after how things had ended at the rodeo, I’d figured he would want to notch things down. I was beginning to learn my lesson: Rodney only operated in active mode.
Tonight’s “dinner date” had turned out to be a class in backwoods foraging. We’d started with a group at a teaching cabin in the woods. After an hourlong course on edible plant identification, the instructors had turned us out on our own. The next two hours had involved me wearing a crosswise satchel and traipsing through the forest in not-sensible shoes to collect mushrooms and onions and berries, only to return to the cabin to cook the least satisfying meal I had ever eaten.
Historically, I’d always been a happy recipient of homegrown goods. The enormous bag of sylvan items I was returning home with this evening left me underwhelmed. For one, they were covered in dirt, so much that I would need real time to wash them thoroughly. Also, what the hell was I going to do with more than five pounds of mushrooms?
In the Hummer all the way back to civilization, Rodney was talking about a time when he’d survived in the woods for days after what he only described as “a compass mishap” when my phone began to buzz with numerous texts. They were coming through in rapid succession. It reminded me that I was somewhere I didn’t have to be. Rodney’s foraging date had taken me out of cell phone range. The unusual number of texts from the people who were watching my children had me on guard. I had one text from Jules and three texts from Chase. Thinking the worst, I scrambled to unlock my phone and see what was the matter. Intellectually, I knew there was no safer place in the world for Bri to be than with a Fire EMT. Trey was a different story.
Earlier that afternoon, Chase had picked up Bri for their dance. The plan was for him to start by taking her to dinner. After I’d helped her dress and seen her off, Jules had come in to watch Trey. At this point, I’d been offline for a good three hours and I was eager to see what had been urgent enough to text me. I waited impatiently for the messages to load.
Jules had texted to confirm Trey’s claim that I always let him have two desserts. I replied with two messages in rapid succession. The first was the eye-roll emoji. The second simply said, Absolutely not. Chase’s three messages turned out not to be texts at all, but pictures of him and Bri having a good time.
I couldn’t help it. When I saw them, tears sprang to my eyes. The first was a photo in the restaurant that the server must have taken. An untouched ice cream sundae in a tall glass sat between them; in front of them were two long spoons; both of them beamed at the camera. The tabletop appeared with an artistic design that looked like Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Chase had connections in the culinary world and had taken her to an impossible-to-get-into restaurant in Knoxville that delighted its guests with 3D tabletop art.
The second was a group photo of kids and their dates, Bri lined up next to all her friends as corresponding father figures stood behind them. The other kids were looking at the camera, but Bri gazed admiringly up at Chase.
“Is everything okay?” Rodney halted mid-sentence on his survival story to ask the question.
“Sorry,” I said in a watery voice. “I’m not usually the person who’s on my phone like this. It’s just, tonight is the daddy-daughter dance and he’s texting me pictures of him and Bri.”
“He?” Rodney looked like he knew the answer, but asked the question anyway.
“Chase. She wanted Chase to take her.”
It was true. After Chase had actually asked and Bri had actually accepted, she’d confessed that she had hoped for this outcome all along—that Chase was the only person, apart from Todd, who she would have wanted to take her. The day he’d brought her home, him carrying her tiny backpack while she carried the enormous white shopping bag…her proudly opening the dress box and showing off her strawberry-dotted dress…that day had touched me deeply. So much so that after Chase had left and Bri had gone to show Trey, I’d stepped out into the garage, sobbing in relief about the way things were turning out.
Every day of my life, I mourned for my kids—mourned for the hole left in their lives after Todd’s passing. But Chase…he filled us up. Moments like this one, and last week on the farm, were the ones I thought about the most. Every kid needed steady adults in their life. More than one person who reminded them how special they were, who bonded with them and loved them more than anything. Chase was a better father figure than most actual dads.
“How are things going? Are they having a good time?” Rodney asked politely.
I couldn’t stop my smile. “The best time, from the looks of it. I don’t love the theme of the dance, but the school did a nice job with the decor.”
We had just halted at a traffic light, so I held out my phone to show Rodney the third photo—Chase sitting in a large throne and wearing a bejeweled crown with ermine trim; Bri sitting in the smaller throne next to him wearing a tiara she hadn’t had on when she left the house. The two of them gazed at each other, laughing at the moment the photo had been snapped.
As usual, Rodney asked whether I wanted to go to town for a nightcap. As usual, I thanked him but told him I needed to get home. This time, it was truer than ever. I wanted to be home when Chase got back with Bri. There was a window of time that I needed to get home if I wanted to be there to meet her and if I also wanted to avoid questions from Trey. Not wanting to explain what I was doing with Rodney on yet another Saturday night, I texted Jules to make sure that Trey was already in bed.
This time, Rodney insisted on coming inside to help me with our take. He briefly met Jules. I was successful in shooing her out before she could give him the third degree. I was less successful in shooing him out. I made the mistake of starting to rinse the dirt off of the onions. I’d hoped he would take the hint that I was taking steps to wrap up the night—that I was switching back into home and domestic mode. But he didn’t take the hint. Instead, he fell in next to me and started to help me. It would have been sweet if I hadn’t been so tense about Chase’s return.
Thankfully, we made quick work. I had him help me bag them up. I went to the garage for a cooler to preserve some of them for Chase. I was back and forth between the freezer and the cooler on the counter, scooping ice when Rodney boldly stepped in. He did it in a way that halted my motions. He pulled the ice scoop gently out of my hands and set it on the counter, looking at me with what might have felt like softness if his blue eyes hadn’t been so intense.
“I like you, Violet,” he said humbly. In that moment, I believed that he did. My heart started racing in a way that was confusing. Was it racing because some part of me liked him too? Who saw that, beneath his showiness and excessive chatter, was a man who listened in his own way and who was genuine in his odd sense of adventure? Was I attracted to how much he seemed to support my endeavors to strike out on my own? Or was my heart simply racing because I knew the moment had come—the moment when I was about to be kissed?
I was immobilized—unable to echo his sentiment because, even after weeks of dipping my toes back into the dating pool—I wasn’t sure what liking a guy again meant. Rodney seemed to pick up on this.
“I know I’m the first guy you’ve been out with since your husband. I know you might not be ready to say it back. But still, I wanted you to know.”
I nodded, still feeling unable to fully react. I had known this moment would come. Rodney had taken things so blissfully slow. And still, I was unprepared for it.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
I didn’t say yes. But I also didn’t say no. And when he lowered his face to mine, muscle memory kicked in and I tipped my chin upward.
Inside, I knew what I ought to be thinking at that moment. That I truly wanted him. But I didn’t want him so much as I wanted this. I needed to get over my fear of dating again for all the practical reasons. I’d developed a new level of comfort when it came to being taken out—to be able to say that I was dating. Now I needed to build my level of comfort at being kissed.
Just get it over with, I thought to myself. Not the most romantic notion, but legitimate all the same. From there, I tipped my chin up even more and I even leaned into him a little. To his total credit, Rodney was gentle and slow. He brushed his lips to mine softly at first, then pressed them firmly, with no intrusion of his tongue. My stomach churned, not with butterflies, but with a sort of panic.
It wasn’t until he pulled away that I broke from my odd, intellectualized detachment and slapped with the first raw emotion I’d felt yet—guilt and shame over what I’d just done. But it wasn’t the guilt I expected. Kissing Rodney didn’t make me feel like I was cheating on Todd. It made me feel like I was cheating on Chase.