“I’m um, just enjoying the morning.” My jaw shivered with the words. He climbed the steps and smiled at me. Leaning over, my father gave me a tight, warm hug that felt like a minute for every day I didn't return home. Jess wasn’t the only person hurt by my absence.
“You’re cold.”
“I’m ok. You came back early.”
“It’s almost nine, Pumpkin.”
“Oh.” My joints seemed frozen in place when I let go of his shoulders.
“Let me grab you a blanket.” He stepped inside the house for a moment and returned with a brown, rugged one; a present for my father that I had bought my sophomore year with Jeeter’s money. I buried down beneath the soft folds. My dad took a seat next to me, causing it to swing with his weight. “So when did he leave?”
“What?” I swallowed hard.
“You two are about as predictable as the sun rising each morning.”
“Oh.” I twisted a string on the side of the blanket around my pinky, making it turn red. “About six-thirty I guess. Someone ran through the fence over by Landrys’.”
“I see.” His feet kicked up, sending us back and then forward. “So what happened that made you sit out here, trying to freeze yourself to death?”
I pulled the string tighter, and the tip turned purple around my Foxglove colored nail. “We had a fight.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know.” The thread broke releasing my finger. “I guess he said some things I didn’t want to hear.”
“I see.”
Caroline came out the door with two cups and a smile. “Here you both go. You need to get some coffee in you, Alex. Do you want another blanket?”
“No, thank you.”
“Alright. I’m gonna finish making pies. We’re supposed to be at the Masons’ at exactly noon.”
Her tiny frame disappeared back through the front door. It was times like these I was reminded of how happy I was for my father. Caroline was a blessing in his life. That man was gone; the broken one that once stood in a parking lot, needing the reassurance of an eight-year-old to survive. Somewhere along the way, the roles had reversed back to their rightful order. Maybe it was Caroline, or the Masons, or just plain time that made us come full circle. This morning, he was the parent, and I was the child, desperate for direction and comfort.
I sipped on the cup, feeling the vapors warm my nose. In a few hours, I would be subjected to a formal Thanksgiving at the big house as Jess and I stared across the table at each other; a stare of hurt and betrayal. I may have finally driven him mad.
“He’s been having a hard time, you know.” My dad took a drink, letting the black liquid settle. “The ranch stuff hasn’t been easy on him. The poor boy always looks exhausted, like he could fall asleep standing up. He stops by here on his way home. He tries to make it seem random. Makes up excuses, but I know he comes here instead of home because it’s the closest thing to you. It makes him feel like he still has someone to lean on.”
“Does he talk to you about it?”
“Not really. Caroline gives him some supper and he mostly just sits on the steps out here, staring out into the darkness. You’ve always been there for him and now he just seems a little lost.”
“You’ve got that switched around. He’s always insisted on taking care of me.”
“Nah. You two always took care of each other.” He tipped back the cup, finishing the last drops. The swinging was making me dizzy. The coffee swished around in my stomach, burning up through my chest.
“Well, that about does it. I’ll let you get back to thinking. Better not take too long. You don’t want to cross hairs with Eva Lynn if you hold up Thanksgiving by being late.”
“Yes, sir.”
My dad disappeared back inside to the old farmhouse; the place he now owned thanks to Jess. I remembered the day we moved in; sometimes it seemed like yesterday and sometimes it felt like a million years ago. I looked out in the distance, wondering if he found them all; the red faces running down the dirt road. I guess I would find out at lunch while he glared across the table, hating me.
Easing up from the swing, I went inside for a warm shower. It had been a very long morning and an even longer night; the smell of his body still lingered on my skin.
After getting ready, I spent the rest of the morning helping Caroline make pies, just like old times at Jeeter’s. She made a peach one, just for Jess, and a pan of mac and cheese. My father had it all wrong; Jess stopped by in the evenings for Caroline’s food, not me. It was like living at Jeeter’s.
We arrived at Mason Manor with only a minute to spare. Dr. Mason hugged my tall frame. Mrs. Mason leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving a clear print of gloss.
“It’s good to have you back, Alexandra. I can’t wait for you to entertain us with your stories of Paris.” Mrs. Mason turned my wrist over, seeing the stars. I cringed for the inevitable reaction. A lady would never adorn herself with such items. She studied it for a moment then looked me straight in the eye with an odd smile. “Well, that’s an interesting shade of blue, dear.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I almost chocked on my own spit. She released my hand, and I followed her into the formal dining room that seated sixteen.
“I’m sure Jessup was excited to see you last night. I’m sorry he had to run off so early. The ranch eats into every minute of his time. I try to get him to slow down, but you know how he is, dear.”
Shit! The embarrassment blasted my cheeks, leaving me feeling naked. The whole damn town probably knew his truck was parked at my house last night. It didn’t matter how early he left, or how late he got there; somehow the gossips just knew in Arlis.
Dr. and Mrs. Mason took a seat at each end of the grand table. The distant cousins from Luckenbach had made the trip this year. Mr. Buckley, my father’s boss, whose wife had recently passed away, sat next to Caroline. I pulled up my usual chair beside her and looked across the table, seeing his empty seat with a fancy place setting of china, rimmed in gold. Two more with folded linen napkins held places for Skeeter and the boy formally known as Buzz.
Mrs. Mason presided over the dinner, leaving no question of her role as the matriarch of the house. After my time away, her voice felt like a strong glass of sweet ice tea. The meal carried out much like those in past hosted at the Manor, with one exception. Jess never came to dinner. At twelve-thirty five, the main telephone jingled with an incoming call. Her lips pursed into a disapproving frown as she talked with her son.
Every click of the grandfather clock counted off the minutes of his absence. I fielded questions about Paris. Mrs. Mason’s cousin Betty had gone back in 1972. She grinned while her eyes begged to share her stories. I handed the conversation over to her eager face, considering the entire platter of turkey and dressing I needed to choke down my tight throat. I ate a bite for me. I ate a bite for Sadie, the manipulative bitch. My layover in Chicago had one hell of an argument on the agenda for conspiring against me with Jess.
I looked at the empty plate across from me. I heard those words again. I love you. I fiddled with my mac and cheese. I love you. I wanted to pretend he never said it since that proved to be the only reasonable solution at this point. I wanted to pretend that I didn’t hear the pain in his voice as he got in the truck. You’re choosing not to love me back. I dreaded the moment he would come in the room. I dreaded those blue eyes. I dreaded the half smile he would flash at the others. I dreaded that angry and broken glare. I dreaded the pain he tucked away to keep the peace. You’re just gonna leave.