“I’ve made a mistake,” she says. “I didn’t get to realize that until after you were gone. I miss you. Please, Harper. Please try to understand that. I should’ve never let you go. I know I haven’t been the best mom in the past,” she says, her voice cracking, “but I’m asking you to give me another try. I promise it’ll be different this time. I can move back and we can find a new home. Whatever it takes.”
No matter how angry I am at her, hearing the sincerity in her voice—imagining her sitting in some room by herself with a messy ponytail and dark bags under her eyes—I can’t hold onto it. It only makes me sad.
“How can you promise that?” I ask, because deep down I really want her to.
Then she says, “It’s all I have.”
I feel myself splitting apart. It took me months to realize I had to let her go to get on with my life. I did because I had no choice. I couldn’t hold onto the past and continue on with the future at the same time. I couldn’t have both, and I never would’ve done that without Uncle Jasper and Kale.
In the end, after everything I’ve gone through to get to this point, I know my answer.
“I can’t, Mom.” A lump in my throat threatens to keep down my words. “It’s too late for that.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
If Mom had told me this months ago, maybe my answer would’ve been different. It’s easy to forgive when it still hurts. We forgive in hopes it’ll take the pain away. But my pain healed over time and I got over it.
“Don’t you understand?” I ask. “It’s too late for that. If you would have told me this a couple months ago, it would have been different. But there are times to give second chances and times to move on.” I say that last part thinking of Kale and his dad. It saddens me thinking Mom and I won’t get that chance. “And it’s too late for us. I’m not saying this is good-bye, but I can’t go back to the life I had. You have to understand that.”
“So you aren’t even going to think about this?”
“I’ve been thinking about this since I got here.”
There’s a long moment of silence, and I would do anything to know what she’s thinking.
“Look,” I start, “I’m just saying I think I’ll be better off here right now.” I pause, needing to say more but scared to. “You hurt me when you left. We can’t make things right between us, but we can start over. This isn’t forever.”
“And that’s more than I deserve. Will you consider visiting for Christmas?” she asks, hopeful.
“Of course I will.”
I can see Uncle Jasper though the screen door, talking to another man near his truck. Now that I’m here, I couldn’t imagine leaving. This is more of a home than I’ve ever known.
“I’ve got to go, Mom, but I’ll keep my phone on me if you want to give me a call sometime.”
“I would like that.”
We say good-bye and hang up, and I don’t know what to make of the conversation. Half of me wishes she never called, and the other half is glad she finally admitted fault.
I go back into the kitchen—about to tell Kale we should go out for lunch—but he isn’t there. The words stick in my mouth, and I’m left staring at his empty chair.
“Kale?”
There’s no answer, and I spin around and am out the door before I can catch my breath. Uncle Jasper stops mid-sentence, turning around.
“Have you seen Kale?” I ask.
“I thought he was inside,” he says.
I can only shake my head and back away into the house, not wanting to believe what’s happening. I shove my feet into my shoes and run out the back door, hoping to catch him before it’s too late, if it isn’t already.
Movement catches my eye across the yard and I stop short. Kale is sitting on the old swing under the tree, staring at the ground.
When I swear, he looks up. “What?”
“I thought you left.” I walk the remaining distance, but Kale stands and gestures for me to stay where I am. The sunlight hasn’t reached over the trees yet, leaving him in the shadows.
“I haven’t yet, but I’m about to. So you can’t be near me.” His voice shakes, and then he asks. “I need you to tell me what date you saw.”
I swallow and say, “January eighth.”
Kale looks away and his mouth silently moves as he counts, hand fidgeting in front of him. “January eighth,” he murmurs, “Okay. That gives me maybe two more travels before then.”
“Or maybe more,” I say suddenly, my mind going through possibilities.
Kale stops. “What?”
“I want you to try coming back earlier. And not back to that old house—I want you to come back here.”
He’s already shaking his head. “Harper, I don’t think—”
“Stop.” I walk up to him, keeping only a foot of distance between us. “I don’t want to hear about how you’ve tried and how you can’t control it. I think that’s bullshit and I think you can control it. You just have to learn how.”
“It’s not going to change anything.”
“You don’t know—it could. I’m here now, and you know what that means—I don’t give up. And I’m never going to give up on you.”
Kale leans in for a kiss and pulls away too soon. He looks across the yard and nods. “I’ll try, okay? I can’t make any promises. I have to go.”
He steps back and then he’s gone. It’s like I blinked and he wasn’t ever here to begin with. Too fast to be real.
“You remind me of your Aunt Holly,” Uncle Jasper says behind me.
“How’s that?” I stare at the spot where Kale was standing seconds ago, wondering if I’m giving us false hope for trying. But having hope is better than having none at all. It’s not over until it’s over.
Uncle Jasper says, “You never give up.”
39.
Kale
When I’m in the past, it’s like I’m actually living in that time. I don’t think much about the present because I’m not there. It doesn’t stare me in the face like the past is. It’s hard to explain. It’s like both are real life. Equally mine but separate.
My helmet is heavy on my head and my legs are tired, grounding me to this time.
We’re walking today, trying to find a new place to hold our ground. It’s quiet with just the sounds of boots hitting the ground and sighs of cigarettes. No tanks or jeeps because we’re too deep in the woods with little more than rough paths for roads. A squad scouts ahead for mines or any signs of the Germans. Everyone is on high alert; they could come from any direction at any time.
I still question why I was placed on the front lines. Was it dumb luck, or did the past put me in front of that officer on purpose—to make sure I made it here? Am I even doing them any good? So many questions with no answers.
Perkins walks beside me smoking a cigarette since he doesn’t have to worry about Germans when he has no gun. I routinely scan the woods. Hoping we won’t come across anyone today. There’s not much snow on the ground, but it’s cold. I’m able to ignore how my jacket isn’t warm enough when we’re walking. Stiles found me a pair of gloves—I didn’t ask him from where and I don’t want to know—and I cut out holes for my trigger fingers.