“You understand what I’m saying,” he said. “I can see it.”
She looked away, nervous. “See what?” That he had her all figured out? That the longer he talked, the more she wanted to drag him upstairs and into her bedroom, lay herself out for him, and let him swallow her whole? If she took the power away from her parents, she may as well let the mystery man beside her have it instead.
“You and I are really alike,” Deacon said. “Our parents come from the same tribe—the rich, the avoidant. And Jeff, he’s like us, too. His folks . . .” Deacon shook his head. He had no words for Jeff’s parents. “They grew him the way one would grow a tree, and then they chopped him down. Whoever made up that crap about blood being thicker than water didn’t have a clue, and that’s where we come in.” He motioned to the camp behind them. “You can’t pick your blood family, but you can pick your spiritual one. Spiritual, not religious. Spiritual on the plane of mutual understanding, shared hopes, communal faith. Once you find the people you’re meant to be with . . .” He shook his head as if to say that he couldn’t describe the ecstasy of such a discovery.
“Is that what they are?” Audra’s tone was quiet, her gaze still diverted. “Your spiritual family?”
“I love them as much as if they’d come from my own rib.” Sliding his arm out from around hers, his hands drifted to rest upon her shoulders. “You don’t have to be alone,” he told her. “Don’t you see? Us meeting like this, it’s fate.”
Fate.
“Our past lives are nothing but darkness,” he said. “That’s why we have to leave those people and those memories behind. It’s like being stuck in a coal mine for half of your life. If you live in the darkness of your past for long enough, it makes you blind. You won’t be able to recognize enlightenment when it’s right in front of you. But I know it when I see it . . . and I see it in you.”
“See what?” She pressed her lips together in an anxious line.
“You’re ready,” he told her. “It’s time to open your eyes.”
4
* * *
LUCAS ROLLED THE U-Haul truck along the JFK departures curb, eased it to a stop, and shifted into park. His entire life was in the back of this box truck, all his stuff haphazardly crammed into cardboard boxes he’d picked up at the local Home Depot. He’d always known there was a chance Caroline would leave him to pack it all on his own—her things left to float around half-empty rooms—but there was a difference between maybe and certainty. Here, certainty won out in the end.
Caroline had filled a couple of suitcases with Jeanie’s summer clothes, but making room in her daughter’s closet was the extent of her involvement. Lucas hadn’t had the heart to beg her to reconsider her decision. Amid seemingly endless boxes and a mad dash to stay on Jeffrey Halcomb’s seemingly arbitrary four-week schedule, Lucas hadn’t allowed the magnitude of the situation to sink in. At least not until now.
The full weight of it hit him after Caroline asked for a ride to the airport, so nonchalant, no big deal. He had wanted to seethe through his teeth at her nerve. Why couldn’t she call the illustrious (and loaded) Kurt Murphy rather than bumming a ride with her soon-to-be ex? But instead of going off at the mere suggestion of carpooling, he had simply nodded despite their past ten days of avoidant silence.
He wanted to be pissed that Caroline hadn’t spoken so much as a handful of sentences to him for the past week and a half; wanted to rage at the fact that, while he had spent that time scrambling to get himself together—the boxes, the packing, the moving truck, the rental house—she hadn’t done anything but sit on the phone with her sister, talking about Italy while their marriage gasped its final breath. He couldn’t tell if she was pretending to be strong, or if she genuinely didn’t care.
And yet, now, sitting in the truck—Jeanie beside him and Caroline next to the passenger window—his thoughts were too muddled to be angry. They were foggy with how he was going to keep himself from falling apart. Distracted by the idea of Jeanie hating his guts, he wondered how he was going to cope with his daughter’s loathing over the next eight weeks. That, and the looming terror of how long it would take to see Jeanie again after she went back home, leaving him behind in Pier Pointe. How much time would pass before he saw his little girl again? Months? A year? Where would she be living? In Briarwood? Or would Caroline pack up the remainder of their things and ditch Queens for whatever neighborhood Kurt Murphy inhabited? His worries were stifling, his anxiety increasing its grip with every passing day. Lucas forced his thoughts of Caroline and Kurt canoodling in Rome to the furthest corner of his mind. He convinced himself that the salvation of his marriage would come in due time. But right now he had to focus. He was on a deadline. Halcomb was waiting.