Broken Creek (The Creek #1) (10 page)

We didn’t speak again before I left to go in to town to Dr. Palmer’s office.

When I pulled into the clinic’s parking lot, I wasn’t certain what I hoped to accomplish by talking with the Palmers because really, I was already embarrassed enough.

I sat in the driver’s seat for a moment and thought about my plans for the rest of the week. I had to get through Christmas, and then I could escape to my dorm room in peace and try to forget.

Christmas.
I still hadn’t bought any gifts. The nearest town for shopping was over an hour away. I looked at the fuel gauge, and I had over half a tank, which was enough to get me there and back. Without a decent radio in my car, I was left to my thoughts, which was dangerous when I was pissed.

My original plan was to get Mom a laptop, and from my research, a Netbook
was the best solution I’d come up with, and she could use it while at work on her breaks.

I sucked it up and purchased the computer, grabbed a gift sack the box would fit in and some tissue, and headed back home. On the way, my phone lit up with a text message.

Stephan
: checkin on you

Me:
still mad went to pick up a gift

Stephan
: for me?

Oh God, how was I supposed to answer that?
I didn’t get him anything. Getting him a gift was wrong, it signified that we were
something,
only God knew what that something was.

I pulled over at the first crossroad I came to.
Shit
. What was I supposed to do?

I thought for a few moments and couldn’t put my finger on any small gift or practical joke. Worse, I didn’t know how to answer the text. He loved the Dallas Cowboys, and he was a huge Razorback fan, of course, but lately he had been going to play golf and said he was taking lessons at a country club in the town I had just been in.

To play it safe, I headed back to town and found some Razorback golf balls. Every golfer likes their balls, right? He would find them funny.

It was dark by the time I got home. I found Mom in the kitchen with a stack of papers in front of her. She was filtering through them with a mission, as if she had lost something.

“What are you looking for?” I took the seat next to her at the old wooden pedestal table that had been in my family for generations.

“I’m looking for the last papers drawn up on the property. The bank told me today I didn’t owe as much as I thought I did, and your daddy had put in a life insurance policy clause when he refinanced it. It didn’t cover the full amount, but we may be able to renegotiate with the sale to Ben.”

“Mom, don’t you get a monthly statement? Where are the bills?”

“I haven’t opened one in so long. I was so angry at your father for doing what he did I just went to the bank and told them I could only pay a certain amount each month. They agreed, and that’s what I’ve been doing.”

“Oh my God, this just gets more insane by the minute. You’re not keeping up with shit; the bank isn’t keeping up. Does anybody know what the hell is going on around here?”

“Stop yelling and do not use profanity in my home.”

“I’m not yelling. I’m exasperated. There’s a difference, and
shit
is about the best word that defines this mess we are in.”

We spent the next two hours searching through paperwork and finally found some statements that made sense. If the bank was willing to redraft the note and section off the land Ben wanted to buy, the purchase would pay off most of the debt, leaving the rest manageable. I wasn’t a financial expert, but getting a large chunk of money when the bank was barely getting anything seemed like a very substantial move.

The next day, we met Ben at the bank late in the afternoon, so Mom wouldn’t miss a whole day of work. They were willing to accept his purchase and redraft our note, but nothing would happen over the holiday. It would be the next week before the sale could be finalized after a survey and all the standard closing bullshit.

I had to admit I was learning through the process—and it was that indeed. Mom was happy because it meant I had to stay longer.

On the drive home, I was lighter than I’d been in days, years even. To know that the burden of the land was going to be taken care of was one thing, to know that someone was going to be living there to help Mom was a personal blessing.

“I’m really sorry, Wrenn. I was angry with your meddling and now all of this is such good news I don’t know what to say.”

“I know, I’m sorry too. I treated you ugly. I can’t recall ever being that upset with you.”

“The good news is that all this is a godsend. This place is your heritage, it’s all I have to give you, and I’ve given everything to hang on to it.”

“Nothing means anything if I don’t have you around. Don’t you get that?”

Her silence spoke volumes to me. I knew she did get it, but she had passion for a place that caused me angst—we were on opposite ends of the spectrum.

Back at home, we took a walk to the special place. Sitting there, listening to nature, I knew why she loved it so much. Deep inside, I did too.

My gut clenched, as I wished I could tell her the truth about Dad and hope she would understand, but it wouldn’t solve any problems, and the wound it would open might never heal for her. I had no choice but to keep the past hidden.

“Call Stephan and invite him to dinner. I owe him a batch of cookies.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We aren’t back together. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.”

“Then why did you get him a Christmas present? And why are you sleeping with him?” Mom’s eyes were locked in on mine.

“Because he teased me about it. Long story. We’re friends. Leave it at that. Please?”

“He’s a good man, Wrenn. He loves you.”

“I know. I never told him to hang on.”

“Love hangs on whether you want it to or not.”

I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her frail body close to mine. “Some things don’t work out like we want, Mom.”

“Maybe one day you’ll come down here, the sights and sounds will soothe what hurt you, and you’ll find a way to forgive. I did.”

The cold wind and setting sun ended our short time on the bench. We walked arm-in-arm back up to the house. I made a chicken dish, while Mom made cookies for Stephan anyway, regardless of my suggestion not to. She would never learn.

Christmas Eve brought about vibes of happiness; something Mom and I had been short on for so long. After dinner, Stephan came by as Mom requested. She gave him cookies and then she disappeared.

He handed me a beautifully wrapped package, which I knew he didn’t do. Sharing gifts with him again—sort of strange, but as I sat in front of the fireplace and opened the red paper, I got one hell of a laugh. Inside was a sweatshirt that read, “My two favorite teams are the Razorbacks and anybody who plays Texas.”

“I might get shot for wearing this at school.”

“Whether you wear it or not, I thought you’d get a kick out of it.”

I noticed a piece of paper flew out to the floor when I pulled the sweatshirt out of the tissue. When I unfolded it, I had to look at it twice. It was a certificate of completion. Stephan had attended an eighteen-month course in anger management?

“Anger management, wow. That’s why you’re so different now.”

“Yes. Look, I didn’t go just to get you back. I went to get a hold of my life and change it. I need you to know I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you physically and emotionally. But, going there, I found out so much more about myself, the reasons why I was so hostile, and it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with my dad—his drinking, drugs, prison and stuff. I also know I can’t drink hard liquor anymore. A beer now and then is fine, but that’s about it. Losing you gave me that, and time to find myself.”

I jumped up from the floor and hugged him. I felt him slowly move his face toward mine, and I worried a kiss was coming, so I pulled away, using his gift as an excuse. With the small package in my hands, I presented it with shaking hands, and when he opened the golf balls, he laughed, but loved them.

We sat on the floor by the fire and talked for a while before he finally got around to asking me when I was leaving. I told him I would be gone by the next weekend if all went according to plan. I saw sadness creep into the deep lines on his frowning face.

“Spend New Year’s with me then. Just old friends and good times.”

“Is there a big group getting together?”

“Probably, but I’m talking about just you and me. A celebration of our new lives and new friendship.”

I pondered his offer for a few moments. Saying yes could lead him on, saying no would hurt him.

“Yes, to old friends.”

He left without so much as touching me, but his smile implied he was hopeful. Once again, I found myself in turmoil. My heart aching from getting too close to the barbed wire surrounding it.

Christmas morning was light and cheerful because we had much to celebrate that couldn’t be wrapped in a package. Mom gave me the InStyler hair curling iron thingy I’d been wanting. I couldn’t wait to try it out after my shower.

When she pulled the tissue out of the sack and saw the box with the laptop, she squealed. “You know you’ll have to show me how to use it, don’t you?”

“It’s the same as the computer at work. But yes, we can go up there, and I’ll get it synced to their Wi-Fi for you.”

We let ourselves in to the closed diner and hooked the netbook up to Wi-Fi. She played around on it, and I showed her how to do things like photos and stuff. Then the challenge came to showing her how to Skype, but after a couple of hours, she got the hang of all of it. We had everything set up with her email address and Facebook
and the whole works. I was happy because it would grow her mind and give her something to do, instead of just withering away and sleeping in the recliner.

It was dark and dreary cold by the time we got back home. I built a fire, and Mom handed me a fresh plate of cookies from dough she’d made earlier.

True, I loved her cookies, but I was happy eating cookie dough. She always laughed when she baked them, saying “The recipe says it makes four dozen, but I only get about half that. I wonder why?”

My phone chimed with a text.

Karina
: Merry Christmas dollface