“
But Nate
wasn
’
t
family.
”
“
But he was to me. I don
’
t know how to explain this, Livvy. We just cared about each other first, and that caring turned into love. It just kind of happened. Does that make sense?
”
“
No,
”
I told her with a frown.
“
Well, someday you
’
ll understand. When you fall in love with someone.
”
“
How will I know?
”
“
Your heart will tell you, Livvy. There will be no question.
”
Even with that explanation, though, so many questions raced through my head that night. For Granna
’
s sake, I had always wondered what her life would be like if Nate was still here. She spoke so highly of him, and always talked about his exceptional talents. And that night, when I knew my mom had once loved him, I couldn
’
t help but wonder what her life would be like now if he had lived. My imagination began to blossom with ideas.
Over the five years following that night, I
’
ve continued to wonder, what if... but recently, I
’
d become obsessed with the idea.
“
Liv, are you ready for dinner?
”
my dad calls out to me from the base of the stairs, bringing me out of my current daydream. I quickly check to make sure he can
’
t see the painting from where he stands. I take off the black paint-splotched dress first–then the
real
smock that actually protects my clothing.
“
Yeah,
”
I mumble just loud enough for him to hear.
“
I told Mom I
’
d be up in a second.
”
After he goes back upstairs, I carefully pick up the wet painting and put it in the storage closet that no one ever goes into. I know the portrait of Nate will be safe in there.
CHAPTER 3
“
Since Jackson doesn
’
t have t-ball on Saturday, I thought you and I could drive upstate to see your grandparents, Liv, and get in some practice.
”
My dad
’
s expression is hopeful. I shrug my shoulders at his offer.
“
Livvy, you were begging me for some time to practice driving,
”
Mom says.
“
I want
you
to teach me.
”
“
Well, that
’
s not gonna happen,
”
she says.
“
When have you known me to drive?
”
“
You do sometimes–
”
“
Not often. Certainly not often enough to teach you. You need an expert. That
’
s where your dad comes in.
”
My parents exchange a look across the table, and then my dad looks back at me.
“
What do you say, Tessa? We can even listen to your music. Maybe not with the volume as high as you
’
d like, but you can bring your iPod and I won
’
t complain. Deal?
”
“
Is he going?
”
I ask as I nod to my little brother.
“
No, he
’
s got a birthday party to go to. It
’
ll just be me and you.
”
“
You don
’
t trust me enough as a driver to have him as a passenger, huh?
”
I ask him sarcastically.
“
Well, honey, this would only be your fourth time to drive,
”
he reasons with me.
“
That
’
s not true. Uncle Chris has taken me twice–
”
“
When was this?
”
he asks Mom.
“
I don
’
t know, Jacks, a week or two ago. You were at your sister
’
s, I think.
”
“
Can
he
take me again?
”
I interrupt.
“
He
’
s a good driver.
”
My dad drops his fork loudly on his plate and gets up to get something from the refrigerator. He refreshes my brother
’
s cup with some more milk.
“
Did you need any more water?
”
he asks me.
“
No.
”
“
Okay,
”
he says, returning the carton to the refrigerator and sitting back down at the table. We all eat silently, the tension only amplified by the ticking clock on the wall behind me.
“
Livvy painted a man today,
”
my brother says as I shoot a glance at him.
“
A man? What man?
”
Mom asks.
“
No one,
”
I tell her.
“
It
’
s just a portrait I made up. It
’
s not any good. I
’
ll probably paint over it tomorrow.
”
“
She said he was handsome,
”
Trey adds.
“
He lies,
”
I rattle off.
“
I never said that. I was just practicing some shading I learned in class the other day.
”
“
I
’
d love to see it,
”
Dad tries to step into the conversation again.
“
Like I said,
”
I tell him sharply,
“
I
’
ll probably paint over it tomorrow.
”
“
I could take a look tonight,
”
he counters.
“
I
’
d rather you didn
’
t. It
’
s not any good.
”
“
I doubt that, Livvy,
”
my mom says.
“
But we
’
ll respect your privacy. I know you
’
ll let us see when you
’
re ready.
”
Again I catch my dad glaring at Mom.
He doesn
’
t speak to either of us anymore at dinner, instead engaging my brother in conversation about a movie he took him to see last weekend. It
’
s obvious who his favorite child is. After all, I
’
m not even really related to him, and Trey is the son he always wanted to have. Jackson Andrew Holland III.
Trey
. The miracle baby.
After Trey and I do the dishes, I hurry back downstairs to my room and shut the door. The painting was still on my mind, as was the mysterious man in it. I carefully take it back out of the closet and return it to the easel. Lying on the bed facing it, I look at his friendly eyes. Nate was more than a friend to my mother. He was more than just a boyfriend, as she tried to tell me five years ago. She had planned to marry him. She admitted it to me a few months ago when we had
“
the Talk.
”
Of course I already knew the basics–I
’
d learned all of that when Trey came along–but she felt compelled to talk to me about other things that we hadn
’
t talked about before. Peer pressure. Disease. Protection and pregnancy, specifically an unplanned one. I could tell when we got to the last topic that it struck a particular chord with Mom.
“
I hope you feel comfortable enough talking to me, Livvy. You
’
re getting older, and you
’
ll be allowed to date next year. Your father and I know the risks today, and see all the kids around, doing what kids today do. We encourage you to wait to have sex, Liv, but if you ever get to that point, I want to make sure you protect yourself. Talk to us; talk to Anna or Kelly or your cousins if you feel weird talking to us. You
’
re far too young to have a child, and I just want you to know, no matter what anyone tells you, it only takes one time without protection to get pregnant.
”
“
Carissa
’
s had sex,
”
I
’
d told her about one of the girls in my school. She wasn
’
t a close friend, but we were in many classes together, and she wasn
’
t afraid to talk about sex with us.
“
She doesn
’
t always use protection. She says that guys don
’
t like it. But she
’
s never gotten pregnant. She says there are ways to avoid it, even without condoms.
”
My mom groaned at my response.
“
I
’
ve heard that before, Liv. I
’
m sure it happens more often than you think. I
know
.
”
The way she said it, I knew she must have knowledge of her own.
“
But you always said you and Dad had been trying for years, and it took you that long to get pregnant.
”
“
Your dad and I had to overcome a lot to have Trey. I was told I couldn
’
t get pregnant again, even before we were married.
”
I
’
d picked up on the word
again
immediately, and I knew she had planted that word on purpose.
“
Dad got you pregnant before you were married?
”
I was shocked. My dad was never one to be careless about anything.
Ever
.
Mom sort of frowned, unsure of her answer. What she told me next was what turned the whole world I knew into a place I wasn
’
t sure I wanted to be in.
“
It was Nate
’
s baby.
”
“
You had a baby with him?
”
“
No, sweetie. I miscarried shortly after the wreck that killed him. There were complications from the accident and the miscarriage that made it so difficult to conceive a child with Dad.
”
“
Oh.
”
My mind was racing with possibilities.
“
Would you have kept the baby? Or given it up for adoption?
”
“
We were going to raise the baby together,
”
she said.
“
I had decided that night that if he asked me to marry him again, I
’
d say yes.
”
“
He proposed to you?
”
“
In haste, Livvy, yes. When he found out I was carrying his child. I thought he was being stupid. Reactionary. I was angry and embarrassed about the whole thing at first.
”
“
Angry that you were going to have a baby?
”
“
A little, yeah,
”
she said.
“
We
’
d just started dating. It was too soon for a baby, for marriage, for any of it.
”
I started to daydream immediately about my mom and Nate together, as parents.
My
parents. It wasn
’
t such a stretch now. They could have been parents together. They
would
have been.
I think she continued to talk to me, but my mind carried me far out of the room that night. From all I
’
d been told of Nate over the years, he was some untouchable idol to me. Like a rock star. His paintings fascinated me from a very young age, and the stories Granna would tell me about him only added to the ideal image I had of him. She would never tell me stories about the time he dated my mother, though, and Mom never really spoke of that time, either; never casually, anyway. I felt like it was a taboo subject in our household.