“That’s just it, Seth. I don’t know you, but I want to if you’d give me a chance.” I heard the painful rasp, where her throat must be closing up like mine.
We’d had this conversation before. Normally, I walked away. And it was true that my feet itched to head for the door so I could get back in my canoe and paddle the hell out of there.
It would be easy. Fifty steps, tops, and I’d be gone.
Except I kept hearing Trinity’s voice telling me I was a coward for bottling it all up and walking away.
“You want a chance,” I mused, my throat still burning and my shoulders tense with anger at being stuck there, dealing with this today of all days. “Like the one you gave me when I was a kid?”
Maybe my grandmother’s shocked gasp should have stopped me. But what had Trinity said about fighting for relationships? I could fight, all right. At least then my mom would finally hear my side.
“I know, Seth—”
“What did I ever do to you?” I plowed ahead, committed to the course. “Did I complain about the sandwich you packed me? Forget to wash behind my ears? Leave too many toys out?” This time, I did meet her eyes as the words poured out of me, scorching the room as much as any flames that had taken down the gazebo.
Her mouth worked soundlessly, her shaking hand lowering the creamer fast.
Right.
Because she had no answer for that, and fighting for a relationship was b.s.
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter. I stopped caring a long time ago.” My hands clamped around the edge of the counter as if it could anchor me to this place, where I no longer wanted to be.
Gram cleared her throat. “Doesn’t sound like that to me. Seth, your mother flew all the way out here to speak to you. The least you could do is hear her out.”
I met my grandmother’s eyes, wishing she’d asked me to do something easier, like pound a nail through my hand. But I could never say no to her.
“Fine.” I crossed my arms, my stomach turning into one hard, heavy lump. “I’ll listen, but then I want you to promise to leave me alone.”
“Thank you,” my mother breathed, and, to my surprise, my grandmother reached across the table and held her hand. “I know I’ve been the worst mother ever, but please don’t ever think that you were anything but the perfect son.”
My breath caught in the back of my throat, and I stared at her.
If I was so perfect, why had she tossed me away like yesterday’s garbage?
“I’m an alcoholic. But you know that.” Her amber eyes met mine squarely, and I nodded. “Addicts care more about ourselves than anyone else. We’ll do anything for our next fix, even put others in danger.”
It was hard to ignore her imploring look. But did she honestly expect me to forgive her after all this time?
“The night before I left, I’d been drinking heavily. Your dad had been away for a wrestling match, and I was supposed to give you a bath.” She shook her head when my grandmother offered her a plate of cookies, her face pained, her mouth so tight it looked like she spoke through broken glass.
I shifted on my feet, the vague outline of a memory taking shape.
“I remember rinsing out your hair and then your father shaking me awake. I’d passed out on the bathroom floor and left you in the tub. There was blood on the tub’s edge, where you’d tried getting out to help me and chipped your tooth.
My tongue ran over another uneven edge, a spot I’d chipped later in a wrestling match before I’d quit the sport my dad loved. Maybe that one was destined for a ding. Wouldn’t Trinity laugh if she knew I was thinking about destiny?
“I don’t remember,” I admitted. Some memories I had of her felt more like dreams anyway. I was never sure which ones had really happened and what I’d come up with on my own.
“After your dad put you to bed, we had a fight,” she continued after a short, twisting silence. “We said a lot of ugly things— all of which I’m sure I deserved. What I heard the most was that I was dangerous to you, that if I couldn’t sober up, then I should get out of your life. So I chose alcohol.”
My chest felt like a balloon filling with helium, rocking me dangerously. I was exhausted and sick to my stomach, something rising and burning in my throat. I leaned my head back against the cabinets.
“I get it. You didn’t want to be a mother. My mother.” Despite myself, my voice came out hoarse and every breath hurt on its way in.
“No. I always wanted to be your mom. But your father was right.” Her chin tucked into her collar like she was shielding herself from the cold. “As long as I was addicted, it truly wasn’t safe for me to be around you.”
“So what? You deserve a best mother of the century award for walking out on me?” Pain lanced through me, somewhere darker than the inside of bone. It surprised me, how suddenly and how hard the words slammed against my lips.
Mom pulled a tissue from her pocket and wrung it between shaking hands. “No. I just want you to understand that in my own way, I was trying to protect you. From me. I loved you too much to put you in harm’s way again. You could have hit your head and drowned in the tub. Your father was absolutely right about that.”
Was it possible that she hadn’t abandoned me but had tried to do what was right? At least what she’d thought was right at the time…to protect me?
“So why didn’t you try to get better? Sober up like Dad said? If you really loved me, you should have done that.”
She shot me a look of pure despair before her gaze skittered away. “I tried.” She cleared her throat. “But it’d only last a month or two, and then I’d be back at it again. Never long enough for me to trust that I could come home and keep you safe.”
Anger returned, but it was cooler this time. More distant. Part of me understood this— I knew that alcoholism was a lifelong battle. Maybe just because she hadn’t
won
the battle didn’t mean she hadn’t fought hard. The possibility of that cracked open a wall inside me I thought was rock solid. Built to last.
God, I was such an idiot.
“So what makes this different?” My heart was ricocheting off my ribs. I could barely breathe, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I could feel some empathy for my mother as tears trickled down her cheeks or because Trinity might have had a point and I’d hurt her so damn much today.
My mother’s hands shifted. For a second, I thought she was going to slap them over her ears to drown out this conversation, but she reached into her pocket, her gaze direct.
“It’s different because I’ve been sober for over a year now.” She pulled out a gold coin and placed it on the table. “That’s from Alcoholics Anonymous. I earned it two months ago.” Her hands were fisted on the table, and her face looked bleached and friable, like a shell dried out on sand.
I stared at it. We all did.
I looked at the coin, imagining how different things would be if she’d earned it five years ago, or ten. But that was the past. The coin was here, now. And she’d come all this way to show it to me because it obviously meant a lot to her.
Oh, hell.
When my mother rose from the table on shaky legs— and my grandmother looked at me as if she was searching to see if I still had a heart inside me— I felt a long standoff come to an end. My throat burned again, but not with angry words. This time, I just couldn’t quite think what to say.
“I’m sorry, Seth,” she spoke quietly. “I thought leaving was the right thing to do, but I should have stayed in your life somehow.”
“I understand,” I said at last, because I did. My mother hadn’t fought to keep the people she cared about in her life. And I’d behaved the same way. I’d pushed away others so I wouldn’t be let down— or so I wouldn’t let them down. Trinity was right.
But I wasn’t going to be a coward anymore.
When Mom caught my hands in hers, I didn’t pull away. She might be sober now, and that could last. Then again, she could relapse next week and disappear again. But if I fought for her, maybe she’d fight for herself and us. I could help her stay clean, and if that didn’t work, I wouldn’t blame myself or even her. I’d accept that it was better to try and fail then to do nothing at all.
“Thank you, Seth. I know I don’t deserve another chance, and I’m not asking for one. I only wanted you to know how much I’ve always loved you, even though I haven’t been around, and if I could do it over—”
I pulled her close, her startled eyes meeting mine before her arms wrapped around me. She pressed her cheek against my shoulder as I spoke. “Forget do-overs. Let’s start with now.”
My T-shirt felt damp beneath her cheek, and she shook against me like a wind-blown leaf. At last she pulled back and peered up at me.
“I love you, Seth.”
“I know.” And I did. I believed her. My head spun with it, and I closed my eyes against a tilting world.
A loud honk had us both looking at my grandmother. She lowered a hankie from her wet face. “My dear, you are welcome to stay with us if you’d like. Visit more with Seth.”
My mother nodded, a smile spreading across her narrow face. “I’ve booked a room in town, but I’d like the extra time with Seth before I fly home tomorrow. My sponsor doesn’t want me away too long. Is that okay with you, Seth?”
I nodded. “It’s time we got our now started.”
As she beamed at me, I thought of Trinity.
Tomorrow, I’d start my now with her. If she’d still have me.
Chapter Ten
Trinity
Wind blew off the Pisgah River, pushing back the tendrils of hair sticking to my forehead, carrying away the lingering acrid smell of scorched wood from the forest. The board I’d been tugging from the singed heap came free all at once, and I fell hard on the needle-covered ground, a splinter gouged into my thumb.
“Ouch!” I shouted loud enough to startle a small rabbit from beneath a scrub brush. I watched its white tail disappear beneath a patch of ferns and wished I could do the same. After sneaking out this morning at five AM, my hour of labor had recovered only enough useable wood for one side of the old gazebo design. The firefighters had done a good job of saving the foundation, but its beautiful painted designs were now as scorched as my heart. The cause of the fire was still under investigation, but I was already betting on someone being careless in the roofing crew. A cigarette butt had rekindled maybe. Or the generator had a bad wire.
But worse than the heartbreak of the ruin in front of me was Seth. I still couldn’t believe that, despite everything, he wouldn’t open up to me. Trust me to handle his heart with care. Kissing and holding him had been a dream come true, but I guess a part of me cared more about reality than I thought. I wanted the big picture. The long term. The commitment to at least try and not quit when things got too hard.
I stood and brushed off my jean shorts, glad for my tank top in the early morning swelter. The air was heating up, pressing down like wool. All around me, black marred the tree trunks and a heap of blackened wood and ash was piled high, the acrid tinge of smoke overpowering the cedar-scented woods. I gulped more water, wishing the cool liquid would wash away the despair that made it hard to breathe.
For so long, Seth had been my unattainable dream. Ironic that, now that he was single, he was less available than ever. I’d hoped to get through to him, make him see that not all of the women in his life would let him down. When he’d found me in the art building, I’d thought I’d succeeded. I yanked out another hot board and placed it on my salvage pile, wishing I’d been right. That I could have recovered him too— the old Seth.
I’d tossed and turned last night, remembering that heart-stopping kiss followed by the crushing news that he didn’t plan to make us permanent. I felt bad for calling him a coward, but he’d acted like one. He hadn’t fought for Lauren, so why had I thought he’d fight for me? Seth was hurt from his past, but I’d hoped to be the one to help him heal. Now I understood that only he could do that; and, with him avoiding his mother’s calls and not committing to a serious relationship, that didn’t look like it’d happen any time soon.
Last season’s leaves crunched underfoot as I pulled loose the dedication plaque. My hand covered my mouth as I held in a sob at its black surface. It was ruined, like everything else I’d tried to accomplish this summer.
A warm hand on my shoulder made me jump.
“Don’t cry, Trinity,” said a familiar voice. When I turned, I saw Seth— but he looked different. I’d gotten so used to his gray aura that, to see him surrounded by yellow again, took me aback.
I scanned his gorgeous face, drinking in his lazy smile and the worry that lingered in the corners of his twinkling eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted, my words coming out in a breathy rush.
“Same as you, I came to see what I could salvage.”
But he wasn’t looking at the gazebo when he said it. His eyes looked straight into mine, and I wondered if he was talking about us.
I gestured around the brown circle and averted my gaze. I wasn’t falling for his charm again— gorgeous yellow aura or not. “There isn’t much left. I’ve been working for an hour, and this is all I’ve gotten so far.”
Seth whistled when he saw my pile. “That’s impressive. But what about the materials from the old gazebo? Was that damaged?”
I jerked my head in the direction of the river, where we’d pulled most of it, intending to load it onto a row boat and carry it to the camp for the bonfire. Now that many of the trees had lost their leaves, it was easy to spot. How had I missed it?
“Doesn’t look like it.” My heart sped as I pictured the spindled railings and scrolled decorative pieces that Seth had vetoed for his “functional” gazebo. With some paint, they could easily be reused and other parts matched and replaced. “But I thought you didn’t want any of that stuff.”
Seth took my hand, and we walked to the river bank together. A part of me knew better than to let him touch me, especially when he just wanted a summer fling, but another part had a hard time letting him go.
He held back a sapling and let me precede him. This close to the river, a spray of fine mist cooled the warm air, where water rushed over the rocks. When I tugged my hand away, he surprised me by reaching for my other hand instead. It was as though he didn’t want to let go. Of me. So strange. He’d been ready to drop me at the end of the summer.