Page 85 of Without Judgment

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Avery

I couldn’t sleep much after Mason’s call. Instead, I booked my flight and packed for an overnight trip. I was proud he’d finally taken this step. That he’d called me to help him make the next one meant the world to me. My father had told me everything Mason had done for the investigation into the videos, including calling in many favors with his friend at the FBI. It felt good to be able to return the favor now.

Over the last week I’d told myself I didn’t miss him, but I had. A lot. Now that he’d called, I tried not to get my hopes up, thinking this would change anything. But emotions are a fickle thing and don’t stay where you tell them to.

First thing Saturday morning, I was on the earliest and only direct flight from Houston to Mobile. At eleven o’clock in the morning, I stepped out to the curb of the Mobile terminal, dressed casually in a sundress and sandals. I immediately spotted him pulling up in his truck. He looked amazing, yet tired. I wondered if he was having nightmares again.

He stepped out to take my small duffle bag. “Thanks for coming. I thought about telling you not to because I’m sure you have other things you could be doing, but—”

I cut him off. “There is nowhere I’d rather be than here. Okay?” I took his hand, squeezing it for support. I was here as a friend to him. Despite the fact my heart was beating in overdrive, and my stomach was in knots over seeing his handsome face again. “Shall we get breakfast?”

“Sure.”

We drove for a few miles before he stopped at a roadside diner. I dug into my veggie omelet while he barely touched his waffles.

“You doing okay?”

He pushed the plate away, meeting my gaze with troubled eyes. “I don’t know what to say. What do you tell a mother who lost her son?”

“You tell her he was an excellent Marine, doing what he loved to do. That he spoke about his family affectionately and with love. And as his best friend, you held his hand in the end. In his final moments, he wasn’t alone.”

He took my hand over the table. His voice was thick with emotion. “Thanks.”

We made the somber drive up to a quaint house about twenty minutes away. Mason had sent a text to let them know we were on our way.

A dog barked in the distance, the day was cloudy, but the heat not too unbearable for late summer. These details, although ordinarily mundane, took on a new meaning because of our particular task for the day.

Mason knocked on the door of the white, farm-style house with the wraparound porch. Surrounding it were fields that stretched for miles. Several other buildings dotted the landscape, one of which appeared to be a large barn. Wooden fences separated the fields as far as the eye could see.

He inhaled a deep breath and looked nervous. He took my hand, and I squeezed, letting him know I wouldn’t leave his side.

An older woman with brown hair and a nice smile opened the door. “Hello. You must be Mason. I’m Laura.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.

She glanced at me, and I held out my hand. “I’m Avery, a friend of Mason’s.”

She ushered us into the house and a comfortable living room with a sofa and loveseat. On the mantle over the stone fireplace, I could already spot the large, framed picture of her son in his dress blues.

“Do y’all want something to drink? I made iced tea.”

Before Mason could say no, I replied. “That would be lovely. Thank you.” Any time someone offered something they’d made, my manners kicked in telling me to try it. Plus, I figured Mason could use a moment to soak everything in.

A few minutes after disappearing into the other room, she reappeared with a tray holding three glasses of iced tea. I’d wondered if anyone else was going to join us, but she answered the question without being asked.

“Mickey’s father is out in the fields this morning, but he’ll be joining us in about an hour if it’s okay? Same with his two younger brothers.”

Mason squeezed my hand hard. Clearly, he was in a panic about having to stay that long.

“Of course. We’d love to take a tour of the farm, in fact,” I spoke up. “Mason said Mick used to talk about growing up here and has a favorite horse.”

She beamed. “That would be nice.” She turned towards Mason and gave him a sad smile. “He talked about you. All the time. It meant a lot to know he had a ‘brother from another mother’ as he called you. Said you’d lost your mom to cancer a few years back. When y’all came home, he wanted to bring you here to get some of my famous apple pie. I made you one. I just thought—Well, I couldn’t not make you one after Mick had shared that with me.”

Mason smiled in remembrance. “He used to talk about apple pie and all of the other food you’d make him. We’d share the things we couldn’t wait to get back to. For him, it was always about his family, your farm, and your cooking.”

I saw the tears gather in her eyes. My own throat closed up at the thought of the grief she must be experiencing. Although I’d lost my mother, nothing could compare to losing your child.

---