Page 65 of Tempt Me

“But fear isn’t our enemy. It keeps us alive and prevents us from being overly impulsive. I know Austen struggled with controlling her fear. But you need to ask for help when you’re overwhelmed. If you want to see Suzanne and Austen, be honest with them. You’re not like Tack. You’re so much healthier mentally than he can ever be.”

Curious about her last comment, I ask, “What do you think his biggest problem might be with our relationship?”

Aunt Fred sits at the table with me. “Well, Tack often zeroes in on a small problem to avoid dealing with larger, more upsetting issues.”

“Tack’s never gone to therapy, right?”

“We had people come out to the farm every week. They would play games to see how the boys reacted to everything. If someone seemed to need more, we’d encourage them to have sit down talks with the therapists.”

Aunt Fred sighs sadly. “But a lot of the boys had gotten stuck on the idea of avoiding their pain. They didn’t want to go scratching at old scars. Tack was one of those boys. When he did talk about his past, he always mentioned his dogs running away. He was obsessed with that problem rather than how his parents mistreated him or drank themselves to death.”

Studying Aunt Fred, I understand how she’s loyal to Tack over me. If she had to choose between us, she’d save him every time. That loyalty means she might not be willing to share his secrets. I don’t even know if I ought to ask. Tack’s past is his to share with me. Of course, sharing isn’t his strong suit. Maybe our lives would be easier if I already knew.

“Tack’s never told me anything concrete about his parents,” I say, feeling out Aunt Fred’s willingness to open up about his past. “When I asked once, he said they were losers, and he was lucky to get away from them.”

Aunt Fred’s blue eyes study me as she considers boundaries. Finally, she says, “The state doesn’t tell us much when they place the boys. But my cousin is a PI, and I’ve always had him ask around to get more information on each boy. It helped us to understand what they might respond to, good and bad. I’ve learned several things about Tack, but I don’t know if it’s my place to share them with you.”

“Do you think he’ll share these things on his own?”

“No,” she says and offers a sad, little smile.

“Do you think it would help me to know his past?”

“Yes.”

“Then why not share it?”

When Aunt Fred doesn’t answer immediately, I feel her preparing to change the subject.

“I worry what I say will change how you view him,” she finally explains. “I don’t want to be the reason Tack suffers. I had to work really hard to get him to trust me. A lot of the boys immediately want a kind mama. Tack acted like I was playing a trick whenever I was sweet to him. Deep down, he still doesn’t fully trust me. So, what if I tell you something that causes issues?”

“Why would anything you tell me about his parents affect my relationship with Tack?”

“Some people, not necessarily you, but other people in your orbit might view his family as badly bred.”

“I don’t care about such things. Everyone has issues. My mom didn’t pick men based on their bloodlines. She just fell for the man. And I already love Tack. Nothing you say about his parents will change how I feel about him.”

Aunt Fred hesitates. Like most people, she sees my mother when she looks at me. Suzanne is a warm and intelligent woman, but she keeps people at arm’s length. Her friends don’t even know her secrets. Aunt Fred likely worries I take too much after Suzanne and will reject Tack despite my reassuring words.

Steeling her gaze, Aunt Fred decides to share, but I can tell she’s still worried.

“Tack’s parents were chronic alcoholics and on the older side when they had him. Since Tack was born healthy, I assume they cleaned themselves up when he was very young. However, CPS was involved in his life as soon as he started daycare. His parents weren’t feeding or cleaning him right.”

Aunt Fred glances nervously over her shoulder toward the door and lowers her voice. “The state should have taken Tack away long before they did, but his parents were professionals and lived in a nice neighborhood.”

“What did CPS do once they got involved?”

“Monitored the situation. Twice, he was removed, only to be quickly returned. If they had pulled him out and severed their rights when he was young, Tack would have been quickly adopted. Instead, they kept giving his parents more chances. By the time his mom drank herself to death, Tack was no longer small and had become a handful.”

Aunt Fred exhales unsteadily. “His mom was dead for three days in that house before Tack told anyone. The father was in complete denial. Afterwards, CPS took Tack away for a while. He went to a foster home, attacked a kid, and ended up in juvie before he was sent back to his dad. It was another year before his father drank himself to death. I saw his autopsy. The man was skin and bones. During his last year, he’d quit his job and was living off his wife’s life insurance. All day, every day, he drank booze from morning to night until his body gave out. By then, Tack lived out in the backyard more than he did in the house.”

Aunt Fred dabs my wet cheeks as I cry for that little boy who grew into the man I love.

“Tack’s dad was dead weeks before the neighbors reported the smell. All that time, Tack just ignored it. He went to school. Bought himself meals out. Tack survived by learning to block out what was right in front of him. I know he loved his parents. All kids do, even if they’re sentenced to terrible ones.”

Aunt Fred pauses as I struggle with how Tack lived in hellish conditions. On the surface, he’s always seemed so well-adjusted. He doesn’t drink heavily. He isn’t a hot head. Tack seems like a calm breeze surrounded by fiery personalities. Yet, under his cool exterior beats the heart of a broken child.

“When Tack talks about his childhood,” Aunt Fred continues after I calm down, “he doesn’t focus on his abusive parents or how he lived in that house with their bodies. He only remembers how the dogs he loved ran away.”

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