Page 102 of Rebel Summer

“A little.” My voice came out soft, matching her tempo.

She nodded, gathering her thoughts. “After Mason left, it was like I had lost two sons. Dax became so angry. He blamed us for pushing Mason away. And maybe we did. I don’t know. If I could go back, I would.” She paused to wipe under her eyes, then took in another ragged breath. “But then Dax started changing, stopped caring about things. He stopped playing with his little brother. He stopped trying in school. He was getting into all sorts of trouble. When he laughed, it was only to make fun of something. He moved into Mason’s old room, and I was terrified he was going to leave one day too. We just lost him.”

I wiped at the lone tear slipping down my face as she continued.

“He’s been doing great the past few years. He’s a good worker. His business has been thriving, but he still keeps such a tight wall around himself. Mason leaving devastated all of us in such different ways.” She met my gaze. “But today, with you, he was so much like the old Dax that I kept double-checking that it was really him. His eyes are shining again, and as a mom…” Her face morphed into a pained expression as she tried to gain control of her emotions. “As a mom, that was the best birthday gift I could have ever received.”

“I don’t think I have much to do with that. He?—“

She shook her head. “It’s you. I probably could have guilted him into coming to the barbecue today because it was for my birthday, and Trent’s here, but he would have left the first chance he could. But he stayed, and he visited, and he laughed, and he had a smile on his face while watching you for most of it.”

When I could only gape at her, she smiled.

“I mean no pressure on you about any of this. I don’t want to pry into your relationship, but I couldn’t let the day go by without telling you thank you.”

I wasn’t sure I could speak with the way my heart was touched by her words. I hadn’t done anything but show up with her son because I now craved being with him.

“Dax is a good person,” I said. Inwardly, I blanched. It sounded like I was placating her. My paltry words weren’t enough for all the good things I was discovering about her son. “I mean, he’s actually helped me a lot with some things, and…” I floundered, there was too much I wanted to say and not enough words to do it. His mom stared at me, a smile growing on her face, and took pity.

“He is a good man. I’m so glad you see that in him.”

The rest of the afternoon passed with more chatting, and we even played Trudy’s favorite card game while we ate cake and ice cream. Dax seemed to relax more the longer we stayed, teasing his brother and even giving his mom a kiss on her cheek when we left. At first, I’d been shocked at the family and house Dax had grown up in, but now it felt exactly right.

We didn’t say much on the golf cart ride back to the duplex. My mind was too busy churning with everything I’d learned about Dax and his family. So much so that when we arrived at our driveway, and he turned off the key, I couldn’t help but speak.

“Your mom told me you moved into Mason’s room after he left.”

He had been about to exit when he paused before turning a slightly horrified gaze back at me. “What all did you and my mom talk about?”

“I now know that you and your brothers used to have a thing about streaking in your backyard.”

He smiled, but there was an overtly casual way about him, and he didn’t move a muscle. “Only when we lost at cards.”

“Why’d you move into his room?”

His first instinct was to brush me off. I knew it was. I could see it in his eyes. So, it surprised me when he leaned back against his seat, his fingers playing with the steering wheel.

“Because I thought he was going to come back.”

“Why did you think that?”

“Because I was thirteen. All I knew was my brother was gone, and I didn’t know why. I used to go looking through his room for clues, thinking I could track him down. But then I found this old Swiss Army knife I’d given to him for his birthday, and he had loved it—at least, he told me he did. So, I kept thinking he would come back to grab it. He used to love the TV show Survivor and had always talked about doing something like that, so for a while, I thought he was trying to make it on the island by himself, which meant he was probably missing his knife. So, I slept in his room for a few months, waiting for him to come back for it. Once I discovered how handy the tree next to the window was, it became my room permanently.”

He huffed out a laugh, giving the impression that it was no longer important. That he no longer cared.

But he couldn’t fool me anymore.

I hadn’t fully grasped the enormity of emotions a person needed to work through when someone abandoned their family, but I was starting to understand the tip of the iceberg. I’d taken psychology classes in college that had helped me understand more about death. The grieving process was brutal and heart-wrenching, and the enormity of emotions a person faces for the rest of their life never goes away.

Abandonment was another sort of tragedy on a similar scale.

I imagined the grieving process was similar. Someone you loved was no longer there. Life’s universal sorrow. But there was a merciful finality with death that was absent here. The devastation brought to this family held no ending. No coffin. No closure. Which meant there was still hope to be shattered every day that failed to bring their son home.

Or brother.

Hope was the real tragedy here.

Later that night, the knocking came softer this time, but by now, I knew the tune, though I still hadn’t figured out the song.

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