Page 91 of Boston
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Cash sat down the road from the gated community where his family lived. He’d moved there at the age of twelve, and his father had texted him the code for that week.
He could get in. He knew his way to the house easily. He also knew everyone would be waiting for him, and he really couldn’t sit out here for much longer.
“Come on, boy,” he said to himself, the words stern and yet quiet. “He’s your daddy, and you know he’s gonna have the red carpet rolled out.”
Cash knew it intellectually, and he also didn’t want it. He was okay being corrected. He’d spent the last ten years of his life on the rodeo circuit being constantly corrected, sometimes in a harsh voice and with a lot of swear words.
He couldn’t believe hewantedhis father to be angry with him, because Cash had lived his whole life to avoid exactly that. Somehow, if his father would just be angry, Cash could defend himself and move on.
He finally couldn’t stall any longer, and he put the truck in drive and eased onto the road. A loud honk filled the air, and Cash slammed on the brakes. A blue sedan jerked to the leftaround him. He looked over just in time to see the angry face of the woman he’d almost cut off, and then she was gone.
“Sorry,” he said, raising his hand though there was no way for her to hear him. No, he hadn’t looked before pulling out. His mind barely seemed to be working right now.
Cash felt like he’d been transported back in time thirteen years when he’d first come to this place. He’d only ever visited once or twice to see his mother’s parents before he’d been dropped off by the only parent he’d ever known, to live with a father who’d been a stranger.
He’d been angry then and riddled with anxiety that only manifested itself in bad behavior. He didn’t know any other way, and hour by hour, day by day, and experience by experience, he and his father had figured out how to live together. How to survive, then how to grow, how to thrive, and how to become best friends.
Cash indeed loved his daddy, his emotions already causing tears to fill his eyes. He had not spent much time crying, even as a child and definitely not as a teenager. Emotions like these usually manifested themselves in fists and silence for Cash, who’d then work through his anger to the real feelings below in therapy.
Thankfully, one thing his daddy was very good at was teaching him how to take care of himself and Cash had already called and gotten a therapy appointment for Monday morning with someone who specialized in grief counseling and helping those with high stress jobs.
Cash needed both, as he’d just learned yesterday morning that Tyson Greene would have to haveanothersurgery that fall. His hearing had not returned, and in fact, his doctor was telling him that he’d probably be completely deaf on his left side sooner rather than later. He’d already started some sign languageclasses at a Deaf Academy in Three Rivers, Texas, where he was from.
Cash wasn’t sure why this man’s injury that didn’t impact him all that much had troubled him so.
He pulled up to the house, and the only reason his father didn’t come out on the porch to greet him was because Cash had specifically asked him not to. He put the truck in park, and reached for his wallet and his phone, then unbuckled his seat belt.
Someone had definitely been watching the cameras or peering through the window for his arrival, because in that ten second span of time the front door opened. He couldn’t see who did it, as no one emerged, and then finally out toddled Tyrone, the cutest four-year-old on the planet.
Joy and relief like Cash had never known filled him, and he thought of part of a scripture that he had never quite understood until that moment:become as a little child.
God really had been yelling at Cash lately, and this was just the latest message. By allowing Ty to be the first person Cash saw at his childhood home, God was telling him tobe humble. Be calm. Become as a little child.
Ty yelled something to Cash, but he drove an extremely expensive truck that had noise canceling features, so he couldn’t tell what. It didn’t matter. It made Cash smile and then laugh, and he suddenly couldn’t get the door open fast enough.
He dropped to the ground, barely took time to close the door behind him, and jogged up the front walk. “Hey-ya, buddy,” he said, zooming up the wide front steps and scooping Ty into his arms.
The little boy squealed and said something as Cash settled him in his arms. But Ty had two older sisters, and he never really had to talk much to get what he wanted. Therefore, only Mommacould understand him, though he was four years old and should be further along in his speech.
Cash simply said, “Yeah, buddy,” and faced the gaping entrance into the house. “Where is everyone?” Ty pointed inside and babbled something that sounded like it had the worddeckorlakein it.
Cash wasn’t sure which, but his parents had a big deck off the back of their house that overlooked the lake, and he figured if he headed in that direction, he’d run into someone.
Taking the first step had always been so hard for Cash, and he imagined the ground shattering and a great big black abyss opening up beneath him. He’d never make it into the house, because he’d said too many hurtful things and didn’t belong here.
But his cowboy boot landed solidly on the porch, and so did the next step, and the next, and then he’d crossed into the house. Ty continued to babble, but Cash didn’t even try to understand what he might be saying. He swung the big, heavy door closed behind him and called, “I’m here.”
Voices echoed back to him from further in the house, and Cash had passed through the foyer and gone beyond his father’s office when he heard the footsteps of the girls.
“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here,” Grace yelled with Celeste already saying, “Cash, come look at all the fish we caught this morning.”
Cash let his half-sisters barrel into him and hug him, the oldest, Grace, on the right and Celeste on the left. They were only eighteen months apart, and Grace would be nine soon. He looked up and found Momma in the kitchen holding a ten-month-old Harmony on her hip.
She smiled as warmly and as gloriously as she ever had. “Girls, give him room to breathe.” They stepped back, and she moved into their space and grabbed onto Cash with her free arm.
