Page 4 of All We Thought We Knew
I stared at him. “So she chose to die right before Christmas?”
His expression hardened. “Your mom didn’t choose cancer, Mattie. She’s not choosing death over life. Your father and she discussed their options and settled on the one that seemed best for them.”
Anger began to build inside me. “Just like he discussedoptionswith Mark about going to Vietnam. Look how that turned out.”
The muscle in Nash’s jaw ticked. “I know you and Kurt didn’t see eye to eye before you left—”
“And I doubt we will now.”
He shook his head, exasperation in the movement. “Mattie, his wife is dying. He lost his son. You disappeared. Kurt isn’t the same man he was before.”
I scoffed. “I’ve only been gone a year, Nash. No one can change that much.”
He gave me a long study. “You’re wrong about that.” Without another word, he exited the truck and slammed the door behind him. He jerked my bag out of the bed and stomped toward the house.
I blew out a breath.
I sure didn’t need Nash McCallum telling me how to feel about my father. He and his own dad hadn’t gotten along. Mr. McCallum drank too much and couldn’t keep a job. Mark once told me Nash was willing to go to Vietnam just to get away from his old man. I’d adamantly pointed out that wasn’t a good reason to throw away one’s liberty, but Mark said I didn’t get it and walked away.
Heavy dread weighed me down as I climbed from the vehicle and stared at the house. I took in the green shutters, wrap-around porch, and Mama’s rosebushes, while bittersweet memories flooded my mind. How many hours had Mark and I spent on that porch, playing games, reading books, or dreaming dreams as we sat side by side on the wooden swing? Mama declared us two peas in a pod, but Mark always called uswombmates, making me laugh every time.
The remembrance brought a soul-crushing hollowness with it. A deep void I’d endured since the day the telegram arrived, telling us my brother was never coming home. Nothing I’d tried the past year filled it. Drugs and free love masked it for a while. Yoga and Buddhist meditations hinted at peace, but the emptiness was always there. Dark. Dangerous. Pulling me toward a quick end to the pain.
Flashes from the night I’d given in to the darkness sent a shudder through me. If Clay hadn’t come into our room and found me...
I took a shaky breath.
Someone peered out the kitchen window. I couldn’t tell who it was, but they probably wondered if I intended to stand in the yard all night.
Rusty hinges on the back door squealed, announcing my decision. The warmth of the kitchen enveloped me, the welcome hug I had yet to receive. For a moment I felt like a kid again, coming in from feeding the horses with Mark. Mama would be busy baking cookies, canning vegetables from the garden, or preparing dinner, but she always stopped whatever she was doing to fix us a cup of hot chocolate or Kool-Aid, depending on the season. Mark would tell funny stories, making Mama and me laugh, as we snacked on oatmeal raisin cookies.
But it wasn’t Mama who greeted me.
Dad stood near the sink, wearing his usual faded blue-jean overalls, yet I barely recognized him. He’d lost weight, and he looked as though he’d aged ten or more years, with grayer hair and a haggardness to his features I didn’t remember. As a young girl, I’d thought him the handsomest man in the world, but this gaunt, worn-down version held little resemblance to his former self. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“Guess you’ve had a long day.”
The stiff words were apparently all the greeting he intended to offer.
I responded in kind. “Three long days.”
After a beat, he nodded toward the stove. “We’ve already eaten, but there’s a plate for you.”
I shifted my gaze to see the foil-covered dish he indicated. “Thanks.”
We stared at each other in silent standoff, just as we’d done dozens of times in the past. I braced myself for the reprimand he’d undoubtedly been itching to give me for a year. I couldn’t blame him. I knew I deserved it. I’d abandoned my family in their greatest sorrow. Despite being right about the war and the need to keep Mark safe, I’d done a ghastly thing by leaving home one week after my brother’s funeral. Mama’s desperate pleas and anguished wails that followed me out the door would haunt me the rest of my life.
Yet the stern words I anticipated never came. His shoulders drooped, as though a heavy weight bore down on him. As I watched my father seemingly struggle for something to say, Nash’s statement about him surfaced.Kurt isn’t the same man he was before.Had he been right?
“Your mama—” His voice cracked, and he pressed his lips tight while his chin trembled. Several ticks from the wall clock above the sink passed before he spoke again. “Your mama’s sleeping. Nash told you what the doctors said?”
I nodded, my emotions too raw and confused for anything more.
After another stretch of silence, he said, “I’m sure you’re tired. We’ll talk in the morning.” He moved toward the door to the hallway. “Your room is just as you left it.”
In a blink, I was alone.
I wasn’t certain what had just happened, but I was glad for it. My brain couldn’t have tolerated a lecture, deserved or not. I was disappointed not to see Mama tonight, but that might be for the best too. The changes in my father’s appearance were startling. I could only imagine what I would find in the morning when I saw Mama.
