Page 10 of Enchanted Kisses
“We’ll see…”
He opened his mouth as if to defend himself but closed it.
We stared at each other for a few moments.
Emotions stirred in his eyes—indecision, heartache, sadness.
The longer we stared, the harder it was to walk away. Again, I considered inviting him to stay for my own peace of mind. When I woke in the morning with my brain refreshed, I could get all the answers I needed, and we could go from there.
“Good night, Lily.” He walked toward my car.
I didn’t stop him. Exhaustion weighed on me like a bag of sand, making it hard to hold up my head. I yawned so big my eyes squeezed closed. When I looked at the driveway to Caiden, he and my car were gone.
How? A full minute hadn’t even passed, and I didn’t hear him leave. He couldn’t have had time to drive away without me seeing or hearing him.
I glanced down the street. No taillights in either direction. Nerves twisted through me. I couldn’t have hallucinated him. If I had, my car would be here. Right?
Geez. I didn’t know anymore.
“Sleep can work magic,” Dr. Eve told me once after a session with Dad.
I had to believe a good night’s sleep would fix me, too.
I dug in my pocket for my house key. Crap. It was with my car key, which Caiden had. Should I text him and tell him to come back?
I tried the door handle first. To my surprise, it turned, unlocked.Finally, a break tonight.
The house was quiet and dark. Wood floors creaked under my steps as I made my way inside. The back porch light filtered through the glass doors, casting a soft glow over our family room and adjoining kitchen.
I loved this house with the original porches and farmhouse charm—before HGTV made the style popular.
Dad bought the house for my mother. She loved the gardens and woods that surrounded the three-acre property. On a bright day, the East River could be seen from the back porch through a clearing in the woods.
When I was a child, Dad and I used to sit on the bench swing out there and share a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He’d tell me stories about my mom. How, like me, she had a green thumb. He also said flowers would grow from her hair. It should have been a sign he was losing his mind, but I was too young to understand.
I shrugged out of my jacket and hung it on the back of a barstool in the kitchen before filling a glass with water from the refrigerator. After a long sip, I wiped a drop from my chin and glanced toward the master bedroom. The TV light flickered through the slightly opened door. Dad always fell asleep with the TV on, and I always turned it off.
He liked the distraction of the TV. Said it kept his mind busy so his thoughts didn’t go to places where they didn’t belong. I wished he didn’t have to worry like he did and that his mind didn’t fight him.
It was why I still lived at home and attended the local community college. Dad thought I wasn’t ready to leave my friends; when really I wasn’t ready to leave him alone.
My plan was to get my A.A. and if Dad was still doing well by then, I’d chance transferring to a state university to earn a bachelor’s in landscape architecture. I’d probably end up back here working at the nursery with Dad because leaving him alone for too long didn’t sit well with me.
I put the water on the counter and headed for his room.
Silver moonlight spilled in from a set of sliders to the left of his bed. Beyond, a low fence enclosed a private garden filled with jasmine and roses. Mom had planted the garden. In the evening, Dad liked to open the door and let the fragrant flowers fill his room.
I stepped inside to make sure he’d locked the door before going to sleep.
All was good.
As I turned to leave, Dad rolled onto his side.
I froze mid-step. Had I awakened him?
His eyes remained closed as he nestled his head into his pillow, his thick, salt-and-pepper hair fluffy above his head. I smiled at his peaceful expression, praying the hallucinations and depression that followed wouldn’t start again.
“Sweet dreams,” I whispered before leaving.
