“Brace,” I whispered to Noah.
He gave me a knowing smile that indicated he remembered, at least.
“Hi, Mom.” I waved like a dork. “Dad.” Normally I’d give them both a big hug. Same with my aunt and uncle. Right that minute though, I was waiting for the bomb to explode and choosing to give them all some space.
“What do you mean,you’re an author?” My mom’s arms were waving in the air in her attempt to plead to the universe to make this make sense. Her light brown hair had more grays than she liked, so she was likely headed to her fountain of youth soon to get that fixed. I enjoyed the fact that she was still playing with fashion, a new interest of hers, with some baggy cuffed jeans and a flowy top. At least she looked good while she lost it for a few minutes because we’d reached screeching levels now.
“Frannie.” My dad’s calm and cool voice worked to do its normal magic on my mom. I had a sinking feeling it was not the day—we were going to need more than Dad being chill. He was looking at her over the top of his glasses. He looked casual, as he always did. The only hair on his head was a bit of a scruff on his face because he hadn’t shaved for a day or two.
“Jim,” my mom said, volume not decreasing in the slightest. The Spencers hadn’t needed to leave the room because as long as they were within two blocks, they’d hear the whole conversation. Or at least Mom’s side of it. “Did you not hear our child? She said she’s an author and she had not informed her own flesh and blood.” She turned to Lou. “Did you know?”
“Sure didn’t,” Lou said, though I was grateful to see she didn’t look upset. If anything, it looked like she was enjoying the show.
“I’m so hurt. Where did I go wrong? Why didn’t you trust us?” My mom was approaching wailing levels now and making my guilt deepen. She clutched her chest like I had physically wounded her. If she could have placed a fainting couch in thekitchen, she would have been down for the count. All for show, but still.
“Frannie.” My dad’s voice was now at level two, the warning level he used when my mom didn’t respond to his calm one. Hopefully that would be enough.
“I know, I know, I know.” Mom’s hands were flying as she now moved around a kitchen that I don’t even know if she realized wasn’t hers. She was fully in her element, like she was back in their days of community theater. They’d given it up to travel the country, but Mom got her dramatics in when she could. Sure enough, her tears started, right on time. Big crocodile ones down her cheeks. “It’s just, why didn’t you tell us?” She turned to me, and I knew she was finally ready for me to speak.
Don’t get me wrong. My mom wasn’t a bad person, not at all. I knew to the very fiber of my core that my parents loved me. But my mom was a true extrovert and felt her feelings deeply. She lived her life loud and, at times, a bit haphazardly. I simply didn’t. I appreciated her for being her, but to say we didn’t always look at the world the same way would be a severe understatement. And maybe that was part of what had held me back from telling them.
Actually, as that popped in my mind, some realizations were hitting me hard and fast.
“Mom, Dad.” I looked to their left. “Lou, Verdell, I’m not sure what to say.”
My dad nodded to my side. “How about we start with introductions?”
Oof. I’d told my parents the bare-bones version of who Noah was over the past few weeks, especially when I’d left Highland Falls to go up to Madison, so they’d known where I was but they hadn’t met.
“So sorry,” I said, and Noah squeezed my side to tell me he understood. “Hey, guys, this is Noah Lawson. Noah, this is my mom Frannie. My dad Jim. And you know Lou and Verdell.”
My dad stepped forward with a hand out to shake Noah’s. “So sorry to hear about your parents, Noah, but it’s nice to meet you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Noah said. “And same.”
“Jim,” my dad replied.
Noah nodded. “Jim.”
Dad stepped to the side and gave me a hug. “Hey, sweetheart.”
I melted into his familiar embrace as I slid my arms under his lightweight vest and was enveloped in the scent that brought me home. “Hey, Dad.”
Mom came flying over, switching to caretaking mode. “Oh, Noah dear.” She pulled him to her chest and rocked him back and forth forcefully, which was comical considering she was all of five foot three and Noah dwarfed her at almost a foot taller. Of course, I was shorter than my mom, but I also wasn’t attempting to rock the man.
My mom was still hugging him. “I was so sorry to hear about your parents. If we hadn’t been all the way in the southwest, we could have made it back in time to be with you.”
Noah had some muffled response that was inaudible, but I smiled. It would do him some good to get my mom’s hugs for a bit. And it gave me some time to decide how to respond.
“Now Jules,” my mom said, stepping back, her tone indicating that she meant business.
Okay, maybe that had been wishful thinking.
“Mom.”
She moved over and picked up Steph’s copy of my book. Looking at the cover, she ran her finger over my name, or my pen name, then looked at me with confusion evident on her face.“I’ve read your books. They’re good. I mean,really good.Why on earth wouldn’t you have told me, or told us, you wrote them?”
Lou stepped up next to Mom. “I’ve read the first and second one, Jules, and I agree with your mom. They’re wonderful books.”
