I pause my work. Avery’s frowning. She always felt defensive of me, always hated the way my parents had an obvious preference for Nash. I liked the way she disapproved of theirattitude, the way she’d go to bat for me. If this feeling in my chest is any indication, I still do.
“Do you ever think about telling them how you feel?” Avery shrugs one shoulder. “If I can tell my dad, maybe…”
“I think about it. I can’t imagine actually doing it, though. My mom… I don’t know if she can handle it. It would hurt her to hear how I feel.” It would require me to say Nash’s name, something we all go to great lengths not to do around her.
Avery smiles in this tiny, sad way. “I said the same thing to my therapist. I didn’t want to hurt my dad by telling him how he hurt me.”
“But you did. Tell him, I mean.”
“I thought I was supposed to protect him. Like I was being selfless.” She shakes her head. “It’s the other way around. He was supposed to be selfless and protect me, but his grief crippled him in the parenting department. Our relationship is better now that I was honest about how I felt.”
“My mom…” My sentence trails off. I don’t know how to say what I want to say.
“You fear what will happen if you say something. I get that. But look at what happened when you didn’t speak up.” Avery rubs a hand over my shoulder. “People are more resilient than we think. Especially when it’s asked of them.”
I survived two years in prison, a place where resilience is key. Perhaps I’ve been selling my parents short. They too, can hear they messed up, and remain standing.
And if my parents can be resilient, and Avery’s dad, and Avery, and me… What about our relationship? Can we resurrect it?
“Avery,” I say, my tool poised above the wood. She lifts her gaze from where she’d been watching, waiting for me to resume. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”
Her steady, clear-eyed gaze is on me. “Yes.”
CHAPTER 15
GABRIEL
Sugar Creek doesn’t havea lot in the way of fine dining. We have charm, though, and Avery happens to love charm.
She smiles up at me and points at a hedge of colorful roses on our way to our table. “Pretty,” she whispers excitedly, as we follow the hostess to our table in the back corner of the outdoor seating area.
Avery orders sparkling water from the server. Tapping the underside of her menu, where the wine is listed, I tell her, “You can order wine, if you want.” I don’t need her to adjust her behavior for me.
Avery’s attention remains on the menu as she says, “I rarely drink.”
The server returns and takes our order. Avery leans back in her seat when he leaves, looking around at the people at nearby tables. “I met Jane a few days ago, from Lady J bakery. She thinks highly of you.” There’s curiosity in Avery’s tone.
I nod. “Jane’s a nice lady.”
Avery pinches her bottom lip. “She seems…regretful?”
My eyebrows draw together. I don’t want to say too much. Jane’s story is hers to tell. Avery is perceptive, so I’m not surprised she has taken notice of Jane’s hidden pain. “How so?”
“Hard to say, exactly. There’s something to her, though. She carries something down deep.” Avery pats her chest.
Avery couldn’t be more correct. Jane carries regret, and guilt, in the marrow of her bones. She dreams of going back and righting her wrongs, though she believes that’s not possible.
Jane’s alcoholism differed from mine. She hid it from everybody she knew, and she hid it well. Her husband, her daughter, her friends. Jane drank to soothe horrific childhood memories. She thought she was handling everything fine, until she realized there were parts of her days she was unable to recall. Then came the day she turned on the gas stove improperly and forgot she was supposed to be cooking dinner. She passed out on the couch, and her eight-year-old daughter woke her up with complaints of a headache and her tummy feeling funny.
Jane convinced herself the best way she could love her daughter and husband was to rid them of herself. She ran here, to this sleepy town, and she hasn’t gone back. I am the only person who knows this story, who has seen a photo of her daughter. Perhaps it was my colossal mistakes that made Jane trust me with her own.
I can’t betray Jane’s confidence, even to Avery. I say, “Jane lives a quiet life, bringing smiles to people’s faces with those blueberry muffins of hers.”
“She said you eat whatever is nearing expiration.” Avery smiles at me. “I like that.” Her gaze wanders over the walls of the restaurant. “And I love that this used to be a house. Nobody had to build a new structure to make this place.”
“Joel told me the woman who owned this property lived in the home her entire life. She passed away ten years ago, and the place was left to her granddaughter. When her granddaughterdidn’t want it, her great-granddaughter moved in and turned it into a restaurant.”
“That’s amazing.” Avery squeezes the lemon in her sparkling water and sips. “Something old gets a new life.”
