“Some. You know me and wanting to talk about my feelings and relationships.” He chuckles and I tug my fingers from his.
This conversation just feels wrong.
Clint’s face loses its mirth.
“I think you should steer clear. He’s... unpredictable.” The least of his worst attributes that I can muster.
Clint breathes out a heaviness and something else, like sadness.
“Is there more?”
He glances back at the map. “I thought I’d be happier about Tru-ly, but our issues...” His words fade away, and I feel him studying much more than the map.
He’s right; there are so many issues. Are they because we don’t fully trust each other?
Because I do worry that his patience and forgiveness will dry up. I will run out of chances.
I wrap my arms around his waist and crush him against me. “Weneed help.”
He doesn’t stiffen. Perhaps he is resigned. “More counseling?”
“Maybe, or maybe something different this time.” I speak into his chest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Oma lately.”
“Wise woman.” His chest vibrates as he chuckles. “Remember that first Easter when she stayed with us and then woke us up clanging those pots and pans, singing at the top of her lungs? We shot straight out of bed, still tangled in our sheets.” He pauses. “But her prayer as the sun rose above the ocean was beautiful. You miss her.”
“I do.” I want to say more, but perilous emotions strapped down inside me threaten to burst free.
He seems to feel my need to process. “Well, the popcorn is probably all gone.” He looks down at me with eyes attempting to be playful. “Are you hungry?”
“Strange, but yes.”
“Let’s get my woman something to eat.”
We walk back into the main room. Reid’s head is in Erika’s lap, the empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table.
“He fell asleep talking,” Erika says as she tries to smooth his still-spiky hair down on his head. “I forgot to make him take a shower.”
“In the morning.” I glance over at the basic bathroom with a beautiful regular toilet and magnificent pint-size stand-up shower. One of the first renovations Clint said they did. The outhouse with a toilet plumbed to the same septic tank and leach field is still operational, but I’m thankful for the indoor variety. I can rough it, but only if I must.
I dig into Reid’s backpack to find his toothbrush and paste while Clint rouses him from his nest on the couch.
“Come on, buddy.” Clint pulls him to his feet.
“I want to check who won.” Reid yawns.
“Tomorrow.” Clint pushes him toward the bathroom.
“Oh, please, Dad. You said I could.” He wrenches his head around, suddenly wide-awake. “I can’t sleep without knowing.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” Erika grumbles, her face still in the novel she picked up earlier. When Erika got her first iPhone, she stopped reading. She used to always be tucked into a story.
“It’s too late, buddy. It’s already...” Clint looks at his watch. “Eight thirty?”
“What?” I pull out Reid’s brush from his bag. “But it feels like midnight.”
“I forget about the time vortex in the woods.” Clint squints at the blackened windows.
“Please, Dad.” Reid jumps, jangling his body up and down.
