I was her favorite person? My heart couldn’t even comprehend it. She’d always been mine. Did this mean that she felt the same way about me that I’d always felt about her? Thoughts. Hormones. Cliffs. Precipitous.
Rein it in, dude.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t even want to anymore. I completely gave up and sank down in my seat until it felt like the cushions were part of my body, melting against her. I leaned over, inhaling the clean, floral scent of her hair freely and without reservation. And then I pressed a kiss onto the top of her beautiful head.
“Me too, Clem. Me too.”
twenty-one
CLEMENTINE
The closer we got to the ninety day finish line, the faster time went. And the faster time went, the more I wanted it to slow down. The anti-nausea meds worked right away, and I was back to teaching in no time, though Silas kept the nine a.m. class, which was still gaining new clients steadily.
I contacted Mr. Greerly, the owner of the building, to inquire about possibly buying it. It didn’t take much to get him to agree, especially when I told him I’d need an on-call machine repair guy. Said his wife would be thrilled—apparently she’d been hounding him to sell it for years. But I was honest and told him it was only a possibility. I hadn’t decided. Wasn’t ready to commit quite yet, especially with Silas leaving. He assured me he was ready to sell whenever I made a decision and just to let him know.
Two days before beach week, on Anna’s fourteenth birthday, I found myself up at Momma’s, going through my old baby clothes. I wasn’t convinced anything twenty-eight years old would be in any condition for a new baby. But Momma was insistent.
“Oh my goodness, look at this one. I remember when you wore this.” Momma held up a white-footed pajama set with pale yellow ducks all over it. “This would work for a boy or a girl.” She handed it to me to put in the keep pile.
The attic was dusty and humid and the last place I wanted to be on a scorching July day. I fanned my sleeveless shirt and took a swig from my water bottle. Then I stood and unbuttoned my jean shorts. With the nausea gone, I was gaining weight finally, all in my stomach. At least the fatigue had tapered off. I walked around the attic, trying to get closer to the vent going outside. Maybe I’d catch a breeze.
There was barely an aisle to walk down. My parents had kept anything and everything they’d ever acquired. And I mean everything. I was more of a minimalist myself, probably because of this attic. More junk equaled more clutter. And clutter gave me anxiety. But I think it had the opposite effect on Momma. She and Daddy had been convinced that every item up there might be useful someday. Daddy had even saved his dad’s old helmet and uniforms from World War II. And Momma had a stack of afghans Granny Eudora made forty years ago or more. I reached down for a leather-looking scrapbook I’d never seen before and opened the cover.
Huh.
There was an article that someone had printed off the internet with a picture of Silas, in full cowboy dress, on a horse, roping a steer. The headline read, “Pokes Take It All.” My eyes devoured the words. Silas’s team had won the Central Rocky Mountain Men’s Regionals.
I flipped through the book, absorbing the articles. Each one about Si and his roping career at U of W. There were a few cards for Daddy’s birthdays. Just a pre-printed greeting with some sappy sentiment about what a great guy my dad was. But each one had Silas’s almost-undecipherable signature on it.
“Momma?” I walked back through the clutter and squatted next to her. “What is this?”
She stopped sorting. “Oh, your daddy kept every news clip he could find about that boy. You know how proud he was when Silas got that scholarship.”
I shook my head. “Proud enough to make a scrapbook?” Was there a scrapbook of me in here? Actually, yeah, probably a couple. But Momma had put them together. The fact that Daddy even knew what a scrapbook was blew my mind. “Did he print these articles?”
She tsked. “You know good and well that man didn’t know how to turn on the computer. Made me crazy, getting me to scour the internet every time he knew that boy was competing. I printed about half of those.” She folded a onesie with stains on the front and put it in the keep pile. I’d toss it later when I took it home. “Silas printed the rest and sent them to him.”
I sat back on the floor, stunned. “Silas sent him these?”
“That’s what I said, honey.” She cocked her head at me. “Why are you so surprised?”
“I just…I didn’t realize they kept in touch after he left.” I couldn’t be jealous of my dad. I was happy for him. Silas was the son he never had. But part of the hurt I’d held toward Silas wasn’t just that he’d left me—he’d left Daddy too. I’d walked around thinking that for years. And now, come to find out, it wasn’t true. I mean, yes, he physically left, but I was the only one he’d cut out of his life. The hurt smacked me right in the heart and left my cheeks stinging. “Unbelievable.”
“What are you talking about?” Momma asked. “You’re mad that Daddy was proud of him, or that Silas kept in contact?”
“Momma,” I said, knowing I sounded like a selfish brat, but not caring. “He completely ghosted me after he left.”
She stared blankly. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Broke all contact. Amputated me from his life.”
“Of course he did,” she said, tapping her finger against my forehead like I was thick-skulled. “He was in love with you. And you broke his heart when you chose Billy.”
My entire face twisted in shock. “He was not in love with me. That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” It really was. Silas had always been withdrawn and standoffish. He hadn’t acted anything like a boy in love. More like a boy who wished I’d disappear.
“Don’t you question me, Missy.” Her tone got sharp. “A Momma knows when a boy is in love with her daughter.”
“Okay.” I held up my hands. “Believe what you want. But he didn’t even contact me when Daddy died. Never said I’m sorry or anything. That’s not how you treat someone you’re in love with.”
