I had been racking my brain trying to figure out a way to broach this subject with him. He must have overheard us talking at Violet’s. Sometimes he was way more observant than I gave him credit for.
“Yes, he is. He got hurt and can’t be in the Army anymore,” I answered, deliberately vague so I could see where he was going with his questions.
“Did he want me?” I took a quick look in the rearview mirror; tears shone in his eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart. If he had known about you, he absolutely would have wanted you. He wants to get to know you now.”
“But does he want a baby too?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him since before you were born.”He used to want babies with me. We had decided on four.
“Will he be my dad like Daddy Will was?”
“He wants to try. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes. But Calla needs a dad too. I want to share him with her. Can I?”
“I don’t know bud. It’s not that simple. I haven’t seen him in years. All I know is he wants to meet you and explain why he was gone.”
“I want to meet him right now.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Thank God I had listened to my dad when he said I should tell Dylan the truth about Luke and Will.
“I’m ready,” he insisted. Voice firm, tears gone.
“We’ll go to his house. I don’t know if he’ll be there, but it won’t hurt to check.”
What am I doing?
Instead of heading to my parents’ house, I turned onto theroad that led to Luke’s place. The narrow road was nothing but twists and turns staggered with steep drop-offs that used to scare me when I was a kid. It was as familiar to me as the road I had grown up on, and it hadn’t changed much over the years. We used to camp at the rear of the property, near the creek that fed into the Sweetbriar River. So many hours had been spent here—Luke, me, and my siblings—running around, exploring, and playing make-believe.
I handed my phone back to Dylan. “Call Aunt Violet and tell her we’ll be late,” I instructed. I couldn’t help but think getting this meeting over with would be best. Like ripping off a Band-Aid or diving into a cold swimming pool.
Dylan’s voice on the phone rang in my ears. I was lost in memories that I’d buried alongside my childhood dreams. He was ready to meet Luke, but I wasn’t so sure about myself. I knew this was long overdue, but the anticipation was about to kill me.
“We’ll be there soon, Dylan. I won’t be mad if you change your mind. We can turn around any time you want.”
“I don’t want to turn around,” he insisted.
“One more turn and we’re there.” My breath grew shallow as we approached. Tall pine trees dotted the land to the left and right of the long gravel road that led to the house.
My mouth opened in surprise at a new opening amongst the trees. The gravel path eased into gray slate pavers to form a long driveway that widened into a huge roundabout. There were carved wooden bears and evergreen shrubs decorating the center. I stopped the car and looked ahead. With stacked stone pillars, balconies jutting out here and there, and a massive deck, this was the biggest, grandest log cabin I had ever seen. I marveled at a garage that looked like it could hold at least five cars off to the left of the house and the huge fire pit and seating area in a clearing in the trees to the right. In the days when I spent time here, it had been a regular log cabin family home—modest and cute. Luke’s dad must have gonecrazy expanding the company in the years before he died. This place was something else.
“This is even bigger than Grandma’s house. It might be the biggest house I ever saw,” Dylan exclaimed in wide-eyed awe.
“It sure didn’t look like this when I used to come here. Do you want to get out? You can change your mind, you know.”
“Mom, doyouwant to get out?” he asked a little too observantly for a six-year-old boy.
“I want what you want, Dylan.” He didn’t answer; he just opened the door and hopped out. I hurried to follow him. “Dylan, wait for us,” I called.
He stopped at the bear carvings to wait while I unbuckled Calla, then caught up to him. We stood there and stared at the massive house, startling when we heard barking.
“He has a dog!” Dylan got excited as a golden-brown and white blur came barreling out from behind the garage, its tail wagging furiously and tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth. The dog stopped, rolled over, got up, and came a little bit closer to us. Then he did it again: stop, roll over, get up. And again. Each time, he came a few steps closer to us. I grabbed on to Dylan’s hand and started pulling him back to the car with visions ofCujodancing in my head.
“Rocky!” a deep voice yelled. “Rocky, come.” That wasn’t Luke’s voice. I’d spent my entire life hearing Luke’s voice and I would know it anywhere.
A man jogged out from behind the garage. He was tall, broad, and covered in muscles, with a black buzz cut and a huge smile that got bigger as he approached us.
