CHAPTER THIRTY

Late Night Confrontations

Once again, time is bending and warping around me, only now it’s cramming our ten-minute drive into a handful of seconds. We pull up in front of Gabe’s house long before either one of us is ready.

Gabe lets the car idle, sliding it into park. Another long, awkward silence fills the interior, but this time I don’t bother breaking it. He takes slow, deep breaths, eyes fixed on the house. Finally he turns the car off and reaches into the backseat for the manila folder from last night. When he gets out of the car, the door slams shut behind him, loud as a gunshot.

I wince, but get out as well. Nausea rolls in my stomach and I shiver as I follow Gabe. I’m responsible for this mess. If I hadn’t insisted we go to his dad’s office, he never would have found his mom’s obituary.

When we reach his front porch, Gabe pauses, a hand resting against the door. “You sure you want to hang around? This isn’t going to be pretty.”

“Yeah. I’ve got your back.”

Gabe nods his head once. “Fine. But no butting in. You stay in my room.”

“Sure.” I almost mean it. But if Gabe needs me, awkward as it’s going to be, I’ll come tearing out of his room faster than a twister through a trailer park.

Inside, the low rumble of a TV announcer fills the living room and I can see the flickering light from the screen reflected against the white walls. It dances on the edge of a framed picture in the hall, red-haired Lila holding a tiny baby and grinning at the camera. Her head is cocked to the side at a playful angle and she looks on the verge of laughter. Gabe stares at the picture and then yanks it off the wall, putting it face down on the entry table.

Reverend Beaudean’s voice booms out, “Gabe?”

I bolt for Gabe’s room. When I’m safe behind his door, I press my head and back against the thin wood. Gabe doesn’t bother keeping his voice low.

“I know about Mom.”

“What are you talking about? Did your mother send a postcard finally?” Reverend Beaudean’s voice sounds confused, groggy with sleep. He must’ve been napping in front of the TV when we arrived.

“Stop lying!” Gabe yells. “She’s dead and you’ve known about it for years.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Mr. Beaudean’s voice is higher, all sleepiness gone.

“This!” There’s a pause and I imagine Gabe brandishing the obituary at his dad.

“Where did you get that?” Mr. Beaudean demands.

“From your office. Where you’ve been hiding it. How long have you known, Dad? How long have you been lying to me?”

I pick at a loose thread on the arm of my T-shirt, hands shaking. Part of me wants to be out there beside Gabe, demanding answers. Reverend Beaudean’s always seemed like the perfect parent, if a bit absentminded. He never would have run off the way my dad did. He’d have stuck by his family. But maybe I was wrong. If Reverend Beaudean could lie about Lila’s death, if he could fake those miracles and not say a word, maybe he was never the person I thought.

“Gabe, you don’t understand,” Mr. Beaudean says.

“Then tell me! I deserve to know that at least.” Gabe’s voice is hoarse now, like he’s holding back tears.

“I’m so sorry, son. I couldn’t bear to break your heart any more than your mama already had. You took her leaving hard, so tore up inside you had nightmares for months. You watched me like a hawk every time I stepped out of a room.”

Gabe interrupts. “You pretended she might come back. You helped me write letters, pick out Christmas cards. You made that stupid box for me to put them all in, knowing she was dead.”

“I didn’t know she was dead until weeks after it happened, when a lawyer contacted me, and that was a full year after she left us. You were just beginning to sleep through the night again. Most days, hope’s the only thing that got you up in the mornings.” The reverend’s husky voice is pleading and so low I can barely hear him.

I press the back of my head harder against the door and close my eyes. I don’t want to listen in, but at the same time, I don’t want to miss a word.

“Hope’s the only thing that kept you sane,” Mr. Beaudean continues. “It’s the most powerful thing in the world and after what Lila did, I couldn’t take that away from you. You’d already lost so much. I told myself I’d tell you when you were a little older. When you could handle the news. But it never seemed like the right time. And eventually, I’d waited too long. How could I tell you she’d been gone all these years? I didn’t ever want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me now. You’re all I’ve got, Gabe. I didn’t want to lose you as well.”

Gabe makes an angry noise, half under his breath but audible even through the door. “I had a right to know. When it happened. But you kept right on lying. How am I ever supposed to trust you again?”

“I wanted to protect you.”

“You were a coward. Too afraid to admit you couldn’t control her because maybe then I’d start getting ideas too.”

“I’ve never tried to control you or forced you to do anything!”

“No. Nothing straightforward like that. You’ve manipulated me and everyone else instead. Just like you did with Mom. Maybe she left because she couldn’t stand the games you play with people.”

“What are you talking about?” Mr. Beaudean sounds genuinely mystified. I’m kinda wondering where Gabe is headed with this as well.

“The miracles, Dad! I know you faked the whole thing.”