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Nora stayed the night, and on Sunday after Kyle left, she and I resumed our old routine in the workshop making soap and bottling essential oils.
Lisa texted late morning to ask when I’d be ready to go shopping and I begged off, giving her a short recap of my day at Jason’s. I promised to reschedule—soon—and asked her to extend my regrets to Cassandra, as well.
“You know, you could still go,” Nora said.
“I need a day of quiet.”
Nora patted my hand and reached for a bottle of Linden blossom oil.
“Will it ever end?” I asked. “The people who are angry with me for being different?”
She put her hands in her lap and glanced out the window, as if searching for the answer. “You told me once you didn’t have friends in high school,” she said. “At that time, you didn’t know you were different.”
“I did. I just didn’t realize how different.”
She faced me with a mischievous smile. “I think the answer to your question is to surround yourself with the people who care about you, and screw the rest of them.”
I laughed. “What other people think of me is none of my business?”
“Exactly. But look at you now. You have two very good friends in Lisa and Cassandra, a man who clearly adores you. You have me and Fletcher, and whether you know it or not, I’d wager most of the people in Hillendale would take your side against a stranger. And let’s not forget Hannah.” She hopped off her stool and stood behind me, hands on my shoulders while I filtered pine essential oil.
“I’ve counted my blessings more times than you know,” I said. “I can’t help but be disappointed the family I grew up with thinks so little of me.”
“Their loss.” Nora placed a kiss on the top of my head and sat down again. “One day Georgia will remember she had an Aunt Brynn and find her way to you, even if she no longer needs a mentor.”
“I think I’d rather imagine her living her best life with her father instead of searching for her place in the world the way I did.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Nora said, tilting her head with a gleam in her eye. “Even people with functional families need to find their own way.”
By midafternoon, she left for the reservation and I retreated to the living room to relax and read. Ash curled into my lap and I closed my eyes and fell asleep, which is how Kyle found us when he got home from work. He and I spent a quiet evening, and on Monday morning I walked to work like any other day. The weather had grown colder, but the sun shone brightly in a crystal blue sky.
Cassandra was at the shop when I arrived, beaming and waiting to chat. Since she and Lucas had connected, she’d become more animated, as if she’d found the missing piece in her life.
Over the course of the day, I found myself watching the door, waiting for Jason to walk in with Georgia to let me know everything was okay, or Jeannine, or—heaven forbid—Aunt Theresa or Uncle Jerome, to make amends. None of that was likely to happen. By closing time, I reminded myself of the people I did have in my life, the people who truly cared about me.
The hidden grimoire hadn’t put in another appearance. With luck, I wouldn’t have need of it again, and after LeAnne and Georgia had rendered each other powerless, the legacy in our family seemed to be at an end.
Thursday rolled around, Thanksgiving. I woke up with a stomach ache. Anxiety. After an eventful month, I tensed at the thought of spending the day with Kyle’s father. My first inauspicious meeting with Kurt Jakes stuck with me, when he’d mistaken me for my mother and told me I had some nerve coming back to Hillendale. Since that time, he’d stopped drinking and become much more subdued, but first impressions were hard to overcome.
I tried to sneak out of bed, not to wake Kyle, but he made an exaggerated stretch, complete with an accompanying groan. “Why don’t we bring Ash across the street with us? My dad would love her, and I’ve been trying to talk him into adopting a dog.”
“Or you want him to have a dog in place of the K-9 you never got.”
He laughed. “No, seriously. They say a pet helps older people who live alone focus on something other than themselves, something to take care of.” For all the years his dad had been an alcoholic, they’d managed to maintain a relationship, one that appeared to be stronger now that his dad was sober again.
“Not sure your dad is quite in that category yet, but whatever you think,” I said.
“You’re not mad we aren’t going to a restaurant, are you?” Kyle leaned on one elbow, a carefree look on his face.
“Of course not.”
“He hasn’t been over since I finished the floors.” He grinned. “The house is looking pretty good, if I do say so myself. It’ll be nice to check it out, don’t you think?”
“Are you saying you’d rather live there than here when we get married?” I asked.
He tilted his head, the first sign he’d caught on to my uncertain mood. “No, I’m saying it’s better than a restaurant. You’re not still afraid of my dad, are you?”
“Afraid? I wouldn’t say that.”
“Uncomfortable.”
A better choice, but I didn’t want to spoil his holiday. “Wondering if he’ll think less of me for serving turkey burgers and baked beans instead of a real turkey and mashed potatoes. And you, for that matter. I get the feeling you’d rather do something more traditional.”
Kyle scooted across the bed beside me. “We’ve had worse meals for Thanksgiving, and we get to make our own traditions, don’t we?”
“Either way, we’d better get moving.” I rushed off to the bathroom, eager to avoid any further discussion. Chances were good Kyle and his father would spend the day watching football, which meant I wouldn’t have to engage in conversation after dinner.
I shouldn’t be so nervous. Kyle’s father had been polite to me on the few occasions I’d spent time with him in the past couple of years. The only thing remotely antagonistic he’d said since our first meeting was when he referred to people outside the AA program as “normies” who didn’t understand the struggle.
I showered and dressed, and while I collected Ash, Kyle packed the food we’d bought for dinner and carried it across the street.
His house smelled of polyurethane, the hardwood floors gleaming a rich, reddish brown. I kicked off my shoes so as not to track any dirt across the clean surface. I let Ash out of her basket and she made herself at home on the velour sofa.
The living room, like mine, was small and led to a patio behind the house. The white French doors Kyle had installed brightened the room. Like my house, wooden beams lined the ceiling. Unlike my house, the dining area had its own nook, part of and yet separate from the living room. The kitchen was twice the size of mine, and he’d recently replaced the countertops with no-drip bullnose edges. They’d turned out well. Something to swap out in my kitchen?
While we unpacked the food, Kyle’s father knocked on the door. I stayed in the kitchen when Kyle went to let him in. Out of sight, out of mind—but not for long. Mr. Jakes sought me out within minutes.
He’d shaved his mottled beard since the last time I’d seen him, which made the few strands of brown left in his white hair more noticeable. His eyes, more gray than blue, settled on me. “Kyle tells me you two have decided on May for the wedding.”
With my back to the counter, I set my hands on the edges for support. My eyes were drawn, as they usually were, to the mole on his cheek. If we were going to be family, I could nudge him to have it checked, couldn’t I?
Not today.
“We have,” I replied.
He took a step toward me and hugged me. He’d never acknowledged my relationship with Kyle before, so I was caught off balance by his welcoming embrace. I hugged him back awkwardly.
“I hope you don’t mind turkey burgers and baked beans for dinner,” I said. “I did make a pumpkin pie for dessert, though.”
“Honey, I don’t care what you feed me. I’m as happy as a clam to be here,” he said. “I gotta tell you, though, one of my biggest regrets in life was letting Nora go. Might be this is the world giving me a piece of her with you as a daughter-in-law.”
Except he hadn’t let Nora go. She’d been the one to end things. This wasn’t the time to quibble over history. I wasn’t sure what to say.
“You’ll be good to my son?”
“I’ll do my best,” I replied.
He gave me a quick nod, grabbed hold of Kyle’s arm on his way out of the kitchen and the two of them did a tour of the house.
I rested a hand on my stomach, the nerves settling. The encounter might have been awkward, but it filled me with hope for the future.
The rest of the day passed without incident. Kyle and his father were boisterous while they watched football. Ash remained aloof. Kyle’s father hardly noticed her. Not the starter Kyle had hoped for in his campaign to talk his dad into getting a pet.
When we waved goodbye to his father, Kyle slid his arm around my waist. He might not have made progress with the pet, but his contented glow spoke to the success of the day.
The three of us were family.