Belmont sat down on the porch outside Sage’s parents’ house and tugged the folded, faded documents from his pocket. In the mad rush to reach Sibley, he hadn’t had time to look at them recently. The long list of men who might be his father.
Miriam had never told him his father’s name. And he’d never asked.
She’d been so sad in his early memories and he’d never wanted to see her like that again. Those times when he’d stood outside her bedroom and listened as she wept. Huge, heart-wrenching sobs that made him worry she had fallen down and hurt herself. But through the crack in the door, he could see she was unharmed, so he would just bed down and wait, wait until she stopped.
Belmont had read the entire journal his mother had left behind, cover to cover. There was no mention of his father’s name. He’d never been capable of frustration with Miriam, though. If anyone understood his need to do things in his own time, it had been her, so he wouldn’t begrudge her leaving out the information he needed. If anything, he’d been surprised by how much Miriam had understood his siblings. Understood him. He’d caught himself wishing she’d said the words in her journal out loud, only to realize he did the same thing. Kept his thoughts trapped inside, never sharing. After reading Miriam’s final thoughts, he’d started trying to be more open with his family. Rita, Aaron, Peggy. Sage. Had they noticed?
Belmont stared out over the weed-ridden front yard. After having no luck on his own, he’d hired a private investigator back in San Diego to find his father, a move that had been way outside of his comfort zone, but proved somewhat fruitful. Since his mother had been a public figure, her life was well documented online, and by building a timeline and speaking to people she’d worked with, the investigator had given him a list. Unfortunately, it was a long one.
Why did he want to find his father?
Belmont didn’t really have a straightforward answer to that. No, he’d been plagued with uncertainties, instead, since he could remember. As the oldest, he’d never questioned his desire to protect those he loved, but he’d often wondered if he was doing it right. After all, his methods weren’t conventional. There was no one to ask, though. No example to learn from.
Now that he was a man, his motivation had become less about needing a role model and more about learning his history. Getting the closure for Miriam that he sensed she’d never really gotten. And maybe in the process, he’d find some for the fatherless child he’d once been. The child who’d faded as far as possible into the background while his siblings spent time with a different father.
Like everything, however, Sage’s appearance in his life had factored into the decision to search for the man who’d helped conceive him, bringing everything full circle. Back to the beginning, where he wished for an example to follow. Only this time it was spurred by his own desire to be a father one day. A husband. Was it in his blood to be those things, if it wasn’t in his father’s?
He’d decided to start from the very beginning. With the man who’d decided he wasn’t worth sticking around for. For all Belmont knew, it could be as simple as his father being too young when he’d gotten Miriam pregnant and couldn’t live up to the responsibility. Or it could have very well been Miriam who’d decided she wanted to pursue her career and not settle down. That would have been her personality. But Belmont wouldn’t know until he came face to face with him.
Belmont stared down at the names until they started to blur.
With precise movements, he folded the list back up and tucked it into his pocket. There was no time to be indecisive right now. Whatever was inside him, Sage would have every ounce of it at her disposal. Keeping her safe was his purpose. He’d resume looking for his father when he could afford to put his concentration into the search.
* * *
As soon as the door closed behind Belmont, Sage had immediately felt the house expand. Filling all the cracks his huge presence had occupied. They’d been cleaning for hours in silence, but a little while ago, they’d accidentally brushed together in the hallway and he’d excused himself. She could see him outside, sitting on the porch, his shoulders hunched forward, and yearned to go to him, massage the tension from those bunched muscles, but intuition told her she’d end up on his lap, being rocked, having the breath squeezed out of her.
She wanted that treatment way too much. And that was the problem.
She’d made the decision to separate herself from a relationship so reminiscent of her parents. But the way she and Belmont were communicating now, the way they were refusing to give in to the need for unhealthy comfort…that felt nothing like the marriage she’d grown up watching. Was it possible they could get somewhere? Somewhere in the sun?
They were going out tonight. There’d been an unspoken agreement that it was a friendly outing, not a romantic one. Sage almost laughed at that. With barely an effort, Belmont could make roadkill romantic. What chance did she have in the line of his fire?
If they could stay this course they were on, would she be willing to try for more than this newfound friendship with Belmont? So much of her frustration stemmed from him not recognizing her as a woman. Sure, that was only a small portion of their issues, but knowing he desired her? It made a difference. It meant she wasn’t his crutch. As long as they remained that way…maybe they weren’t doomed.
The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs cut short the bloom of excitement in her breast. Her father had finally woken up. She was simultaneously relieved and nervous. Relieved because he’d gotten a full morning of rest and wouldn’t be in a foul, shouting mood. One of his hangover tempers would bring Belmont roaring back inside like a gale force wind, ready to sweep her away. Thomas, however, would be full of self-pity—his default when he was sober—and in some ways, that mood was even worse than the shouting, destructive one.
Sage moved to the kitchen, swiping at the kitchen counter with a lemon-scented rag, even though it had already been cleaned to a shine.
Her father stopped halfway between her and the living room, scanning the rooms through bloodshot eyes. “Did some fixing up, did you?”
“Yes. Some.” Her hand stopped moving on the counter. “Can I make you breakfast?”
“No,” he said, waving her off. “Your mother likes to fuss. Let her do it.”
Sage had forgotten that part. First thing in the morning—or afternoon, rather—her mother was at the top of her game. Her hair would be in a careful updo and her dress would be clean and pressed. They were going to have a fresh start, Bernadette would say. They were going to have a healthy day. She would set down a plate of eggs in front of her father with a flourish and stand to Thomas’s right while he took each and every bite, winking at Sage, who sat across the table eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs she’d poured herself.
When she was a child, the mornings had been a cross between hopeful and confusing. Why couldn’t her parents be like that all the time? What was stopping them? Maybe this time. Maybe.
By the time her father returned home from work, Bernie would be on her third drink, the loneliness having crept in and captured her. Sage would watch from the floor of the living room as Thomas was greeted by his weeping wife. Some nights her mother would be aimless in her misery with no specific target. Other times she would accuse Thomas of meeting another woman or not loving her anymore. As Sage got older, she started recognizing the devices her mother would use to get sympathy from Thomas. And Thomas was more than happy to comply, because he craved the attention from Bernie. Craved the excuse to drink. It was a cycle, the two of them feeding off each other and the alcohol while Sage sat alone in the corner or slipped out into the woods alone.
Around the time she’d entered middle school, she’d stopped hoping they would magically change and started making herself scarce in the evening times, since sunset seemed to be the signal for everything in the house to go to pot.
Sage watched as Thomas took a seat at the kitchen table, stretching his fingers on the surface like he hadn’t seen the top uncluttered in a while. A cat jumped up onto the surface and began to yowl.
“Do you still take your eggs over medium?” Sage asked, desperate to fill the heavy silence. “Funny, I take them the same way—”
“I’m awful sorry you had to come here, Sage.” He stroked the cat’s head. “We’ve always depended on you more than we should.”
Pleasure rose up swiftly inside her, cutting through the anger she’d shared with Belmont earlier, splashing like a fountain. Her resentment hadn’t killed the part of her that wanted approval from her parents, it seemed. “I had to come,” she said. “Mama called me worried about you and I—I worried I might not make it before something bad happened.”
“You don’t know what a relief it is to know I don’t have to go into the mine again.” Finally, he turned and met her gaze. “Your mother would have a hard time without me, Sage. It pains me just thinking about it.”
The surge of pride she’d felt at her father’s gratefulness took a nosedive. This wasn’t about her. It was about them. The same way it had always been. She turned around and braced herself on the counter. “I don’t want to think about it, either.” She felt the need to impress on him that selflessness existed. It was a real, beautiful thing, and it was sitting right outside on the porch. “Belmont came here to take my place, but I won’t let him.” She swallowed. “I won’t let him, but I think him offering deserves a thank-you.”
“I will thank him,” Thomas said, right behind her. Sage turned to find her father had stood and made his way into the kitchen, wringing his hands at his waist. “But it’s you I’m thanking right now, Sage. I was angry when you left here, because it was on that man’s dime. I didn’t get a chance to explain that I—”
“Daddy.” The guilt was so fierce, she was forced to cut him off. Was her father aware of her guilt for taking Augie’s money and leaving? Was he using it? The head games seemed too much like the ones her parents played together; she couldn’t help but be suspicious. But no. No, she’d already agreed to take his place in the mine. She was being ridiculous. On top of the guilt, now she felt shame for judging him. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“Yes, I do.” He shifted on the broken-up linoleum. “We don’t deserve this kind of dedication from you. We weren’t good parents. Still aren’t. But believe me when I say…” He glanced over toward the hallway, where the sounds of Bernadette rousing could be heard. She got the impression he was about to say more, but he stopped, unable to meet her eyes. “We appreciate what you’re doing for us. More than words can say.”
Sage prayed her voice would sound natural when she spoke. “You’re welcome. I love you both. No matter what.” When her response seemed to pain him, instead of reassure him, she asked, “Is there something you want to tell me?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “No.” His mouth turned down at the corners. “I don’t know why we can’t just…pull together. It seems possible and then, when one of us caves, the other caves like they were just waiting. Just waiting.”
Sage heard a creak out on the porch, felt Belmont’s pull like a magnet. “I think I know what you mean.”