Jagged
Page 74
When I did, his hand covered mine, pried my fingers away so he could wrap his fingers around mine and hold them close.
Trudy came to the table with menus. Drinks were ordered and I got my chance to suggest Zander try the mile-high mud pie.
Without even looking to see if it was okay with Aunt Wilona (Dad never let us have dessert unless it was a special occasion), he went for it.
Aunt Wilona went for one, too. In fact, Ham was the only one who took another road and got a slice of turtle cheesecake.
After Trudy left, Zander turned back to me.
“So, do you look like my mom?”
My fingers still held in Ham’s squeezed hard and I felt the tension coming from Aunt Wilona but I powered through all that and held Zander’s gaze.
“No, darlin’. She was blonde but lighter. And she had blue eyes but they were very pretty,” I told him.
He nodded.
“You’re gonna be real tall, I can tell, and she wasn’t all that tall either,” I went on.
He scrunched his lips to the side and I didn’t know if that was disappointment or him simply not knowing what to do with this information.
“I”—my eyes went to Aunt Wilona and back to Zander—“brought a picture if you’d like to see?”
Zander looked at Aunt Wilona. She gave him a shaky smile and then he turned back to me and nodded.
I let Ham’s hand go and went to my purse that was shoved into the seat at my side. My fingers fumbling with nerves, I found the picture of Xenia I’d chosen to bring. I’d done it carefully. And I hoped I’d done it right.
In the picture, Xenia and I were outside at a party. A barbecue some friends were giving in a park. I was sitting cross-legged on the top of a picnic table. She was beside me, standing, leaning into me. We were both smiling, big and bright at the camera, but my goofy sister had her hand behind my head, giving me rabbit’s ears.
She looked beautiful, young, and happy.
I pulled in a breath, put the picture to the table, and slid it across to Zander.
“That’s her,” I whispered. “That’s your mom. My sister. Xenia.”
Eyes riveted to the picture, hands in his lap under the table, he just stared.
“She joked a lot,” I told him, my voice husky so I cleared my throat and felt Ham’s arm slide across the back of the booth and around my shoulders. “She was always joking around,” I continued. “And she told really good scary stories.”
Zander’s eyes lifted from the picture. “Scary stories?”
I nodded. “She’d have you trembling so bad, you’d shake your bed. And when she went in for the kill, you’d jump out of your skin.”
He turned his head to look up to Aunt Wilona and then he looked back down at the picture.
Moments passed and no one said anything.
Zander broke the silence. “Do you remember those stories?” he asked, eyes still on the picture.
My throat started tingling and through it I forced my lie, “Every last one.”
It was a lie but if I got my shot to tell him the ones I remembered, I’d then make up new ones and lie again and say they were Xenia’s.
I just hoped I made up ones that were as good as hers.
He looked again at me and tipped his head to the side, his eyes weirdly astute.
“Why didn’t you come see me before?” he asked and Ham’s arm curled tighter around my shoulders as more tension came from Aunt Wilona.
“I—” I started.
“I don’t live real far away,” Zander pointed out.
Surprisingly, Aunt Wilona spoke.
“Your granddad and Zara aren’t close,” she said and Zander looked up at her. “Grownups do funny things and your granddad does a lot of them.”
Unfortunately, the look on his face stated that he knew that and that didn’t make me feel all that great.
Aunt Wilona wasn’t done but what she said next shocked the crap out of me.
“I should have explained this when I first told you about your Aunt Zara, but your grandfather didn’t want your aunt seein’ you so he made that happen. We’ll talk about that more when you’re a little older, honey, but right now all you need to know is he didn’t do right and your aunt didn’t even know you were as close as you were. She thought you were far away and she couldn’t get to you. But when she found out you were close, Zara made a point to find a way to do what we’re doing right now and she did it. Fast. So here we are.”
Zander looked my aunt straight in the eyes when he stated, “But you knew Aunt Zara was close, too. You told me when you told me about her and my mom.”
I winced when I saw the pain slide through Aunt Wilona’s face.
It was then I came to Aunt Wilona’s rescue by announcing, “Your granddad wouldn’t let her tell you, and I suspect we’ll explain that more when you’re a bit older, too, but she didn’t have a choice but to do what he said.”
He glanced at me when I spoke, nodded when I was done, then looked back at Aunt Wilona and asked, “Why would Granddad do that?”
“Your granddad is a mysterious man,” Aunt Wilona replied vaguely.
“I’ll say,” Zander muttered, looking back down at the picture and his words and all they exposed meant my body tightened and Ham’s arm around my shoulders pulled me into his side.
“You’re here now,” I declared in an effort to lighten the mood and Zander looked up at me. “And I’m here. Aunt Wilona’s here. Reece is here. We’re getting chocolate cake. No, we’re getting the best chocolate cake ever. So it’s all good. And if you want to keep that picture,” I nodded to the picture, “It’s yours.”
“Yeah?” Zander asked.
“Yeah,” I answered, smiling at him. “And now, before your mouth is busy shoving cake in it, I want to know everything. What subjects you like in school. Your best friends’ names. Do you play sports—”
“Linebacker. Football. Like Tate Jackson!” he stated immediately. “And after I finish my pro career, I’m gonna be a bounty hunter like him, too.”
Tate Jackson lived one town over. He’d also had a short-lived NFL career that led to a longer career as a bounty hunter.
And thus his life path was any nine-year-old boy’s dream.
“You could be a bounty hunter,” Zander advised Ham. “You’d scare them into givin’ up with just a look.”
“Might be too late for a profession change for me, kid. But also, thinkin’ you might reconsider, as it looks like you’re givin’ both your aunts heart palpitations with your future career plans,” Ham replied.
Trudy came to the table with menus. Drinks were ordered and I got my chance to suggest Zander try the mile-high mud pie.
Without even looking to see if it was okay with Aunt Wilona (Dad never let us have dessert unless it was a special occasion), he went for it.
Aunt Wilona went for one, too. In fact, Ham was the only one who took another road and got a slice of turtle cheesecake.
After Trudy left, Zander turned back to me.
“So, do you look like my mom?”
My fingers still held in Ham’s squeezed hard and I felt the tension coming from Aunt Wilona but I powered through all that and held Zander’s gaze.
“No, darlin’. She was blonde but lighter. And she had blue eyes but they were very pretty,” I told him.
He nodded.
“You’re gonna be real tall, I can tell, and she wasn’t all that tall either,” I went on.
He scrunched his lips to the side and I didn’t know if that was disappointment or him simply not knowing what to do with this information.
“I”—my eyes went to Aunt Wilona and back to Zander—“brought a picture if you’d like to see?”
Zander looked at Aunt Wilona. She gave him a shaky smile and then he turned back to me and nodded.
I let Ham’s hand go and went to my purse that was shoved into the seat at my side. My fingers fumbling with nerves, I found the picture of Xenia I’d chosen to bring. I’d done it carefully. And I hoped I’d done it right.
In the picture, Xenia and I were outside at a party. A barbecue some friends were giving in a park. I was sitting cross-legged on the top of a picnic table. She was beside me, standing, leaning into me. We were both smiling, big and bright at the camera, but my goofy sister had her hand behind my head, giving me rabbit’s ears.
She looked beautiful, young, and happy.
I pulled in a breath, put the picture to the table, and slid it across to Zander.
“That’s her,” I whispered. “That’s your mom. My sister. Xenia.”
Eyes riveted to the picture, hands in his lap under the table, he just stared.
“She joked a lot,” I told him, my voice husky so I cleared my throat and felt Ham’s arm slide across the back of the booth and around my shoulders. “She was always joking around,” I continued. “And she told really good scary stories.”
Zander’s eyes lifted from the picture. “Scary stories?”
I nodded. “She’d have you trembling so bad, you’d shake your bed. And when she went in for the kill, you’d jump out of your skin.”
He turned his head to look up to Aunt Wilona and then he looked back down at the picture.
Moments passed and no one said anything.
Zander broke the silence. “Do you remember those stories?” he asked, eyes still on the picture.
My throat started tingling and through it I forced my lie, “Every last one.”
It was a lie but if I got my shot to tell him the ones I remembered, I’d then make up new ones and lie again and say they were Xenia’s.
I just hoped I made up ones that were as good as hers.
He looked again at me and tipped his head to the side, his eyes weirdly astute.
“Why didn’t you come see me before?” he asked and Ham’s arm curled tighter around my shoulders as more tension came from Aunt Wilona.
“I—” I started.
“I don’t live real far away,” Zander pointed out.
Surprisingly, Aunt Wilona spoke.
“Your granddad and Zara aren’t close,” she said and Zander looked up at her. “Grownups do funny things and your granddad does a lot of them.”
Unfortunately, the look on his face stated that he knew that and that didn’t make me feel all that great.
Aunt Wilona wasn’t done but what she said next shocked the crap out of me.
“I should have explained this when I first told you about your Aunt Zara, but your grandfather didn’t want your aunt seein’ you so he made that happen. We’ll talk about that more when you’re a little older, honey, but right now all you need to know is he didn’t do right and your aunt didn’t even know you were as close as you were. She thought you were far away and she couldn’t get to you. But when she found out you were close, Zara made a point to find a way to do what we’re doing right now and she did it. Fast. So here we are.”
Zander looked my aunt straight in the eyes when he stated, “But you knew Aunt Zara was close, too. You told me when you told me about her and my mom.”
I winced when I saw the pain slide through Aunt Wilona’s face.
It was then I came to Aunt Wilona’s rescue by announcing, “Your granddad wouldn’t let her tell you, and I suspect we’ll explain that more when you’re a bit older, too, but she didn’t have a choice but to do what he said.”
He glanced at me when I spoke, nodded when I was done, then looked back at Aunt Wilona and asked, “Why would Granddad do that?”
“Your granddad is a mysterious man,” Aunt Wilona replied vaguely.
“I’ll say,” Zander muttered, looking back down at the picture and his words and all they exposed meant my body tightened and Ham’s arm around my shoulders pulled me into his side.
“You’re here now,” I declared in an effort to lighten the mood and Zander looked up at me. “And I’m here. Aunt Wilona’s here. Reece is here. We’re getting chocolate cake. No, we’re getting the best chocolate cake ever. So it’s all good. And if you want to keep that picture,” I nodded to the picture, “It’s yours.”
“Yeah?” Zander asked.
“Yeah,” I answered, smiling at him. “And now, before your mouth is busy shoving cake in it, I want to know everything. What subjects you like in school. Your best friends’ names. Do you play sports—”
“Linebacker. Football. Like Tate Jackson!” he stated immediately. “And after I finish my pro career, I’m gonna be a bounty hunter like him, too.”
Tate Jackson lived one town over. He’d also had a short-lived NFL career that led to a longer career as a bounty hunter.
And thus his life path was any nine-year-old boy’s dream.
“You could be a bounty hunter,” Zander advised Ham. “You’d scare them into givin’ up with just a look.”
“Might be too late for a profession change for me, kid. But also, thinkin’ you might reconsider, as it looks like you’re givin’ both your aunts heart palpitations with your future career plans,” Ham replied.
