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“He’s gone,” Rhett says.
“Where did he go?”
“He left for California early.”
My legs give out, my body collapsing to the porch. Rhett sighs, walks over, and sits beside me. “We fucked up.”
“You can say that again.”
“You’re in love with him?” Rhett asks, but he knows the answer. “He’ll get over it. He’ll stop being a big fucking baby and get everything he wants because that’s how life works for him.”
But I know Morgan better than that, know he won’t forget what he saw, and it will become something else that haunts him for the rest of his life.
CHAPTER THREE
Morgan
I know the drive like the back of my hand.
My suitcases are in the back because I knew if I didn’t go ahead and check out of my room, I would find an excuse not to.
Every dip in the road is a blend of memories and dread, until I’m turning down the driveway that leads around the side of the home I lived in most of my life.
It looks just like it always did—a two-story, white house with columns on the large porch that’s not quite a wraparound but runs the length of most of the front. There’s gray stonework accents, the yard the perfect shade of summer green, leading down to the short dock for lake access. It’s like a dream, the kind of place that from the outside looks like nothing bad has ever happened here, but the inside of my head tells a different story.
I get out, the scent of fresh water teasing my nose as I make my way to the door of the place I swore I would never see again.
The stairs creak, which surprises me. I can’t believe Dad allows the slight imperfection to stay. There’s a swing hanging from the end of the porch—not the same one Mom used to sit on. When it got too old, he replaced it, but though he doesn’t use it, he always makes sure there is one there.
My arm feels like it’s made of lead when I lift it and knock on the door.
A frown pulls at my lips when a short, white woman I don’t recognize answers. Jesus, had there been another car out there? I hadn’t even noticed.
When I take in her scrubs, it all makes sense.
“You must be Morgan. Your dad is looking forward to seeing you. I’m Rosie, the home health nurse. I come in twice a week.”
I hold my hand out for her, and she shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”
At a shuffling behind her, I look over her shoulder to see my dad. I can tell there’s a slight difference in how his left arm hangs compared to his right, but other than that he looks like he always has…only older, of course, with more gray mixed into his black hair. It’s freshly cut because Dad won’t have it any other way. He’s wearing a black polo shirt, khaki pants, and has his cell phone in his grip.
“I don’t need a nurse to check on me.” His speech is slower, words measured like he has to concentrate to get them right.
“Well, your son is worried about you, and he pays me.” Rosie winks at me before turning to Dad. I like that she doesn’t take his shit. “You should be happy you have kids who love you so much. Rhett is like a mother hen, and Morgan flew all the way out here from California.”
I notice she doesn’t mention East. What the fuck is going on with him?
“Come here, son,” Dad says, not acknowledging what Rosie said. She steps out of the way, and I go inside the entryway. The same crystal chandelier hangs above it, and to the left there’s a table with a vase and a bowl for keys. “Good to see you, Morgan.” Dad holds out his right hand, and we shake. He has never been much for displays of affection, and I guess that didn’t change after not seeing each other for ten years.
“I’m done here,” Rosie says. “I’ll grab my stuff and see myself out.”
“Um…thank you.” I run a nervous hand through my hair, hating that I feel on edge. I should be over this shit by now. “Do I need to do anything?”
“Nope. Everything on my end is organized through Rhett. Just enjoy seeing your father, and welcome back to Birchbark.”
I nod and watch her walk away. What does one do when for the first time in ten years they’re in the room with the father who is never satisfied with them?
“You didn’t have to come.” Dad’s limp is obvious as he slowly moves toward his office.
