I sulked. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
Aunt Rita straightened up and took a sip of her coffee, keeping her eye on me. “Kit, I know you’re hurting, but a lot of good things have happened in Creekstone since you left, and some of them have been because we sold that land. I hope you’re going to be able to see that when you come home.”
I sighed. “I’m sure I will.” I was pouting a little.
“Can I tell you a story, Kit?” Aunt Rita asked softly.
“Sure,” I said without looking up at her.
“Both of your parents avoided telling you the whole truth about their relationship. They wanted you to focus on the love they felt for you, not what was between them. But when your mom and dad dated, things were getting serious. Your mother was in love with your dad. Your dad was a war correspondent and traveled to some unsafe places. Your mom asked him to get reassigned. I guess you could say it was kind of an ultimatum. He kept saying he would, but he never did, and he went away for a two-month assignment. When he came home, your mom was gone. She had moved back to Creekstone.”
“Oh,” I said leaning forward. “I didn’t realize.”
“That’s right,” Aunt Rita said, leaning back in her chair. “Your dad finally figured out where your mom was and came to Creekstone—only to find her six months pregnant with you. He wanted to stay. He begged her to be with him. He promised to quit his job. He said, had he known she was expecting, if he’d had all the information, he would have done everything differently.”
“Why didn’t she tell him?” I’d heard some of this story before, but not like this.
“Your mom was stuck on the fact that he didn’t ask for a reassignment. She felt betrayed and lied to. So, she told him she had moved on. Your mom later told me she had a certain vision for the kind of life you needed and how she wanted to parent you. It was in Creekstone. She said that even though she loved your dad, she didn’t want him to quit his job entirely. She believed he was—and still is—a talented journalist, and she didn’t think it was fair for him to give that up. So, she made the choice for him. For those first few years, your dad made overtures that he wanted to be with your mom again, but your mother always said no. It was brutal.”
I was stunned. “I had no idea.”
“Now, listen,” Aunt Rita said sternly. “I didn’t tell you this to change your opinion of your parents. They both loved you and wanted to be in your life. They both had full lives. And I believe they’ve both been happy since all that happened. I know we can’t change the past, and I know your mom was just following her instinct to protect herself and to protect you. But I have always wondered—if your mom could have found it in her heart to forgive your dad—would things have turned out differently? I’ve always wondered if it’s possible that your mom was too rigid about what was best for you and for her.
“And now it’s like—” Aunt Rita’s voice cracked. “I’m watching it all happen again.”
I let my eyes fall back to the table.
"Kit, I’m not asking you to get back with William. I’m just asking you not to shut down and shut everyone out. You’ve got to be able to grow, even when you’re hurt. You have to heal, dear.”
I was quiet. Aunt Rita nudged me. “Kit?”
“This seems silly because it’s still several weeks away, but I promise to come home for Christmas.” I crossed my arms and muttered, “That was quite the speech.”
Aunt Rita smiled. “I rehearsed it with the lady I was sitting next to on the plane.” She laughed and stood up, giving me a hug. She had to head back to the airport. Aunt Rita had given me a lot to think about, but one thing was for sure, I had to go home for the holidays.
Chapter 28: William
All I owned was a sofa, a coffee table, and a bed. I had a television, unplugged, leaning against a stack of boxes in the corner of the dining room of my new house. I ate most of my meals at the office or standing at the sink in the kitchen.
I decided to go ahead with the purchase of the house, but I didn’t have the heart to unpack or buy new furniture. The thought of decorating without Kit was too painful and disappointing.
The only people who had been to the house were Meredith and Addison. When they came to bring me a houseplant as a housewarming present, Addison immediately said, “We got you this houseplant, but it may be too much to ask you to take care of another living thing right now.” And she discreetly tucked it back into her oversized handbag and brought it home with her.
Meredith tried to goad me into putting a little more effort into decorating the house, but I just didn’t have it in me. When my mom came back from the Philippines in the early fall, she wanted to visit me and see the new house. I bought a few painter’s drop cloths and tarps and covered the boxes. I told her I was about to get the house painted and do some renovationsbefore I moved the rest of my furniture in. Uncharacteristically, she didn’t push the issue. Perhaps she let it go because I promised to take her where I hadreallybeen living for the last six months: Creekstone.
Before my mom arrived, all I did was work and lament about losing Kit, so the two-hour drive to Creekstone with her was a welcome change of pace. Mom had a backlog of stories and observations to share from her time away in the Philippines. She regaled me with stories of cousins, slimy expats, and tourists. Eventually, as we got closer to Creekstone, my mom got quieter. She looked out the car window and observed the quiet beauty of the north Georgia mountains.
Eventually, she said, “Once your dad brought me up here.”
“Really?” I said, surprised. I thought I had heard every story my mom could tell me about my dad, but I had never heard that one. “When?”
She tilted her chin up thoughtfully and pushed her large glasses up as they slid down her nose. “We had been dating for a few months. He was on spring break, and Atlanta was known for a particularly rowdy spring break event. He felt like it might be too much for me, so he suggested we take a trip together. This is where he took me.”
“Freaknik?” I asked. “Are you saying Dad didn’t want you to experience Freaknik so he brought you to Creekstone?”
“And what do you know about Freaknik?” My mom looked at me over the top of her glasses. Her lips pushed down in a disapproving frown. “Anyway, I don’t think it was Creekstone, just somewhere up here. I fell in love with your father in these mountains. In fact, somewhere up here is where we…”
“Okay, Mom,” I said loudly. “I don’t need to know all the details of your romance, but it’s nice to hear this story about Dad. Did he like the mountains?”
