“I don’t know,” I admit. “It felt like such a slap in the face that Tommy knew his father killed the people I loved. Why wouldn’t he tell me?”
She arches her brows. “I think that should be pretty obvious given the current situation.”
“Would you be mad?”
“I don’t know. What I do know is that Tommy was a child when it happened. He has no contact with his father and you know this to be a fact since he’s told you this repeatedly over the years, right?”
I nod uncomfortably. Telling the story out loud leaves me feeling out of sorts. I definitely overreacted. I don’t believe I was wrong for feeling angry and betrayed but there was no reason to hit Tommy. To storm out like a lunatic. I could have expressed my disappointment. Let him tell me his side of the story. Had a discussion before punching him, quitting my lucrative, enjoyable job, and then storming out.
Fuck. Me.
“Let’s go back to the house. You look like a feather might knock you over and I’ve the crock pot on.” Without waiting for my reply, she turns and heads back to her vehicle. It’s a gray minivan and she gets in without looking at me.
And since I don’t really have anywhere else to go, I follow her.
I only visited Clara’s childhood home a few times while we were together. We lived in California and then I went on tour, but her parents liked me and I them. They threw us the sweetest engagement party after I proposed. We had so many plans and dreams. And all of them crashed and burned the night Thomas Bancroft ran into our tour bus head-on.
I’m a fucking broken record with this and I start to hate myself for allowing the same negativity to roll through my psyche on a loop.
By the time I pull up in front of Clara’s childhood home, I’m not sure if I’m starving or ready to puke. Either way, I get out of the rental and follow Nina into the house. We go in through the garage and step into a large, modern kitchen. This isn’t the same kitchen she had twenty years ago.
“This is nice,” I say politely.
“I renovated it last year,” she says. “I put the life insurance money Jim left me in a CD and then used the profit to fix the roof and give myself a new kitchen. It was time.”
I had no idea Clara’s father had passed. “I’m sorry about Jim,” I say.
She nods, moving to the counter and opening the crockpot. “We’ll eat in about thirty minutes. Bob will be home then.”
I pause. “Who’s Bob?”
She glances over her shoulder at me. “My boyfriend.”
“Oh.” What can I say?
“You can’t grieve forever,” she says quietly, getting out some dishes and starting to set the table. “We’re still here. Still alive. Clara wouldn’t want this for you.”
“You think she’d be thrilled that I replaced her?” I ask in confusion.
“You didn’t replace her,” she says quietly, meeting my gaze. “You moved on with your life. Clara loved you more than anything. It would hurt her to see you so miserable. Jim passed five years ago. Yes, I grieved for a while. Then I met Bob. He’s kind. Smart. He has two adult daughters who like me and who remind me that I still have lots of love to give. Sadie just had a baby and I get to be a grandma now.” She walks over to me and puts one hand on the side of my face. “Ross. Why are you holding on to the past when you still have half your life to live? I’m old and was still able to find new ways and people to love. You’re young enough to still have everything you ever wanted.”
I stare at her, trying to let her words sink in.
“I know it feels like a betrayal on Tommy’s part, but he was a child when his father did what he did. And anyone who cares about you would know that bringing it up would be painful. Maybe he cares about you enough to want to protect you. Did you ever consider that?”
“No.” My voice sounds funny.
Like I might break down any minute now.
“You’re a good man, Ross. You loved my Clara and made her happy. For that, I’ll always be grateful. She never had a bad thing to say about you. I think it’s a blessing that she had that kind of love at such a young age considering she only lived twenty-one years. Most people never find it. Don’t ever forget that.” She smiles and caresses my cheek for another moment.
Then she turns toward the counter and points. “Will you carry the crock pot to the table? There’s already a potholder.”
“Of course.” My eyes are a little scratchy, but I lift the heavy pot and put it on the table just as the door opens and a guy of about seventy comes in. His white hair is sticking up a little and his nose is red but there’s a huge smile on his face.
“Hello, my love.” He leans over to kiss Nina. “I didn’t know we were having company.”
“Bob, this Ross. I’ve told you about him.”
