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I knew better than anyone it was true. He’d told me once that all he ever felt, with his mom, was in the way. I’d been so sympathetic for so long, but when he left, I threw all my sympathy out the window.
Only now do I realize how selfish that was.
“He’s spent his entire life trying to find what he didn’t have. Desperately trying to earn it. The thing he should’ve just been given. The thing he should’ve been able to count on. And now, he’s here again, doing the same thing.”
I don’t respond. I can’t. Because I’m starting to piece something together that I don’t like.
I was selfish.
It’s a sad, horrible truth, but once the seed is planted, it sprouts without a drop of water.
The truth is cutting.
And it hits me that maybe Noble wasn’t the only one who walked away.
He’s the one that left, but I never gave a thought to going after him. I planted my feet like they were cinderblocks stuck in Silverwood.
A real friend wouldn’t have let him go so easily. A real friend would’ve realized he was hurting and run after him. Chased him. Made sure he knew he wasn’t a bother. Made sure he knew he was loved. That he could always come home—no matter what.
That’s what my dad did.
He said he wanted to “live with grace.” I’d done the opposite. I’d lived with a grudge, so caught up in my own pain that I couldn’t see that he was hurting too.
The stubbornness I have felt for so long finally, finally starts to slip, and in its place, I feel deep remorse.
I’m so, so sorry.
And now, watching him fight so hard to get back in this town’s good graces—seeing the sacrifices he’s made just for the perceived “right” to come home—I start to understand that he must’ve had a really good reason for leaving all those years ago.
And I never even bothered to ask what it was.
I’ve been a terrible friend.
“For what it’s worth, my darling daughter,” Momma says, “I’ve been waiting for the two of you to find each other again. Part of me thinks it was always meant to be.”
I look at her, feeling foolish and quiet, scrambling to find a bit of levity. “‘Meant to be’? You really believe in that stuff?”
“Of course,” she says. “Can’t imagine anyone else in the world would’ve been right for me besides your dad.”
“Me either,” I say.
“And let me tell you, he needed a lot of training.”
I laugh softly in spite of my tears, and Momma laughs too, both of us needing the release. After a moment, she goes still, quiet again. “Love ain’t easy,” she says, facing me. “It’s work. To have a life with a whole other person? It’s work.” She turns and places a hand on my cheek. “But when it’s good—it’s really good—and that makes the hard part worth it.”
I close my eyes, nodding slowly.
“Go. Have the hard conversation,” she says. “Speak your mind, make your amends and see where the chips fall after you do.”
“And if the chips fall in pieces?”
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Then I’ll be there to help you pick them up.”
Chapter Thirty
Hattie
When I get back to the lodge, I rush inside and call out to Noble. His truck is outside, but it’s quiet, and there’s no answer.
