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Forty-One

The Chattahoochee River served as the dividing line between Sugar Springs and Sweetwater. It was a simple bridge over a calm part of the river, but it may as well have been a portal to another world. The neighborhoods went from well-kept homes with stately trees to rundown, mismatched abodes with overgrown yards and chain-link fences. The sidewalks existed as great mosaics of cracks and weeds. No idyllic trees decorated the medians. No charming lampposts lit the night. The adorable boutiques and cafes gave way to strip malls filled with pawn shops and cheap dispensaries.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said as we sat at a stoplight next to one of the town’s three McDonald’s.

“Sure.”

“You mention your mother a lot, but you’ve never mentioned your dad.”

Every muscle in my body tensed. Staring out my window, shadows fell over my vision as if a cloud had covered the sun. But the sky was clear blue, cloudless. “That’s not a question.”

“It kind of is,” he said with a teasing edge.

I forced a laugh. “I never met my dad. Mama won’t talk about him, and she’d get this strained look whenever I mentioned him, so I stopped asking. I don’t know who he is or what he looked like.”

He was quiet, and the light turned green. After a moment, he asked, “Was that hard?”

“I didn’t know any different.”

“Sure, but did you wonder?”

Of course I’d wondered, especially on those nights when dinner consisted of water and a can of tuna. I dreamed my daddy would come and take us away. Save us. I wondered whether he wanted me, or if he even knew I existed. I wondered whether he loved me.

But as I grew older, I learned that the look in my mother’s eye when I asked about my dad wasn’t heartbreak or anger. It was fear. Audra Honeycutt was indomitable, and even as a child I knew that if she feared something, it must have been terrifying.

“Yes,” I said. “In the same way I wondered about Santa Claus. As a child, he was like some magical man who could solve all my problems, but then I realized he was just a figment. A fantasy.”

Cam nodded.

“We were better without him,” I said. “I don’t know anything about him, but I know enough to know that.”

He reached over and took my hand, and the conversation ended. I directed him through town until we reached the outskirts, then pointed to a bumpy gravel road leading to my mother’s trailer park. He didn’t widen his eyes or ask questions. He didn’t so much as blink at our surroundings.

When we pulled up, Mama stepped onto the wooden platform outside the door and waved at us. I forgot to wait for Cam to open my door and bounded into the cold to wrap my mom in a hug. Cam followed with the flowers he’d bought her, and the moment she laid eyes on him, she burst into laughter.

Cam’s steps slowed.

“Oh, you poor boy,” she said. “You really don’t belong here, do you?”

He gave her his most charming smile. “Forgive me for being presumptuous, but I think I belong wherever she is.” He nodded toward me, and my heart fluttered.

She let out a high-pitched Woo! and looked at me. “He’s smooth.”

“I know,” I said under my breath.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Honeycutt.” After handing her the flowers, Cam air-kissed her, and she pretended to be flustered.

Audra was never flustered.

“Now, I like a man who lays his cards on the table,” she said. “Come in, come in. We’re lettin’ all the good air out.”

We ducked into the living room, and while the place was clean, fragranced with the familiar cedar vanilla of home, I couldn’t help but see it through Cam’s eyes.

Cam, who grew up in a home of marble and crystal.

The wood-paneled walls and threadbare shag carpet were dull and dated. The laminate countertops in the kitchen were clean but stained. A small part of me feared he was rethinking his opinion of me, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

“Let me make some coffee.” Mama bustled over to the kitchen.