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Grant bobbed his head. “I know, and we lost someone too, Chantelle. I won’t negate that, but Mom’s moved on. It doesn’t mean she forgot Dad.”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t say a word. The day had been clear as a sky after rain. She and Grant sat in the same spot three years prior, dressed in black from their father’s funeral.
With a parking lot filled with cars, their father proved to be a beloved man in town. Filled church pews, along with a book filled with signatures from family and friends offering condolences. Chantelle had been grateful for a closed casket funeral, her father’s wish. Footsteps had muffled the thick carpet, while soft music played. She’d never forget the quiet weeping.
“I know,” she told Grant. “I still miss him though.”
“I miss him too.” He sighed. “I’m going to head back.”
“I’ll be inside in a minute.” Chantelle’s brother left her alone inside the tree house, and she hugged her knees to her chest as she leaned against the wood panel wall. Not wanting to worry her mother, she climbed down from the tree house and walked back inside. She skipped the dining room and hurried to her bedroom.
She sat on her bed and stared at her old wooden desk, which held a lamp, her phone charger, and pens. Her dresser sported the stray coins her father had given her and framed pictures of her and her old friends. Trophies from her basketball and volleyball days stared back at her, and posters of her favorite music artists still hung on the wall. The music group Dru Hill being one of them.
Chantelle could remember the movies she used to watch in her room along with the music she would play while studying. She would arrange her nail polish on her dresser, experimenting with various colors. Then a knock sounded at her door. She grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her chest.
“Come in,” she said.
Her mother peeped inside. “Are you okay?” She then came inside, shutting the door behind her.
“I’ll be fine,” she replied.
Her mother sat next to her. “Chantelle?”
“Mom, it’s fine.”
Her mother’s features softened. “I know having Douglas as my husband will take some getting used to. It’s a change for all of us.”
“I’m happy for you, Mom.”
Chantelle’s mother took her hand. “I know you are. Remember that love doesn’t die with a person. I’ll always love your father.”
She clasped onto her mother’s hand. “I know that. I need time, that’s all. I’m working on it.”
Her mother then brought her into a hug. “Do you want me to bring your dessert in here?”
Chantelle patted her mother’s back and released her hold on her. “No. I’ll go to bed. Can you tell everyone I said goodnight?”
Her mother bobbed her head. “I’ll tell them. Get some rest.” Her mother stood to her feet and exited her room.
***
From tasting chocolate to lemon flavor, Lance settled on the red velvet cake. His mother made sure he called Andrea for her input. He didn’t care about cake, much less choosing flowers. All that mattered was… Chantelle.
He shook the thought from his mind. His gaze lowered to his empty plate with a few crumbs left behind. He’d thought of her over the years, but it only made his stomach turn sour thinking of his own mistakes. Lance had been too scared to know he met his soulmate at eighteen.
A huff escaped his mouth. Soulmate? The term didn’t exist. Rubbing at his eyebrow, he pushed his plate away.
“Lance?” His mother waved her hand at him to get his attention.
“You say something?” He ran his hand down his face.
“What is it with you? You’ve been in a mood since you got here,” she said.
“It’s nothing. Long day, that’s all.” He wouldn’t tell his mother Chantelle was back in town again. He’d heard enough of his mother’s opinions for one day.
His mother fluffed her loose, short salt-pepper curls in her hair. Then she held her compact mirror in her slender hand as she scrutinized her appearance. It was always appearances with her. Ever since he was a b
oy, he lived his life according to what others thought.
