AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But James carried on as if he hadn’t said a word.
“I was hard on you. Damn hard on you. I did everything I could to snuff out the light inside of you. The light that reminded me so much of your mother. The light that was your mother. The two of you…” James shook his head, a sad, wistful, smile on his lips. “The two of you were so much alike. You both loved art. You both liked to laugh and how many nights did the two of you wake me up because she let you of bed to watch those old Charlie Chaplin movies?”
Hearing his dad talk about his mother was bittersweet and Shane cleared his throat, that damn lump was back.
“The thing is Shane, after your mother died I pushed you away because you were a constant reminder of what I’d lost. Of what she had been. I did my damnedest to turn you into something totally different and it backfired. I lost you and you lost yourself.”
Shit. Did he have the strength to do this right now?
Taking a deep breath, Shane dug in. “Dad, I’m done with the blaming. Sure, you were an asshole. An absolute prick most of the time but I was no better. I hid behind you. I hid behind your pain and your sorrow and I used it to justify every shit thing I ever did. I did the same with Bobbi, but I’m done with that. I’ve been done with that for a while now I just need to…I just need to tie up all those loose ends before I can move on.”
For a moment James said nothing and then spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I love Celia. I do. And Eden…she’s my life but there isn’t one day that goes by that I don’t think about your mother. And sometimes I let myself wonder what it would feel like if she was still here with us. Would she have been able to hold us together?”
“But there’s no point in that. She’s dead and we’re not.” Shane took a step back and motioned with his hands. “Come here.”
James followed him back toward the light. Back toward his easel and when he stood beside Shane and glanced at the canvas, a sound escaped from between his lips—a sound halfway between anguish and joy. It was the sound of the living.
“I sketched Eden yesterday while she was here and drew Celia from inside my head. But I think it’s a good depiction.”
The water color was a portrait of the two girls—mother and daughter—Eden resting her head on Celia’s chest, gazing out into the eyes of whoever was looking her way, while Celia’s eyes were closed, a small smile gracing her lips, her arms around her daughter.
It was poignant. Powerful. Emotional.
“Son,” James said, clasping his arm. “It’s…it’s…perfect.”
“This is your reality and from what I can see, you’re one hell of a lucky man. It’s yours.” Shane cleared his throat. “I’ll get it framed and bring it over next week.”
James nodded and moved away, his eyes still on the canvas. He was nearly to the door when he paused and held out his hand. They shook, not like strangers, but not like father and son either. They were still in that grey area—the in-between area of acceptance—but they were headed in the right direction. For now that was enough.
“I’m proud of you son. I want you to know that.”
Shane exhaled roughly, not able to answer.
“What are your plans?”
Shane finally managed to dislodge the damn lump in his throat. “I’m moving into White Hall. I have to work for Logan at least for the next few years to keep compliance with my parole, but, I want to paint and make custom furniture and the farm will continue to run the way it’s always done.” He paused. “I want everything.”
James smiled and nodded. “That’s good to know, Son, but I was talking about your girl. If you love Bobbi as much as you say you do, then you had better get things cleared up. You better do something about it right now because life is too short to waste time on the bullshit that’s stuck between the cracks. You need to fix those cracks and make them stronger, and you need to do it before it’s too late.”
Shane stared at the door for a long time after his father left, so long in fact that he was surprised to note the time when he finally made it up to his loft. Four-thirty.
He glanced outside the window above his sink. Into the darkness that surrounded everything. And
it was dark. There wasn’t one star in the sky and the moon was nowhere to be seen.
Four-thirty.
Goddamn early, he thought…and then, not goddamn early enough.
He grabbed his cell phone off the counter and hit speed dial, while shoving his feet into his boots and reaching for his leather jacket. When he heard her, his heart twisted and he started to talk, but then realized it was her voice mail. Impatiently he waited for her message to finish and by then he was outside, his long strides carrying him to the garage.
“It’s me,” he said roughly. “I’m on my way over and I sure as hell hope you get this message because if I have to break the fucking door down to get to you I will. We need to talk and I’m not leaving until we do.”
Shane drove through the dark, deserted streets of New Waterford, seeing only Frank McQueen, the paper man, delivering newspapers to those who still slept. He turned along the river and followed it up a few blocks until he headed down Bobbi’s street.
He drove within the speed limits. This was good. This was controlled. It was Shane acting like an adult. He parked his truck in the driveway but felt his control begin to slip as soon as he glanced up at the house. It was in darkness and with adrenaline pumping through him, he hopped out and was charging up the steps when the door flew open.
And it took everything inside him to keep it together.
