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Davis
Ijuggle the pie in one hand and the cooler of freshly caught fish in the other as I try to open up Birdie’s front door without setting anything down. I fumble around for at least a minute before I curse and nearly drop the pie, deciding I’ll have to set it down to get inside.
“I see the stubborn trait is still strong in our family line,” Birdie’s voice calls out behind me, and I hang my head.
“How long have you been watching?” I turn and spot my grandmother coming up the walk from the cliffs, looking windblown but invigorated.
“Since you got here.” She presses a kiss to my cheek and opens the door, swiping the pie from my hands as she walks in before me.
“Nice, Birdie.”
“You’re not too old to learn new lessons,” she calls out over her shoulder as she heads toward the kitchen. It’s sunny out today and beams of light pour into the kitchen warming the space.
“What lesson where you trying to teach me?” I ask as I put the fish in her fridge.
“That sometimes you need to ask for help?” Birdie hangs up her coat on a hook by the back door and rubs her hands together. “Or maybe that you should have put down the pie.”
I help myself to some coffee, grabbing a large mug out of the cabinet above the still warm pot. Birdie goes to work slicing up the pie and putting pieces on two plates. It’s early but Birdie always wants to eat a slice of pie when I bring her some. Her philosophy is that it shouldn’t matter what time of day it was. Food was food.
After we’re both settled at the table, coffee and pie in front of us, Birdie raises a brow at me. “What do you want to ask Davis?”
“How do you know I want to ask anything?”
“Oh, come on. You can fool other people, but you can’t fool me. I know you love me, but you don’t just stop by for a visits with pie for no reason. You’ve got ulterior motives.”
I didn’t expect anything different. Birdie saw far too much. I take a sip of my coffee, wishing it were a little hotter. This feels like a turning point. I’ve had these questions forever, but I’ve never drummed up the courage, willpower, I don’t know what, to ask her.
“Why did my mom marry him?”
Birdie lays her fork on her plate, her eyes growing thoughtful as a sad smile tipped the edges of her mouth up. “Your mom and dad started dating in high school.”
I nod because I already knew this much.
“She was such a sweet girl, but I’m not going to lie, her head was turned by a handsome man. And your father was a good-looking guy. He was popular at school, and I think your mom got swept up in his orbit. She might have loved him at one point, or maybe she just loved the idea of him. I don’t know if he was always a bad guy, Davis, but I think he came from a troubled home. There was a darkness in him that I saw the very first time I met him. He changed though, got so much worse a few years after you were born. Your mom never told me what happened, but I know they were mixed up with that piece of shit, thinks he’s so charming Anthony Hatcher. I thought he was a grifter at first, that he’d come to town, con a bunch of people and bounce on out of here. Here we are, all these years later and he’s still around. Like a barnacle.”
“Do you think…do I remind you…” I scratch my jaw, the rasp of my beard telling me I’m in need of a good shave. “Am I—”
“You are nothing like your father, Davis. I know where you’re going with this. I’ve known you since day one, buster, and I know your fears. Being like him, that’s not something you need to worry about.”
Relief washes over me. It’s dumb because she’s Birdie, of course that’s what she’d say. Still, I believe her, and the words shore up something inside of me that I hadn’t realized had been flagging so badly. I don’t say anything, just take another sip of my lukewarm coffee instead and nod.
“Let’s have another slice of pie and you can tell me all about Miri. Archer told me the two of you have been making googly eyes at one another.”
I let my head fall back with a groan. When the hell was Archer even up here? Birdie cackles with glee as she slides another piece of pie on my plate and refills my coffee.
