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Strange how he could think about her now without it hurting. Yes, he still missed her and he probably always would, but he could also remember the good times—the fun times before life got so frenetic and busy and pressured and everything fell apart. Before their son had died and she’d taken her own life in a cruel combination of guilt and grief and hopelessness.
A movement on the front porch of his parents’ house dragged Nolan from his reveries. His dad—standing there in the cold, quite happy to wait until his son was ready to get out of the car in which he’d been sitting for, he now realized, upward of twenty minutes while his thoughts wandered.
Nolan finally got out of the SUV and walked up the front path. His dad greeted him with a hug. Although Nolan was a grown man, he still took succor from his father’s grasp, from the warmth and unconditional love.
“Everything okay, son?” Howard Dane asked him.
Nolan met his father’s brown eyes, so like his own, and smiled. “Yeah, Dad. Everything’s okay.”
His father gave him a nod. “Your mother was worried when she saw you parked out front. You know what she’s like.”
“I was thinking. About Carole and Bennett.”
His father’s eyes dulled with unspoken pain. “Thought as much. It’s why we left you to it.”
“So,” Nolan said, clapping his father on the back as they turned and walked toward the front door. “Got any wood that needs chopping?”
His father laughed. “In that suit? I don’t think so.”
“Maybe you can loan me something to wear.”
Howard Dane eyed him up and down. “Maybe I can. You look like a stuffed shirt, son.”
“Not anymore, Dad. Not anymore.”
* * *
Nolan’s back and shoulders ached like he couldn’t remember and the blisters on the palms of his hands reminded him he’d grown soft during his time in California. It had been good to do some manual labor. It gave him plenty of time for thinking. His mom had brought out some lunch for him and his dad, who was busy stacking the firewood as Nolan split the logs. Once they were done and came inside, Nolan looked across the sitting room and saw the new gas fireplace installed where the old open fire had once been. He turned and looked at his father.
“You didn’t tell me you’d gotten rid of the old fireplace.”
His father shrugged. “Sometimes a man just has to chop wood.”
Nolan gave his father a look. “Why’d you have it removed?”
“Debris from the tornado damaged the old chimney. We decided to remove the whole thing, fireplace and all.”
“You might have told me.” Nolan laughed.
His dad shrugged again. “It’s no bother. Besides, the wood should come in handy come summer. Your mother made me buy one of those fancy brazier things for the back patio. We’ll use it for that.”
Nolan laughed again. This was what he’d missed living so far away. His father’s quiet acceptance and solid support. It didn’t mean he was a pushover. No sirree. In fact, Howard Dane was known through several counties as a tough lawyer who could be relied on to stand up for his clients.
Nolan’s mother came through from the kitchen.
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked, wiping her hands dry on a tea towel.
“I’d like that if you have room for me,” he said with a wink that he knew would earn an eye roll in response. He wasn’t disappointed.
“Go get cleaned up and I’ll see if we can squeeze you in at the table,” his mother teased, flicking the tea towel in his direction.
Over dinner, Nolan told his parents about his decision to quit Samson Oil.
“So what are you going to do now?” his mom asked with a worried frown on her still-pretty face.
“I haven’t given it a lot of thought yet, Mom. I just made the decision today.”
“But it’s not like you not to have a plan beforehand. What on earth prompted you to do such a thing?”
Nolan eyed both his parents before answering. “I didn’t feel comfortable with it anymore. Yes, I know we were doing a lot of good, giving people a way out they didn’t have before. But somewhere along the line, others would get hurt and I figure Royal’s seen enough hurt already. I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
His father narrowed his eyes at him and Nolan shifted in his seat. Howard was a man of few words but when he chose them, you generally listened.
“What changed?”
Not, why did you change, Nolan observed of his father’s question. It made him think carefully about his response.
