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“We have ten years of catching up to do,” she added.
His family talked at him for an hour. Asking questions he didn’t want to answer but did, and then he had to go and get every letter he’d kept from Johnnie’s parents. Then came the agony of his parents reading them.
“They must think we are a horrible family for not supporting you,” his mother said.
“No. I told them you were sick and Dad had just lost Uncle Jay.”
“I can’t move on from the fact that we could have lost you that night,” his father said.
“Dad.” Ford sighed.
“Shut the hell up. You’ve had this information for years; we haven’t. We need time to process it.”
“I was making you peach cobbler tonight. I’m not now,” his mother said, unperturbed that her husband had cussed. Normally she’d have pitched a fit.
“What? Why? Surely my need is greater after what I endured?”
“We could have been helping you with your pain. Helping you to heal and sleep. I’m angry, and my anger will take time to go. Until then, no cobbler.”
“Hard-ass.”
“And don’t forget it. I will let those cusses slide because of the emotion.” His mother went to the kitchen to cook, which was what she usually did when she was upset or stressed. However, no cobbler.
“So are we done? Because I can feel a rash forming.”
“Go. I can see all this unburdening is giving you a headache,” his father said. “But, son, never hold something like this from us again.”
“Promise.”
Ford went back to his room, needing the space and quiet while his family continued to talk, no doubt about him.
Did he feel better inside because of the purging? Yes, he believed he did. Hiding something so momentous had simply been what he’d always done to protect his family. He didn’t need to now, and it was freeing.
He felt exhausted too. Like he’d been on an all-nighter after a bout of the flu. After a shower, he wandered into the bedroom and saw the iPad he’d put on his nightstand. Once he was dressed, he picked it up along with his keys. He also grabbed one of his models.
“Where are you going?” Nash asked him when he walked back through the house. “With those?” He pointed to the model and iPad.
“Out. I need to do something.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“No, of course not. Why would you say that?”
“It’s not like you can be trusted to tell us if it is, so I’m going for the ask-first approach from now on.”
“Fuck off,” Ford muttered, stomping past him and out of the house with Kismet. He had a smile on his face though because he felt lighter and unburdened for the first time in forever.
Chapter20
“So your grandmother taught you to knit, Autumn, but you just never continued?”
“She did. And, yes, I didn’t carry on knitting, Mrs. Taft. In fact, this is the first time I’ve picked up knitting needles since.”
The woman tsked. Short and elderly, Mrs. Taft had gray hair and was a force of nature like the rest of the older Ryker Falls members she’d met. The woman had walked into her house and started issuing orders about how the tea needed to be made and the room set up for when the others arrived.
Autumn had done exactly as she directed.
She sat in Mr. Goldhirsh’s living room, which was now technically her living room, with the knitting club around her. The Robbins sisters, Rory and Jack, Mr. Goldhirsh and Chief Blake’s wife—they’d all come. In the middle of the floor was a basket that was full of knitted hearts. They were adding to it. Not her but the others. Autumn was having trouble making anything other than an odd-shaped blob.
