AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’ll walk you,” he said, still in almost a whisper. He turned back to his dad as Clarissa edged backward. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“You ain’t got nothin’ to eat,” Ernest said.
Spencer stepped onto the porch, his pulse misfiring now. He’d just been transported back twenty-five years to the month after his momma had died. They’d run out of the food the churchgoers had brought them, and unbeknownst to Spencer, it was his job to go to the grocery store and get more.
“I have plenty to eat,” he said. “I’ll make you a sandwich when I get back. Just…stay here.” He pulled the door closed behind him, quickly twisting the lock on it as he did so to make it that much harder for Ernest to get out.
“Come on.” He hurried Clarissa down the steps and across the lawn to her house. “I want you to go inside and lock the doors, okay?”
“Spencer,” she said, out of breath though he’d seen her lift plenty of glass milk bottles. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, and he believed himself—if he didn’t revert back to the passive teenager he’d once been with his father. “He just says inappropriate things, and he’s obviously drunk. So…just stay here and lock the doors. I’ll text you when he’s asleep again so you know I’m okay.”
“Okay.” She spun to face him before going into her house. “I’m worried about you.”
He couldn’t even flirt or appreciate her feelings at the moment. “I’m okay,” he whispered.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him, and Spencer felt the fear and urgency in the touch. He broke off the kiss by ducking his head. “I’ll text you in a bit.” With that, he left, pausing at the bottom of the steps to make sure she went inside and locked the door.
Then he faced his cabin again.
Light poured from it now, and he jogged to the back steps and went inside.
His father sat on the couch now, his head down as he looked at something. Because he was intoxicated, his reaction time was much slower than a normal person’s, and it took him a second to look up once he heard Spencer’s footsteps.
“What do you want, Dad?” he asked, staying in the kitchen as his dad got wobbily to his feet again. “Ham and cheese? Peanut butter and jelly?” He could ask the same question to find out why his father was even here. He had to want something—and it wasn’t just food.
Money, probably, Spencer thought, though his father had never contacted him for money in the past. Of course, Spencer had never had much money in the past.
“Ham’s too salty,” Ernest said, and Spencer bent to get the bread out of the drawer. He collected the jar of peanut butter and one of jelly, all while keeping one eye on his father.
As he slathered a thick layer of peanut butter on a slice of bread, he asked, “What are you doing here in Sweet Water Falls?”
“Lookin’ for you.” His dad pulled out a barstool and sat down.
Spencer flicked a glance at him. “Well, you found me.”
Ernest wore a goofy grin, and it only annoyed Spencer further. He kept his eyes down as he put on the strawberry jam, put the two halves of the sandwich together, and tossed it in front of his father.
He backed up until he hit the stove behind him, and he folded his arms. “You can’t stay here.”
His father picked up his sandwich, some of the cloudiness clearing from his eyes with the first bite. “Why not?”
“Why not?” Spencer asked, incredulous. “I work here, Dad. This is my place of employment. The house isn’t mine. I haven’t spoken to you in twenty years. Take your pick ofwhy not.”
His chest heaved, and this wasn’t going how his reunification with his father had in his mind. He’d spent ten minutes talking to Slate in his cabin while the man fried eggs for hamburgers about how to approach his dad.
Slate had given him some good advice.See if you can find him. My parents hadn’t left Austin, so that was easy. Then I called my mom. She really helped ease things for my dad.
When Spencer had then told Slate his mother was dead and gone, Slate had said,Well, you call him then. Tell him you’ve been thinking about him, and you’d like to see him if he’s open to it.
Now, faced with the man, Spencer was the one who wasn’t open to spending any time with him. He hadn’t changed at all in the past two decades, and he couldn’t comprehend that.
Spencer felt like he’d walked through fire, been reborn, and wasn’t anything like the seventeen-year-old who’d left town ten minutes after his graduation ceremony had ended.
A ceremony his father hadn’t attended, because he’d been so fall-down drunk, just like he was now.
With every bite he took, his eyes became clearer and clearer. Either way, his dad was a mean old man, and Spencer didn’t want him around. He’d just end up with another scar, probably both physically and emotionally. No, he had to go.
