Page 114 of All In
I’m your daughter. That’s what I’m doing here.
I felt Theo’s hand give mine a squeeze, and I felt more solid. More present.
Stay here.
“It’s been a long time, Mom. I’m here to visit you and Dad. This is my boyfriend, Theo. Theo, this is Linda. My mom.”
Mom’s eyes darted to Theo beside me in his usual dark T-shirt and jeans. She took in his muscles, his tattoos, the unshaven stubble of his beard, and I saw her hand clench tighter on her sweater.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dawson,” Theo said, his tone flat and dry as the desert. He didn’t extend his hand to shake, maybe guessing—correctly—my mother wouldn’t take it.
“Can we come in?” I asked, hating that I had to ask.
Mom glanced over her shoulder and back. “Now? I don’t know…”
I clenched my teeth together so hard I thought they’d shatter, inhaled through my nose to calm myself, to suck courage and steadiness out of the salty air.
“Mom,” I said, “I haven’t seen you or Daddy in almost seven years. You stopped returning my calls almost a year ago. I need to see you. You’re my parents. And I’m your daughter. I amyour…child.”
My voice started to crack, and I took a steadying breath. My mom had been doing everything my dad told her to for twenty-four years. Now she was going to listen to me.
“You’re going to let me in and we’re going to talk for a little bit. You and me and Theo and Daddy. Right now.”
My mom stared at me for a moment more, and then, with jerky, nervous movements, opened the door wider and stepped aside to let us in.
Theo gave my hand another squeeze and I glanced up to see pride in his eyes. I felt bolstered by that one look. It gave me the courage to step inside my childhood home for the first time in seven years.
The memories assaulted me from all fronts, carried on currents of smells and sounds. Warm cinnamon, my father’s cologne, the little baskets of potpourri my mother kept in every room. The furniture was unchanged. The wallpaper in the front entry was the same white with tiny blue flowers, and I could still see the pencil marks where my mom measured my height as I grew. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in from the large bay window in the dining room to slant across the old walnut dining table.
“I used to do homework there,” I murmured. “I was a good student, wasn’t I, Mom?”
“Yes, you were,” she said in her flighty voice, leading us into the living room. “All A’s.”
We shared a look and I swear I saw a little crack in whatever armor she thought she needed to wear against me.
“Is Daddy here?” I asked, my throat going dry.
“He’s in the den,” she said, and glanced at Theo. “Cassie, your—”
“It’s Kacey, Mom,” I said. “I haven’t been Cassie since I was sixteen years old.”
She bobbed her head. “Kacey. Your father—”
His voice called behind me. “Who’s here?”
I took shelter against Theo’s strong body as my heart plummeted to my knees.
Daddy…
Tears sprung to my eyes as I turned around. My father looked much the same as he had when Jonah and I had spied him from across the street. Tall, a little stooped, with a protruding belly on a thin frame and a full head of silver hair. His eyes were the same blue as mine. They fixed on me, then Theo, widening in shock for only a moment. Jim Dawson was never one to get caught off guard. His put his expression in neutral and crossed his arms over his button-down shirt.
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, my voice a breathy flutter. “It’s good to see you.”
“Sure,” he said, as if I’d asked a question. He turned his icy stare to Theo. “Who’s this?”
Again, Theo didn’t extend his hand, his stare hard. “Theo Fletcher,” he said. “I’m Kacey’s boyfriend.” He madeboyfriendsound like a warning.
I mustered my courage again. “Can we sit down, Daddy? There’s something we’d like to tell both of you.”
