Page 57 of Letters of Faith
My mom screws her face up in distaste at the mention of Ms. Taylor’s name.
“What did that horrible woman say?” she asks
The pure venom in her voice surprises me. When I look up at her, though, there’s a softness in her face that I’m not used to.
“She accused me of not grieving Nate long enough. She made me feel like I’m betraying him.”
A moment passes where the only noise in the room is the television, and then I witness something I think will only happen once in my lifetime—my dad loses his temper. He slings the footrest of the recliner closed and hops up out of his chair. His face turns red as he paces and mumbles a couple of incoherent sentences, “Why I ought to…that woman’s biding her time…”
The scene is so shocking that laughter, unbidden and uncontrolled, slips out. When I look over at my mom, she’s staring at my dad likeshe’s looking at an alien, which only makes me lose it further. There’s a stitch in my side, and tears pool in my eyes as I lose control.
“Dear, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack,” Mom says in a voice that doesn’t match the expression on her face. “Please, do sit down.”
And as proof of how long my parents have been married, my dad sits back in his recliner, still grumbling all the time.
My laughter starts to subside, and it hits me just how long it’s been since I’ve laughed like that.
“Now,” my mom continues as I settle down and my dad’s grumbling comes to an end. “That woman’s had it coming to her since she stole my apple pie two years ago at the church’s homecoming dinner and pretended it was hers—like anyone would believe it. Since then, I’ve been planning my revenge, biding my time, but this really amps things up.”
Mom rubs her hands together as she plots, and I wonder if my parents have lost their minds. This is not how I imagined this going.
“Uh—Mom, I don’t think—“
“Hush now, I’m thinking,” she says, waving me off.
Shaking my head, I recline back against the couch with a grin. My dad reaches over and pats my hand, and I turn my head to look at him. The weathered lines of his age run across his face as signs of what a good life he’s lived, and there’s a happiness in his eyes that never seems to fade, even when my mom is concocting plans to threaten old women.
“Are you happy, kiddo?” He asks, not taking his gaze from my face.
“Yeah, Dad. I am.”
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Driving home from my parent’s house, I feel lighter than I have in a very long time.
My relationship with my mom might be prickly sometimes, but Ican always count on her to be on my side when I need her. It’s just taken me a long time to learn that.
It’s a fifteen-minute drive from my parents to Grayson’s, and I’m counting down the minutes until I can take off my shoes and throw some pajamas on. Taking the last turn, I can see Grayson’s driveway up ahead. His truck is parked there, but all the lights in his house are off. Glancing at the clock on my dash, I see it’s only eight o’clock. Maybe this day got to him, too, and he went to bed early.
But that theory is put to rest when I pull into the driveway and see him sitting in front of my door, his back resting against it and his head hanging in his hands.
There’s an ache in my throat because, for once, the strong Grayson Lewis looks a little broken.
Grabbing my stuff, I step out of the car and shut the door.
Grayson’s head pops up when he hears the noise, and the pure fear in his eyes has me sucking in a breath and taking a step back.
He pushes himself off the ground and steps towards me—his steps slow and deliberate. I force myself to stay where I am. I don’t know what happened between the time I left the office and now, but something did. For as many times as he has taken care of me, now’s my turn to take care of him. I can’t make any sudden movements, though, because I know Grayson. He needs to come to you. So I’ll stand and wait for as long as he needs.
When he’s finally standing in front of me, he reaches his hand out and twirls my hair between his fingers, but that touch must not be enough because I’m suddenly in his arms, being crushed against him in a fiercely protective hug.
I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him so he doesn’t break.
“What’s the matter, Gray? It’s freezing out here. What are you doing sitting outside?” I ask.
His heart beats fast as he tilts his head so it lays in the crook of my neck.
“Gray,” I urge. “You’restarting to scare me.”
