Page 19 of Tastes Like Watermelon Moonshine
“It was lonely without you. But the turkey still tasted good. Grandma brought her puzzles, so that was a lot of fun.” The camera bounces as she runs from the living room into the dining room and shows me the two large puzzles that she and Grandma completed. “Aren’t they awesome? And that one,” she points to one of them, “I did all by myself while Grandma napped.” Her voice switches to a whisper. “She naps a lot. And we let her sleep in your room.”
It shouldn’t hurt. It isn’t my room anymore. But I do miss it. Even though I called Clear Creek a cabbage-patch town at first, it grew on me. Well, not just the town. It was the people that really rooted me down. And one in particular. And just like that I’m feeling down again.
“It’s okay if she uses my room. I just hope you dusted it first,” I say with a wink.
“Of course. Now, bring the camera closer. I need to see how old you’re looking these days.” Oh, Iz. Always the tease.
I lean in close and stick my tongue out at her. She leans in close as well, her nose probably leaving a smudge on mom’s phone screen. She grunts, then says, “Is that a gray hair I see? Man, playing big baseball must be really hard.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” I run a hand through my dark waves, they probably need a trim, but I don’t have any grays. Not yet. “I don’t have any grays. Must be your own reflection.” I cross my eyes at her. She cackles at me.
Hearing her laugh and being able to tease her brings a bit of warmth to my heart. “So, what does Dad’s house look like? I miss our old home. And my pink room.” Her smile disappearsand her eyes take on a sadness that I’d never seen until things with Mom and Dad went downhill.
After the move I’d tried to sort of step in for her. Be that male role model for her. Another thing I’ve failed at. Granted, leaving my little sister for baseball isn’t as bad as what Dad did to all of us… But I still feel like a failure as her role model. Coach stepped in and was the role model for me. I just have to face the fact that I screwed up that role just like Dad did. Just like I screwed up everything with Raegan. Would I take it back though? No. I just wish it hadn’t ruined relationships, and that Raegan and I had felt the same way about it.
“You want a little tour? It’s not as cool as our old house, but it’s an okay place.” I walk her through the whole plain white house.
“It’s so white. It kind of makes me a little sad. Homes should have color. They should feel like a hug.” She makes a little pouty lip. “Dad’s house isn’t a hugging house.”
Yeah, I guess I can sort of see what she means. “Well, maybe a house is more than its walls. Maybe it’s the people who live there that make it a house, or more accurately, a home.”
Izzy cocks her head to the side. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Can I talk to Dad now? Did he make you anything good for Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah, I’ll go get him. Do you think you could get Mom? Dad has something he wants to tell her.”
“I’ll see if she wants to. She was sad that you didn’t come and see us for Thanksgiving.” I give her a half smile, pulling up only one side of my mouth. I wish I could’ve gone back to Texas. But I just couldn’t. Not yet.
Dad is at the kitchen table, working on his laptop, again. I grab the seat right next to him, and hold up my phone. “I’ve got someone here to talk to you, Dad.”
Dad’s eyes tip up at the corners, and his mouth splits with a smile. “There’s my Isabella.” He blows her a kiss.
“Hi, Dad.” I could almost swear that tears fill her eyes, as she looks away from the camera then focuses back on the phone. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. Iz, I’m so sorry.” Dad looks down at the table. I can tell he’s getting choked up, and when he looks up there are tears in his eyes.
“I forgive you, Daddy.” Her eyes light up. “And Daddy, God can forgive you, too.”
Dad reaches out, and grabs my hand. Something he’s never done before. It’s like I’m his lifeline as he tries to make things right with Izzy and Mom. “I know He does, baby girl. I know.”
The talk about God forgiving pricks at my heart. I know God forgives, the Bible says so. The thought of being beyond the point of forgiveness comes over me. Is that possible? How does a person grasp God’s forgiveness? How does a person live it out in their life?
“You know God, Daddy?” Her voice is stilted by her shock. Mom’s phone drops to the floor, and I can hear Izzy’s footsteps running away.
Dad’s hand is still on mine, so I squeeze it. “She’s probably getting Mom.”
Dad wipes a tear from his cheek. “Sorry about the water works. Austin, I never thought I’d be a church guy. Never thought I’d even care about God. When you were a baby, I let your mom take you to church, but I was never interested.” He gives me a thin smile and shakes his head. “I’m sorry for being an awful example. I didn’t lead the family the way I should have.”
“Dad,” I grip his shoulder. “You’re forgiven. By me. By Izzy. By God. And I’m sure Mom will forgive you too.”
“I will.” Her voice comes through the phone. Dad picks it up, squeezing his eyes closed to stop the tears.
“Kimberly,” Dad whispers.
I push my chair back and hop up. “I think I’ll let y’all talk alone. I’ll be outside.” Dad nods at me and I step out onto the patio.
God can forgive you, too.I replay Izzy’s words over and over in my mind. I flop into one of the chairs around the fire pit and stare up at the cloudless sky. Godcanforgive me. But I’ve got to go and ask for forgiveness. Acknowledge my wrong doing. It’s not a simple, “Hey, God, sorry about that.”
I can’t just mutter the words and hope that it makes everything different. My issue is that I liked it. And I feel awful for liking it. Then again, sex is supposed to be enjoyable. I mean, why else would people do it? So am I feeling guilt and shame for the right reasons? I feel guilty because I enjoyed having sex and I wasn’t married. Because I disobeyed God. And I want God’s forgiveness, not to fix the rift between Raegan and me, but to fix the distance that my sin has put between God and me.
