Page 31 of When I'm Gone
“Isn’t that Uncle Andy?” Will took a step back and studied his father, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Uh, I’m not sure. Kinda looks like him though, doesn’t it?” Luke couldn’t let on what he already knew—the picture of Andy and Natalie wearing matching T-shirts, arms around each other, smiling like they belonged together.
“Yeah, it does, but he looks really skinny there. Is that what he looked like when you and Mom met?”
Luke nodded and slowly folded the brochure. He held it out to Will, who grabbed it and opened to the same photo again, studying it carefully.
“It looks a little like him, but I told you, that place wouldn’t give me any information.”
“You should call him. This is a good clue. Maybe Uncle Andy and Mom knew someone there, or maybe it was for their high school community service hours, or maybe Andy is my ...” Will’s voice trailed off, and a lump filled Luke’s throat. That wasn’t the thought he’d been avoiding all day, but it was close. He coughed.
“Okay, I’ll call him in a few days,” Luke said in an attempt to end the conversation even though calling Andy Garner was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. Luke rolled up his sleeve one more time until it hugged his bicep. “First, I need to do the dishes.”
Will hesitated, his shoulders slumping inside his grungy hoodie. “Or we could wait until we know more.”
Luke nodded and plunged his hands into the water. Will tucked the brochure into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a pair of white earbuds. He put one in his right ear and then paused. “Yeah, we should wait. We don’t even know if the guy in that picture is Uncle Andy.” Without waiting for a response, Will put in the other earbud and stomped up the stairs to his room.
Luke yanked the plug in the sink, angry. Angry that the water had turned cold, that his son was peppering him with questions, and most of all, angry that he knew the man in the picturewasAndy Garner.
The picture had been cropped so only Andy’s face and shoulders were showing, but he hadn’t been the only one in the picture when it was taken. Over his left shoulder a hand hung down, and on that hand was a ring. Natalie’s engagement ring.
The sink emptied quickly, and Luke turned on the water and let it run until it steamed. When the sink was full, Luke submerged his hands into the water and savored the scalding. This time it couldn’t distract him, not enough anyway. He could stop all Will’s questions permanently with one simple paternity test. Then, when the results came in, Luke would show them to Will and say, “See? I am your dad!” The test would stop Will’s questions, but it couldn’t stop the questions percolating in Luke’s mind. It definitely wouldn’t quiet the one thought that had stopped him from enjoying the spaghetti or laughing at Clay’s sauce-covered face. Maybe Uncle Andy was someone else’s dad and that child’s mother was Natalie.
MAY
CHAPTER 12
Luke slathered the last bit of chocolate frosting from the can onto the angel food cake. May’s birthday request. Luke hated canned frosting, but he wasn’t up for an attempt at homemade. Once all the crumbs were concealed under another layer of frosting, Luke checked in the family room to see who wanted to give the chocolate-covered spatula a lick.
“Hey, is that up for grabs?” Natalie peeked around the corner and snatched the spatula out of his hand. She was wearing her favorite pair of jeans, the ones with a hole in the knee that hugged her hips and rear in precisely the right way. A clingy blue V-neck T-shirt set off the deep blue of her eyes.
“Hey! I usually charge a kiss.” He laughed, pretending to reach for the utensil.
Natalie swiped a finger full of frosting into her mouth. “Mmmmm,” she mumbled. “Totally worth it.”
“Pay up, hot stuff.” He took a step closer. She smelled like her favorite shampoo and body lotion. A smudge of frosting clung to the corner of her mouth. Luke wiped it away with his thumb, tipping her chin up at the same time. He’d loved that face almost as long as he could remember, and it only grew more beautiful with age. The fine lines on her forehead, between her eyes, and around her mouth were subtle, a delicate record in flesh of the life they’d lived together.
“I love you, Nat,” he whispered, watching her lips, wanting to kiss her as much as the first time he’d gotten up the nerve as an eighth-grade boy. He ran his tongue over his lips and met hers gently. They fit perfectly, her head tipped to the right, his to the left.
“I love you too,” she said, the words flowing out over his lips in a warm wave. Luke put his hand around her waist and pulled her in close, her body pressing against his. Her lips parted, and Luke’s fingers threaded through the loops on her jeans. She tasted like chocolate.
The doorbell rang in the background. Luke groaned as Natalie pulled away, placing one last kiss lightly on his tingling lips.
“You’d better get that,” she whispered and took another step back. Somehow Luke knew she wasn’t heading for the door.
“They can wait. Don’t go,” he begged, but her hand slipped out of his, their fingertips brushing as she backed away. The doorbell rang again. Luke ignored it. He wanted to go after her, but his feet wouldn’t budge. Natalie took another step backward and another, the darkness from the dining room swallowing her whole. “Natalie! No!”
A swirling blackness flooded in around him, touching his skin, filling his mouth with each breath until he couldn’t take in any more air. The room turned dark, and terror wrapped hands around his throat so he couldn’t scream.
A hand on his shoulder shook him, and Luke started awake. It took a moment to understand his surroundings. The family room, kitchen, door to the dining room, cake on the counter only half-frosted, Natalie’s latest letter across his chest.
“Daddy, everybody’s here.” May knelt beside him on the couch dressed in a blue tulle skirt and matching shirt with sequins. It was a present from Grandma Terry. Not something Luke would pick for a nine, almost ten-year-old girl, but May couldn’t resist the sparkles. Her hair hung over her shoulders in two semirespectable braids. It had taken months of practice, but he was getting close to proficient.
“Sorry; I dozed off.” He tugged on one of her braids affectionately. “You can get the door.”
“Will got it,” she chirped before kissing his cheek. The noise from the hall moved toward the back of the house. Annie stuck her head through the doorway.
“Hey there. Heard you fell asleep on the job.” She hugged a thin cardigan around her torso, far more dressed up than he was used to seeing her in his house. Her straight-legged jeans brushed the floor with each step, short hair pinned back from her face with bobby pins. Her eyes lingered on the letter pressed to Luke’s chest, and a little frown tugged at the corner of her mouth.
