Page 80 of The Scars I Bare
I sat back in the passenger seat, watching my childhood pass by me in that car window. The gas station where I’d scraped my knee, running away from Brenda Parker, the fourth grade bully. The ice cream parlor where I’d had my eighth birthday party. The Italian restaurant where my prom date, Larson, had taken me before the big dance.
A lot had changed. Houses had popped up where there had been nothing but wide, open spaces. Businesses had closed, and new ones had opened up in their places. But a lot had stayed the same, too, and I could see that little girl I remembered, her pigtails intact as she raced down the streets, trying to outrun stupid Brenda and her gang of misfits.
God, I’d hated that girl.
“You okay?” Dean asked, probably noticing I hadn’t spoken since we left the airport.
“Yeah.” I smiled weakly. “Just a lot of memories. And I’m nervous.”
My breathing became weak as we drove away a short distance from town. Although I claimed Austin as my hometown when asked by mostly anyone, it wasn’t entirely accurate. In truth, my family hailed from a small bedroom community about thirty minutes outside of Austin called Elgin. While my parents, both professors at the University of Texas, loved the eclectic oddness of Austin, at heart, they were small-town people. They had always wanted that for my brother and me, growing up. A place we could feel safe and secure.
“Do your parents live in the country?”
“Well, kind of,” I said. “They like to think they do. But I mean, it’s all kinds of country once you get out of Austin. They live on a small acreage, just a few but enough for them to grow vegetables and even have a few animals. They like to pretend they’re farmers. Well, farmers with a handful of chickens and a goat named C-3PO.”
He grinned as we made one of the last turns. “So, how do you want to do this?” Dean asked.
I looked up, seeing the familiar, long driveway my parents had lovingly lined with live oak trees when I was a child. They’d grown since the last time I was here.
Everything had.
“Do you want to go in alone and then have us follow after? Or maybe just you and Lizzie for a bit?” Dean was rambling as we pulled up to the house.
A single tear fell down my cheek.
I looked up at it.
The old farmhouse had gotten a coat of fresh white paint, the wraparound porch gleaming in the afternoon sun. Mom’s decorating obsession hadn’t gone anywhere, her autumn wreath firmly in place on the front door as well as several hay bales on either side with an assortment of pumpkins.
“My father would always make fun of her for those decorations.” I found myself smiling. “The minute September 1 rolled around, she would cover the whole house in pumpkins and leaves.”
“Looks like she’s still doing it,” Dean said.
My gaze followed his. There, at the far end of the porch, was my mother, fussing over a basket of mums. She must have felt my eyes on her because, in that moment, she looked up and froze.
I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. All I knew was I needed to see her. I needed my Mom. To hold her and tell her a million times over how sorry I was.
Without thinking, I leaped from the car, running for the woman who’d loved me without reason, cared for me without end, and been my greatest inspiration growing up. Tears were staining my cheeks, pouring down my face, as we closed the gap.
“Cora!” she cried as her arms wrapped tightly around me at first. Then, like she still didn’t believe I was there, standing in front of her, she patted me down—my hair, the curve of my shoulders, and finally my face. “You’re here,” she said, her voice thick with emotions. “You’re finally here.”
“Yeah, Mom.” I smiled. “Sorry it took so long.”
While she was still cupping my cheeks, like she used to do when I was little, I saw her gaze flicker to someone over my shoulder.
Orsomeonesrather.
“Lizzie,” she whispered. “She’s so big.”
There was a mixture of wonder and sadness in her voice. I couldn’t help but feel responsible for the sadness.
I should have come sooner.
I should have been braver.
“There’s a lot I need to tell you,” I said, looking up at the old farmhouse where I’d grown up. “Is Dad around?”
She smiled, taking my hand, as I motioned for Lizzie and Dean. “Yes, he’s preparing his lectures for the week, but I’m pretty sure he’d be willing to take a break.” She gave me a warm smile and a wink. “Why don’t we go find him?”
