Page 46 of Back in the Country
“Marlee.” He sighs.
I don’t turn around. My feelings, as childish as they may be, are hurt. So I’ll give him the space he so desperately wants.
Bypassing my room, I do what I’ve done since he’s been home—I go out into the orchard and get lost in the trees. I need the familiarity right now because my heart is breaking.
Sweat dots my brow and is dripping down my back as my feet carry me away from the house. My shirt sticks to me as I pick a tree to sit under. There are thankfully no tears today as my head falls back against the trunk.
The gloriously wonderful bubble that Waylon and I had created was popped faster than I could have predicted. I’ve barely seen him since Sorren got home, but is it so bad that I missed my brother? Or that I want to spend time with him?
I let my mind drift to the night our world changed when I was seven years old. These memories usually don’t bother me, but right now they are compounded with Sorren’s frustrating dismissal.
The final words spoken that night between my parents and my brother were too soft for me to hear, but when I heard him coming upstairs, I rushed into my room and hid under the covers. He came in a few seconds later and carried me into his room. We lay in his bed and he stroked my hair and told me that things were going to change but to trust him to take care of us.
I did. Even at seven years old, I knew my brother would never let anything happen to me. We’d gone to school in the morning, and after practice, his football coach had brought us to the house to pack our belongings. My parents hadn’t been home, and we’d had a sleepover at his coach’s house. I remember they ordered us pizza, and his wife had read me a story and then kissed me on the head before saying goodnight.
It was a confusing time for me. No one other than Sorren had ever read to me outside of school. The woman had been kind; I’d asked my brother if we could stay with his coach—if they would love us.
“No one will ever love you more than me, Marlee girl.”
His words still get me every time I remember the fierceness in his eyes when he spoke. He told me that we were going to live with our grandparents. I’d learned about grandparents at school, but I didn’t know we had any. My parents never spoke aboutanyrelatives.
There had been people to talk to in scary rooms with white walls. Questions about my parents and lots of people in fancy clothes saying things I didn’t understand. At the end, Sorren squeezed my hand and promised we’d be home soon. I didn’t know what that meant either. Nowhere and everywhere felt like home in my tiny world. Sorren was home and that was enough.
One day we’d taken a bus from Massachusetts to Tennessee. It felt like we’d never get there, but when the bus stopped, we saw two sweet elderly people with graying hair and tear-filled eyes. Sorren had gripped my hand so tightly it felt like I was his lifeline instead of him being mine. I remember that being an important moment in my childhood.
We’d all stood there not saying anything, but when I’d looked up at Sorren, his eyes were filled with tears. I’d never seen him cry, not even when he crashed his bike and needed stitches.
“Welcome home.”
It was all Pop said before scooping me up and then wrapping his other arm around Sorren. He’d pulled us tight against his chest, and Gran had completed our little circle. They were all crying and I didn’t understand it, but Ifeltthe relief pouring off them.
Gran and Pop had taken us home and we’d eaten breakfast for dinner. Gran had fried up bacon and the biggest pancakes I’d ever seen. We’d had fruit and chocolate milk, and while it wasn’t anything crazy, it felt indulgent—like their love had literally been cooked into the food.
At bedtime, Gran and Pop had showed me my room. It was right next to Sorren’s with a big bed and pretty pink sheets. I’d been so excited about how grown-up it felt being in that room. Sorren had hovered by the door as Gran read me a story. He’d been quiet most of the night, but his eyes were filled with love when they met mine.
It feltrightbeing with them, and I think Sorren felt it too. They’d all kissed me goodnight, and I remembered giggling with happiness. Pop hadn’t even argued when Lady, their three-year-old golden retriever, jumped onto my bed and curled right up against me.
It was the first night I could ever remember sleeping through the night. I’d dreamt of pancakes and hugs and goodnight kisses. Sorren had taken care of me just like he promised. He made sure we were safe and loved and together, and I never forgot that feeling.
I blink.
The sun is much lower in the sky, and I realize I must have dozed off. That is confirmed when I move and find out my rear end has also fallen asleep. I stretch my legs out in front of me in hopes of coaxing my body back into working order so I can stand. The pins and needles are an uncomfortable reminder of how my day has gone, but there is no doubt that I’d needed the sleep.
Each night since he came home, I’ve lain awake waiting for Sorren to need me. Every creak of the floor or groan of the old house has me on high alert. I’ve been exhausted, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins has been constant.
Turning, I make my way back to the house. I should probably go somewhere else for the night—give us each some much-needed space—but the idea of him needinganythingkeeps me from doing it. Everything is quiet as I pad up the porch steps, and it’s damn near silent inside.
My heart squeezes in my chest and I sigh. Moving toward the kitchen, I pour myself a large glass of wine and then settle on the couch with my liquid dinner. A show plays on the television but I’m not watching, not really.
In just a few days, my entire world has been completely turned upside down. I just wanted my brother back, and the realization that it might never happen is almost too much to take. I need to find the balance before I lose him forever, but I have no idea where to begin.
19
WAYLON
I’m not really surprised by Sorren’s phone call. We’d talked about it before he came back to Clementine Creek, but I knew the transition was going to be harder on Marlee than he realized. When he’d returned stateside, he refused to let anyone come see him—especially her. Even though she’d been dating Caleb, I knew it had torn her up inside.
Getting his phone call tonight wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was finding a despondent Marlee on the couch holding an untouched glass of wine. Her moss-green eyes were so heavy with sadness it damn near gutted me.
