Page 97 of Old Fashioned
One weight had been lifted, but another had crashed down in its place, and while I was filled with exhaustion and joy and relief at the solving of my father’s mysterious death, I was plagued with questions and betrayal at the discovery of my biological mother.
A million questions had been answered.
A million more had taken their place.
And as I locked eyes with my mother’s — myrealmother, not the biological one I’d just discovered — I had a feeling the answers I would find would be just as hard to hear as the ones we’d found tonight were.
“I’m right here,” Sydney whispered, hugging me tight, and I tore my eyes from Mom’s and closed them, instead. “No matter what happens next, you have me, okay? And we’ll get through it. Together.”
My throat tightened, and I held her even tighter, surrounding my aching heart with her words.
If I had her, I could face anything.
That much, at least, I was sure of.
Sydney
The week that followed that emotional Monday night was the longest of my entire life.
So much happened that it felt like being in the middle of the Daytona 500 raceway track while cars zipped by, but at the same time, it all seemed to somehow move in slow motion.
Neither Jordan nor I went to work — which was not contested by anyone, least of all Principal Hanley. The entire town was abuzz once the story broke, and we all had eyes on us — eyes of pity, eyes of sympathy, eyes of suspicion. Everyone had their thoughts, and everyone wanted to see what we’d do next.
Randy was locked up that Monday night along with Patrick, and then slowly, each day, more and more men were silently taken into custody for questioning. There were lawyers, police officers, firemen, prominent men on the Scooter Whiskey Distillery board. And as more and more information came out, more and more people being tied to the heinous crime, it felt like our entire town was a live wire, buzzing and zapping and tense.
Jordan and I were handling our own personal matters while also trying to be there for each other, and we’d found the task difficult. There was justsomuch going on. It seemed that we were away from each other every day, and when we finally came together at night, all we could do was hold each other, and be silent, and listen to each other’s heartbeat as if that steady rhythm was the only thing keeping us holding on.
I had to sit Paige down that very next day —beforeanyone else had the chance to tell her what happened. It was perhaps the most difficult thing I’d ever done as a mother, to have a real discussion with her about her father, about what he’d done, about what would happen to him next.
She took the news better than I imagined, which I attributed to her seeing her father’s true colors that day he showed up at our door drunk and belligerent. Still, she cried, and held me, and said she missed him and she didn’t want him to go to jail. I knew it wouldn’t be an overnight thing to get her to understand, nor would this be something she would ever fully let go of.
It would be a part ofherstory just as much as it would be a part of mine. It was my job now as her mother to help her through it, each step of the way, from now until forever.
Thankfully, when my sister heard what had happened, she flew in to take care of Paige while I dealt with everything else. If I was being honest, I don’t think anyone wanted to see Randy rot in prison more than Gabby did. And I was thankful for her help, for her presence, for her love — especially when I had a hundred things to take care of.
Like making sure Jordan was okay.
I knew he wasn’t — not after everything that came to light that night at the Scooter’s house. Sure, he’d landed the justice his family had been seeking for his father for a decade, but in the process, he discovered a dark past he didn’t know he had.
His biological mother was Mary Scooter.
Laurelei and John had hid that from him his entire life.
And, the latest development which had knocked him breathless… Mary had told him who his father was.
So, on Friday night, I sat next to Jordan on Elijah Braxton’s back porch with my hand in his, squeezing it every now and then for comfort, as he told his biological father everything.
It was a cold December night, but Eli had a fire going, and we sat around it with our coats and scarves and blankets over our laps. Eli and Jordan were sharing a bottle of whiskey and trying to share a lifetime of what they’d missed, too.
It turned out that Mary had never even told Eli about Jordan.
He had no idea he was a father.
He had no idea that he’d been watching hissoncoach the high school team all this time.
For hours, they swapped stories, and asked questions, and looked at each other in a way that I could never describe in words. I was quiet for most of the night, just there for support, witnessing a beautiful moment I was sure Jordan never thought he’d have.
“I can’t believe she never told you about me,” Jordan mused as the fire died down, shaking his head with his eyes on the weakening flames. “I mean, I guess Icannow that I’ve discovered the other secrets that family has been hoarding but… I’m just so lost as to how she could have lived with herself, knowing what she’d done, what she’d hidden.”
