Page 25 of Forever Christmas
“No,” I say. “We’re full-grown people. There is no reason to hide this.”
I lean forward in my seat. “Mom? Dad? Did you know Mr. Mays wouldhurt Gavin? Physically?”
Mom touches her fingertips to her throat but doesn’t answer. Dad keeps his gaze out the front windshield, but his grip on the steering wheel gets tight.
“It’s not like it was the 1950s or something,” I say. “It was 2003 and we should have protected him.”
My dad clears his throat. “It’s a big thing to accuse someone of, Corabelle. We felt we had a good relationship withGavin, and if something bad was going on, he would come to us.”
Gavin looks out his window, his face averted from me. I don’t know what he’s feeling, but this has to get out.
“We were just kids,” I say. “And scared. I went over there anytime they were together, to try and stop it.”
“Oh, Corabelle,” Mom says. She turns in her seat. “Why didn’t you tell us? It could have put you in danger!”
“He controlled himself when I was around,” I say.
“Gavin, talk to us,” Mom says.
But Gavin won’t acknowledge anyone. He stares out the window, his arms crossed over his chest.
Dad turns on his blinker and pulls over on the side of the highway.
“We sure going to the hospital is a good idea?” he asks.
“That’s up to Gavin,” Mom says.
I can tell what Gavin is thinking — you drag me here and NOWyou decide it’s a bad idea? It’s obvious from the set of his jaw, the tightness in his fists tucked beneath his arms.
“Gavin,” I say. “I think you should see him. I’m the one who brought you here and I knew it all. I just wanted Mom and Dad to understand how deep this goes.”
Dad leans his head back on his seat, staring up at the ceiling. “I think,” he says, “that everyone deserves the chanceto ask for forgiveness before they die. I’m hoping that will be the case for Robert.” He turns around to face us.
“Gavin, I feel very complicit in what happened to you,” he says. “Maybelle and I certainly saw that you had more injuries than might be expected for a boy, but we didn’t ask the right questions. We didn’t walk over and ask your parents about it. And we should have. We are sorry.”
Gavin relaxes a bit, his arms falling to his thighs. “I wouldn’t have admitted it anyway,” he says. His voice seems unfazed by the intensity of the discussion, as if we might be talking about somebody else.
Mom reaches through the gap between the seats to touch Gavin’s arm. “What would you like, Gavin? We’re listening. If you don’t think you can handle being near your father even now, we understand.”
“We’re practically there,” he says. “Might as well see it through.” His gaze meets mine. “Corabelle is always right on these things.”
Dad laughs. “He’s got the husband thing down pat.”
“Now, Arthur,” Mom says.
But the tension has been cut. Dad pulls back out on the highway.
Gavin takes my hand again. We’ve gotten this out, and now my parents will be on board with however this visit goes. It’swhat I wanted, for them to understand. For Gavin to be supported even if this meeting doesn’t fit their expectations for a father-son reunion.
Now we just have to get there.
