Page 36 of Rock the Cradle of Love
Taylor stumbles off the plane and through the terminal to baggage claim. The ibuprofen wore off somewhere over one of the Plains states and a dull throb echoes through his head with each step he takes. He stands as far back from the rumbling, clanking baggage carousel as he can until he spots his garment bag.
He exits the terminal and sighs at the blessed coolness. The temps have already started rising in North Texas and he’s thankful for the reprieve. There are cars one and two deep at the curb, and he hopes Suzan’s parked in the outside lane. Between his head and his stomach, he needs to find a flat surface and soon.
A familiar farm truck pulls up, and he tosses his shit in the back and climbs into the cab. He leans over to awkwardly hug Suzan. “Hey.”
“Are you still drunk?” she asks, pushing him away and shifting back into drive.
Taylor clicks his seatbelt into place and slouches in his seat. “No, I think this is the hangover. Can we stop at McDonald’s, please?”
“Of course.” Suzan maneuvers easily out of the airport onto the highway. Unfortunately, the airport’s on the southeast side of Minneapolis proper and home is an hour and a half away, northwest of the city. She hits a McDonald’s as requested, and the carb-to-grease ratio of his Egg McMuffin is perfect. He sips the coffee and starts to feel slightly human again.
“You want to talk about it?”
“I do, just not now. I need more sleep.” And he still needs to let Noah know he left town and why. “Hey, you got an iPhone charger I can use?”
“Sure. At home.”
He groans. “Shit. Okay.” He should’ve stopped somewhere in the terminal, but he’d gotten focused on getting out of the crowd and finding Suzan. He tosses her his credit card. “Get gas when we get close to home. Do you mind if I try to catch some more shuteye so I’m coherent when I see Mom and Dad?”
“Can I ask you something before I leave you alone?”
“What’s that?”
“Who’s your boyfriend?”
“Noah.”
“As in Noah Drinkwater, your center?”
“That’s two somethings. But yes.”
Suzan reaches across the bench seat and nudges him. “He’s cute.”
“He’s gorgeous.” Taylor crosses his arms and leans against the door. “Now, leave me be, woman.”
The low hum of country music lulls him to sleep and, suddenly, he’s waking to the sound of honking. “What the fuck?”
He sits up and rubs the grit from his eyes. The half-cup of coffee is tepid at this point, but he swigs it all the same.
“We’re home and watch your mouth. There are going to be a dozen kids under the age of twelve running around.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Mom and Dad cross the yard, followed by one his younger sisters and his brother, as he exits the truck. A handful of kids swarm in from various locations around the homestead.
Taylor swings his mother into his arms and buries his face in her shoulder. Her hair’s gone completely silver now and she wears false teeth, but the ever-present scent of her lemon perfume and vanilla fills his nose, and he goes slack in relief. “Love you, Mom. I’m sorry about Uncle Bud.” Uncle Bud was her oldest brother. His death means she’s the last living child in her immediate family.
Her arms tighten around him. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
He revels in her embrace, needing his momma’s love even though she has no idea why. But she’s dealing with her own loss and he’s not gonna intrude on her grief right now. Finally letting go, Taylor kisses her and then pulls his dad into a hug too. “How are you, old man?”
“Watch who you’re calling old, Taylor John,” Dad says with a laugh.
By the time Taylor’s hugged Jordan and Cameron and all of his nieces and nephews, Suzan’s husband, Gary, is pulling up to the assembled group. They share a handshake and pats on the back.
“Dinner will be ready in a little while,” Mom says. “Take your bags up and shower or something. You look like death warmed over.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
