“Oh, yeah. It’s a full mountain man beard. I didn’t know he could grow something that impressive.”
“You’re calling him now?”
The screen showed nothing but my face, but Garrett answered.
“There’s someone who wants to see your beard,” I explained. “I thought this might be better than a visit.”
“Oh yeah. Right. Put her on.”
I handed the phone to my mother and walked to my room to pack. I heard her mumbled conversation with Garrett travel down the hall. I hoped it was enough to soothe her. To give her comfort. To give him space.
By the time I walked back to the kitchen she was sitting at the table.
“Mom?”
“It looks good. I like the beard.”
I sat across from her. “I do too. I think he’s going to be ok. For now.”
“And if he isn’t?” She looked at me.
“We’re here for him. Keep checking on him. Call him, but not every hour.” I eyed her. “And on the days he’s not ok—we’re here.”
She nodded. “Yes, we’re here.”
“I need to take the rental car back and get to the airport.”
“Want me to go with you?” she offered.
“That’s ok. But thank you.”
I stood to hug her. She seemed frail in my arms. I wondered how much of Garrett’s illness had worn the weight from her limbs. She was thinner than I had ever seen her. She smelled like vanilla. She kept a jar of hand crème next to her bed. It was the same scent she had used since I was old enough to sneak in her room and dab it on my arms.
I let go and looked at her.
“He’s going to be ok, Mom. We all are.”
“I know. I know. Call me when you land in D.C.?”
“I will.” I took my suitcase through the garage entrance.
Thirty minutes later I was in the New Bern airport, waiting in the terminal for my flight home. I left Vaughn a message, explaining that I had found Garrett and was headed back to D.C. I prayed his business trip was over and we could spend the night together. If there was one thing I needed more than anything else in this world after the past two days, it was him.
I tucked the phone in my bag and watched the passengers gather in the picked and worn seats around me.
Chapter 22
The Uber deposited me on the sidewalk. The driver popped the trunk and I walked to the rear of the car for my bag. My phone buzzed at the same time I dug in my purse for my keys.
I read the text from my father.
Did you make it back?
Just got here
Glad, kiddo. See you in a few weeks.
He was referring to Thanksgiving. It wasn’t much. But it was something. A crumb. A morsel that showed he cared. He was thinking about me now and making plans for the holidays. It was more than I’d had from him before.