“You can come home with me. It’s going to be just me most of the time. My mom’s babysitting all weekend. But we’d have fun.”
“I really want to go with Rachel. She’s my best friend. And I like her mom a lot.” I’d met Mrs. Bowman, a divorced mother who I respected, on campus when she’d brought Rachel to school, but I’d also been to their house for a weekend visit once.
“Do you guys have a ride yet?”
“I don’t know. Rachel was going to check with some kids going to Florida to see if they could drop us off.”
“I’ll drop you off.”
“You?”
“Yeah. I’m going to Atlanta. I can take you.”
“You’re sure it’s not too far out of your way?”
“I’m sure.” He smiled and my heart warmed. We’d been dating on and off all semester. James wasn’t like the other boys at school. He hadn’t grown up in the church, either. He was a convert li
ke me.
And he’d suffered. He understood heartache.
“You really don’t have to take me to the family gathering,” Emily said, climbing in Tim’s car on Thanksgiving morning. “I’m perfectly fine here with my mom and dad.”
She’d asked him to join them, but Tim always spent the family holiday at his older brother Mike’s house. Two years ago he’d taken Tara.
Emily had that look in her eye again. One he’d seen a lot lately. Like she was hurting. They’d been sleeping together for a while, and he knew she wanted more.
So did he. He wanted a wife. A home. Kids.
He just didn’t want to get married.
Running his fingers through her hair, he cupped the back of her neck. “I want you there,” he said, and kissed her softly. When they broke apart, Tim looked her straight in the eye. “I really do,” he said.
And meant it.
Rachel had a meltdown on Thanksgiving Day. Torn between the man she loved with all her heart—a reprobate who’d sinned and left the church—and the man who loved her with all of his heart—a law student whose parents held ranking in the church—she needed some time alone with her family. Time alone with her mother and grandmother.
Sitting in the back bedroom of her grandmother’s home where I’d slept the night before, I tried not to think of my family at home, my mother busy in the kitchen doing four things at once, my father carving the turkey. My brother Scott picking all of the cucumbers out of the salad and eating them before the bowl ever made it to the table. Chum’s wife sitting silently, saying nothing. And Chum lying on the floor chewing on a pen while he watched football.
I missed them all so much.
I’d never felt more alone in my life.
And I thought of James, all alone on Thanksgiving Day. Not for the first time in his almost twenty-one years of living.
Mom and Dad knew where I was. They hadn’t called.
I picked up the phone on the table by the bed. Dialed a number.
“This is collect from Tara,” I said when the operator came on the line.
James picked up on the second ring. “Will you accept a collect call from Tara?”
“Of course!” His voice sounded good. He really cared about me. And I cared about him, too. I didn’t want him there all alone. “Hi, Sweetie Pie. I didn’t expect you to call.”
He’d asked her to, though.
“I know.”