G is for Gerry (Men of ALPHAbet Mountain)

I needed to let all the thoughts I had about her go, just so I could move on if nothing else. Admitting that she was incredibly attractive and the type of woman I would absolutely get out of my shell to ask out if she were a few years older was one thing. But letting my mind wander to those soft, kissable lips and the swell of her chest between the open buttons of her blouse, that was too much. I needed to let all that go.

I threw myself into work, hoping to focus on it before my parents came into town. I came to think of them not as foster parents but my actual parents not long after I came to live with them. My life had been hell before that, dealing with two unreliable addicts for parents before being taken into the system at thirteen.

I had expected to stay there, locked in the ever-revolving door of temporary stays until I turned eighteen and could find a place of my own. But from the second I met Lana and Hank Pettigrew at fifteen, I knew I wanted to stay with them. And they wanted me, which was even more incredible.

We moved as a family when they officially adopted me to suburbs just outside the city of Quebec, and I flourished in high school, eventually earning a scholarship to university. When I got out, I did my own apprenticeships around town and was lucky enough to live with Lana and Hank until I was fully licensed and ready to work.

I bounced around a bit before finding an opening with the crew in Tennessee online. I applied and was brought in to interview with Everett, who took to me quickly and helped me get hired and settled. For the first few days I was in town, I lived in the offices, sleeping in Carter’s office on his futon and enjoying being the first one in the office in the mornings to make coffee and cook up eggs and bacon for everyone.

Of course, that was where my food prowess stopped, and I had an inkling that everyone was probably pretty happy to no longer have overcooked eggs and burnt bacon every morning when I finally got my own place.

I started counting the days on my calendar until Hank and Lana were coming in. It wouldn’t be long, and I was happy to show them my life in Ashford. I knew they worried about me, and I wanted to make sure they knew that I was okay and that they had done such a spectacular job helping me get through my teen years that they could be proud. Both of me and of themselves.

It was a long haul for them, though. They had moved to Massachusetts not long after I left home, preferring to live close to Hank’s family after Lana’s parents had passed away peacefully of old age. Hank had always seen himself as an American living in Canada and was happy to move back stateside, but Lana was as French as a French Canadian could be. Their conversations with me on the phone often devolved to the two of us speaking French and Hank interrupting in broken French to argue that we should speak English.

I loved them so much, and I was so glad to be able to shut out the life I had before them. I knew that a lot of my abandonment issues and my issues with interpersonal relationships, all stemmed from my biological parents. I was committed to forgetting them, moving on, and embracing the person I had become, but it wasn’t always easy. Being far away from Quebec was helpful, though.

Hank and Lana had been the first people to stick in my life. With no siblings and few friends, it wasn’t until them that I had a sense of what a family was supposed to be. The idea of having them come and spend time with me was extremely exciting, and I looked forward to showing them around town and introducing them to the new people in my life that had grown to be so important.

Wendy was one of them. Finn was another. It was very helpful that they had found each other. Finn was like the brother I never had, and Wendy was the strongest person I had ever met. Not only was she ungodly strong for such a tiny woman, but she was also emotionally and morally strong too. She was always a good listener, and when I didn’t feel like talking, she seemed to be able to read my emotions and talk about something that I could just listen to her about.

I knew all about her life growing up, and Finn’s too. I knew about her ex and the hardships she faced with Olly, trying to make sure he had a good life, in spite of her own mother not being really in the picture. As for Finn, we talked about everything, including his past and the way he felt saved by working at the diner. He and I had similar histories with parents that had substance abuse problems, only he didn’t get a chance to escape until he was an adult.