My Better Life

32

Gavin

It takes longerthan I thought to end one phase of your life and start another. I put most of my foreign properties on the market. I won’t be running so much anymore. I started negotiations with Will concerning what role I’ll be taking in the family business. I have a new, burgeoning interest in establishing an endowment that supports young artists, inventors aka contraption makers, and sports lovers. Harder than any of that, I spoke with my dad and his new wife, and met my infant brother. As soon as I saw my dad, I knew Miss Erma was right. Hanging on to what he’d done had shaped my life and kept me from becoming who I was meant to be. Mainly, a man who wants a family, a wife, and a purpose.

I let all of it go. Everything that I thought was keeping me free was actually keeping me prisoner.

I pass the hand-painted Hollow Creek population two hundred and twelve sign and start smiling. It’s hard not to. The sky’s bright denim blue, the local radio DJ starts playing “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” which has to be a sign, and the smell of mossy wood, river stone and fresh air flies in the open window of my brand new SUV. I walked on the lot yesterday and bought it because it was big enough for a wife, three kids, a smelly dog, a brand new tent and five sleeping bags. Just in case, there’s also room for a firecracker of a grandmother and a friend or two. It’s the kind of car that someone would buy if they’re planning on staying in one place, having a family, and a life. Which is why I got it.

I turn into the drive, the front of the SUV dips in the ruts and crunches over the gravel. The wind blows across my face and messes my hair, in the distance I can hear Scooter barking and Billy letting out a warning crow. To be honest, my heart’s stamping, my chest is tight, and I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been in my life. Even breathing in the brisk fall air filled with the familiar pine tree smell can’t keep my heart from banging around like rocks tumbling down a mountain.

When I pull around the bend, I lift my foot off the pedal, and let out a sharp, pained breath. I missed this place. The tall grass, the moss-covered A-frame, the chicken coop, the stone barn. Even more I missed the kids running and chasing each other in the grass, Scooter rolling in the mud, Jamie standing on the porch in her overalls, her red hair catching the sunlight, calling that it was time for supper. I think I expected everything to be exactly as I left it. That somehow when I pulled in I’d find the kids playing a game of baseball, Billy chasing Scooter, pecking at his legs, Jamie standing on the porch waiting for me.

Yeah.

That’s not what’s happening.

Not at all.

Instead, the kids are piled in the station wagon, Scooter with them. Gran’s in the front passenger seat, shaking her finger at the kids, and Jamie…she’s loading the final suitcase in the back. It’s piled high. There are at least seven suitcases, two coolers, a few boxes. It looks like they’re leaving for months, or for good.

Looking at the house, it’s closed up, the shutters are drawn, the lights are off, and the chicken coop is empty. Which is shocking, because, did Jamie finally make good on her word and have Billy as chicken pot pie?

Are they leaving-leaving?

Jamie finally realizes that someone is here. She pulls her head from the back of the station wagon and raises her hand to her forehead squinting at the SUV.

It’s been almost a month since I’ve seen her and looking at her flame red hair catching in the wind, the freckles on her cheeks, the way her lower lip curves into a questioning smile, the darn overalls she’s wearing that I now know easily, too easily, come off, all of it punches me square in the chest.

I missed her so much.

How could I ever have thought that I wouldn’t be able to forgive her? What’s to forgive? She gave me a home, a family, and her heart. If I was given the opportunity to go back and change the past, I wouldn’t change a thing.

I turn off the car and send up a prayer, please, please, want me as much as I want you.

When I step out of the car, I stop and smile at Jamie. Her eyes widen and her lip quivers as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s seeing.

Then Tanner flings open the backseat door and sprints toward me. Elijah is right behind him and Shay’s running as fast as she can.

And it’s that scene again, the one from the hospital parking lot. The kids are running toward me, shouting how much they missed me, throwing themselves into my arms. This time though, the difference is my arms are wide open, and I catch them, hold them to me, and say, “I missed you too. I missed you.”

I drop to my knees and pull them all in, gathering the three of them in my arms. Scooter joins the fray, barking and running in circles around us.

My eyes are blurry when I look up and see Jamie standing next to us. Her hands are on her hips and although she’s trying to school her expression, I can see the joy in her eyes. That gives me enough hope to stand and hold out my hand.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks, eying my extended fingers.

The kids look up at me, waiting to hear my answer.

“I heard fall is the best time to go camping and since I promised a trip—”

“I knew it!” Tanner jumps up and down.

Elijah tackles him and they start to wrestle, tumbling through the grass like two jubilant puppies let free. I shake my head and Shay tugs on my hand, the one I was holding out for Jamie.

“What is it?” I ask, leaning down.

“Are you staying now?”