“I hope so, Cade,” I reply honestly. “I really hope so.”
Five minutes later, when we pull up to the house, Cade is the first to assess the situation when he casually says, “Nope.”
I know just what he means, and it splinters the pieces of my breaking heart.
Dell still isn’t there.
Chapter 26
Ann
WHEN I’M WORKING on homework or something, I frequently tune people out. I just get in that zone, you know, where the rest of the world evaporates. Painting the living room walls is nothing like homework, except that the entire family is in the zone—or zoned out—which is probably why none of us hears the front door open or close when Dad arrives on Saturday morning. All of a sudden he is just sort of there, with his hands in his pockets, watching us work.
At first I don’t even realize he’s behind me. The thing that makes me turn around is when Mom stops rolling her roller and stares, unblinking, past my shoulder. “You came,” she says, choking on the words.
Immediately, everyone stops what they’re doing. Bree and I back up two steps so we aren’t right between them.
Cade drops his angled brush down in the bucket near his feet.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“I thought you’d be here last night. Or at least call.”
His hands remain in his pockets, but he motions to the bedroom. “Should we go talk in private?”
“No,” I blurt out, surprising even myself. “I want to hear too.” I glance quickly back and forth between my parents. “I was…on the phone last week, the last time you talked. I heard everything.”
“I see,” says Dad, not seeming too surprised at my eavesdropping.
“So if what you’re going to say to Mom is bad news, then I want to know too, because whatever happens with you and Mom affects all of us. Besides, these walls are paper-thin, so we’ll probably hear the whole conversation anyway.”
He looks at me with apologetic eyes. “Very well, in front of everyone, then.” He glances at Bree and Cade, then he focuses again on Mom. “Here’s the deal. I got out of work early last night, thinking I’d come straight over in time for supper. But when I got in the car, I just felt like I needed more time to think. So I went home. I’d have called, but I didn’t know what I’d say.” He takes a deep breath. “It was a very long night, Emily, but I figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” she asks.
“You said not to come until I figured out how important our marriage is to me, and what you’re worth to me.”
“And?”
“And…I’m here. Whatever has happened to drive a wedge between us, I want to figure out a way to remove it. I don’t know how, or how long it will take, but I want to try.”
“Me too,” she whispers. “Except…I might have an idea of where to begin.”
In my mind, a hug or a kiss might be a nice place to start, but I’m sure she’s referring to the Winner’s Game.
Dad pulls one hand out of his pocket and holds up a piece of paper. “Maybe we start here.”
“What is that?”
With a growing smile, he says, “A vacation request form for the next two weeks. My boss signed it last night. It’ll use up every day I have left for the rest of the year, but I think, given the circumstances, it’s a good investment of my time.”
“Thank you, Dell.” Mom is trying to hide her emotions, but there is an unmistakable wisp of a smile playing at her lips. “That means a lot to me.”
Dad nods, then addresses the rest of us. “So, what’s new, guys? What did I miss? Cade, did you find any more treasure yet?”
“Nope. Ann found a boyfriend, though.”
While I let out a small yelp, my dad nearly chokes. Mom laughs. Bree frowns.
“He’s not my boyfriend! Yes, he’s a boy, but…we’re just friends.”
Cade’s not done throwing me under the bus. “Then why did you hold his hand?”
“Whoa, hold on a second,” says Dad, waving his hands. “Ann, I’m gone two weeks and now you’re off holding hands with strangers?”
“He’s not a stranger to me. We hang out every day.”
“What! You can’t start relationships with guys this summer. Given your situation, it’s irresponsible. You know that.”
“Well, I did.”
“But you can’t, and that’s all there is to it.” He looks over at my mom. “Emily? How could you let this happen?”
Naturally, that comment doesn’t sit well with her. It takes about half a second for her mood to turn south. “So it’s my fault? What was I supposed to do, Dell, lock her in the closet? She’s seventeen years old.”