Uncomfortable with receiving a blessing, I scoffed. “We’re not Catholic.”
“Just feels right,” Nick chuckled with a shrug.
Chapter 30Grace
The house looked almost the same: a three-bedroom ranch, white with red shutters, and that huge looming oak in the backyard looming where I’d jumped into Isaac's arms.
They switched the holiday lights from rainbow to white. The “Keep Christ in Christmas” sign remained. Mama’s trusty Buick was in the driveway, with a fresh bumper sticker: “She who kneels before God can stand before anyone.” The roof needed replacing, and there was more snow on the ground than eight years ago.
“You don’t have to do this,” Alex said, his hand resting tenderly on my shoulder. “And if you’re not ready today, you can come back another time.”
When we’d loaded our skis into the truck that morning to drive away from our perfect night at the Lodge, instead of looking east towards his parents’ cabin, my mind traveled north.
Yesterday’s memory of climbing and leaping from the tree had felt so warm. Alex’s reaction that he’d like Isaac awakened a desire in me that had been stifled by fear. Then when Nick called me a member of his family, and I’d seen the pride in Alex’s eyes when he introduced me ... I wanted that.
I allowed my heart to open to a possibility I’d forced myself to shutter, one Alex had articulated: What if they would accept me, but couldn’t find me? What if I was avoiding something positive out of fear, like I’d been doing with strength training exercises?
What if I could go home?
When he closed the cab of the truck, I shook my arms to release anxiety and asked, “Were you serious yesterday, when you said you’d go with me?”
He must have seen the fear painted all over my face, because he’d pulled me close, kissed my temple and said, “Whatever you need, darling.”
And now we were here, my truck once again parked in front of my childhood home as nausea churned my stomach. But I was here, darnit, and I was tired of hiding. I might get hurt, but I’d choose to leap.
And I wasn't alone. Alex was here to back me up. Maybe my father would be on his best behavior for this unexpected audience.
Leaning my clammy forehead against the cool truck window, I voiced the truth we’d been avoiding: “I want you with me, so it’s now or never.”
Alexander walked behind me, hand hovering over my lower back. Stepping onto the landing, I paused to gather strength from his compassionate gaze. He interlaced our fingers, whispering, “No matter what, I’ll keep you safe.”
Summoning my courage, I rang the doorbell, chest constricting with the footsteps echoing within. When the door swung open, the air fled my lungs.
Mama.
Her once-dark hair was silver, lines deeper around her mouth, hazel eyes filled with curiosity. Her gaze swept over me, darted quickly behind me, then returned to my face. Her eyebrows raised in confusion, then recognition. Tears sprung to her eyes.
“Jeremiah?” she whispered in a fragile prayer. My deadname triggered another wave of nausea, her voice adding nostalgia that left me dizzy.
I wasn’t sure who moved first, only that I was in my mother’s protective arms. She pulled back, hand cupping my cheek affectionately.
“I was so afraid I’d never see you again,” her voice quavered.
“He told me to never come home.”
“I know, honey. But I was afraid that for the first time in my life, one of my boys would actually do what their father told them.”
Mama ushered me inside and Alexander took my coat with a subtle nod. Go, his eyes said, I’ll be right behind you.
The house smelled like forgotten memories: laundry soap, cumin and Mama’s gardenia perfume. In a daze, I wandered into the familiar kitchen, reassured by the unchanged curtains, noticing the new coffeemaker.
Mama scanned my body to shorten the distance between memories of her son and the reality of the unfamiliar woman in her kitchen. “Um, what can I get you? Coffee, tea, water?”
“I’d love tea, thanks,” I tucked a hair behind my ear and cast a glance at Alex in the hallway, examining family photos. I wanted to cover his eyes, beg him not to correlate the scared child and the woman I’d become. But a soft smile played on his lips, his gaze hovering over the youngest face. Most people couldn’t tell the difference between the twins, but he knew.
Mama filled the kettle and retrieved tea bags with trembling hands.
“Mama, how are you? How’s the mayor’s office?”
“Oh,” she said, running her hand over her thighs, “I left there two, maybe three years ago. Now I work at the college, in Student Affairs. After raising four boys, the house seems so quiet with only Levi. The chaos of college kids feels right. What about you, Jeremiah?”
I winced. That was the second time Mama had called me that. Should I correct her? Or after all these years, should I keep the peace?
My fingertips gripped the counter as pressure started building in my chest.
“Are you ok?” came a soft rumble over my shoulder, close enough to feel Alex's warmth without touching.
“I’m ok,” I whispered, leaning back into his firm chest to ground myself in reality as he interlaced our fingertips at my side. I tilted my head to whisper, “It’s her perfume.”
His chin brushed my hair in a nod. His free arm came around my shoulder and across my collarbone, wrapping me in his now-familiar scent of pine and peppermint to steady me.
Mama’s eyes lingered with a curious softness. As they shifted to his face, they took on a reverent quality. I wanted to confide,‘I know, right? I feel that way when I look at him too.’ I wanted to have that mother-daughter bond that I’d read about, that I’d caught glimpses of with Helen.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Mama said, holding out her hand warily.
“I’m Alexander,” he unthreaded our fingers to shake her hand and judging from the lusty look on her face, I’m guessing he grinned. “Her boyfriend.”
