My Heart for Yours (26 page)

I wasn’t fooled. It wasn’t going to blow over.

That was the one and only time my father ever hit me.

He stomped up the stairs, but I was too nauseated to care. I kept my face pressed into the floor.

“
Delia, come out here right now!” Dad wasn’t like that often—out of control angry. I wanted no part of it. I lay silent on the floor, my eyes closed as tightly as I could, wishing him away.

In seconds my bathroom door flew open. Dad grabbed me by the arm, jerked me to standing and backhanded the side of my face so hard I nearly passed out.

I stayed home until the swelling went down. Wore a T-shirt to cover the bruises on my arm.

I never told a soul. Especially not Tobin. There was
nothing
that would’ve stopped him from going to jail for assaulting my dad if he knew.

***

What a mess. I found out we were moving, then I found out I was pregnant, and before Tobin or I had time to process, I was gone. Dad whirl-winded me through an abortion, and Tobin and I forgot how to talk to each other in that mess. At least I understand that he was scared, like me. It just wasn’t what I expected from Tobin—he seemed invincible. We could have handled the move. We could have handled the pregnancy. But both in such a short amount of time, and us not appreciating what we had in the other—that was our downfall.

I don’t even try to hold in my smile. Second chances are beautiful things.

The trail ends on my lawn, and I’m geared up and ready to face Dad, but see Weston. He’s in my driveway pulling his golf clubs from the garage.

“
Hey.” I jog toward him. “I wanna talk.” And hope that he’ll listen.

Twenty-Six

Tobin

I squint as the sun streams in through the single window of the cabin. I can’t see a damn thing, but I don’t even have to feel next to me—I know she’s gone. The warmth that
is
Delia is not here. She said she’d stay. It feels like some warped form of payback.

“
I can’t give you the life that you are used to, Delia,” I’d told her last night.

“
Thank God,” she laughed.

I thought she meant it. But maybe she was having second thoughts. Maybe a life of fancy homes and personal chefs and a closet full of expensive clothes wasn’t something she was willing to let go of. Nice of her to fill me in.

I roll the sleeping bag back up, toss it haphazardly into the corner, and grab my keys. I don’t care if Mr. Gentry is home. I don’t care if Ralph Lauren answers the door. I’m going over there to confront her.

The entire drive should take about ten minutes, and it may have, but it feels like ten years. I can hear the blood whooshing in my ears, my anger percolating with each passing minute. When I drive up to the Gentry estate, I pull right into the driveway. Screw the oil leak, I don’t care anymore. I take the front steps two at a time. I’m all ready to knock, but the front door is open. Through the hurricane screen, I can see Delia there.
In Ralph Lauren’s arms.

I don’t know what I expected, but honestly, it wasn’t this.

I start to turn away, but I hear her call me. I don’t stop until I am at the door to my truck.

“
Tobin, what are you doing?” She jogs up behind me. “I know you heard me, why did you walk away?”

“
I don’t know, Delia. Let me think. Maybe because you let me hold you all night and now you’re right back in his arms. So last night was what? Just sympathy about Eamon? Next time, save yourself the trouble.” I climb into my truck and slam the door.

“
Tobin LeJeune, you ass! We spent a year misunderstanding each other and you’re just going to go and mess everything up again?” She stomps her foot and crosses her arms. I can’t help but smile. As soon as I do, she leans into the window and kisses my shoulder.

Her lips are like magic, instantly, I feel the anger slip away.

“
So, what’s going on then?” I ask. “Why did you leave? I’ve waited too long to wake up next to you again.”

“
I couldn’t stay. Not until I ended things with Weston the right way. If there is a
right
way,” she says. “He’s just passing through on his way to Tennessee, but I broke up with him. I mean, I broke up with him before, but I think I made it okay this time. He’s heading out. What you saw was goodbye. That’s it.”

“
Your dad is not going to be happy about this,” I say.

“
Do you really care about Randy Gentry’s happiness?” she asks, with the beginnings of a smile.

“
I care about yours,” I say. I touch her chin with my thumb. I want to tell her not to, but maybe things have gone on like this for too long.

“
Then go. I’m ready to take him on.”

“
D, at least let me be there for that.”

She shakes her head. “I really need to do this on my own, Tobin. I gave up everything that I loved because he said so, and I hate myself for it. It’s time for me to stand up to him.”

“
I love you, Delia Gentry,” I say.

A small smile creeps across her tan face.

“
Well, Tobin LeJeune, that’s convenient, because I never stopped loving you.”

I tangle my hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and pull her lips toward mine.

“
Lets not adding insult to injury.” She does a half-glance to where polo-boy stands on the porch. “Come back after dinner, okay?” she says. “That is, if I’m worth it.” She winks at me as I pull out of the driveway. She’s a lot tougher than she gives herself credit for. Not many people would survive living with her father. All I can do for her right now is pray she knows how strong she is when she tells her daddy she isn’t leaving with him.

That man tried to scare the hell out of me more than once.

***

“
I saw Delia’s old man outside of the welding shop today. What was up with that?” Eamon asked me. Eamon was laying low near the front of the small mudboat, while I held the spot light over his shoulder.

“
There’s one to your right,” I said. I pointed to the large pig frog. Eamon swiped at it and it made a loud, pig-like grunt before he palmed it and shoved it into the sack. We had already caught a couple of dozen in the hour we’d been out on the water.

“
Same old shit. Wants me to stay away from his daughter. He’s heading back to Washington next week, so you know, he needs to give me the usual warning. I think he’s hoping someday it’ll actually stick.”

“
She’s hot, bro, don’t get me wrong. But is she worth this total pain in the ass that her dad has become? I mean, waiting for you outside of work?” He shook his head. Eamon would never end up in a situation like this, because he would never be in a relationship long enough.

“
She’s worth it.” I kept it short.

“
Here finish this,” he said. He passed me what was left of a joint. I flicked it into the river. Eamon watched it float away in the brown water and frowned.

“
Still going soft on me, I see,” he said. “She must be killer in the sack, huh?”

“
Eamon, don’t make me have to kick your ass,” I said.

He let out a loud laugh and clapped his hands on his knees.

“
I’m messing with you. You say she’s worth it, I believe you. Now let’s get home and fry these suckers up,” he said.

***

I miss him.

HOPE

Hope is a ledge

A walkway

A cliff

To really use it, you have to leap off

But that takes faith

Faith that the person you’re leaping for

Will catch you

Because they want to

Because the feel of you slamming into their arms

Is worth everything

For them

For you

Forever

Twenty-Seven
Delia

Damn Tobin.
How many times will I have said that by the time I get this mess straightened out? This time I say it to myself with a smile. Tobin is who he is. Impulsive. Protective. Stubborn. Amazing.

Weston drives away, and I take a look down at my dirty feet, ragged shorts, and stained tank. Every piece of the mess that I am makes me smile. And nothing’s keeping me from waking up next to Tobin tomorrow.

Weston’s hurt, and I hurt, too. He just wasn’t right. At least I got to tell him why. About who I am, and about how he helped me when I needed it most. There was no way to keep telling Weston I wasn’t leaving him for Tobin, because I spent last night in his arms.

It feels like I haven’t slept in days, and I guess I really haven’t. The emotional stress of Eamon, Tobin, Weston…it’s all starting to crash down around me.

I turn toward the house, my stomach a mess of knots, and I just hope that it’s early enough to give me some time to gather my thoughts.

As I move through the kitchen, I see Mom in her favorite lounge chair in our screened porch with a drink in her hand. Her laptop is open next to her. She isn’t looking at it, though, she’s just staring out into the trees.

“
Mom?” I sit down, wondering how to even begin to tell her what I want to do. Wonder if I know what I want to do, and wonder if there’s any way to make it happen and still be speaking with my parents.

“
Was I a good Mom to you?” she asks without moving.

“
I…of course. Don't be silly." Is what I say, but the truth is, I don’t know. I’d never even thought of it much before. We’ve always seemed like the two women living in the shadow of my father. I know that things will be different now for me, but she’ll still be with him. I can’t imagine a universe in which my mother walks out on my father.

“
I think I should have stood up for you more,” she says.

Yes
, I want to scream. But instead, I’m still not sure what to say to her. I just want peace. With everyone. She and Dad already fight too much; I didn’t ever want to make it worse. It never occurred to me to ask Mom for help against Dad. Neither of us would be able to sway him, I knew that.