“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“I'm thinking I'm really glad you came home.”
4
Abby
When we drive down the Rough Mountains, back into town, Bartlett reaches over and takes my hand in his. The feeling is electric.
I'm not alone in that.
He looks over at me, his other hand still on the wheel. He groans, “How have I been living my whole life without knowing you?”
There's a drawl to his voice, and he may not live in the country, but he still lives far from any big city. Far from skyscrapers and towering complexes. He is a small-town guy, through and through, with a family who understands the true meaning of family. I don't think he has any idea how lucky he is.
“So, your family is pretty special,” I tell him.
“They didn't scare you away? I know the questions at dinner got a little intense.”
“Nobody asked me anything that I couldn't answer.”
The questions were pretty simple. What do I like to do for fun? Do I have a favorite movie? What's the last book I read? It was like they'd all been prepped on how to ask appropriate questions that didn't press too hard, too fast. I appreciated it. Someone in their family along the way got the memo that religion and politics were off limits. And also, any visitor's history might be a little too much, too soon, because they didn't go into those kinds of details. Didn't ask why I was all alone with my dog Hijinx and a backpack and nothing else to my name. They didn't ask things I wasn't ready to answer.
Maybe Bartlett gave them a heads up that I’d had a hard day. And if so, I'm more smitten with him than ever, but maybe they're simply good people who have decency and respect and boundaries.
Regardless, that dinner was maybe the best dinner of my life. And it had nothing to do with the home-cooked food that Annie made, which was incredible: meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green peas, iced tea, pound cake with homemade whipped cream for dessert. Heavenly. Ten out of ten.
“You were right,” I tell Bartlett. “All eyes were on Fig.” That girl, she was determined to get her way.
“Oh man. She was so mad though. Leaving the dinner table in a puddle of tears is not a happy way to go,” he says.
“Do you think she'll get over it quickly?” I ask, having no idea how families like his resolve conflict. In my family, it was yelling, fighting, and one-word answers. That's why I was kept for so long. I wasn't in a cage like the elephants and the tigers, though I felt like it. I wasn't allowed out.
That's why I ran. I felt like I had no choice.
“Oh, Fig will come around. My mom will promise her fabric for some fancy dress for prom and Fig will be happy as a clam sewing it. Eventually Fig will realize that college will be a better time for her to travel to Europe.”
“It sounds like your parents are pretty supportive of all of you.”
“Yeah. I just think it's a new thing because the rest of us, we never really wanted to go all that far. We really never wanted to leave home. Fig, she's been itching to go since she was little. And I think the reality of that is going to catch up to my mom and my dad pretty quick.”
“Do you have other family around here?” I ask him.
“Oh, for sure. My dad’s parents live in town and then my mom's family, they live in Burly, the Rowdy family. My uncle Angus and his boys.”
“Wow,” I say. “It's pretty much a whole family tree right here in this valley.”
“Does that scare you? The idea of a man like me never wanting to leave?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. I find it very comforting. I’ve spent so much of my life on the road. The idea of being settled somewhere, someone wanting to be settled? I like that about you, Bartlett.”
He laces his fingers through mine tightly as we pull up to the bed and breakfast. “I'll come in with you just to make sure you get checked in, all right?”
“Thanks,” I say. “I really appreciate it.”
Bartlett tells me his sister Lemon lives right next door.
“Really?” I say. “That's a really cute place.”
“Yeah. It was a real fixer-upper, but, well, she had plenty of brothers to help her fix it up.”
We go inside the main office and it's a quaint, charming building in town. I smile as we walk to the front desk.
“Bart, what are you doing in here on a Sunday night? I'd expect your mama wants you home for dinner,” the older woman at the desk scolds.
“We just finished dinner,” he says. “Mary, this is Abby. She's got a room here from the doctor over at Homesick Urgent Care. At least that's what we're hoping.”