“She won’t be looking at boys at forty years old, Leith.” Chevelle reaches up to run a hand along my face. Momentarily, she closes her eyes, pulling in a steady breath.
I sit back on myarsebeside her. “What is it, hen?”
A glow slowly breaks across Chevelle’s face. “Just contemplating your words. You’re such a good father.”
That’s notwitye’re contemplating.“That’s a good thing, aye?” I catch her gaze with mine, firm and steady. My mouth pulls rigid. I wonder at how challenging, on occasion, it’s been to weed through my wife’s brain.
“Yeah, a good thing,” Chevelle says, just when I’m prepared to dig and pry. Her trembling voice breaks into a million wee pieces. “B-but w-when you m-mention us as a good example for Mia.”
“Och.” I have the sudden inclination to pull her close. I fold her in my arms, resting my chin atop her head. For a long moment, I pacify my wife’s soul while holding her just like this. Touching my lips to hers briefly, I probe for more. “Ye never mention yer parents, Chevelle.”
“No,” she whispers so low, the word falls almost short of reaching me. My Chevelle opened up to me in many ways, but it wasn’t until after our first time that she brought up her parents.
The woman who raised her needed to be kicked under a dank jail cell for not obtaining the help Chevelle needed as a child. Her father’s actions were the catalyst for much heartbreak, and it’s still an unresolved fissure in my wife’s heart. The heart in my chest drops. Then I cave. “Ye gotta let me in, hen. I’ve adoredye too long for this. Nae keeping me at arm’s length.”
Chapter 27
Chevelle
On the nightof Mia’s first birthday, my heart filled to the brim watching Leith adore our daughter. Later that night, I articulated my thoughts about my parents—the most in-depth conversation I’ve had about them since their death. Leith learned how my mom was the choir instructor at a Baptist church. I included foreshadowing information first, such as how the pastor was unmarried. Even at the age of eight, I understood how there’s a popularity contest at certain churches to snag and marry a pastor, but obviously, Mom was already married. In an out of body experience, I explained the dynamics of the night Daddy claimed Momma’s life. I just couldn’t divulge how it made me feel, how it broke me.
When Leith tried to dig deeper, I threatened him, and we stopped. Simple as that. He’s a good man, and he offered to be there for me. His attempts reminded me of how I was once grateful for Lady’s negligence. That bitch never sought therapy or any other services to support me.
Now, Leith’s encouraging me to let him in. Years ago, he dismantled the walls surrounding my heart. Yet, when his tender love and affection built them up again, I added a few illusions, not quite offering him all the tools necessary to get fully in.
“My father was an attorney,” I say, sharing nothing new. My heart thrashes against my ribs. Who speaks ill of the dead? My dad’s not in the position to defend himself.Who defended your Momma against him, huh?
Leith’s tone penetrates the anxiety spiraling through my spirit. “Ye can do this, Chevelle.”
While tethered on the cliff of uncertainty, I nod, dissecting where to begin. I work my way back as if my father’s misdeeds are something I have to remind myself of constantly. Something that will keep me from sympathizing and missing him more.
The heavy weight Justice often admits to overwhelming her crushes down on my chest now. Am I sharing too much? Leith’s my safe space when the world has me down. Butthisismyrealm, not the empire which once included my blood. The rage I could feel, the anger that was dormant inside my father, feels like it’s written all over my face. Yet, Leith still looks at me with eyes brimming in love.
I recount the part that once turned my heart black, calcified as stone. “All I know is, my parents seemed so happy.”
At first, my voice trails off. I clam up. Anxiety builds. I swallow the lump in my throat, and for the first time, I modify my attempt. My eyes find Leith’s encouraging ones. I’ll never forget how it feels when his arms encircle me as if reading my thoughts. His hand glides the length of my shoulders. The warm touch penetrates the haze of anxiety, soothing me.
I’m sure that I married a man who found me in a billion tiny pieces and can truly put me together again. He’s not just my new life, but the anchor to mollify the old one too. Breathing deep, I start over. “My parents seemed happy, likeus, Leith. That part scares the shit out of me, baby.”
My husband’s hands draw over my shoulders again, kneading softly. His knuckles sweep along my cheekbones. The blazing resolve in his eyes silently opposes how our marriages compare. He continues to listen intently.
“They didn’t have money problems. Somebody always had their hands outstretched when it came to my dad. Momma would feed them, and Dad would give them a loan, without an expectation of having it returned. I never saw my parents argue.” I shake my head. “Hell,weargue.”
“Arguing is healthy, hen.”
Though I agree, Leith’s words break the trance of my further exposing my past. “It hurts just thinking of them, babe.” I suffocate on each word, gulping in vast quantities of air. Nerves on edge, I concentrate hard and can hear the sound of Mia begging for something. “Mia and Cam are back.”
“They’ll wait. Talk to me, hen,” Leith’s voice holds a compassionate, firm edge. All the curling into an illusory ball on my part has become a thing of the past. “Yer da made a mistake.”
“Mistake my ass. That’s . . .” My teeth claim my tongue, biting down hard. At the sound of footsteps, the intake of air I hadn’t realized constricted my throat evaporates. “A catastrophe.”
“See, hen. Ye gotta stop bloody suppressing it. Promiseye’ll tell me more later.” He squeezes me in his arms, kissing the top of my head as Mia’s voice grows, coming near. “Promise me?”
“I promise.”
Leith drops another kiss on the crown of my head before embracing me again. Before he lets me go, Mia has jumped into the bed, and I’m softly chiding her for wearing outside clothes on my feather duvet.
While my husband and I double-team our daughter in a tickle fight, I envision the person others see in me. At Michie’s, my greatest attributes are how warm, welcoming, andsharing,I am. The open book. Except, most are in the dark as to how I’ve curated the pages. I’d hate to think I’ve done the same in my love life, so I mentally prepare myself to tell Leith more later.