CHAPTER 12

Emilia

Pulling up to the house where I grew up is always bittersweet. Memories of my father and the amazing man he was still linger here. George Carmine Barrett was as radiant as a living soul could be. Everywhere he went, he brightened up the world around him. Every moment spent with him was like experiencing life in high definition. He was so full of color that his personality came through, even in the way he painted the walls of this old house. Every room had its color, each named by its hue rather than its function. Raised by the luminous man that was my father, and surrounded by all that splendor, the world that I knew was a beautiful place.

That all changed after my 16th birthday. It started with the sudden death of Lucas’s parents, and things got progressively worse when Lucas disappeared. Not long after, the tragic news of my dad’s terminal diagnosis confirmed my life would never be the same. Stage IV pancreatic cancer was a death sentence. Six months is what the doctors gave him when it was first discovered. That was two months before Lucas’s parents died and he went missing.

Knowing the toll that much loss would have on Jen and me, Daddy fought like hell to stay around for as long as he could. He battled bravely through the hopelessness of terminal illness, so he could put some distance between the tragedies for us. His last ten months on this earth were used to prepare Jen and me for life without him. He lived double the time the doctors predicted, because of how resistant he was to giving up the fight before we were ready.

In short, when Lucas left, my beautiful world stopped spinning. But Daddy’s death, that was when that beautiful, amazing, colorful world I’d grown to count on, officially faded to gray.

As for Mom, she was always distant when it came to me, and that distance increased tenfold after my father’s passing. For the first few months, Jen and I barely saw her. Most of the conversations between us happened over text messages or voicemails.

About six months after Daddy died, we came home from school to find Harold sitting in our living room. That was the night Mom told us that Harold was moving in and that they planned to get married the following summer. It felt like the ultimate betrayal, both to the memory of my father and to me. I was still deep in the throes of grief, and my mother’s indifference was devastating.

“Okay girls, you can unbuckle yourselves. I’ll be right there to let you out.”

Stepping out of my car, I look around the driveway to get a sense of who’s arrived, but it’s the black Chevy SUV parked at the curb that captures my attention. Memories of sitting in that car next to him six days ago come flooding back. Remembering the easy way he reached for my hand when we first got in, to the goosebumps that raced over my skin at the feel of his touch.

I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge that the connection we once shared is still there, alive and beating. Pulsating with longing to reclaim everything that was lost, everything that was unfairly stolen from us. Nothing could have prepared me for how it would feel to see him again. To finally hold him in my arms. To breathe him in and soak in the warmth of his presence.

It was incredibly intense, and there were moments when it felt like I was hanging precariously over a ledge of impending betrayal. And while nothing technically happened between us, I can’t help but wonder how far I would have let things go if Lucas was a different type of man.

I’m ashamed to admit that within minutes of getting into his car, I gave in to the feelings he invokes in me. Tired of the constant strain that is the situation with Creed, I opted to pretend that part of my life didn’t exist. Not my girls per se, but the vows I made. The rings on my finger. The unsigned divorce papers at the bottom of that drawer, and most important of all, the fact my husband left me and then disappeared.

I know it was selfish, but a part of me knew I could count on Lucas’s strong moral code to keep us from crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed. It’s who he is and for once, I gave myself permission to just be. To not think. To not be weighed down by responsibility, loyalty, and duty.

It was short-lived, however, for nothing can change the fact that I am married and bound to another man. And even if that man isn’t bound to me in the same way, I’m the one who refused to sign the divorce papers that would have set us both free. On that principle alone, I have no right to go behind my husband’s back and betray my marriage vows.

Opening the back driver’s side door of my CRV, I reach for Mally’s hand and help her out. “Good job, baby girl,” I tell her, before looking over at her sister, who’s still in the car. “Lyssie, can you grab your bag for me?”

“What did you bring for us?” Lyssie asks as she hands me the pink and purple backpack. Then, with an exaggerated jump, she hops out of the car. Her enormous sigh of relief when she sticks the landing makes me smile.

“Well, since Auntie Jen and Auntie Nell love to color, I brought your crayons and coloring books. Oh, and your iPads which you can have after you eat all your dinner. The veggies too.”

“Yay, yay, yay. I’m going to eat everything. All my veggies, even if they taste like poo!” Lyssie skips ahead of us, bouncing excitedly while Mally, who’s holding my hand, beams in wonder at her big sister’s antics.

“Lyssie Baby, no potty talk,” I correct. “Now remember, we’re here to meet Uncle Lucas. He’s not used to bouncy little girls, so let’s keep the ants in our pants under control. Oh, and remember, inside voices, please.”

“I’ll be super, super quiet.” With her pointer finger against her lips, she whispers loudly, “See, like this, Mally.” She coaches her baby sister, who, by the way, hasn’t said a single word since leaving our house. “We can’t be loud.” She loud whispers again, and no matter how hard I fight it, I can’t help but chuckle at my over-the-top daughter.

“Great job. Now. Are we ready?” I look toward Mally and wait for her to give the okay.

When she nods, I open the unlocked door. Immediately, we’re greeted by the sounds of laughter and the smell of home-cooked goodness. When we enter, Alyssa runs ahead towards the living room. Alone with Mally in the foyer of my childhood home, I take a second to look around.

When Daddy was alive, this was the sunshine room. With its bright yellow walls, cherry wood entry table, and the big colorful flower arrangements he replaced every week, this was the most welcoming room in our house. Unfortunately, a few days after Mom broke the news of her engagement, the colored walls and the happiness that existed in this house disappeared. Now, with its plain white walls and barely there decor, the place no longer feels like home. There’s no life here. No contrast of any kind. No joy to be found in a place that was once larger than life.

“There she is. Come here, my sweet Mallory” With her sing-song voice, Mom prances into the room. Reaching for Mallory, she lifts her into her arms, in the process forcing her little hand from mine.

“Mom, be careful. She’s too big for you to be picking up.”

“Nonsense, right Mallory? Grammy can pick you up whenever she wants, can’t she, baby?” She tickles Mally under her chin, eliciting a small smile from my sweet, shy girl. When mom turns to head into the living room, Mally panics. Her little eyes go wide with fear, and she thrusts her hands in my direction as she emits a scared whimper.

“Mom, wait.” I step ahead, blocking her way as I reach out to take my daughter from her. “Here, let’s let her walk. Remember, it takes her a minute to get comfortable. She’ll lead the way when she’s ready. Right Mally baby?” I give her a soft smile, gently squeezing her little hand for added reassurance.

With a heavy sigh, Mom releases my daughter. Her pinched lips and heavy scowl communicate her displeasure. Preparing for the inevitable critique of my parenting skills, I brace. Surprisingly, she only shakes her head and stomps out of the room back to her guests. Relieved to have averted the confrontation, I squat down to Mally’s eye level.

“How are we doing, sweet girl?” I tuck a loose strand of her brown hair behind her ears. “You ready to go in and say hi? Remember, you know everyone here. The only new person is your Uncle Lucas, and he’s super nice. Plus, I’ll be with you the entire time. Sound good?”

Big brown eyes, identical to my dad’s, stare back at me. I watch in awe as she works through her anxiety. When she gives me a shy grin and a nod, I stand up and take her hand. When Mallory and I cross the threshold into the living room, all conversation stops.

NOTE: Chapter 12 Continues in the next episode.

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