Jack nodded then stopped. "But...," for a second he hesitated, "you seemed proud when I told you that Jordan punched Mike. Like it was a good thing."
His father shook his head. "I'm not proud she punched Mike," he explained. "I am proud she stood up for you. For her brother. For her family." He looked deep into his son's eyes. "That is the right thing to do. Her methods, however, are questionable."
"Okay," Jack said. "I just wish I was more like you."
Major Sharpe burst out laughing. "Why?"
"You're a soldier," Jack explained beaming. "You're tough, you're strong. The kind of man people are proud to know, and be friends with."
And Major Sharpe laughed. "Son, I really love you, but you're a bit of a naysayer." Jack frowned at his father. "You see others at their best, but with yourself you only find fault." Major Sharpe shook his head. "Let me tell you how I see myself."
Jack nodded, looking up at his father.
"Yes, I'm a soldier and I'm good at my job, and yes, I'm proud of that," he started. "But there is another part of me that is much more important than the job I have." He looked his son straight in the eyes. "I'm a total softie," he said, his head bobbing up and down as he saw his son's eyes growing big. "I am. Ask your mother. When we watched E.T., I cried my eyes out."
"You didn't!" Jack said, staring open-mouthed at his father, his eyes sparkling.
Major Sharpe nodded vigorously. "I did. Went through a whole pack of tissues."
Jack smiled as the tension slowly left him and his shoulders relaxed.
"What else?" his father mused. "I'm more of a salad than a meat kinda guy. Eh,...I think our uniforms could use a little color, something bright and up-beat. And although I'm 'tough and strong'," he said, using air quotes, "I'm terrified when your mother gets one of her tempers. She may be small, but she can be vicious." He leaned over. "Don't tell her I said that, but I think that's where Jordan gets her uncontrolled outbursts." He grinned at his son. "Yep, the women of this family are not to be messed with."
Jack nodded as a sudden gloom fell over his face. "Yeah, no one in their right mind would mess with Jordan."
"Let me ask you something," his father said. "Do you mind who you are? Or do you just mind what other people think?"
Jack shrugged. "Does it really matter?"
"Listen," his father said. "I'm not saying it doesn't matter what other people think of you, of course it does. We all need companionship and seek acceptance from our peers. That's only natural. But the foundation for our happiness lies within ourselves." Again he placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "I am the person I want to be. Strong and soft, all in one. Most importantly, if I weren't, your mother would never have fallen for me," he said, voice ringing with affection. "And I would never have had a son like you." Squeezing his shoulder, he nodded as he spoke. "Yes, a son who cares about others. A son who is strong in many ways. I'm proud when you score on the football field and I'm proud when you stand up to those who do wrong. You protect those who need your help. That's exactly why I became a soldier, to help people, to protect them, and such a desire can only come from a very soft spot within you."
Tears ran down Jack's face and he hastened to brush them away, but his father's hand stopped him. "Hey, only morons don't cry," was all he said.
Chapter 14 – Thanksgiving, or isn’t it?
Coming home, Gabriel felt his spirits lifted. He flung his book bag into the corner, dropping every thought of school and homework at the door, determined to simply enjoy Thanksgiving and the time-off that came with it. "Grandma," he called, "did you see the note I left you? I was wondering if we–" There he broke off, too shocked to continue his train of thought.
Right there, in the kitchen, on his chair, sat his mother.
"Hi honey," she breathed, smiling at him. "It's so good to see you."
Still staring, Gabriel nodded. "You too," he whispered as his eyes turned upward, looking for his grandmother...and an explanation.
A cup of tea in hand, his grandmother met his gaze, a somewhat strained smile on her face. "Isn't this wonderful?" she said, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "We'll have Thanksgiving like it is meant to be, as a family." She sat down at the table. "Your mother came to see you," she continued, beckoning him to sit down as well. "So the two of you have four whole days to reconnect. You must have a lot to tell each other." Again rising from her chair she said, "Why don't I leave you to it?"
Walking out of the kitchen, she brushed a hand over his head. Gabriel could see in her eyes that this situation was a shock to her too. Not since the day his mother had left Kenton Woods almost twenty years ago had she set foot in her hometown again. She hadn't seen her parents in years. And although Gabriel had spent the entire summer in Kenton Woods, his mother had never once uttered a word about coming to visit. But now she was here. Right in front of him, sitting there, sipping tea.
Gabriel didn't know what to say.
His mother looked at him, then at the cup in her hand, then at him again. For a second she smiled. "Do you like it here?" she asked, eyes searching his face.
Gabriel nodded, wondering what kind of an answer she was hoping to hear. Did you miss me? he thought, but didn't dare ask.
"I thought you might," his mother said, taking another sip of tea. "This is a nice place. Nice little town with lots of nice people."
Then why did you leave? Gabriel wondered, frowning as his mother prattled on.
"Spending all day with your nose glued to a computer screen is just not healthy," she said. "I'm glad we sent you here. I really am." Then she looked up, meeting his eyes. "Aren't you? Now?"
Once again Gabriel nodded, thinking that his mother had no idea how glad he was that his parents had sent him to Kenton Woods. Away from them. It had been a chance for a new life, a real life, and he had used it. But it was also a life that didn't include them. Did they mind? Gabriel was dying to ask, but didn't. Instead he asked, "Did Dad come too?"
His mother shook her head. "He wanted to, but he had to work. He couldn't get out of it."
Again Gabriel's head bobbed up and down, remembering his old life, full of excuses and lies.
"So, what's new in your life?" his mother asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her left ear. "How was your summer? How is school?"
Gabriel remained quiet, thinking, You'd know if you'd called. "Good," was all he said. "I...eh...I need to go. I gotta get some homework done," he lied.
His mother nodded. "Sure, we can talk later."
"I doubt it," Gabriel mumbled as he walked away.
***
After sulking in his room for an hour or two, asking himself all kinds of questions that he knew he should have asked his mother, Gabriel returned to the kitchen. As he drew near, he heard his mother's voice, sounding agitated. "Why do we have to go?" she asked. "I thought you wanted Thanksgiving to be a family event. Not a party with a bunch of strangers."
"What are you talking about?" his grandmother asked, confusion ringing clear in her voice. "The Holmes are our neighbors. More than that they are our friends. Gabriel is best friends with Liam, and he is looking forward to having Thanksgiving dinner over there. Why is this such a problem for you?"
He heard his mother pull out a chair and sit down. "It's not." Her voice sounded feeble. "I just thought it'd be nicer just the four of us."
"It's just one evening," his grandmother said. "And we already told them we'd come. After all you never said you'd be coming for Thanksgiving. How were we supposed to know? It's not like this is a traditional visit." A silent reproach hung in the air at his grandmother's remark, and for a while no one uttered a word. Then it was again Gabriel's grandmother who spoke, her voice suggesting the willingness to see both sides. "Caroline, I know this must be hard for you, but can't you do it for Gabriel? He has been through so much, and yet he has come so far. He is an amazing young man." Gabriel smiled at his grandma's words, feeling the warmth that he longed for from his parents.
"What?" his mother a
sked. "What has he been through?"
"I thought you talked," his grandmother said. "Didn't he tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
He heard a slight screeching of wood on wood, when his grandmother pushed back the chair and got up. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but that is for him to tell you."
His mother exhaled audibly. "He doesn't talk to me." For a second she remained quiet. "I don't think he is happy to see me." Gabriel felt his heart jump as he detected a hint of sadness in his mother's voice. "Maybe I shouldn't have come."
His grandmother cleared her throat. "Now you listen to me," she ordered, voice starting to sound angry. "I know life has not been easy for you, but you're not the only one who's hit a bump in the road. And whether you like it or not, now you are the adult. You are his mother, and it is your job to make sure he is okay. You can't expect him to take care of you. You need to take care of your own life, which includes him. Don't for a second believe that sending him here for the summer solves the problems you have at home. Although I am proud to say that Gabriel has learned something since he came here, I'm afraid that you haven't." His grandma snorted. "You stick your head in the ground and wait for the clouds to disappear, but guess what? They won't move on their own. You're gonna have to make some wind. And if you're not ready to accept that, you might as well go home."
Gabriel froze, standing stock still as he waited for his mother's answer.
"Are you making a pumpkin pie?" she asked. "Need a hand?"
"I'd love that," his grandmother said, a smile in her voice.
***
Carrying one of the pumpkin pies, Gabriel walked beside his grandparents down the cobblestone path, down the sidewalk and up to the Holmes' front porch. All the while his mother trotted after them, as though trying to hide in their shadows.
Liam's mother opened the door, a joyous smile on her lips. "Come in, come in!" she beamed, rushing them inside. "Doesn't this smell like heaven?" she said, guiding them to the dining room. "Not to toot my own horn, but holidays are just what life is all about." Gabriel held up the pumpkin pie. "How wonderful! Another delicious smell. Can't have enough of those." She turned to the kitchen. "Roger, come out here and help with the table."
Liam's father came walking out of the kitchen. "You called, dear?" he said, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Oh, more pie! That's just–"
As his eyes fell on Gabriel's mother, he broke off, face frozen, eyes staring.
"Caroline came for a surprise visit," his grandfather said. "I hope you don't mind."
While Liam's father croaked something unintelligible, his mother said, "Not at all. The more the merrier." As she turned away though, Gabriel thought to detect a hint of disapproval in her eyes.
As awkward as their visit had started, it was nothing compared to the dinner conversations that followed. While Gabriel's mother only spoke when someone asked her a direct question, Liam's mother didn't seem to be able to stop herself. Liam's father offered a few interesting comments here and there, but mostly continued the earlier discussion about e-readers with Gabriel's grandfather. Nahla looked mostly bored, while Liam and Gabriel remained rather quiet, here and there exchanging a few confused glances.
After dinner Nahla vanished, most likely to her room, while Gabriel's grandmother helped Liam's mother in the kitchen. His grandfather retreated to the study and was soon sound asleep in the armchair by the fireplace, glasses crooked on his nose. Liam and Gabriel wanted to head up to his room, but before they reached the stairs, his mother called from the kitchen. "Liam, can you help me put the leftovers in the fridge in the garage?"
Grunting at his mother's impeccable timing, Liam complied. "I'll be right back."
As he waited for his friend in the hall, Gabriel strolled up and down the corridor leading past the stairs, looking at pictures of Liam and Nahla when they were younger. Leaning closer to inspect a camp photo, Gabriel heard his mother's voice whispering. "Believe me, I didn't want to come."
"I don't mind that you came," Liam's father said in an equally quiet voice. "I was just surprised to see you. It's been a while."
Not knowing why, Gabriel hid behind the stairs, peeking around the corner at his mother speaking in a low voice to his best friend's father. Their faces held mixed emotions that Gabriel couldn't quite understand.
"Yes," his mother said. "I remember the last time I saw you very well." Her voice sounded reproachful. "It was one of the worst days of my life."
Liam's father took a deep breath and, for a moment, looked down at his shoes. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, raising his head. "I told you I was sorry, but you wouldn't listen. I tried to apologize, but you were gone before I could."
Hands on her hips, his mother stared at Liam's father. "What did you think I'd do? Wait around for you to change your mind?" She shook her head. "No. You'd made your feelings perfectly clear."
Guilt snuck into his features as he looked at her. "You're right. It was my fault. I should have talked to you sooner." He shook his head. "I just didn't know how. You were so caught up in your plans. I didn't want to hurt you."
"My plans?" his mother asked. "I thought they were our plans." For a second she stared at him, then shook her head. "I gotta get out of here," she mumbled, heading for the door.
"Caroline, wait!"
"No, I need to go. Tell your wife thanks for this lovely meal," she said lightly, but her eyes held sadness. Then the door closed behind her and she was gone, leaving Liam's father in a puddle of regret.
Still standing frozen to the spot, Gabriel's hands slowly started to uncurl. But even by the time that Liam's father had returned to the kitchen, he couldn't quite shake the slight tingling that ran over his skin. Something incredibly bizarre had happened right before his eyes, but he wasn't sure he understood, much less wanted to.
Chapter 15 – Home
Walking out of his room the next morning, Gabriel found his mother's bags by the front door. With a clenched jaw, he went into the kitchen where the rest of his family was sitting around the table having breakfast. "You're leaving," Gabriel snarled, unaware of his anger until it came bubbling out.
His mother didn't quite look at him as she pulled out the chair next to her. "I'm afraid I have to. Why don't you come here and have some pancakes with us?"
"No!" Gabriel all but shouted. "You can't just come here and pretend that everything is fine."
Clearing his throat, his grandfather got up and turned to his wife. "How would you feel about an after-breakfast stroll, my dear?"
"That's a wonderful idea," his grandmother said, following her husband out of the kitchen. As she walked by him, she placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder and squeezed in slightly. "We won't be long," she whispered, smiling at him reassuringly as he met her eyes. Gabriel nodded, then turned back to his mother. When he heard the front door close, he took a few more steps forward, coming to stand on the other side of the table, facing his mother, desperately trying to ignore his trembling hands.
"Gabriel, I can see that you're angry," his mother started. "I just don't understand why. Is it still because we sent you here for the summer? Are you still holding a grudge?"
Gabriel's eyes went wide. "You don't get it, do you?" he snapped.
His mother's eyes grew angry. "Don't speak to me like that! I am still your mother, and you will show some respect!"
"Do you respect me?" Gabriel breathed, as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes.
"What are you talking about?" His mother shook her head, clearly confused. "Of course, I do. What kind of a question is that? You're not making any sense."
Feeling all strength slowly leaving his body, Gabriel felt drained. Unable to keep on his feet any longer, he pulled out a chair and sat down, resting his head on his crossed arms. "I just want you to be honest," he whispered, feeling his breath on his skin.
"Honest about what?"
His head snapped up. "About what's been going on at home. About our family. About how we barely see each other, and if w
e do, all you and Dad do is argue. I want to know what you're going to do about it."
"Not that again," his mother complained, rolling her eyes. "You're exaggerating! Every family fights now and then."
"I'm not talking about now and then, I'm talking about all the time." He shook his head. "I won't come home until you do something about it."
"Well, we'll see about that," his mother snapped. Glancing at her watch, she headed for her bags. "I gotta go. We'll talk about this later."
Brushing a kiss on his forehead, she grabbed her bags and headed out the door.
For a second Gabriel stared after her. Then his head felt like it was filled with lead and sank to the table with a soft thud. "Mom, please," he whispered to the empty kitchen.
***
"She just left," Gabriel mumbled, blindly stumbling his way through the dark cemetery. "Why did she even come in the first place?"
The gravel under his feet churned as he turned off the main path and headed past the grove of thick-growing pine trees. But even here, surrounded by a myriad of trees and bushes, Gabriel felt the icy night wind on his face. Biting his skin, it almost threw him off his feet. Gabriel leaned forward and, bracing himself, headed on.
The two headstones stood silently in the night, asleep under a blanket of dancing stars; the freezing touch of the late November wind meant nothing to them.
You're up late, Hannah greeted him.
Hearing her voice, Gabriel's head snapped up. "Don't do that!" he hissed. "You know I don't like that."
Sorry!
As the night air flowed through his lungs, Gabriel shook off the anger that had driven him from his bed. "It's okay," he said, sinking into the tall grass. Once again his fingers found a single blade, twisting and turning it, just short of snapping it off.
Come on. Tell me, Hannah urged. You know that's why you came here.
Gabriel shrugged. For a split second he lifted his eyes off the ground, glancing at the small headstone. A thin layer of moss started to grow down the western side, a silent reminder that time had already passed since the ground had last been disturbed in this place. "She left," he said. "My mom, she just left."