“You should. Spend time with them. Relax. You’ve been working so hard. And we don’t know when you’ll see them again.”
If only she knew what she was suggesting.
But I couldn’t go home. Not yet. Not after Clara’s confession last night. Today was likely my last chance to get some answers, and I couldn’t let her go, leaving me to wonder for the rest of my life.
“I’ll let you know,” I said.
“Okay. I love you.” Holly had been saying I love you for months.
I hadn’t said it back.
Maybe because I needed this closure with Clara. If I was going to move forward, I had to let this part of my life go.
“Have a good day at work. Bye.”
“Bye.” There was a hint of hurt in her voice. I suspected she’d cover it up with a smile, like she normally did whenever I didn’t reciprocate those three words.
I raked a hand through my hair and over my bearded jaw, then shoved my phone away and walked to the car.
“Was that Holly?” Clara asked.
I nodded. “She just wanted to check in.”
“She’s very nice.”
“Yes, she is.”
I had a nice girlfriend. And because of it, my soul felt like it was being ripped in two. But now was not the time to deal with this. First, we had a job to do.
“All good?” I motioned toward the yard.
“I’m ready.” Clara nodded and followed me to the gate.
The air was cool this morning as I unlocked the heavy chain. A breeze lifted the scent of rusted metal to my nose as I shoved the gate open wide enough to walk inside.
Clara followed close behind with August in tow. Her shoulders were pinned straight. There was determination in her gaze—yesterday’s fears weren’t going to stop her.
“This is a junkyard?” August shook his hand loose of hers and walked ahead of us both, turning in a circle to take it all in. Then he shrugged. “It’s dirty.”
I chuckled. Leave it to Gus to break the ice.
“Wow. Look at that.” Clara walked past us, heading toward the side of Lou’s shack. Her focus was on the green vines creeping along the exterior wall. “I didn’t notice it yesterday.”
The plant’s roots stemmed from a black five-gallon bucket. A bucket I’d helped Aria fill with dirt years ago. Whatever vine she’d planted had not only survived under Lou’s care, but it was growing wild. The far wall of his shack was nearly covered.
The plants had been here when I’d visited Lou, but over the past couple of years, they’d taken on a life of their own. With Clara running a fingertip over a leaf, it was beauty amidst the chaos.
“I’ll be damned.”
“Quarter.” August marched up to me, hand out.
Digging a dollar bill from my pocket, I smacked it in his palm. Just yesterday he’d earned another one from me. I didn’t realize how much I cussed until there was a kid to collect on every swear word.
“Aria is going to freak.” Clara took her phone from her pocket and snapped a string of pictures. Then she held out a hand for August. “Your aunt Aria planted this a long, long time ago.”
“She’s a good planter.”
“Yes, she absolutely is.” Clara giggled, and with that musical sound, I was blasted twelve, nearly thirteen years into the past, when living in this junkyard had been hard. But damn, it had been good too.
Whatever tension I’d felt this morning after another sleepless night melted away. We could do this today because we were together.
I could do this today because Clara was here.
“Shall we?” I jerked my chin toward our end of the junkyard.
She nodded, giving August a smile, and then the three of us set off on a path that had once been as familiar as walking down the hallway in my own home. There was the large stack of old hoods that we passed first. Then a line of engine blocks that Lou had arranged by size. Then two stacks of tires, three rusted trucks to round and then . . .
“It’s still there,” Clara whispered.
The tent that Gemma had built was nearly unchanged.
The canvas tarp that had acted like the front door was pooled on the dirt, dusty and matted from years of enduring the elements. But the walls were intact. The sheets of metal and the tarp roof were still pitched together and solid.
“Wow.” Clara surprised me, taking the lead and rushing for the doorway.
“What’s in there?” August asked, dashing around her.
His curiosity lightened the mood. He saw it like a child, as a fort and an adventure. He saw it for what we’d once seen it for too.
Clara was close behind him as he ducked his head through the door. She nudged his shoulder and the two of them bent to step inside. I crouched and joined them, dropping to a knee to take a look around.
The air was stale and smelled of earth. The common room was the same. The paintings that Katherine had done in her bedroom were there, nearly as perfect as they had been because the walls had protected them from rain.
Clara took a picture of them too. “I don’t know if she’ll want to see them, but just in case.”
She didn’t take a photo of Gemma’s room—the space that I’d taken after the girls had set out for Montana. The room where Clara had been mine. She wouldn’t even look there. She wouldn’t look at me either.
Was she thinking about those precious nights? Was she remembering? They were as fresh in my mind as yesterday. The softness of her lips. The sweet scent of her hair. The delicate touch of her hands.
No. Stop, damn it. Stop remembering. I shot to my feet and went outside, shaking the past away. These fucking memories were killing me.
So were the words she’d said to me last night in the hallway.
We hadn’t talked about it this morning. We’d spoken politely over breakfast, both of us counting on August to carry the conversation. Then we’d driven here in silence, and I’d stepped away to take a call from Holly.
“Now where?” August asked, bursting out of the tent.
Clara didn’t answer her son. She just took off on the narrow path to where the Cadillac had once rested.
The hole where it had been was noticeable. Other parts and pieces had been pushed aside, probably to make room for the crew to haul it out of here.
I studied Clara’s expression as she stared at the space. I’d give anything to know what she was thinking. To know if she was picturing two teenage kids staring up at the stars.
She gave me no insight before continuing down the path, her graceful steps a sharp contrast to the wreckage around us. Clara had always been too good for this place, but today, she especially stood out. Maybe it was the white dress she’d worn. Or the colorful flowers embroidered on the front that trailed from the neck to the hem that hit midthigh.
Did she always wear white? Since she’d come here, I’d only seen her in light colors.
I lingered behind her and August as they made their way down the path. I knew exactly where she was headed, and I didn’t want her to feel rushed because I was crowding her.
Funny how I’d needed her to come inside this place. But now that she was here, she didn’t really need me. Not when she had August.
I’d never seen a mother-son duo like theirs. Maybe it was because she was his only parent—I assumed she was his only parent—but they had this bond. It was like a string tied between them, visible if you looked hard enough.