PRESENT
The night airis crisp enough to erase the reminders of the past. Standing behind the farm, I can hear the muffled and distant noise of my family. I inhale, slow and deep, and let the cold air clean my soul out.
I told Rhoswen I needed a few minutes. She didn’t pepper me with questions or concerns that would’ve felt like additional pressure. She just stood there in the middle of the great room while the family buzzed behind her. Incredibly, she looked at me the exact same way she did before we ever walked through the door for Twelfth Night.
Then she rose onto her toes, kissed me, and said, “Okay. Take all the time that you need.”
Just that simple. Just that easy.
Then she stepped back to let me regroup because she knows after the emotional reckoning I just put myself through, I need time to ground myself back in the now.
Above me, the heavens don’t care how many times I’ve been married. They don’t care about graves or betrayals or courtrooms or the week I didn’t sleep because if I closed my eyes, all my mind conjured up was Cassidy’s last breath. Then gasping for air when I jolted awake imagining someone was waking me to tell me it was true.
I stand there, hands shoved in my pockets, shoulders hunched slightly against the wind, and let my thoughts drift to the woman I left inside with my family.
Rhoswen.
I brought her here and assured her of her welcome. Instead, she was my rock as I was the one put on the hot seat. Confessing all the parts of me I’d tucked behind the mask I wear around my family. Never to be revealed during family time. For longer than I can remember, I’ve been ‘Uncle’ Charlie. The man who protects, the man who laughs.
Not the man who demolishes Twelfth Night with my past.
But, as my glorious historian tells me, history repeats itself and we have to learn from it.I wonder what my family feels about what they learned tonight. I scuff the snow covered ground with the toe of my boot.
That’s when I hear the hiss. It’s the only indication the back slider has been opened. It’s faint, but it carries in the cold like a whisper.
I don’t turn. I don’t have to.
Footsteps follow—steady, careful, like whoever it is doesn’t want to startle me. The crunch of snow is familiar. The weight distribution. The hesitation on the second step. The small pause like they’re deciding how to approach a man who just laid himself bare.
I know exactly who it is without turning around.
Keene.
He stops a few feet behind me. Close enough to be present. Far enough to give me space. The wind shifts. I catch a hint of bourbon and woodsmoke. He clears his throat like he doesn’t want to interrupt some deep introspective. “Charlie,” he says.
I keep my gaze on the stars. “If you’re here to tell me I should’ve kept my mouth shut, you’re too late. I’ve lectured myself three times since I walked out the back door.”
A beat.
Then Keene—Keene, who usually has a smirk welded to his face—declares, “I’m here to tell you I was an ass.”
I blink once to make certain I’m awake. The words make sense, but not coming from this man. “That’s one way to put it.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, but it’s not his usual cocky one. There’s a rough edge to it, like he’s scraping the words out of himself. “I was a dick because…I don’t know. Because for so long, you’vebeen this father figure in my life. It wasn’t easy to realize your life was changing and I wasn’t there for you.”
I turn my head slightly—not all the way, but enough to catch him in my peripheral. He’s standing with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched, face flushed from cold and guilt. It doesn’t look good on him. “I wanted to make certain she was good enough for you,” he states, then shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound right when I say it out loud.”
“It doesn’t, but I know what you mean.”
“I mean, it’s not like you haven’t had any women since your last marriage.”
“Wow, Keene. I didn’t know you were so interested in my love life. If I didn’t know you had Ali, I’d almost think you had a crush on me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
Ahh, there’s the Keene I know and love. I deadpan, “Impossible when you do it so well.”
He snorts, the sound escaping before he can stop it. Then his expression sobers again, and the smirk fades like someone wiped it away. “I really do apologize, Charlie. I was an ass at dinner.”