Chapter 26

Vincent

The last few hours had passed in a whirlwind. In the morning, we were in California, and now we were back in Carlow Ridge. I had rented the same silver Mercedes, and I drove it down to the trailer park as Gemma gave me directions. I was excited and nervous at the same time. I didn’t know what to expect. I was going to meet the parents of a girl I had known only a few days. Gemma was sitting beside me with her hands clasped together on her lap. She looked just as nervous as me. She hadn’t believed me when I said I wanted to accompany her home. That I wanted to see her world. Now she looked like she was still in disbelief.

“It’ll be fine,” I said, reaching for her hand as I parked inside the gates of the trailer park. I had never been to a place like this before.

Trailers were parked in a circle, some of them supported by massive red bricks to keep them above the ground. There had to be at least eight or ten in number, but I could see very few people. Just a couple of kids were kicking around a ball in the middle of the circle.

Gemma must have seen me looking.

“A lot of the families have moved out in the last couple of years,” she said as we got out of the car.

She was back in her pair of jeans and the pink top and black sweater. Her hair was hanging loose in dark rich curls around her shoulders. She was right. I couldn’t quite picture her in a place like this. I smiled at her and nodded.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting to find, Vincent, or why you’re even here,” she said as we walked together toward a mint-green trailer that had its front door slightly ajar.

“I’m here because of you. I’m following you home, Gemma,” I said and placed a hand on her back. I could feel her muscles stiffen under my touch and I drew my hand away. I sensed that she still didn’t trust me. Perhaps she thought I had a hidden agenda for being here.

“Mom? Dad?” she called out as she climbed up the three steps into the trailer. I followed her, crouching a little as I realized that the trailer’s ceiling was a little low for me.

“Gemma?” an older man’s voice called from somewhere inside.

I was struck instantly by how small the place was. We seemed to have entered a kitchen/living room, which had a couch and a tattered armchair by the window. A TV was playing the news on mute.

Something like a stew was boiling on the stove, left unattended.

“You’re actually home,” a man said, finally appearing from down a narrow hall, supporting himself on a walking cane. He looked much older, older than I would have expected Gemma’s father to be. He was in a yellowish tank top and a pair of track pants, adjusting his glasses on his nose. A thick cardigan was draped on his shoulders.

He looked surprised to see me, as I stood beside Gemma with a smile on my face.

“Hello, Dad. I’m home,” Gemma said and walked over to give her father a tight hug. He patted her back but kept his eyes on me.

“Louise, we have a visitor!” he yelled out at the top of his lungs, and I stepped forward, extending my hand to him.

“Vincent Stoltz,” I introduced myself and we shook hands. His hands were thin and cold, but he smiled at me nonetheless.

“Stoltz?” He repeated my last name and I nodded my head.

“I’m Dan Ramsey, Gemma’s father,” he said, staring me up and down, still in surprise.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Dad?” Gemma said to him, leading him gently toward the battered armchair.

“Who is it?” A woman appeared, wiping her hands on a dirty apron that she had tied to her waist. Her eyes widened when she drank me in, her mouth nearly fell open. She was old, too, but looked younger than Dan. She had her daughter’s same smoky amber eyes. Her hair was curly as well, but was now gray.

“Mom, this is Vincent,” Gemma said meekly, standing between us.

“I see,” Louise Ramsey said, as I extended a hand to her. She was looking at me sharply, her eyes still wide and a cold expression on her face. I had expected no less; I had kept her daughter away for several days.

“Well, we hug each other around these parts,” she said and grabbed my hand instead of shaking it and pulled me in toward her. We were hugging, and I had never felt a warmer hug before.

When I looked up, I noticed Gemma’s eyebrows arched up. She wasn’t exactly smiling but she looked surprised, like she wasn’t expecting her mother to react like this.

“Well, you’re just in time then, children. I was just about to serve your father his lunch. Grab some bowls and settle down,” Louise said, walking past me casually to the stove. Gemma looked at me and I smiled at her.

“And close the door will you, honey? There’s a draft coming in,” Louise added, looking up from her stirring of the pot.

I had never seen my mother cook any meals for me. So, this was what a real home-cooked family meal felt like! I was the first one to grab a bowl from off the counter and I plonked it down next to Louise.

“Smells delicious, Mrs. Ramsey,” I said, smiling down at the shorter lady. When she looked up, she was smiling, too. Gemma had been worried for no reason.