Chapter Twenty-Three
Traffic in Des Moines gave me an extra hour to think about everything at JenCar. My phone dinged text messages, but I didn’t stop to look at them. I didn’t stop at all. By the time I arrived on the outskirts of Kerns, my gas gauge dipped under the E. I needed to make it two more blocks and I’d be at Larry’s GasUp. I could already see the red and white sign, the four pumps, and the crowd at the attached cafe. Larry’s was a meeting place. One stop shopping so to speak, get business done, have a cup of coffee, gas up, and pick up the milk you forgot at the grocery store. There wasn’t much else to see in Kerns before or after.
The town always looked like it was on the verge of death, not unlike a lot of Midwestern small towns. The few businesses still alive were places like the gas station, Dad’s repair shop, the local florist, and the pharmacy. Even the grocery stores were national chains these days. The old brick buildings waited for occupancy, standing tall on the outside while crumpling on the inside. I loved coming home, but it always reminded me why I left, too. There wasn’t anything for me here. Except for my family.
The station was crowded for eight on a Tuesday night. I stepped out of the truck and into the frigid air. My boots crunched against freshly fallen snow. The five-hour drive turned the weather from threatening spring to holding onto winter. It was amazing what a few hours either way could do.
“Gonna get colder tonight,” someone said at a nearby pump.
“Heard we’re getting another shot of snow. ’Bout six inches or so,” someone else said.
I hurried around the backend of the truck to pop the gas cap. Coach Williams, the football coach, and Mr. Adams, a local farmer, chatted about the weather like long-lost friends. The truth was the coach hated this town and constantly applied for positions elsewhere. His sub five-hundred record assured him no one would hire him without a winning season. And he wasn’t likely to get that here. Football wasn’t as important as basketball, basketball wasn’t as important as baseball, and track was not as important as anything else—even band ranked higher.
Mr. Adams was a former Kerns football star who went on to play at Iowa State, although he never made it past third string. Adams wanted Williams fired. Williams wanted Adams to back off. So they talked about the weather like old chums. Such was life in Kerns. The enemy of my enemy was my friend, but my enemy could fake being my friend all he wanted.
I filled up, using my credit card reluctantly. The money I’d hoped to ease my finances with was gone. Tears welled in my eyes, but they still didn’t break free. All I could think about was my failure.
There wasn’t room in the driveway for my truck. Dad had a car on blocks covered with a bright-blue tarp. Inside the garage was another one. His SUV took up most of the drive, and Jacob’s two door Chevy Cavalier sat behind the work in progress. One of the doors was primed still. He had talked for months about painting it. Either he didn’t have the money or he didn’t want to spend the money. Dad made it clear when Jake got his license that his car repairs wouldn’t be free.
I parked on the street, pulling slightly onto the grass. Our house was on the edge of town where sidewalks weren’t needed and gutters weren’t made of concrete. The ranch house hadn’t changed much in my lifetime. Except for losing Mom. Then it felt empty. Dad did whatever he could to keep it the way Mom liked it. He kept the same TV, fixing it until there weren’t any original parts. He kept Mom’s chair, although it sat in the corner of his bedroom instead of the living room. He kept the color scheme the same, despite how it made the house feel like it was stuck in the nineties.
The pale-yellow siding seemed brighter against the fresh snow. The curtains were drawn over the picture window in the living room and the lights gave it an eerie glow. A silhouette of someone walked by like a ghost. It could’ve been Dad or Jacob. Definitely not Bradley. He hadn’t hit his Dawson height yet. The rest of my brothers topped six feet. Bradley and I were around five-seven. It could’ve been Trevor. He had his own place across town, but he was at the house a couple times a week.
My stalling wasn’t going to change the inevitable. I couldn’t sit outside forever. The cold would kill me faster than Dad learning I’d lost my virginity to a senior my freshman year in high school.
I opened the driver’s door and climbed out. The door slammed shut, the noise echoing down the quiet street. My phone vibrated against my leg. Once I got settled inside, I’d check the messages. Right now, I couldn’t face them. I just wanted to curl up in my old twin bed, tuck my pillow under my chin, and plan the next step. Preferably with one of the many stuffed animals that still littered my room as company.
The doorbell hadn’t worked in four years. Knowing that my father kept his pistol too close to his chair was enough to not just open the door and shout “I’m home.” I hadn’t warned him I was coming a few days early. And he was a good shot. I rapped against the white metal door.
Jacob yelled inside, “Get the door, loser.”
“You get it. You’re closer,” Bradley shot back.
I wanted to laugh at my little brothers but I was barely holding myself together. They argued over one another and a dog yipped. Wait, when did they get a dog? I’d begged for years for a puppy. Dad always told me no. I even went so far as to take photos of puppies at the pound and show him how cute they were. He’d look me dead in the eye and say no.
“Shut it,” Dad yelled. My brothers quieted down, so did the puppy. “You two bicker like an old married couple.”
The floor creaked as someone walked toward the door. I could almost imagine the puppy dancing around Dad’s feet. Tears filled my eyes. It was totally irrational. It was just a dog, just a pet.
When the door open, I burst into tears. “You never let me have a puppy,” I said between sobs.
“Munchkin?” Dad’s shock reverberated in his voice. “What’re you doing home?”
A little terrier sat beside my father and stared at me with big eyes. His shiny black hair had patches of coppery brown and white. I’d never seen a puppy so damn cute. I reached down to pet him but he darted back into the house. It only made me sob more. I fell against my father’s chest. His arms wrapped around me as he pulled me inside.
“What’s brought you home early, munchkin?” he whispered once I’d started to regain control of myself.
I glanced around for the puppy, but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Neither were my brothers. I stared up at my father’s concerned face. He’d always been there for me, even if he wasn’t supportive. I missed Mom. She would’ve known what to do. She would’ve helped me figure out this mess. At least I wanted to believe that.
Dad didn’t push me to talk. He waited, knowing I’d spill the beans when I was ready. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I didn’t want to see the disappointment in his face that I’d failed. Or the joy that he was right. It wasn’t that he was a jerk about my career choice. He was old-fashioned. Mom had been a teacher. Adam followed in her footsteps. He taught in Ames and worked toward his master’s in secondary education at Iowa State. Dad just wanted to keep me safe in Kerns where he could protect me from the big bad corporate world. As much as it pissed me off that he didn’t think I could succeed, it came from a man who’d lost his wife too soon. It was stupid, though. No matter the sentiment.
“I screwed up, Dad. I’ve…” I sat on the couch, keeping my gaze on the shag rug. “I worked so hard to get a shot at JenCar and I blew it. They’ll never hire me after I graduate.”
Dad sat beside me. “Why’s that?”
I told him everything, not leaving out a single detail about getting the internship or losing it. He never said a word as I poured out my heart. He didn’t chide me when I told him how they escorted me from the building. When I finished, he reached out and squeezed my hand.
“You know what your mother would’ve said?” he asked, his voice softer than pillow stuffing.
I shook my head, finally raising my gaze to his.
“She would’ve said ‘fuck them, their loss.’” My mouth fell open and a quick smile crossed his face. “Liv, your mother would’ve said that in a heartbeat. Then she would’ve made you hot cocoa to help you feel better. Now, I can’t make cocoa like she used to but I can try.” He motioned toward the kitchen. “You wanna give it a go? See if we can come up with something close to her recipe?”
Despite my anguish, I smiled. “You know I can make it.”
“Yeah, I know.” He hugged me again. “You’ll be okay, munchkin. JenCar isn’t the end of your road. They were just a necessary detour.”
The kitchen was stuck in the seventies with the exception of the fridge and stove. The avocado counters and almond cabinets didn’t match the stainless-steel appliances. The only thing Dad hadn’t done was add a dishwasher. My brothers had to take turns washing the dishes every night—Dad said it built character. I believed it was more about teaching them responsibility. That and he was too cheap to redesign the entire kitchen to make room for a dishwasher. Besides, he’d always said Mom loved the retro feel of the kitchen even if it was out of style. It reminded her of her grandmother’s house. And it reminded Dad of Mom.
I thought about what he’d said as I warmed the milk and melted real chocolate into the pot. Dad didn’t say “I told you so” or “maybe this isn’t for you.” He was comforting and supportive. I poured two mugs and added the whipped cream. It wasn’t real hot cocoa without whipped cream. Unfortunately, Dad didn’t have any cherries so I sprinkled cinnamon on top.
“Dad, can I ask you a question?” I set his mug in front of him on the counter. He sipped his too-hot cocoa and grinned. Whipped cream stuck to his mustache. “Why did you want me to be a teacher? Or a nurse?”
He set the mug down, wiping whipped cream out of the corners of his mouth. “Remember the first time you made this?” I nodded. “Bradley was only a few months old and it was colder than a snake’s tit outside. You’d taken over care of your baby brother the minute you got home from school. Your great-aunt Jan was always ready to bolt, too. Bradley wasn’t easy to watch.”
“He’s still not,” I said. Bradley never did like Great-Aunt Jan. She was just mean. Her idea of babysitting was to put my baby brother into his bouncy seat and watch her “stories” When he outgrew the bouncy seat, she moved on to other chairs. Bradley wasn’t even allowed to talk to her during one show.
Dad chuckled. “You got him to fall asleep pretty fast, though. Anyway, we’d all finished dinner. That you made, I might add. A nine-year-old girl cooking for a family of seven, you were a sight. Those were some of the best frozen pizzas of my life.”
“I learned to cook more,” I pointed out. By the time I was ten, I made a mean meatloaf among other things. Someone had to do it. Dad was too busy with working ten-hour days. Tony was too busy with the sport of the season. Nick was watching my other brothers, which might as well have been a full-time job. Someone had to make dinner. I’d take Bradley into the kitchen and wing it. He’d babble away while I cooked. Every now and then, he said something coherent. I just let him talk, and he hasn’t stopped since. Once I mastered spaghetti, I branched out with cookbooks from the library.
“You took over, Liv. You wanted to make sure we were all cared for.” He lifted his mug and took a sip. “But making hot cocoa with your mom was special. And you hadn’t had it in so long. You got it in your head to make enough for all of us.”
“And it was horrible,” I reminded him. It tasted like melted tires with too much cinnamon.
“Yes, that it did. But you didn’t give up. Every night you made hot cocoa until the boys were afraid to even taste it.”
I laughed. My brothers thought I was poisoning them. Bradley wouldn’t stay in the kitchen when I grabbed the hot cocoa pot. That was all it was used for, too. I wanted to take it with me when I moved into the apartment, but Dad didn’t want me to. He didn’t say that, but I could see it in his eyes.
“One night about a week later, you brought me a mug. I took a sip and it was like your mother had made it.” He full belly-laughed then. “Your brothers ran into the kitchen and finished off the pot before you had a chance to really enjoy it.”
“I do remember they had to clean my room for a week.” And they put everything in the wrong spot on purpose. It took me two weeks to find a library book that was past due. One of them hid it in my closet in a shoebox that had “private—keep out” written on the outside in block letters. Obviously, they missed the message.
“My point, munchkin, is that you didn’t give up because you knew you could do it if you kept trying.” He sighed and ran his hands down his face. “It wasn’t that I didn’t think you could be an engineer. I knew you could, and I knew you’d be great. When you came to me with the idea, I shot it down for one reason and one reason only: to toughen you up. I knew then it pissed you off. And I knew then that you thought I didn’t believe in you. But I didn’t know how else to prepare you for such an industry.”
“You knew I’d get treated differently?”
“Yeah. I’d hoped that you wouldn’t, that things would change, but I knew. Your aunt Joanie had to fight to be a doctor. And Aunt Beverly had to fight to become a psychologist.” He leaned in and took my hands. “They almost gave up. Even though I knew you wouldn’t, I didn’t want to see that look come across your face. I didn’t want you to even think about giving up. Tonight, I saw that look. It killed me to see you want to quit.”
I bit back another round of sobs.
“You were only nine and you took care of this family. Of me.” Dad swiped at his face, and it was only then I realized he was crying. “I just wanted to make sure you saw your dreams come true.”
“They will, Daddy,” I whispered.
He smiled and patted my hand. “Good. Just open your field of vision more. JenCar is not the only company in the world.”
“Can we come out now?” Bradley asked. I glanced over at his head peeking around the wall. Jacob’s head popped out over his.
“Yeah,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. “You guys want some hot cocoa?”
“Cool,” Bradley said as he scrambled into the kitchen.
Jacob followed at a slow saunter. The boys started talking sports and cars while I made the cocoa. A wet nose nudged my leg. As I stirred, the puppy sat at my feet patiently and stuck by my heels when I filled the mugs and handed them to my younger brothers.
I bent to pick him up but the puppy scrambled away from me.
“Harley, sit,” Jacob commanded. The dog glanced up at my brother then at my dad. “Harley, sit.”
I sat on the floor, crossing my legs.
“Okay, Liv, sit,” Bradley said before busting out laughing.
I gave him the evil eye. “Shut it, Brad.” Turning my attention toward the puppy, I held out my hand. “It’s okay, Harley. I won’t hurt you.”
“Harley, sit,” Jacob ordered again.
“Shut it, Jake.” I wiggled my fingers.
Jacob threw his hands in the air, but he stopped ordering the dog around. Harley stared at me with wide eyes, looking both terrified and hopeful at the same time. He hid beside my father’s feet. I kept cooing until he took a cautious step toward me, then another. After inspecting my hand, Harley wagged his raggedy tail and licked my fingers. I scooped him up, pulling him against my chest. Harley’s gentle licks turned into a complete bath on my face.
“Jacob found him. Somebody had dumped him on the side of the road in a rucksack,” Dad said, his brows curving in disgust.
“Oh come on, Dad. Nobody’d leave Jacob in a rucksack. He wouldn’t fit,” I kept my face angled for more puppy kisses.
“Funny, sis,” Jacob said. He finished his hot cocoa and slammed his mug on the table.
“Your brothers hid the mutt in the basement for a week. Now I can’t get rid of him.” Dad reached down and scratched under Harley’s chin. “He likes going to the shop, too.”
“If I would’ve known sneaking a puppy into the house would’ve worked, I’d have done it years ago,” I said as I stood.
“Nah, you wouldn’t have.” Dad ran his hand down the dog’s back, earning a loving gaze from Harley. “You’re not the rule-breaker around here.” He glared at Jake who shrugged his shoulders. “The guilt would’ve killed you.”
Harley leaped from my arms and ran into the living room. Ten seconds later, the puppy was back with a knotted tube sock. Harley dropped it at Dad’s feet and stared hopefully at my father. They played tug of war for about ten minutes, enough to wear the puppy out. It was cute, endearing, and I was still a little bitter I’d never tried to sneak one into the house. Whether Jacob found him along the road or not, and I suspected that was a tall tale, he’d succeeded where I’d failed. But Dad was right. I would’ve felt guilty for going against him.
My phone vibrated in my pocket again. I needed to let Paige know what was going on. She was probably freaking out since I hadn’t gotten back to her.
“Sis, you want me to get your bags?” Bradley asked.
“I didn’t bring any,” I said. It hit me over the head like a piano. I didn’t bring anything. Not my laptop, not my books, not my clothes. Oh shit. It wasn’t like I’d planned on staying long, but suddenly I felt exposed. I hurried toward my room and booted the ancient desktop. At least I could email my profs that I’d be out of class the rest of the week for personal reasons. I’d already cleared Friday with them. The computer took a lifetime to boot. I checked my messages while I waited. Several were from Paige, the last the most panicked. I immediately texted her back so she’d at least know I was okay.
Four messages were from Devon.
Saw Paige. She said you’re in silent mode. You okay?
Liv?
Did I do something?
Now I’m getting worried about you. Or you blocked my number. If you did, you won’t see this so…
The computer finally finished turning on. I set my phone down, debating on what to say to Devon. He said he was worried about me. It was sweet. I shot emails to my profs with as little detail as possible. It was none of their business why I ran away.
I picked my phone back up to a new message from Paige.
So you’re OK?
Me: Fine. Just confused.
I hit send realizing how true those words were.
Paige: Devon?
Me: No. Long story. I’ll tell you later.
Paige: See you tomorrow?
Me: Doubtful. I’m in Kerns. I’ll text you when I get back.
She sent a thumbs-up emoji. Taking a few extra days at home to get my head on straight didn’t sound like a terrible idea. I opened Devon’s messages.
You’re not blocked. Sorry, something happened and it has nothing to do with you or us. I need to figure a few things out.
He didn’t respond right away. I went back to my email, cleaning up the spam until the weight of the day took its toll. It was barely ten o’clock when I crawled into bed, snuggling the stuffed tortoise Dad bought me for my tenth birthday when we visited the Des Moines zoo. I’d felt sorry for them when we stopped by their enclosure. People didn’t really watch them. They’d glance then move on to something more exciting like the tigers or rhinos. Before we left, Dad let me go back to the tortoises. Nick stayed with me while I sat on a bench and stared at them moving slowly around the dirt. Dad came back with Torty. He said it was so I’d never forget to slow down every now and then like the tortoises. It was a nice sentiment, but I knew he really bought it to remind me of the day.
Maybe I needed to slow down.
For the first time since I’d finished it, I fell asleep without my quilt. It was a cold night.