Chapter Nineteen
Natalie hummed and flitted around her kitchen while she made Veracruz chicken enchiladas. I sat at the island and watched, chopping lettuce, cucumbers, and tomatoes for the salad. She exuded this loving presence, still in her paint smock with a smudge or two of paint on her nose and cheek. She had been painting in Porter’s old room turned art studio when we all came in a while ago. I only caught a glimpse of the painting of the Clairborne she was working on, but as far as I could tell, she had talent. I didn’t know a lot about art, but it looked good to me.
Natalie spread her mix of seasoned chicken and spinach onto corn tortillas with an air of content. Like this was what she loved to do. She was the kind of mom I dreamed of having.
“I’m so glad Charlotte let Porter take her to the store.” Natalie smiled.
I grinned, thinking about the fight Charlotte put up about it, some tears and slamming doors were involved. She was determined to get her way, meaning she wanted to go by herself or she wanted her mom to take her to get the supplies she needed for the lipstick science project we decided on. We were going to test the bleed and longest lasting coverage of expensive and inexpensive brands. Natalie told her if she went by herself she was paying for the supplies with her own money.
Charlotte was so desperate not to spend her own money or go with Porter, she even asked me to come. But I knew the siblings needed the time together, so I used the excuse that I was tired of being on crutches. Which was true. Tomorrow I planned on putting some light weight on my ankle. The doctor said I could after a couple of days.
Porter won her over with an offer to pay for the supplies, and he threw in a pair of new shoes. By the devious look in her eye, they were going to be very expensive.
“I hope they work out their differences.” I diced the cucumber carefully and uniformly. I was weird like that.
She half scoffed. “Those two don’t have differences; their problem is they are too much alike.”
“I could see that.”
She rolled tortillas and sighed. “I think Porter’s absence hurt Charlotte the most.” She gave me a small smile. “Present company excluded.”
I wasn’t sure that was true.
“She idolized him. And he spoiled her more than any of us.”
“Did they have any contact?”
“Oh, sure. Porter called her for a while, at least when she was willing to talk to him, and anytime he traveled he sent her postcards and little trinkets. She’s tried to pretend that she threw them away, but I found them under her bed in a shoebox. And he was always good about sending her birthday and Christmas gifts. This last Christmas he sent her a plane ticket to visit him.”
“I assume she hasn’t used it?”
“You are a smart woman.”
“So none of you saw him this entire time?”
She placed her spoonful of chicken mixture back in the bowl and paused. “I flew out to see him after he had been gone a year. He was living in Dallas working two jobs, struggling to make ends meet. I showed up at the restaurant he was waiting tables at. He looked exhausted, but he turned on some fake energy trying to fool me into thinking he was happy and doing what he wanted to do. I went there with every intention of begging him to come home, but . . .” she sighed. “I thought maybe that was what he needed. He needed to struggle. It’s good for the soul. Or I thought, even hoped, he would give up and come home.”
She picked up her spoon again to finish filling the remaining tortillas. “I guess I was partially right. He made it on his own, only it came at a greater cost than I ever thought he was willing to pay. I regret not asking him to come home then.”
“I don’t think he would have.”
“You’re probably right.” She sounded like all the happiness had been sucked out of her.
I realized how that might have come across and cringed. “Natalie, I didn’t mean because it was you. He wanted to make something out of himself so his dad would be proud of him.”
Her blurry eyes met mine across the island. “Beau is proud of him, he just doesn’t know how to show it when it comes to Porter.”
“Maybe this will be a new beginning for father and son.” I only said that to comfort Natalie; after their meeting today, I wasn’t sure how likely that would be.
She may have rolled her eyes when the spoonful of chicken came down hard on the tortilla. “I’m not holding my breath. Beau won’t admit how much he needs Porter’s help and Porter thinks Beau doesn’t know a thing or two.”
I set down the knife I was using, not sure if I should ask my next question, but Natalie’s all-knowing eyes said to proceed. “You know why Porter came home?”
She pointed her spoon at me. “Besides you, of course I do. Beau,” she practically laughed his name, “still thinks he can keep things from me. Like I haven’t noticed all his cost cutting measures, pacing late at night, the worry in his eyes. And I overheard him talking to Porter. His voice carries.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. All I kept running through my brain was that she thought Porter came home because of me.
She edged around the island and stood next to me with that smile of hers. She tilted my chin with the tenderness every mother should be required to have. Even half of hers would cure a lot of what ails the world. The world would be a better place if there were more mothers like Natalie. I knew how lucky I was, not to have been a statistic of my upbringing. Sometimes I shuddered thinking about how my life should have turned out according to the unwritten rules of life. I guess in my own right, I was a rule breaker too.
“Don’t look so surprised. Beau asked Porter to come several weeks ago.” She dropped her hand. “Not in the most loving fashion mind you. I wanted to barge into his office and tell him he was doing it all wrong. That he should’ve asked him to come home a long time ago and not because he needed his help. I thought for sure he wouldn’t come home, but then,” her mouth up turned, “he posted a picture of you.”
My cheeks burned.
“Ah, you know about the picture.”
I looked down at the pile of cucumbers on the cutting board. “I may have checked him out online a few times.” A few times every few months, but who was counting?
Her laughter filled the kitchen. It was the loveliest laugh ever. “And what did you think of my son’s online exploits?”
I braved facing her. There was no judgment in her eyes. “He certainly didn’t lack for female company.”
Her face tinged red. “Yes, well, he could’ve made better choices.”
“You mean you didn’t like Honey or Skipper?”
“Oh, honey, don’t even get me started. Believe me, I kept my eye on the situation. If I had to, I was planning on saving my son from himself. Thankfully,” she grinned at me, “he came to his senses.”
“I don’t think he came here because of me. He wants to make things right with his family and the Clairborne.”
She waved off my remark. “He could’ve helped the Clairborne from where he was at. Not to say that he doesn’t want to make amends.” She placed her manicured hand over my heart.
It was a little awkward, her basically touching my breast.
“But make no mistake, he came home to capture your heart. I knew it from the moment he walked in the door last week. He was a man on a mission.” She removed her hand and walked back toward her side of the island. “It’s why Beau and I were a . . . bit much, when we saw you at the reception.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. That was an understatement.
“We both knew if there was any chance of Porter staying, you would have to be part of the package. And,” she gave me the softest look, “from our brief interaction, I thought perhaps you might need us as much as we wanted you. You don’t know how much I wish I would’ve done more for you while you worked for us.”
I focused back on chopping the vegetables. Her words touched me to the center of my soul. “You did more for me than you’ll ever know. My time here was the happiest of my life.” I tried to keep the lacrimal fluids in check but wasn’t succeeding.
She too seemed to have a hard time staving off the tears. “Well, I’m happy to hear that, but we should have done more.”
“You let me date Porter even though we were breaking the rules,” I said sheepishly.
“I wish I could say that was for altruistic reasons.”
“Whatever the reason, it made a world of difference to me.”
Natalie caught my attention with her gaze. “What difference is it making now?” Her tone was half cautious, half optimistic.
I met her inquisitive stare. “This has all been so unexpected. It’s a lot to take in. And Porter has always made it so easy to get swept up in him. There is so much more now to think of. I want to do the right thing for both of us. Honestly, I’ve been running from my feelings for most of my life; it’s hard when you come face-to-face with them. And what do you do when the person that you’ve loved most in your life has caused the most hurt?”
Her perfectly shaped brows came together while she thought for a moment. “The people that we love most in our life always have the power to hurt us the most. And as hard as it is to reconcile, they will be the ones to hurt us the most. Not that you should ever cause intentional hurt. Sometimes you might not even know that you hurt someone. Most of the time they probably don’t even know they hurt you.”
“I’m pretty sure Porter knew he hurt me.”
“Oh, he knew. I’m not excusing him, but I think, as is the case most of the time, he allowed his own pain to take precedence. As humans, we are typically selfish beings. It takes great maturity and self-awareness to learn when we should place another’s hurt above our own. And to know when it’s worth risking your heart.”
“What if you make the wrong choice?”
She gave me the smile of a woman who knew a thing or two. “Honey, the question isn’t if, it’s when. But,” she paused, “if it’s meant to work out, you’ll find life usually has a way of giving you a second chance. And if you’re really lucky, maybe even a third or fourth.”
Was life giving Porter and me a second chance?