Straddling the Line

TWENTY-ONE

HAVEN HADN’T BEEN HOME IN A WHILE. SHE’D LEFT Oklahoma when she’d gotten the job offer from the network, had settled into her apartment in New York, and had stayed there, determined to make it work.

She’d almost quit, had almost packed up her things several times, determined to find a job back home. It had been her mother who’d forced her to stay in New York, had told her she should at least try before she gave it up.

And then the assignment to do Trevor’s feature story had come up.

Now, she still wasn’t certain this was the job she wanted to do for the rest of her life, but at least she was working.

“Excited to see home again?” Trevor asked as they pulled off the turnpike.

“Yes.” She was looking forward to seeing her mom. And dreading the visit home at the same time. For so many reasons, including reliving her father’s last days. She couldn’t help but feel the shroud of overwhelming sadness wash over her, remembering the last time she was here. She’d left a couple of weeks after her father died. She’d had to go back to Dallas—back to her job. She’d wanted to stay longer, but her mom had insisted she start working again. And then she’d gotten the new job in New York, and it had been a whirlwind of packing and travel, forcing her to put away her grief to deal with later.

Life went on, her mom said. And so did work. Even her mom had returned to work. It’s what we do, she’d said.

But Haven hadn’t felt much like working. All she’d wanted to do was be with her mom and try to make sense of a world without her father in it.

Nothing had made sense back then.

It still didn’t. Not without Dad. She still missed his counsel, still couldn’t believe she couldn’t pick up the phone and send him a text message, or call and talk to him whenever she felt like it.

He’d have been devastated about the Rivers’ loss. She’d have commiserated with him. They’d have talked about what went wrong, what the Rivers could have done better, and how they’d come back stronger next season. Her dad would have likely called Trevor as well, would give him a pep talk and tell him how well he’d played this season.

She wondered if Trevor was missing her dad. She wouldn’t ask him.

She took a deep breath.

“You okay over there?” Trevor asked.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t be tired. Let’s get pumped here. I’m looking forward to seeing your mom.”

She liked his enthusiasm, but she knew why. “You’re looking forward to eating my mom’s cooking.”

Trevor grinned. “Yeah, there’s that, too.”

The camera crew was going to meet them down here tomorrow. Today, they’d have a reprieve, and she could focus on seeing her mom.

When they pulled onto the campus and she saw the familiar buildings and the streets where she’d grown up, she felt both a sense of calm and a melancholy she couldn’t shake. Everything was the same, and yet it was never going to be the same again.

She used to look forward to coming home, mainly because it was home. Mom and Dad were there, and she’d always felt safe and welcome here. The one thing she could always count on was a sense of family, of routine.

Now? It just felt . . . lonely. She didn’t know how her mother dealt with this every day.

But when they pulled into the driveway and she saw her mom come outside, her lips tilted.

Yes, this was still home. Mom was here. As soon as Trevor put the car in park, she unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. Her mom came down the driveway and Haven threw herself into her mother’s waiting arms.

A hug had never felt so good.

“Oh, Haven, I missed you so much.”

She might never move from the comforting, welcoming feel of her mom’s embrace.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Her mom took her hands and took a step back. “You look good. But you’ve lost weight.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have. A mother knows these things.”

A mother—her mother—always thought she wasn’t eating enough. It was just her way of wanting to feed her constantly. Not that Haven minded that, since she loved home cooking.

As she stepped back, she realized her mother was the one who’d lost weight. But not in a bad way. “You look awesome.”

Her mother grinned. “Thanks, honey.”

“And you,” her mom said, turning her attention to Trevor, who’d been patiently standing by Haven’s side. “You come here and give me a giant hug.”

Trevor scooped up Haven’s mom into a giant bear hug. “Hi, Miss Ginger. It’s good to see you.”

“Oh, you, too. You look amazing as always.”

“So do you,” he said after he set her down. “I’ll grab our bags while you two go inside.”

Haven walked in with her mom. “I made stew. It’s a little chilly out here today. It’s definitely startin’ to feel like fall—finally.”

“Stew sounds great, Mom.” She set her purse by the front door and followed the incredible smell into the kitchen.

“There’s a pitcher of sweet tea on the table.”

There always was. The only thing different was her dad’s place at the head of the table was now empty. Haven’s heart squeezed, but she tamped down that tug of painful emotion and pulled her chair out and took a seat. She poured a glass of tea and took several sips.

Her mom looked good as she bustled around the kitchen. Really good. Other than that, nothing much seemed to have changed. It had been a couple of months since she’d been back home.

She felt guilty about that. She spoke to her mother frequently on the phone, and she’d wanted to get back, but between ending her job in Dallas and starting the new one in New York, she’d been busy.

And maybe avoiding.

“I put your things up in your room, Haven,” Trevor said as he made his way into the kitchen.

“Thanks.”

“Did you put your stuff in the guest room, Trevor?” Haven’s mom asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Thanks for letting me bunk here.”

“It’s no problem. There’s no reason for you to stay at a hotel when we have plenty of room here. Isn’t that right, Haven?”

Haven cast a quick glance at Trevor, who slid her a half smile.

“Right, Mom.”

“I hope you’re both hungry, because supper is ready.”

“I’m starving,” Trevor said.

“He’s been anticipating your cooking the entire trip over here.”

Her mom beamed a wide smile. “I’m glad to hear that. Haven, why don’t you set the table, and Trevor, you can bring the pot of stew over. I’ll get the bread out of the oven.”

They dug in, and Trevor filled her mom in on baseball.

“I’m sure sorry to hear about the end of your season, Trevor. I know how hard you all worked. I watched all the games, and you gave it your best shot. There’s nothin’ more you could have done.”

“I know, but it sure feels sh—It sure feels bad to have lost it right there at the end.”

“I know it does, honey. And I also know how competitive you are. If Bill were here, he would have been just as disappointed as you are. But he would have been proud of you.”

Trevor gave her a gentle smile. “Thank you, Miss Ginger. I appreciate you saying that.”

“So now you’re off to play football with Tampa?”

“Yes, ma’am. Looking forward to it, too.”

“I just don’t know how you change gears like that. From baseball to football in an instant.”

“It’s pretty easy. I’ve been following the team. They’re doing good. They’ll do even better once I’m there.”

Haven rolled her eyes. Her mother laughed.

“I’ve always liked your confidence, Trevor. That’s why you’re so good at what you do.”

“And what about you, Miss Ginger? What are you up to these days?”

“Oh, a lot, actually. Since Bill passed away, I’m no longer a dorm parent.”

Haven’s head shot up. “What? Why not?”

“They need a man and a woman for the position, and without your dad, I could no longer meet the requirements.”

Trevor frowned. “So . . . what? They just fired you?”

“Now calm down. They did not just fire me. I’ve been working part time in admissions, but I’ve gone back to school to get my teaching credential. I used to teach a long time ago. Maybe you don’t remember that, Haven.”

Haven’s stomach had knotted up with worry. “I remember you telling me that before you and Dad started as dorm parents, you taught high school.”

“I did. High school English. It’s been a while so I need to brush up, but I’ve decided I want to teach again.”

“Good for you, Miss Ginger,” Trevor said. “I think you’d make an excellent teacher. Kids really flock to you, and you have a great understanding of their emotions.”

“Thank you, Trevor. I’m excited. For the first time since Bill died, something has lit a fire under me.”

Haven had no idea about any of this. She felt so out of touch with her mom and what had been going on. She reached across the table and squeezed her mother’s hand. “You’re sure this is what you want to do?”

“Yes. I’ve also renewed my gym membership. I go almost every day with Wanda Dixon and Cathlyn Simms. We started out on the cardio equipment and took up weights. We also take a Zumba class. Now that is fun.”

Haven blinked. Her mom at the gym? It was like she didn’t even know her anymore. No wonder she looked so different. Her cheeks were rosy and she was smiling a lot.

“That’s awesome, Miss Ginger. Exercise is great for you. You must feel really good.”

Her mom nodded at Trevor. “I feel amazing. I’ve lost fifteen pounds, and I’ve been sleeping better than I have in years.”

“That’s just . . . great.” Haven wanted to be happy for her mom. She really did. But something didn’t feel right.

“And then there’s this book club I joined as well. We meet once a week on Thursday nights. I’m reading a lot again. It’s so refreshing. So eye-opening.”

Haven leaned back in her chair, unable to fight the tears.

Her mom frowned. “Haven, what’s wrong?”

“Wow. It’s a good thing Dad died, so you could have this whole new life, isn’t it, Mom?”

“Haven. Honey, it’s not like that at all.”

“Isn’t it? Your life improved after he died, didn’t it? Look at all the fun you’re having now.” She pushed back from the table. “Excuse me. I need some air.”

She fled the kitchen and grabbed the car keys Trevor had left on the table by the front door. Without thinking, she got in the car and backed down the driveway, knowing only that she had to get out of there, had to get away from her house and her mother and everything that just wasn’t the same anymore.

Not only was Dad not there, leaving a gaping hole in her life, but now her mother was this completely different person.

Did everything have to change? Everyone?

She had to go see her dad and try to make sense of all of this.

TREVOR COULDN’T BELIEVE THE WORDS THAT HAD spilled out of Haven’s mouth. She was always so sweet, so sensitive to everyone around her, especially her mother.

But she’d just cut down her mom, and in the cruelest way possible.

“Miss Ginger. I’m sorry. You have to know she didn’t mean it.”

Tears welled in Ginger’s eyes. “Oh, honey. I know she didn’t. This past year has been so hard for her. She was so close to Bill and losing him devastated her. God, it devastated me. I could barely function the first couple of months after he was gone. I don’t know what I would have done without Haven, without my friends and family. But Haven, she pulled it all inside and wanted me to think she was fine. She felt she had to be the strong one for me when I knew deep down inside she wasn’t all right. That’s why I called you.”

“I’m glad you did. But I thought she was coming out of it, that she was through the worst of it.”

Ginger nodded. “I think she wanted to walk into her house and see that nothing had changed. It’s bad enough her daddy isn’t here anymore. And now everything else is different, including me.”

Trevor felt the need to defend Ginger. “You have a right to move on with your life.”

“I know that, and you know that. But I don’t think she understands just yet that Bill is, was, and always will be the great love of my life. And whether my weight or my occupation changes, how I feel about him never will.”

She pushed back from the chair. “I need to go talk to her.”

Trevor stood. “I’ll go with you.”

She laid her hand on his chest. “No, honey. This one I have to do alone. I’ll bring her back with me.”

Trevor watched Ginger grab her keys and walk out the door, wishing there was something he could do to help.

But Ginger was probably right. This conversation had to be between mother and daughter. And he couldn’t intervene.

He’d never felt more helpless.