Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“I don’t know why I care,” she said, her voice betraying her as it cracked, little stutters of breath making her tremble. “I knew he had a child, but I thought––”
“The child was new at the time of the divorce,” Lang stated.
“Yes.” She deflated, sounding both sad and tired. “It was so long ago, but we’re almost the same age, and I—I wasn’t expecting that.”
Glancing at Lang, I noted the furrowed brows, his clenched jaw, and felt the simmering rage right there below the surface. And I knew he wasn’t angry for himself. He was hurt for his mother and sister, which made it so much worse.
“I liked it better before I knew the truth,” Talia continued. “It was almost heroic that he left us for his dream, that he would not compromise what he believed in his heart. I respected that and somehow that made it all right. Easier.”
Lang coughed softly. “Maybe his daughter’s mother—”
“Selah. Her name is Selah. That’s your stepmother’s name. Your half sister’s name is Jasmine,” she told him.
“As I was saying,” he began again, “apparently Selah didn’t mind being on the road with him, taking their daughter all over. He was playing a lot of clubs before he left—that’s probably how they met.”
“Are you making excuses for what he did?”
“How did you get that I’m making excuses for him from anything I just said?”
She was quiet, holding his gaze, and he stared right back. To anyone who didn’t know them, it would have looked bad, like they were both ready to explode and rain carnage upon one another, but in fact, a lot of their conversations worked this way, this silent communion between close siblings.
“Sorry,” she finally said.
“Me too,” he muttered, taking a breath.
“Tell me what you meant.”
“That having a home wasn’t a priority for him. He had to go on the road to fulfill his calling,” he reminded her.
“Yes. As musicians do.” She sounded not quite sad, but it was close.
“That’s right.”
“But Mom,” she said, picking up the thread, “and this house, our house—it’s her safe place.”
“And you know her,” he said, exhaling, putting an arm around his sister’s shoulders. “There’s no way she doesn’t keep us in school. There’s no scenario where that could have ever been an option.”
“That’s right, you’re right.”
“Plus, she had a job she loved at the school district, and so no, she wasn’t about to give up her dream so that Duke Webster could follow his.”
Talia nodded.
“She wanted everything to be steady and secure for us. That’s how she is. She’s a rock, and that doesn’t mesh with a nomadic life, living in motels and dragging her kids around the country.”
“So really, even though there was clearly another woman, fact is, he left because he needed a different life,” she concluded, taking a breath, her face suddenly looking better. Her light was back, all because her brother made her see the truth of the matter without sentiment or sadness.
“And a different kind of family,” I chimed in. “They’re different kinds of people, he and your mother. I’m sure they’re both a heck of a lot happier apart.”
“Precisely,” Lang affirmed, smiling at me, taking hold of my chin for a moment before giving his sister a gentle squeeze.
“Okay.” She took a breath. “It’s been a long time. I need to let it go.”
“People are funny about time,” Lang told her. “They think if enough of it passes, you shouldn’t be angry anymore, or hurt, or in pain. But that’s crap. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Some of them are too deep.”
She nodded furiously.
“But listen,” he said hoarsely. “You got Mom, you got me, and you got Del. You’re not losing any of us, Talia Jean.”
Her faint chuckle over Lang using her middle name was good to hear, and when she leaned back, taking a deep breath, then releasing it, her mother was suddenly there with a box of tissues.
“We will not cry in front of these people,” Etta commanded all three of us. “We will hold ourselves up until they depart.”
“And when will that be?” Lang asked her, sounding pained.
“I suspect after they eat and visit a bit more.” She slipped her arm through mine. “Also, your father wanted to see you and introduce you to his family.”
“Why are they here?”
“His youngest son, Maynard, has been accepted to Juilliard, and their whole family is taking a road trip together.”
“From where?”
“New Orleans.”
“What family?”
“Duke, Selah, and their four kids—Jasmine, Ford, Drea, and Maynard.”
“How old is Maynard?”
“Eighteen,” Talia answered. “He’s going to be a freshman. How old do you think he is?”
“That’s quite the gap in ages.”
“Why do you care?” Etta asked him. “And Selah was thirty-two when she had him; only a year and some change older than your sister is now, son.”
“That’s true,” Talia said, leaning into her brother.
“Wait now,” Lang said, squinting at his mother. “How do you know how old she was when she had Maynard?”