That’s al I saw. I was staring at my mother and father, who were sitting on Hank’s couch.
My Mom looked like an older version of me; tal , curvy, she’d gone a bit round and her hair was now dyed blonde.
she’d gone a bit round and her hair was now dyed blonde.
My Dad looked like a cuddly gnome, redheaded, blue-eyed, shorter than my mother (and me) by at least four inches and he sported a big beer bel y.
Obviously, Uncle Tex had done as he’d threatened and cal ed my Mom.
Shit.
“Sweet Jesus,” my mother repeated, stil staring at Hank and slowly coming up from the couch.
Dad was staring at me. “Roxie,” he whispered and I watched as he also got up.
I took in his face, wearing an expression I’d never seen before in my life, an expression that could only be described as “ravaged with worry”.
“Dad,” I whispered back.
Dad walked across the room, grabbed my upper arms and pul ed me roughly to him.
After he hugged me, he pushed me away, again with his hands at my arms, and stared at me. Although I knew the swel ing on my face was long gone and the bruising was (almost) completely gone, the scabs where Bil y cut me with his rings were healing but stil there.
“I’m going to f**king kill that motherfucker,” Dad said.
I closed my eyes.
“Herb!” Mom snapped and I opened them again. “Not in front of Roxie’s young man.”
Good God.
For the first time, Dad’s eyes moved to Hank and he let me go.
“I’m Herb Logan, Roxie’s Dad,” he put his hand out toward Hank.
Hank took his hand and they shook.
“Hank Nightingale.”
“Sweet, sweet Jesus,” Mom whispered, staring, bright-eyed at Hank shaking hands with Dad.
Dad dropped Hank’s hand and backed away.
“This is my wife, Trish. The Good Lord overwhelms her on occasion. I find it best to just ignore it,” Dad advised Hank.
Hank smiled at Mom.
She stared at him a beat and then her eyes rol ed back into her head.
“The Lord our Savior heard my prayers,” she told the inside of her eyebal s.
“Mom!” I cried, sounding uppity.
Her eyes rol ed back to normal and then she bugged them out at me. “What?” Mom said, sounding just as uppity as me. “He’s cute.”
This was not happening. None of it. It was just not happening.
I turned to Hank. “You can kil me now. Just take out your gun and shoot me. It’s okay. I give you permission.” Hank looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. He pul ed me to him with an arm around my neck.
“Sweet Jesus! Sweet, sweet Jesus!” Mom cal ed to the Savior, caught up in the divine intervention that was Hank and me.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Stop cal ing Jesus, Mom.
Hank’s gonna think you’re weird,” I snapped.
“She is weird,” Dad said.
“I’m not weird,” Mom returned.
“Trish, you’re a f**kin’ nut. Always were,” Uncle Tex boomed, cal ing our attention to him for the first time then he turned to Hank. “It runs on our side of the family.” That’s when it hit me.
Mom and Uncle Tex in the same room. Mom and Uncle Tex in the same room after years and years of not talking to or seeing each other.
I looked between them. Then I looked again.
Then my eyes fil ed with tears.
“Mom,” I muttered, staring at her.
Her eyes fil ed with tears too.
“I know,” she muttered back.
I walked out from Hank’s arm, hugged my Mom then turned my head to Uncle Tex.
“Get over here,” I ordered, my voice shaky with tears.
“Good f**king Lord. I wish Sweet Jesus would come and save me now,” Uncle Tex said.
“Get over here!” I demanded.
He came over and his big arms went around us.
“Happy?” he said over our heads as we repositioned ourselves to include him in the hug.
I looked up at him. “Yeah,” I whispered.
He was looking down at me and his eyes flickered. He waited a beat and then he kissed the top of my head. When he was done, he kissed the top of Mom’s. She and I looked at each other and burst into fresh tears.
“Jesus f**king Christ,” Tex groaned.
We ignored him.
We held on for awhile then Dad said, “Okay, now that we’ve done the family reunion business, maybe we can talk about my daughter being kidnapped and stalked. I might want to know a little more about that.”
I disengaged from Mom and Uncle Tex, wiping the tears from my face with my hand, and turned to Dad. “Hank’s handling it,” I told him.
“Yeah. Tex told me,” Dad didn’t sound happy and he turned to Hank. “How ‘bout we talk?”
“Dad,” I butted in.
Dad interrupted me. “Tex tel s me these are good people and they know what they’re doin’. I believe him. But, Roxanne Gisel e Logan, you got cuts on your face and fear in the back of your eyes and I’m your goddamned f**kin’
father and I need to be briefed on this f**kin’ situation. You got me?”
I’d heard that tone before so I kept my mouth shut and nodded.
“Herb. Your language.”
Mom had heard that tone before too and she never kept her mouth shut.
Before Dad’s head exploded, I said, “Why don’t I make us some coffee?”
“I don’t want no coffee. I want a f**kin’ beer,” he turned to Hank. “Is there a bar around here?”
Hank looked at me then to my father. Then he said, his voice quiet, “There is but there’s also beer in the fridge.” voice quiet, “There is but there’s also beer in the fridge.” Dad regarded Hank. “Son, we need to talk away from the women. I got things to say and Trish’s ears can hear what’s happenin’ two doors down. You get what I’m sayin’
to you?”
“What do you have to say that I can’t hear, Herbert Logan?” Mom asked.
“I’m not leavin’ Roxie,” Hank ignored Mom and how he said what he said stated quite clearly that he was not.
Dad watched Hank a beat, then I saw him smile.
Oh shit.
I thought I was in trouble, official, definite, certifiable trouble but I realized that now I was real y in trouble.
Dad approved of Hank.
I knew he would but I didn’t know it’d make me feel al warm and squishy inside.
“I’l stay behind,” Uncle Tex offered.