Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,81

saw the good in that dog when no one else did.”

“Not all the time. Trust me,” Everett says with a laugh that lets more emotion loose than he was ready for.

“I think you have to figure out how to be yourself and also be the man your parents want you to be. I won’t be responsible for you turning your back on your parents. You’d be miserable, and I love you too much to ask you to do that.”

I can see him winding through every scenario until he arrives at the same one I did. He finally nods, his lips tightly pursed, his brow furrowed.

“We get to be happy, Ever,” I say. I dab at my eyes once more with his handkerchief, finally handing it back.

“Keep it,” he says.

“I don’t need any more souvenirs from you that aren’t actually you. It hurts too much,” I say, placing the handkerchief in his hand.

“Please,” he says, his hand pressing the handkerchief into mine. His hand lingers. He looks back at me. I give him a smile, a genuine smile for once, unguarded and vulnerable.

“Thank you,” I say, closing my hand around the handkerchief. I look up into his eyes and in the quiet of this hidden corner in the churchyard, the sun streaming down, I say, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He just looks lost. So sad it breaks my heart. I nod once more and try to keep myself together long enough to turn away from him. As I walk away, my legs almost giving beneath me, I dig through my purse and mercifully pull my sunglasses from its depths. I shove them on my red, blotchy face as the tears begin to stream down my face. I leave him standing there and join Merry Carole again. She wraps her arm tightly around my waist and pulls me close. Fawn and Dee are watching me like hawks.

“Queenie, you remember West,” Merry Carole says. I gather myself quickly, thankful that my sunglasses will mask my red-rimmed eyes.

“Good to see you again, ma’am. Cal says y’all went on a run this morning. I may just join you one of these days,” West says, offering his extended hand.

“I’d like that. I mean, I’d like it only if you’re slower than Cal,” I say, embarrassed that my voice is a little shaky.

“He’s faster,” Cal says.

“Then it’ll be a shame you can’t join us,” I say, calming down.

Cal and West both laugh. Shawn and Pete ask them how practice was this past week as I watch Felix and Arabella introduce Everett to a nice-looking woman dressed in her Sunday best. It’s clearly a setup. Merry Carole looks from me to the little vignette and I can feel her whole body tense.

“I’m okay . . . in that kind of dead inside way,” I say in a hushed tone to Merry Carole, a beleaguered smile breaking across my face.

“Oh yes, I’m well acquainted with that feeling,” Merry Carole laughs. I can’t help but join her.

“West, there you are!” Whitney says, inserting herself into our little circle.

“Hey, sis,” West says. Whitney’s entire body deflates. Her smile falters and I can see her flinch at the word “sis.” Once again, despite all of her terribleness, not being able to claim this delightful boy as her son must kill her. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Even Whitney McKay. Merry Carole may have been blackballed, but at least her boy knows who his momma is.

“We’d better get on, you know how your mom needs all day for Sunday dinner,” Whitney says.

“Yes, ma’am,” West says, politely saying his good-byes.

“Come on then,” Whitney says, urgently pulling him away.

“We’d better get on, too,” Merry Carole says.

“Queenie, we’ll see you in the salon tomorrow?” Fawn asks. This is not a question.

“Yes, ma’am.” I say my good-byes to Dee and her brood. Shawn and I don’t speak about Friday. I imagine he doesn’t talk at all about what goes on at Shine Prison.

“All right then. You girls be good. Bye now,” Merry Carole says.

We start walking home, past the loitering and laughing groups of churchgoers. Cal walks along on the curb, in front of us, his arms outstretched to help him balance.

“He used to do that when he was little,” Merry Carole says as we watch him.

“He’s such a great kid,” I say.

“So, you and Everett—”

“Done. For real this time. He has to figure some stuff out. So do I, for that matter,” I say.

“Dee texted that she was concerned. Said you looked real