were you, I’d keep your distance. You may still be the same inconsiderate prick. And maybe that’s the one thing we have in common. That our personalities haven’t changed much since the last time we saw each other. Because I assure you. I will still do whatever it takes to protect those I love.”
He opens his mouth, but I cut him off.
“Whatever it takes,” I repeat, my voice infinitely more threatening. I level a stare on him, then turn, extending my hand to Londyn.
She looks at it, hesitating, but to my relief, she eventually takes it. I need her skin against mine right now. It’s the only thing that seems to calm me, rage still bubbling in my veins.
We silently make our way from the fair and toward the car, no longer in the mood for carnival games and greasy food. Even Imogene remains unusually quiet, a feat for the little girl who tends to talk from the second she wakes up in the morning to the instant she falls asleep.
As we approach Julia’s SUV, Imogene breaks the silence. “Mama, what was that word the mean man called Uncle Wes?”
We all stop walking as Julia crouches down to her level so she can look into her eyes. I don’t envy my sister right now. How do you teach a six-year-old about hate when their entire existence is based on love?
“That’s an awful word, one we never say. You laugh when Mama says shit, ass, and the occasional fuck, but under no circumstances is what that man said allowed to be spoken in our house. Ever,” she emphasizes.
Imogene nods, eyes wide, the tone of Julia’s voice carrying the importance of what she’s saying.
“It’s a cruel word,” she continues, then softens her voice. “One used only by people whose hearts are filled with hate. And your heart isn’t filled with hate, is it?”
Imogene shakes her head, her eyes brimming with innocence. “No. Like you tell me, it’s pure and filled with love.”
“That’s right, baby.” Julia brings her hand up to Imogene’s smooth cheek, caressing her skin.
“Then why is his heart filled with hate? Do you think maybe he just needs a hug?”
I look from Imogene to Londyn at my side. Releasing her hand, I drape my arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward me. I half expect her to push out of my embrace, the gesture too forward for…whatever we are. But she doesn’t. She nuzzles into me, lifting her gaze to mine and smiling sweetly.
“I don’t know,” Julia replies. “Sometimes that happens. Some people are scared of things that are different. Of people who are different.”
Realization washes over Imogene’s expression as she looks at Londyn. “He didn’t like Miss Londyn because her skin’s different than ours?”
“Yeah, baby. He saw something different and got scared. But Miss Londyn doesn’t scare you, does she?”
“No. I like having her around.” A grin crawls on her lips as she leans close to Julia. “And I think Uncle Wes really likes having her around,” she attempts to whisper, but she hasn’t exactly mastered that skill quite yet.
I peer down at Londyn, her eyes shining, and offer her a slight shrug, silently telling her my niece isn’t far off. That I do enjoy having her around. Normally, I might be embarrassed, but not right now. Not when Londyn settles even further into my embrace.
“I think so, too,” Julia continues. “That’s because we all have love in our hearts, even if someone doesn’t look like we do. What’s on the outside isn’t nearly as important as what’s on the inside.” She moves her hand to cover Imogene’s chest. “Isn’t nearly as important as what’s in here. I don’t want you to ever forget that, okay?”
“Okay, Mama.” She smiles, then pinches her lips together, her expression serious, as if about to ask a question of the utmost importance. “Can we get ice cream on the way home?”
The tension immediately evaporates, all of us breaking into laughter.
Julia stands, placing her hands on Imogene’s shoulders and leading her toward the car. “Of course, baby.”
Chapter Fifteen
Londyn
“Want a beer to take the edge off?” Wes turns to me as we stand in front of Gampy and Meemaw’s house after watching Julia and Imogene drive off on their way back to the city.
“It’s been a long day.” I smile, but it’s obviously forced.
We’ve worked much later before, and I’ve had no qualms about staying for a beer and some burgers before heading home. But things feel…different. I can’t quite put my finger on it.