Thick & Thin (Thin Love, #3)(68)
It felt damn good.
I could have loved you.
Sweet girl.
My mouth spoke lullabies Soundless now.
Silent as the grave.
I could have kept you
Still Next to my breast Songs older than my blood Older than time.
I could have held you
Beautiful boy Tender strokes in those sweet, soft curls.
Vacant now.
Blood to ash Into the earth I could have
But I can’t.
Seventeen
Never drink by yourself.
Grann told me that once, when she needed an excuse to have the small congregation of girlfriends invade her Tremé cottage on the rare occasions Papa had to work over.
“People always discover when you drink on your own, mon dous, because most folk are damn nosey,” she’d say, solemn and serious as though she wanted me to commit that bit of advice to memory. I did. I also used too much lemon juice and not enough Cognac while making the Sidecars she wanted for her parties. It wouldn’t do for grann and her friends to turn one afternoon gin rummy game into some sort of middle aged lady sleepover. Papa’s constant brooding would have been downright vicious had that happened.
The memory came to me from nowhere really. Nowhere but the poorly-disguised worry in Mack’s voice when she’d called me an hour before.
“Mama is drinking wine, Aly.” That in itself wasn’t a worry, but Makana’s voice still went shaky, a hint panicky as she spoke. “It’s not even two yet.”
“It’s Sunday, sweetie.”
“Koa said to leave her alone and let her pout, but Koa is a stupid boy and stupid boys don’t know anything. Besides, it’s cold out there, even by the fire pit.” Then, because she seemed annoyed that I hadn’t caught the gravity of the situation, the little girl exhaled, clearing away any remaining cracks in her tone before she continued. “She won’t come inside.”
The fire pit is precisely where I found Keira, huddled under a thick purple and green quilt with a wedding ring pattern woven into the squares and thread and what looked like one of Kona’s CPU hoodies. As I came closer to her, I knew it was his—it still smelled of his cologne and there were spots along the front that looked suspiciously like barbeque sauce. That man never could keep from a mess when he ate. Though, from the half empty bottle of Moscato resting against Keira’s hip, I supposed those spots could have been wine.
“Did my baby rat me out?” Keira didn’t bother to look at me as I approached, pulling that quilt further up her shoulder as though the flame from the pit wasn’t blazing full blast.
“She’s worried, cheri.” She went on watching the low tide of the lake, the soft current brushing against the shore as I leaned over her to lower the flame. “You gonna stay here all day?” Keira didn’t react at all when I tilted the bottle away from her, holding it by the neck. But when I looked down, waiting for her to look at me, her sigh and the flash of her gaze clued me in on the semblance of life flickering behind those dormant, mildly buzzed blue eyes.
“It was already open. I haven’t been out here drinking myself into oblivion.” She demonstrated this point by nodding at her feet to the full wine glass next to the leg of her chair. “I’m depressed, not drunk.”
“Good.” That glare lowered when I sat next to her, facing the lake. I could sit there all day. Sundays were for rest and Ethan…well. Things had been a little frigid between us mostly because he had been so busy with cases and I hadn’t given him a decision about our might-be/might-not-be engagement. He still wasn’t pressuring me, but I could tell that the passing days with no resolution was weighing on him. I’d also made zero excuses for helping Keira out with Koa and Mack. Ethan had given me a side look when I mentioned bringing Mack back to Mandeville after practice or staying with she and Koa so Keira could work. He didn’t ask why Ransom couldn’t look after his siblings and I didn’t offer any information about my ex’s PT and half-hearted attempts to get back into playing form.
Ethan didn’t seem to care about why I came to the lake house, only that I did. So he’d spent most of his night working on cases and not anywhere near my condo. Last night he’d left for Biloxi promising, via text, that he had to defend his honor against Steph’s claim she could out play him at the Craps table. So, he left and I got busy. My condo was clean, laundry folded and put away and meal prep for the week was done. Busy work. It’s not just for undergrads and first graders.
Keira barely moved when I scooted the chair close enough to rest my boots on the pit. She didn’t often pout. That wasn’t her style, but being away from Kona—and ignoring his constant calls or so Ransom told me—had put her in a funk. Everyone was allowed one off day.
“No studio work today?” I asked, nudging her with the tip of my boot when she kept silent.
“My muse left me too.”
“Keira…”
“What?” She sat up, turning around to face me, tucking her slippered feet under the arm rest. “That’s what it feels like. He left.”
“You asked him to, didn’t you?”
“That’s not the point.” The hem of the quilt got dangerously close to the flame and Keira threw it back. “He was supposed to fight…”