Rekindled (14 page)

“Oh pish-posh, I’m fine. I’m just excited.” He grabs the door handle and flings it open, grabbing Callie’s wrist and tugging her inside before pulling her into a hug. “Callie, my dear, I’m
so
glad you made it.” His voice is thick with emotion and I can see the love in her expression as she hugs my dad back.

“Hi, Mr. Corbin,” she says quietly.

“Oh please, you know better than to call me that. I haven’t been Mr. Corbin to you since you were seven years old and Tate broke my favorite plaster mallard and made you take the blame for it.”

She laughs and pulls back to look at him, her hands resting on my dad’s biceps. “I completely forgot about that. He told me he’d give me his ice cream for the next week if I took the blame.” She looks over at me and gives me a wry smile. “Which, by the way, I never did get.”

“Well, I guess it’s good we have ice cream for dessert tonight so I can start to make it up to you,” I reply as my dad ushers Callie into the living room. He’s firing a million questions a minute at her, when he stops abruptly mid-sentence. “Oh my gosh, where are my manners? I apologize, I forgot to ask if you’d like a beverage.”

The corners of her lips tilt into a smile, and I can see the mirth sparkling in her eyes. “Yes, thank you, water would be lovely.”

I start to head to the kitchen when my dad sticks his hand out and stops me. “I’ll get it. Why don’t you two head to the couch and I’ll bring out some drinks and appetizers.”

Placing my hand on the small of her back, I lead her toward the sofa. It’s such an intimate motion, but somehow it doesn’t feel awkward, and she doesn’t seem to mind. Callie smooths her dress as she lowers herself onto the couch, and smiles nervously at me. Her hair is pinned up in a clip and her long black and gold sundress barely reveals a hint of cleavage, but I have to force myself to look away before I start to have overly friendly thoughts. Taken or not, I can’t help but notice how stunning she is.

“Wow, I can’t believe you guys still have this thing,” she says as her hands roam over the faded blue material. “I remember when we were eight and my dad would drop me off here in the mornings and you’d be wearing your Ninja Turtle pajamas sitting on this couch with a bowl of Frosted Flakes watching
that
TV.” She points to the television directly in front of us. “Your dad would make me my own bowl of cereal, and we’d watch cartoons all morning while he worked, then he’d take us down to the lake.” She smiles as she gets lost in the memory and I have to swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat.

Luckily, my dad reappears with a tray in his hands. “Here Dad.” I get up. “Let me get that for you.” The tray is filled with three glasses of iced water, a plate of Ritz crackers, slices of salami and various cheeses. I place it down on the coffee table.

My dad takes the seat besides Callie and I sit in one of the large suede armchairs across from them.

“So, Callie, I want to know everything about your life,” my dad says patting her knee with his hand. “Tell me everything, don’t leave anything out.”

“I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed, Mr. Cor—Johnny,” she quickly corrects. “My life has been pretty boring.” She picks up a cracker, places a piece of cheese on it and bites it in half.

“I don’t care, tell me anyway,” my dad says with a wave of his hand and a smile on his face.

“Well, I have a six-year-old son named Jonah who is the love of my life. He looks like my brother and my dad more than me, and he’s just the absolute best little kid.”

“And did you end up becoming a doctor like you used to dream about?”

“No, unfortunately that wasn’t really in the cards for me, I guess. I ended up going to beauty school and before I came out here, I cut hair over at a salon in Hollywood.”

“That’s wonderful. Did you like it there? Did you get to see a bunch of celebrities?” My dad asks while shoveling a cracker in his mouth.

“Yes, there were a lot of celebrities, but it’s not nearly as exciting as you think. They’re just normal people doing normal day things most of the time.”

“I met Meryl Streep one time, did I tell you that before? She’s even more beautiful in person than she is on screen, and sweet as a nectar flower too. She came into my shop one day and we spent an entire hour talking while I fixed her car. It was just lovely.” A loud beeping sounds from the kitchen and my dad scrambles to his feet. “My sauce!” He races out of the room and returns a minute later. “Dinner is ready. Shall we?” He holds out his arm and Callie stands, looping her arm through his, letting him guide her to the table.

“I hope you didn’t go through all this trouble just for me,” she says, staring at the floral-pattered china on the table.

“You’re the special guest of honor, of course this is for you. And it was no trouble at all.” My dad pulls out her chair and gently tucks it underneath her. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you, so I wasn’t about to serve you cold pizza or leftovers.”

Knowing Callie, she would have been just fine with pizza or leftovers, but it’s obvious she’s flattered by the effort my dad put in. Placing her hand over his, she looks up at him and gives him a warm smile. “Well, thank you, Johnny. I really appreciate you having me over, it means a lot to me.”

My dad’s eyes tear up and he gives her a quick nod before he heads back into the kitchen to bring out the food. You’d think the Queen of England was dining with us judging by the feast my dad prepared. Roasted chicken with angel hair pasta and homemade marinara sauce, salad which he prepared from scratch, cornbread he’d made from a recipe passed down for generations in our family, baked green bean casserole and two kinds of potatoes. He even brought out a bottle of his favorite wine, which he rarely ever buys.

“So, Callie,” my dad says scooping a large helping of potatoes onto his plate. “Did you know that Tate is a smoke jumper now?”

Her eyes widen with surprise and she looks over at me. “Really?”

“You don’t have to look so shocked.” I laugh as I grab another piece of cornbread.

She takes a sip of water. “I’m sorry, I guess I just wasn’t expecting that. I remember having to practically drag you on the rides during Winter Festival. You used to hate heights. What was the name of that one ride… it was like a boat that swung like a pendulum and you were always so freaked out that you’d fall out when we swung around all the way?”

“Evolution.” My dad chips in.

“Yes!” She snaps her fingers and laughs. “Evolution. God, I loved that ride. But seriously, that’s great that you’re a smokejumper, Tate. There’s no way I’d jump out of a plane, and even less of a chance that I’d do it jumping into a fire.”

“He definitely should be proud of himself.” My dad looks at me. “I know I am.”

Callie and Dad go back to talking about his shop, and then on to how she loves cutting people’s hair for a living. Talking about how even though it’s not exactly saving lives like she thought she would be doing, she enjoys the clients she meets and the stories they share with her. I listen to each story they share, wondering if this is what my life would have been if Callie and I hadn’t disconnected the way we did.

I love Julia, but there’s a small part of me that wonders,
what if.

When my dad asks about her marriage to Zach, she shifts uncomfortably in her seat and runs her fingers over her hair clip and mentions that she’s working on trying to get a divorce. She doesn’t say anything further, though, and my dad doesn’t push. And even though I’m dying to know more, I can’t ask her. I haven’t earned that privilege yet.

We finish dinner, and as Callie and my dad continue talking about their favorite episodes of
Bewitched
and other classic TV shows, I find myself studying her. Despite the fact that she appeared nervous earlier, she now appears to be completely at ease. Her face is lit up like a Christmas tree as she throws her head back and laughs at a joke my dad made, and for a split second, I find myself jealous that it wasn’t me who caused that reaction.

I remind myself that I don’t really know Callie anymore. I don’t know if she still hates cauliflower, or if she still spends her nights curled in bed reading those trashy romance novels she used to love so much. I wonder if she still wishes on shooting stars, or if she could even see any while in Los Angeles. The only things I know about her are pieces of who she was … fragments of her life that helped mold her into who she is now. I remind myself that in the seven years that have elapsed, we’ve built our own lives, completely separate from one another. Yet, as I watch her take a sip of wine, and smile at my dad, I can’t shake the feeling of how it feels as if no time has passed at all.

“Callie?” Tate says, as I head towards the door. Johnny and I finished clearing the table and washing the dishes, and he gave me a kiss on the cheek and made me promise to come by again soon. I wasn’t quite sure how to say goodbye to Tate, so I gave him a pathetic little wave and said “thank you”. I pick up my purse, but obviously he still has more to say because he walks toward me with purpose. “Do you have a couple of minutes, or do you need to get home to Jonah?”

Checking my phone, I look to see if Caleb’s called, but the screen is blank. “Um, sure, I guess I can stay for a little bit longer.”

“Do you mind taking a walk? I want to show you something.”

I know I should probably say no, that I should just thank him for the dinner, get in my car and go home. Instead, I let him hold the front door open and I slip past him, waiting as he locks the door and puts the keys into his pocket. There’s a full moon out and a smattering of stars stretched across the inky night sky, and the songs of cicadas singing fills the air as I keep in step with him in silence. We slip around the back of the house where there’s a large grove of pine trees, and I smile into the darkness when I realize where he’s taking me.

We walk for about five minutes before it comes into view. The red paint is peeling off, and the windows are covered in dust, but the large freestanding barn looks exactly the same as I remember it. There’s a soft jingling of keys as Tate inserts one into the padlock and we each grab a door handle and pull them open. He brushes past me and flicks the lights on, giving me a minute to let my eyes adjust. My gaze immediately locks onto the large blue tarp covering a car.

To the left is a large work counter that still has various wrenches, a hammer and nails scattered along the surface. I smile, remembering all the lazy summer afternoons that I’d spend sitting on that counter next to Rylee, as we ate orange flavored popsicles while Tate worked on the car. I remember laughing when Rylee finished her popsicle, leaving an orange ring around her mouth, and Tate yelled at her as she picked up his tools with her sticky fingers. He’d bought this car in particular to restore it for her for when she turned sixteen. None of us imagined she’d never see that age.

Running my fingers along the wooden surface of the counter, I pause when I see all our initials carved in choppy strokes, something Rylee had wanted to do.
I miss you.
I can feel Tate watching me as I take in every inch of the space, my brain overloaded with memories from what feels like a completely different lifetime. A lifetime where we thought we were invincible and didn’t understand how quickly life can be stolen from us.

“May I?” I ask, when my hand grazes over the tarp, and I quickly swipe my palms together to remove the flecks of dirt.

He nods and moves to help me remove the tarp, revealing a cherry colored 1970 Chevy Nova.

“You finished it?” I admire the car that looked nothing like this when I last saw it. It had basically been a skeleton with just the bare bones that someone sold to Tate dirt-cheap because they said it would be a waste of a project trying to find all the right parts. I can’t help but be proud of him for actually completing it. “Wow, Tate … it’s incredible. I can’t believe…”