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“So you discovered your passion early,” Carter remarked. “I’d say that is lucky. A lot of people don’t.”
“I guess so. Not that it really means anything.”
“Megyn…”
I waved him off. “I’m just telling the truth and you know it. Maggie told me sometimes you can’t get to your dreams the way you thought you could. Well, what I wanted was someday to turn this house into a sewing store. It’s just too expensive for me to hang onto.”
Carter sat down on my displaced couch. “You’ve never said much about your parents. Your mother died when you were a baby, I know. But what about your dad? Your step-mother?”
I shrugged, leaning on the back of the couch. He looked up at me, the gray hairs of his beard gleaming silver in the light. “I don’t think Dad knew how to be a dad. I don’t think he knew what to do without Mom. It was an aneurysm that took her. The doctors think it formed during labor, and then it burst a few months later.”
Carter made a soft, pained sound, a perfect representation of how I felt, too.
“They never knew. She was there and then gone, and Daddy was all alone. He did his best, but it couldn’t have been easy for him.” I folded my hands. “I think he started looking for a way out long before he left.”
“And that way out would have been your step-mother. Crystal?”
I jolted in surprise. “You remembered!”
“I remember everything you said to me.”
Could that be true?
I moved around the couch and sat down next to Carter, though I kept half a cushion between us. I went back to regarding my hands, not yet ready to look him in the eye. “Crystal was, I think, everything Mom wasn’t. She represented for Dad everything that he didn’t have. Freedom. A lack of responsibility. He pretty much left me for her.”
“I’m not quite sure who I blame more in this scenario,” Carter murmured.
I shook my head. “I don’t blame anyone. I don’t know enough about Crystal to do that, even though I don’t like for. For Dad… He was looking for someone and there she was. I don’t know how happy they are now.”
“What makes you think they aren’t happy?”
“Whenever I talk to Dad, it’s almost as if he thinks he has to do whatever Crystal says.”
Carter frowned. “Can I give my opinion?”
“I’ll give you a dime for them.”
“Hey, what about inflation?” Carter protested.
“Just because that’s what it’s worth doesn’t mean that’s what you’ll get.” I smiled a little. “I have to make a profit.”
Carter laughed. He touched my knee, or made to and changed his mind. If he made contact, it was too light and fast for me to tell. “That’s how it’s done. What I think is going on with your dad is the newness of the relationship is wearing off and he’s wondering if he made the right choice. Maybe Crystal is, too.”
“She is like half his age,” I said softly. I wondered if the age gap between myself and Carter had anything to do with our recent dispute. “They’re in different places, mentally.”
Carter grew serious. “Sure. But I don’t think gaps in age will automatically doom a relationship. I think it can be nice. You can have different things to offer each other.”
Carter has money. And what do I have to offer? Not much of anything at all.
Carter suddenly spoke again. “This might be a bit pushy. I know some writers don’t like to show a project unless it’s done. But could I see some of the things you’ve worked on? Even if it’s just the apron you’re making for Suzie?”
Sewing was always a safe topic. “Sure,” I said, and got up. “I do all my work in Mom and Dad’s old room.”
Carter trailed along behind me. I could feel his question hovering around his lips, a water droplet about to drop from the tip of a leaf. I went ahead and answered it for him, to save him at least a little bit of embarrassment from having to deal with me.
“It makes me feel closer to Mom. Dad always used to tell me I got my talents from her. She used to sew. I got her toolbox, remember? And she used to knit. She knit me a baby blanket before I was even born. I still have it. I can show you.”
“I’d like to see it. But I’d like to see your work first.”