Page 97 of Exile & Lula

Accepting my past wasn’t easy. I flipped from mourning one day to anger the next. Often, when I looked at my boy, I’d struggle to understand how my dad could be so gentle toward me yet hurt innocent women.

I occasionally wanted to shut down my emotions. However, being surrounded by people who didn’t hold back taught me to face what I’d hidden from for years.

Little Paxton would never know such pain and confusion. He was much more of a Reed than a Shaw. My boy didn’t suffer in silence. As soon as he could walk, Paxton refused to be left behind. He kept up with his cousins and would imitate his big sister.

Paxton was also rowdy like his grandpa. He loved to sneak up and startle Pax.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack, boy,” Pax would warn when he got snuck up on again.

“No,” Paxton always replied and shook his head just like Dillon was prone to do when someone argued with her. “Not happening.”

Nothing really fazed Paxton. He was a calm kid. He liked to do everything. He was fearless against any threat.

Dillon remained a sharp, no-nonsense kid. She blazed through school, skipping grades and taking college courses while finishing high school. Though she was tempted to go into medicine like her dad, Dillon eventually decided to follow in her mom’s footsteps.

“Mom always told me that the world was cruel, and help wasn’t usually coming,” Dillon said when she was sixteen and considering colleges. “She said if I wanted the world to be better, I had to make the changes. I think I can help people more as a lawyer than a doctor. The law is one of the few tools the little guy can use against the big guys.”

Dillon also talked about going into politics. Change came from power, and the kid was a problem-solver. With the club’s backing and connections, I had no doubt she was capable of conquering any obstacles ahead of her.

“I doubt Dillon will ride with my club,” Lula said one day while our girl was home from college and reading by the lake with her nine-year-old brother. “But I can imagine Paxton running the club one day.”

“He’ll need to compete with Clint’s sons.”

“No, he won’t compete with them,” Lula insisted and winked at me. “He’ll simply walk up to them and say he should be the president, and they’ll obey. Remember when he convinced them to play soccer instead of football? Well, I suspect our boy will get his way with the president rank one day.”

I couldn’t deny Lula tended to be right about these things. We’d been together for a decade by then, and she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Though different enough to keep us forever fascinated by each other, we were similar enough to rarely disagree. No matter where we lived or what drama might happen within our families, the magic between Lula and me never wavered.

––––––––

THE END