Page 23 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis (In The Heart of A Valentine #17)

Chapter

Fifteen

NAOMI

Sunday brunch at the Blackford house was a tradition that had followed me through my teenage rebellion, college years, marriage, and divorce. Some things never changed, and I was grateful for that consistency.

“Naomi, sweetheart.” My mother’s warm voice floated from the kitchen. “You’re just in time. The cornbread just came out.”

I followed the sound of her voice, stepping into the kitchen that hadn’t changed much in years. These were the same mauve walls, same wooden table where I’d done homework and had my first heartbreak. The same ceramic roosters lined the windowsill that my father pretended to hate but secretly loved.

“Hey, Mama.” I kissed her cheek, breathing in the vanilla and lavender that became her favorite fragrance. At sixty-two, Brenda Blackford was still beautiful, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a neat bun, her brown skin smooth and as flawless as my own. “Where’s Daddy?”

“Out back, fussing with that wheelchair again. The left wheel keeps sticking, and you know how he gets when things don’t work properly.”

I grimaced. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that he’s been stuck in the house for three days. The VA keeps saying they’ll send someone to look at it, but you know how that goes.”

I knew how that went. The same bureaucratic runaround that had been going on for months. “Maybe I should just…”

“Don’t you dare.”My mother pointed a wooden spoon at me. “We’ve talked about this. Your father’s pride is worth more than the money it would cost to fix it.”

But his mobility was worth more than his pride. I swallowed the argument we’d had dozens of times and instead focused on setting the table. Whether they wanted my help or not he would get it.

“How’s the training going?”she asked, stirring inside a bowl with her spoon.

“It’s good, exhausting as it should be. The marathon is quickly approaching.”I arranged the plates she’d handed me, trying to keep the stress out of my voice. “The charity component adds extra motivation.”

“Thirty-five thousand dollars to the winner’s chosen charity is wonderful. Your father’s so proud that you’re doing this for other veterans.”

That was my father, clueless that I was doing this mostly for him. The wheelchair my father needed cost eight thousand dollars, money the VA wouldn’t approve. If I won the competition, the money would be enough to cover his wheelchair and others.

The back door squeaked open, and my father rolled in with frustration written across his wrinkled face.

Mason Blackford at sixty-nine was still the most dignified man I’d ever known, in spite of the challenges life had thrown at him.

Three tours overseas had worn his body, and as a result, disabled him, bounded to the wheelchair for mobility.

“Daddy.”I bent down to hug him, feeling the strength in his shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“Like this damn chair is trying to make me a prisoner in my own house.”He wheeled himself to his spot at the table, the chair grinding ominously with every turn. “Sorry for the language, sweethearts.”

“We’ve heard worse from you when you’re watching football,”my mother said, setting a platter of fried chicken on the table. “Naomi, grab the green beans from the stove.”

Lunch was spread before us like a feast—cornbread, fried chicken, green beans slow-cooked with ham hock, mashed potatoes, and my mother’s famous sweet tea that was more sugar than tea. This was comfort food at its finest.

“Lord, bless this food and the hands that prepared it,”my father said. “And bless our family, keep us safe, and help us remember that we’re stronger together than apart. Amen.”

“Amen,”my mother and I echoed.

We enjoyed our food together, neither of us talking while we chomped down. After clearing half our plates, my mother dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

“Mrs. Henderson’s granddaughter is getting married next month,”my mother said, passing the green beans. “It’ll be her fourth wedding this year at the church. Reverend Johnson says he’s never married so many young couples.”

“Good for them,”my father said. “The world needs more people willing to commit to each other.”

“That reminds me,”my mother’s tone shifted, and I felt my shoulders tense. “We had an unexpected visitor this week.”

I frowned. “Who?”

“Gerald stopped by Tuesday evening.”

My appetite was instantly lost, and I guess it was a good thing I’d eaten half my plate, or I would starve tonight. “He what?”

“Now, honey, before you get upset…”my mother started.

“He came to our house?”My voice rose. “What did he want?”

My father set down his fork, his expression hardening. “Same thing he always wants. Money.”

“He said he needed to borrow three thousand dollars for heart medication,”my mother continued. “Talking about his insurance wouldn’t cover it and he was desperate.”

Anger flared through me. Three thousand dollars. The exact amount I’d given him not long ago. “What did you tell him?”

“We told him to call you,”my father said. “But he said you weren’t taking his calls.”

“I’m not taking his calls because I already gave him three thousand dollars for his supposed heart medication not long ago.”

My parents exchanged a look, but it wasn’t one of surprise.

“He seemed desperate, baby,”my mother said gently. “I almost felt sorry for him.”

“That’s his gift,”I said. “Making people feel sorry for him so they’ll clean up his messes.”

“You gave him three thousand dollars?”my father asked, incredulously.

“I did. And I told him it was the last time.”I pushed back from the table, too agitated to sit still. “I need to make a phone call.”

“Naomi,” my mother started.

“I’ll be right back.”

I stepped out onto the back porch with my hands shaking as I scrolled through my phone to Gerald’s number. I’d unblocked it and dialed his number.

He answered on the second ring. “Naomi, baby, thank God. I was hoping you’d call.”

“Don’t you ever, and I mean ever, contact my parents again.”

“I was desperate. You wouldn’t answer my calls.”

“Because I told you I was done! I gave you three thousand dollars, Gerald. What happened to that money?”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Gerald, I asked you a question.”

“Things came up. Unexpected expenses.”

“What kind of expenses?”

“Look, I can explain everything if you just hear me out.”

I rubbed my temples. “What did I ever do to deserve someone like you? You have been the bane of my existence since the moment we married.” My voice was deadly calm.

“You will not explain anything to me. You will leave me alone, you will leave my parents alone, and you will figure out your own problems.”

“Naomi, please. I really do need the medication.”

“Then get a job. Get insurance. Figure it out like every other adult in America.”

“You can’t just abandon me like this.”

“You abandoned yourself when you didn’t take the money I gave you and get your so-called medication!

”I was shouting now, all pretense of calm gone.

“I am not your wife anymore, Gerald. I am not your ATM, I am not your safety net, and I am sure as hell not responsible for the consequences of whatever stupid decisions you’ve made with the money I gave you. ”

“I’m going to die without this medication!”

“Then you should have thought about that before you spent the money on whatever else you actually spent it on.”

“How can you be so heartless?”

“If wanting you to take responsibility for your own life makes me heartless, then I guess that’s what I am.”

“The woman I married would never have been so cruel.”

“The woman you married was an idiot. She learned better.”

“Naomi—”

I hung up and almost dropped my phone as my hands trembled.

I stood on the porch for several minutes, breathing in the cool air, trying to calm my racing heart. Through the kitchen window, I could see my parents at the table, my father’s hand covering my mother’s, both of them wearing expressions of concern.

That was what love looked like. Forty-four years of choosing each other, supporting each other, building something together instead of tearing each other down. This was the love that lasted, sustained, and made people better instead of smaller.

I watched my father lift my mother’s hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

It was such a small gesture, but it held devotion, respect, and affection.

Even now with his struggles with the wheelchair and her worries about his health, they still looked at each other like they were young lovers.

When I walked back into the kitchen, my mother immediately stood to pull me into a hug.

“I’m so sorry, baby. We should have just told him to leave.”

“It’s not your fault,”I said, resting momentarily in her comfort. “He’s manipulative. It’s what he does.”

“You don’t have to deal with him alone,”my father said firmly. “Next time he shows up here, I’ll handle it.”

“There won’t be a next time. I’ve re-blocked him, and I made sure he understands to never contact you all again.”

We returned to our seats, but the mood was sour. The comfort of family lunch had been disrupted by Gerald’s intrusion.

“Tell us about your week,”my mother said, clearly trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. “How’s the business?”

“Busy. I had to handle a situation with one of my employees, but it worked out.”I didn’t mention the police report or the blacklisting because it would surely worry them.

“Good for you,”my father said. “You know, parents’ main objective for their kids is to protect them. I hate that you’ve gone through so many battles in life and I couldn’t protect you from them. But still, you shine bright like a diamond, letting no feat pull you under.”

My brows rose. “You can’t protect me from everything. So it’s not your fault. Just know you raised me well enough to protect myself.”

“That does a father’s heart good,” he smiled, and I smiled back at him.

My mother nodded. “I’m grateful because for a while I couldn’t think outside of myself.

I learned so much from your mothers patience,” my father said, squeezing her hand.

“When I came back from my last tour, I was angry at everybody. The government, the doctors, the whole world. Your mother could have walked away. It was too much to for any one person to handle and I couldn’t have fault her for leaving. ”

“But I didn’t,”my mother said softly. “Because that’s not what you do when you love someone. You fight for them, with them, even when it’s hard.”

“Even when they’re too stubborn to ask for help,”my father added, giving her a look full of gratitude.

I watched this exchange between them, and an ache deep in my chest almost made tears burst from my eyes. This was what I thought I’d have with Gerald. This was what I’d been trying to create with someone who was fundamentally incapable of this kind of love.

“Are you seeing anyone?”my mother asked gently.

I frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you look different lately. Happier. More... I don’t know, settle in yourself when you first arrived.”

I thought about Christian, and our weekend in Tuscany.

“I’m focusing on myself right now,”I said, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

“That’s wise,”my father said. “After Gerald, you need time to remember who you are when you’re not trying to fix someone else’s problems.”

“But,”my mother added, “don’t close yourself off to love. There are good men out there who know how to love a woman properly.”

“Like your father,”she continued, reaching over to smooth down a strand of his gray hair. “He still brings me coffee in bed every morning after all these years.”

“Because you’re worth it,”my father said.

“Even when I’m grumpy and haven’t had my coffee yet?”

“That’s when you need it most.”

They shared a look that made me feel like I was intruding on something private and beautiful.

“How do you do it?”I asked. “How do you make it look so easy?”

“It’s not easy,”my mother said. “Marriage is work. Every single day, you have to choose to love the person you’re with and everything that comes with them—their flaws, their dreams, and their battles.

At times you may become exhausted from it all, but if you’ve got a good partner, they’ll pour back into you, fill your cup, give you the strength you need to go on. ”

My father nodded. “And it’s not a choice, you must have someone who’s making the same decisions for you.”

The words remained at the forefront of my mind as we finished lunch. My mother packed leftovers for me to take home, as my father insisted on rolling out to my car to check my tires.

“Promise me something,”he said as I loaded the containers into my backseat.

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t let Gerald’s weakness make you think all men are weak. There are men out there who know how to love a strong woman. Don’t close yourself off to that opportunity.”

“Daddy—”

“I’m serious, Naomi. Your mother and I worry that Gerald broke something in you that might not heal on its own.”

“I’m fine, Daddy.”

“No, you’re surviving. There’s a difference.”He reached up to take my hand. “Surviving is important, but living is better. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

I knelt beside his wheelchair, bringing myself to his eye level. “I promise.”

He pulled me into one of his bear hugs, and I relaxed in the safety of his grip. “I love you, baby girl. More than you’ll ever know.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

My mother appeared beside us, wrapping both of us in her arms. For a moment, we stayed like that, and all was well with the world.

“Drive safe,”my mother said, kissing my cheek. “And call us if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“I will.”

I drove home with their love wrapping around me like a blanket. Gerald had tried to make their kindness another avenue for his manipulation. But my parents saw right through him, just like they’d always been able to see through the surface of things to the truth underneath.

The truth was, I wasn’t just surviving anymore. Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, I’d started living again. And maybe I was ready to let someone choose me back.