Beauty and the Mustache (30 page)

Everyone in my knitting
group was huddled together, obviously in front of the screen on
their side. At some point, one of them must have made popcorn,
because all seven of them were eating it, their eyes glued to the
action going on in Tennessee.

All the bearded men in the
room—and the only not bearded man—followed my gaze.

“
Don’t mind us!” Marie
waved at the camera on her side—so, essentially, at my entire
family room. “Keep going. This is more entertaining than
Nicoletta’s jello wrestling.”

“
I agree,” Nico added,
stuffing popcorn in his mouth.

“
Wait a minute. Is that…?”
Jethro tugged on my arm and with his other hand pointed toward my
laptop. “Is that Nico Moretti? The comedian with that show on
Comedy Central?”

“
Hi,” Nico said cheerily
through a mouthful of popcorn. “Nice to meet you.”

The room plunged into three seconds of
silence as everyone in my family room stared at my computer screen
and everyone on my computer screen smiled back.

I don’t know how long this
would have continued if Roscoe hadn’t rushed out of the kitchen
with a big toothy grin on his face, holding a bottle over his head
and yelling, “Wine! I found the wine!”

“
We were not a hugging people. In terms of emotional comfort
it was our belief that no amount of physical contact could match
the healing powers of a well-made cocktail
.”

―
David
Sedaris,
Naked

After introductions
were
made, my plans for knit night were
derailed, but in no way ruined.

All the seats in the
family room were quickly taken, and I felt Drew’s eyes follow me as
I claimed my seat on the couch. Jackson sat on my right for about
ten seconds before Billy told him to move. Then, Billy sat on my
right.

This left Jackson with three choices: stand,
sit on the floor, or leave.

He tapped me on the shoulder, told me to
call him later, and left.

When Jackson shut the
front door, I turned and found Drew looking me. His expression was
still stoic, not quite irritated, but definitely withdrawn. Then,
Drew also left—the room, not the house. He disappeared down the
hall in the direction of the den, leaving me with my brothers and
my friends in Chicago.

The rest of the hour
passed in companionable conversation except at one point when
Jethro shocked the butter off our biscuits by pulling out his own
knitting work in progress. He was knitting himself a hat and using
a gorgeous merino wool/alpaca blend, a homespun he must’ve picked
up from a small shop or artisan spinner. It was brown and while
four-ply worsted. I had to restrain my hands from yarn
fondling.

My siblings and I all stared at him. He
ignored us, instead asking Marie a question about her work as a
freelance writer, and the conversation moved on.

Billy’s comment earlier
stuck with me, about how they’d all been doing fine before I showed
up again. I knew we had some words unsaid between us. Of my
brothers, he was the only one who appeared to be bitter about my
leaving eight years ago. At some point, he and I were going to have
to talk about it.

About two hours into the
Skype call, the meet-up was wrapping up, so I stood to stretch and
check in on Momma, leaving my brothers with my friends to say
goodbye and feeling strangely fine about it. Although, when I
reflected on it, it wasn’t strange for me to feel fine about
it.

The fact that my brothers and my friends got
along so well would have been unthinkable to me a few months ago.
But now that I actually knew them—or, at least, was starting to
know them—it struck me as completely natural.

My chosen family in
Chicago and my biological family in Tennessee were the same kinds
of people. In fact, if I reflected on it, I’d actually surrounded
myself with replacement brothers in the form of women who
knit.

Fiona was Billy—logical
and level headed, but hiding a sensitive side. Marie was
Jethro—shrewd yet big hearted. Janie was Cletus—sweet and often
oblivious. Sandra was Roscoe—a rascal. Elizabeth and Kat were the
twins, with Elizabeth bolder like Beau and Kat shyer like
Duane.

The personalities weren’t
a perfect fit, but they were pretty close. This thought made me
smile since I felt a bit like the monkey in the middle in both
groups.

When I opened the door to
the den, I found Drew sitting in his wooden chair writing in his
leather notebook, Joe putting away the chessboard, and Cletus
straightening up the room.

Momma didn’t appear to be
awake, but I approached the bed just to make sure. When I did, Drew
glanced up and our gazes snagged. Unsure of proper etiquette, I
gave him a brief smile and looked away before I could register a
change in his expression. In the best of circumstances, I wouldn’t
know how to act around Drew after our kiss to end all
kisses.

As it was, my
Drew-distress was dialed back a bit since I was concerned that
Momma was still asleep.

“
Is she up?” I asked the
room.

Joe came to stand next to
me. “No. She’s not. I saw your note about her not
eating.”

I nodded and looked her
over. She was paler than usual, but that was probably because she
needed to eat something. I’d washed her hair earlier in the day
during the short time she was awake and had given her a bath with
Marissa’s help.

I turned to Joe. “Hey,
would you mind sitting with her? Just for a half hour or so? We
need to have a family meeting, and I don’t want her to be
alone.”

“
I can stay with her,”
Drew offered.

I turned my attention to
him, my eyes resting on his face for more than the split seconds
I’d rationed thus far. I allowed myself to experience a little
burst of something—happiness? Desire? Wistfulness? I didn’t
know—when our gazes locked.

“
No. You need to be
there,” I said.

His brow pulled low and he
opened his mouth to question me, but I cut him off by saying, “I
need you to be there, Drew. Please.”

He watched me, his eyes
inscrutable, but he nodded his unspoken assent. I studied him as he
unfolded from the chair and tucked the notebook in one of the side
pockets of his pants.

“
Should I be there?”
Cletus asked me this while balancing several dishes, two towels, a
newspaper, and a toolbox.

“
Yes, Cletus, you should
be there.”

“
Okay, I’ll be there.” He
nodded once then left the room.

“
That boy….” Joe
sighed.

Drew walked around my
momma’s bed and stood close to me; the backs of his fingers
brushing against mine, causing a rush of heat up my arm and around
my neck. I glanced from where our fingers touched up to his face
and found him looking at me. There was a peacefulness, a stillness
about him, and it sucked me in. The room fell away.

“
Hey, Ash.” His tone was
quiet, gentle.

“
Hey, Drew.” I shifted a
step closer. I couldn’t help it.

“
Did you have a good time
tonight with your friends?”

“
Yes. Thank you again for
making that possible.”

Drew’s expression
flattened as he said, “You need to stop thanking me.”

“
What if I don’t want to
stop?”

The hard angles of his
face softened, and I witnessed something I couldn’t identify flare
in his eyes. But Joe’s next statement pulled Drew and me from our
heated gaze-exchange.

“
That boy beat me in chess
seven times.”

Joe had taken a seat in my
recliner, and he actually looked like he was pouting.

“
Who, Cletus?” Drew asked,
his tone disbelieving.

“
Yep. Cletus. I’m part of
a league organized by Mensa, and I’ve never been beaten seven times
in a row before. He’s a genius, I figure.”

Drew and I glanced at each
other. I imagine we wore similar expressions of wonder and
confusion.

Cletus a genius. I
couldn’t fathom it.

My family never ceased to
stun the butter off my biscuits.

***

I didn’t like
having to break the news to my brothers all at
once. I’d thought about pulling them each aside and telling them
separately, but then that felt wrong. Who would I tell first? What
if I didn’t get a chance to explain?

No. It was much better
that they all be together and all hear exactly the same thing. They
were gathered in the family room when Drew and I emerged from the
hall. Drew continued walking when I stopped at the threshold to the
room; he crossed to the couch, seemingly keeping his
distance.

I was grateful that he
didn’t see any reason to advertise the fact that we’d kissed. But
why would he? We’d kissed once. Well, technically, if you counted
the jam session at the community center and that time in the
hallway after the big, fireworks kiss, we’d kissed three times. And
what did it really mean, anyway?

I might have been all
mixed up about it, but he didn’t seem to be much affected. I
honestly didn’t know what he felt about me or the kiss or what
would come next, if anything did. He was so reserved at times and
so intensely expressive at other times.

Besides, what I was about
to say wasn’t going to be easy or simple. I didn’t need my six
brothers questioning me about my relationship with Drew, especially
since I had no answers about my relationship with Drew other than
that I wanted to kiss him again, often, with feeling. I suspected
he felt the same way—no, I knew he felt the same way—but beyond
kissing I honestly had no idea.

“
Is this about that
dumbass Jack? I hate that guy.” Beau sneered and took a long pull
from his beer before adding, “Always douching things
up.”

Beau’s insult succeeded in
pulling me out of my own head. Drew came into focus and I realized
that I’d been standing there staring at him for about a half
minute. His eyebrows were arched in confused expectation, and he
was looking at me like I might have lost my marbles in the
hallway.

I cleared my throat and looked at the floor,
half convinced I might find my marbles on the carpet.

“
Why’d he pull you over,
Duane?” This question came from Billy.

“
He’s an idiot. He said my
tail light was out.”

“
Is your tail light
out?”

“
Yes. But he’s still an
idiot.”

“
Ash,
please tell me you’re not going to
have sandwiches
with him?” Beau gave
me a look that clearly conveyed his disapproval of Jackson
James.

My eyes flickered to
Drew’s and I noted that his eyebrows had descended; he was watching
me with a narrowed glare.

I quickly looked away,
ignoring Beau’s question, and addressed my brothers. “I didn’t call
you all here to talk about Jackson. This is about Darrell
Winston.”

The room went quiet; I
could tell I’d surprised them. Again, my eyes darted to Drew’s. He
was leaning against the arm of the couch, his arms crossed over his
chest, a severe frown marring his features. This made him appear
quite frightening and even more like a marauding Viking than
usual.

Billy was the first to recover. “Has he
contacted you? Have you seen him?”

“
No. I’ll tell you what’s
going on, but you all have to promise me that you’ll listen and not
interrupt until I’m finished.”

A few grumbles sounded
from various bearded sources, but in the end, they listened and
didn’t interrupt. I told them about my conversation with Momma the
night before, and I told them I’d already called our father and
left a message.

When I finished, I was
again greeted with silence until Roscoe stood from his seat and
began pacing.

“
I don’t like this,” he
said. Of the seven of us, Roscoe knew Darrell as a tormentor and
not so much as a father-tormentor. I understood his initial
reaction because I shared it.

“
What does she need to
tell him?” Duane asked, his face scrunched in confusion. “What
could Momma possibly say?” Then, using his most cheerful voice, he
said, “Hello, Darrell, you’re an asshole. I hope you burn in
hell.”

“
Maybe she’ll murder him
and save us the trouble.” Jethro mumbled this from where he sat on
the couch, his elbows on his knees, his eyes on the
floor.

Billy stirred from where
he’d been leaning against the fireplace. “What I want to know is
how does she plan to keep him from taking the house? Legally
separated or not, they’re still married.”

“
I think I can answer
that,” Drew said, staring forward, his jaw set. “I think I can
answer both questions.”

Drew’s eyes sliced to mine
and held my gaze. I thought I detected a hint of regret and longing
before he addressed my brothers.

“
When your mom signed over
her power of attorney and made me the executor of the will, she
also signed over all your trust funds to my control. I bought this
house, everything in it, and the land from her, for one thousand
dollars.”