Chapter 21
The universe smiled on me, and our flight was on time again. There were two Reinigen on the plane with us, and they were none too happy sharing their flight with a Blutbad. We received evil stares and sneers the entire trip. Monroe crossed his arms, and was cursing under his breath. I reached for his shoulder.
"Don't let them get under your skin," I said in a comforting tone. Hopefully the Wesen of Louisville wouldn't upset him too much. They were probably more biased than these two rats. I pushed the negative thoughts aside. I didn't want to think about explaining Monroe to my friends yet. Chloe still didn't know Monroe was coming. I needed to call her when we landed or she'd hate me, for sure.
The captain announced we'd be landing shortly and I leaned over Monroe to peer out the window. The downtown outline of my fair city was tiny from up here and I pointed it out to Monroe. The two red lighthouses on top of the Galt House were like beacons guiding me home. I smiled as I hummed an old bluegrass song. The words fit perfectly since I'd moved to Portland.
"I've traveled o'er this country wide seeking fortune fair.
Up and down the two coast lines I've traveled everywhere.
From Portland East to Portland West back along the line.
I'm going now to the place that's best that old hometown of mine.
Eight more miles and Louisville will come into my view.
Eight more miles on this old road and I'll never more be blue.
I knew some day that I'd come back I knew it from the start.
Eight more miles to Louisville the hometown of my heart…"
The plane landed and I was home, sweet home. We scurried around to find our luggage and we moved about Standiford Field to get to the rental car area. I pulled out my reservation and we were handed the keys to a yellow Ford Focus. We went outside to the rows of rental cars. Well, I wouldn't lose it, for sure. The loud color could be seen clear across the parking lot. It made Monroe's pale yellow VW look almost white by comparison.
The sky above us was covered in thick, gray clouds, and I breathed out a discontented sigh. Really, universe? I couldn't get a little sunshine today? I shook my head. It seemed that the sun did not always shine bright on my old Kentucky home.
"I'll pull the car up, if you'll stay with the luggage," I said and Monroe nodded. I walked over to the car and drove it over to the drop-off entrance where Monroe was waiting for me. He loaded the trunk with our luggage and we were ready to go.
I drove the familiar roads toward my parents' house. Mom and Dad lived in the East End of town. We were about twenty minutes away and traffic was calm. I'd missed Louisville traffic. Everyone was nice and relaxed on the road compared to hustle and bustle of Portland. I turned on the radio, enjoying the familiar station numbers as I dialed in my favorite classic rock station.
WQMF played Pink Floyd's 'Comfortably Numb' on the radio, which was befitting in a way. While I was nowhere near comfortable, I was, indeed, numb.
"Now I've got that feeling once again.
I can't explain, you would not understand.
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb…"
Monroe was on the phone with someone about watch parts, so I turned down the radio. He animatedly moved his hands as he described a doo-hickey he needed, and I smiled involuntarily. Thank goodness he was here with me. Monroe didn't hesitate to take this trip and that meant more to me than he would ever know.
Monroe's phone call ended and I turned the radio volume back up. Pink Floyd was over and Journey's 'Separate Ways' was playing. Part of these lyrics I could relate to after the tiff with Monroe.
"Someday love will find you.
Break those chains that bind you.
One night will remind you,
How we touched,
And went our separate ways..."
I had my own chains I needed to break away from. Namely, the one I wrapped around this box of rules I'd created for my relationship with Monroe. I needed to pull out the metaphorical bolt cutters and clip this chain if I wanted us to last. I didn't want any more tiffs or us going our separate ways again. I cared about him too much. My old friend the radio was trying to send me a message and I was going to listen. I reached for Monroe's hand as Journey played on.
We made better time than expected and I pulled onto my old street fifteen minutes later. My parents' house was on the right and I slowed down, taking it in. The large, gray brick home looked just like it did when I was a kid. I had so many fond memories of growing up here: running around the front yard as a child and catching fireflies, my first kiss on the front porch swing when I was fourteen, and the day I'd left for college. There were a lot of memories in that house.
Mom's car was in the driveway. Dad's car was missing. What kind of damage could Dad's car be in? Maybe Mom had it towed to the shop? I shuddered because it was more than likely totaled. Images of twisted metal passed through my brain and I shook the thoughts out. I slowly pulled in the driveway, turned off the car, and sat there, staring forward.
"I really don't have boyfriends meet my family this soon," I told Monroe, trying to make light of the situation.
"I think this is a special case," Monroe replied, taking my hand. He gave it a quick kiss and opened the car door, stretching his back as he got out. I got out as well and took a deep breath in, letting the practiced calm wash over me. It hesitated at first, but it gave in and I briefly closed my eyes, letting it do its thing.
I opened the side door that led into the kitchen. None of us ever really used the front door. The kitchen had always been the main entrance. We walked inside and I took in the familiar surroundings of home. The kitchen was always the homiest part of the house. The light peach walls were warm against the white cabinetry and the stainless steel appliances kept the look modern. The metal rooster statue that matched the stainless steel stood on top of the fridge and it always gave me a smile. Mom loved roosters. I knew two roosters, myself.
To our left was a round dining room table that seated four. It pulled out to accommodate eight or more during the holidays. Mom made the dining room area look so cozy. On the far wall by the dining room table was a white hutch that matched the cabinets. It was decorated with rooster trinkets and my mom's favorite rooster plates. I set my bag on the counter island in the center of the kitchen.
"Mom, we're here!" I called out. A moment later my mom poked her head out from the entryway to our right that led into the living room. Mom looked good considering the circumstances. She was dressed in black slacks and a saffron cashmere sweater that brought out the highlights in her honey blonde hair.
"Renée!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I wasn't expecting you until much later." My mom ran across the kitchen to hug me. Monroe stood behind, remaining close to the door. I held my mom longer than normal. I tried not to cry and I held my emotions in. There would plenty of time for crying.
"Mom, I want you to meet Monroe," I said, smiling wide to offset the impending tears.
"So nice to meet you, Mrs. Davenport. My condolences on your loss," he said, holding his hand to his heart. Mom moved forward to shake his hand, but Monroe must have thought she was going to hug him. He put both arms out, leaning toward Mom and then jerked them back as he blushed under his beard. Oh, this was awkward! He held his hand out this time and my mom took it.
"Thank you for being here for my daughter. And please, Mrs. Davenport is my mother-in-law. Call me Kathy." Mom gave him a forced smile. She was good at those.
"Okay… Kathy?" Her name squeaked out of him. He looked over to me, his eyes wide. From his expression, he would've much rather called my mom 'Mrs. Davenport.'
"Renée, your old room is ready. Monroe, there's a spare guest room upstairs on the far left you can use. I laid out fresh bedding." My mom gave me a quick glare with her periwinkle eyes. That glare told me we wouldn't be sharing a room in her house. I respected that. With the dilemmas I'd had about spending the night with Monroe, my mom's glares weren't necessary. Normally I would've chided her about it, but not today.
"Is there anything I can go get you, Mom?" I asked. It had only taken six hours to get here instead of the eight I'd predicted, but I was worn out and jet lagged. If Mom needed something, however, I had no problem getting back in the car for her.
"Oh, no, Sweetie. I'm sure you kids are exhausted from your flight." My mom, the queen of composure, smiled like we were here for a fun visit and not my dad's funeral.
Monroe went back out to the car and started to bring the luggage inside. He carried things upstairs for me after I showed him where the stairs were in the living room.
"He's older than I expected," my mom began when Monroe was out of earshot.
"He's only thirty-seven, Mom," I told her. Thankfully I'd never mentioned the guys I'd dated who were much older than Monroe. "You and Dad were seven years apart."
"That's still a big gap." She gave me a look. "And he has dark brown eyes."
"Yeah, they're gorgeous, aren't they?" My mom had a thing for eyes like I did.
"Well, if you kids have children, then the brown would win out," she replied. "I've always hoped for a green-eyed grandchild."
Well, that wasn't the response I'd expected, but I was good at not reacting, and I just smiled at her instead. If Monroe and I had kids, the least of her worries would be eye color. Fur would be more concerning.
"Mother, Monroe and I are too early in our relationship to be thinking about children." The heat crept up my cheeks, but I kept it down. My mom knew the buttons to push, but I was trying to behave given the situation. She also knew she had a 'get out of jail free' card for anything she wanted to say this week.
"You have to think about these things when you partner with a man. I would hope that you're serious about him and that you're not just having a fling. That would be unfortunate."
"This isn't a fling, I can promise you that," I replied quickly.
"So, if you kids stay together, then there's a good chance of brown-eyed babies." Mom gave a face of disappointment.
"We'll invest in some colored contacts." I grinned to let her know I wasn't being serious.
Mom laughed in spite of herself.
We both sat at the dining room table while Mom told me more about what happened to Dad. There were still gaps since there weren't many witnesses. The police seemed to think his tire had hit some debris in the road, which caused the car to spin out of control. It had flipped over when my dad tried to steady the wheel. Mom's composure was cracking as she told me how the impact had crushed his chest. The coroner said it had been over quickly, more than likely, and he probably hadn't suffered at all. I held her and we both let our walls come down. Monroe had come back downstairs and quietly stood in the entryway from the living room into the kitchen. He swiped a finger over his eye and looked like he was trying hard not to cry as well. I dried my cheeks and stood up from the dining room chair.
"I'm going to settle in and take a quick shower," I told Mom and crossed the room to where Monroe was standing. I turned and said, "If you need anything, Mom, let me know and it's yours."
Mom shook her head and waved me on. "I'm fine, Renée. You kids go on."
I took Monroe by the hand as we walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs.
"I put your luggage here," he said, pointing down at the suitcases. "I wasn't sure which room was yours."
"This one." I motioned to the door in front of us.
He nodded. "Well, umm, I'm going to start unpacking and grab a shower, so you go do what you need to do, Hun." He kissed me lightly and then went into the guest room.
I opened my old bedroom door and surveyed the room. I hadn't spent the night here in over ten years. It was like stepping back in time. Mom had insisted that we just leave it like it was, complete with my 98 Degrees and Backstreet Boys posters on the wall. I liked to think my taste in music had improved over the years, but I still had a few of their songs on my MP3 player.
The lavender walls were similar to my bedroom at home in Portland. It had always been my favorite color. My trophies and awards were pristine on the shelves, and my collage of photos of high school friends hung in the corner of my bedroom dresser mirror.
I moved my bags in and hung up my dress clothes in the closet, and then quickly organized my things. Packed amongst my other jewelry was my ruby necklace. Why had I packed it? I'd sworn off red since I'd started seeing Monroe, but it was there along with a few other things. I touched the stone and suddenly knew why. Dad had bought it for me. I held in my tears as I put it away with the rest of my jewelry.
I walked over to my old dresser and put away my under things. The drawer still had some of my old accessories from high school. Wow, I really needed to clear these things out. Maybe when I come back in May I could do some purging. I finished unpacking within twenty minutes, satisfied that I had everything I needed and more.
Glancing up at my reflection in the mirror, I pursed my lips. God, so many things had changed since I'd left here and went to college. Granted, I'd stayed in town and went to the University of Louisville, but I'd wanted the experience of college life, so I opted for a dorm instead of living at home. The dorm life had gotten old after senior year, so I'd found an apartment along with a roommate, which had ended... badly. It took a while to adjust, but afterward I'd found some enjoyment living on my own for the first time. I buckled down and concentrated on my studies, making goals toward my future career.
Once I'd earned my bachelor's in business and finance, I'd landed a part-time, entry-level job at one of the local banks, which worked fine since I was still file-clerking at the Louisville Police Department. In less than a year I'd worked my way up to a loans and leasing assistant position and gracefully resigned at the precinct. A year after that, I had my own clients at the bank, which was how I'd met Jack when he'd come in looking for a loan to purchase his first motorcycle. Although he'd wound up not getting the bike, he'd gotten me instead.
My ex-boyfriend, Jack Monahan, was a franchise owner of a small chain of sports bars called Scores, which his family had owned and operated since the '80s. He and his brothers had taken over for his dad when he'd become too ill to keep it up. Jack wasn't a business man, and his brothers picked up most of the slack for his lack of business sense.
Jack had moved from his hometown of St. Louis to Louisville to expand the franchise and prove to his brothers he knew what he was doing. Out of the three bars, only one had managed well enough to stay open. He'd decided to stick around to keep his hand in it. Jack became more of a bar owner instead, which suited him much better than the franchising had. With my help, I'd gotten him out of his high-priced leasing agreement, reducing overhead, and from then on business was booming. Jack did most of the work, but I'd assist now and then on the books and records, keeping things in check. He'd brag to his family how popular the bar was and that he was determined to re-open the other two, taking Louisville by storm. I'd never come out and say it directly to him, but his brothers had confided in me how happy they were that Jack had gone out on his own. They had hinted that having Jack out of the picture made it easier for them to run the business the way their dad had intended.
Jack and I had very different career paths. While I was completing my master's degrees in business and finance, so I could move up to a financial trainer position, Jack was working on setting up fundraisers for bikini carwashes for his bar. But none of that had mattered to me. Jack loved me and I was smitten, so I'd overlooked our differences. Although he wasn't completely genuine, there was something about him... A small part that was honest and determined, and that part had been just enough for me to fall hopelessly in love. His looks didn't hurt, either. He was gorgeous, and he knew it.
They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, and boy, had I'd been blind as a bat back then. Jack definitely wasn't all that honest. I tried to look outside my current relationship with Monroe. Was I repeating the same pattern? I was definitely smitten, that was for sure. But our differences were much more complicated compared to the ones Jack and I had.
Dad had been a realist and had told me many times that Jack wasn't the right guy for me. Mom adored him, and I'd listened to Mom back then instead of Dad, because that's what I'd wanted to hear. If only I'd listened more to Dad. It would've saved me a lot of heartache. I normally listened to him on things involving my education and career. Dad was wise beyond his years, and he always knew how to push me toward my goals. Sometimes it was harsh, but I appreciated him for it in the long run. I was going to miss his advice.
Monroe knocked lightly on my door, interrupting my thoughts. "How are you doing?" he asked solemnly. He was leaning against the edge of the doorframe again like he was unsure if my mom would be okay if he crossed the threshold.
"I'm doing as well as one can be in this situation," I replied, taking in a deep breath.
The reality hadn't fully sunk in yet. I was still waiting for Dad to come home and ask why everyone was moping around. Tomorrow would make all of this real when I'd see him at the funeral home. When my grandmother had passed, it had all hit me when I'd seen her in the casket. Once you saw that, there was no doubting any of it. I pushed the thoughts out for now. I'd stay in my alternate reality awhile longer.
"You can come in," I continued, giving him a half-smile. "My mom just doesn't want us sleeping together in here."
Monroe hesitated, but then slowly walked inside my old bedroom. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. My head met him mid-chest and I leaned back into him. I stared into my dresser mirror at the both of us. We looked cute together, and I smiled, casting all my other cares to the side. He'd already showered, and the fresh scent of Old Spice wrapped around me almost as much as his arms did.
"I know it's hard right now, but, you know, it gets easier. The feelings never go away when you lose someone, but over time it doesn't hurt as much. You wouldn't want it to all go away, really. The pain is part of the memories, too." He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I couldn't help but wonder how his dad had died. Given the nature of his family, I wouldn't dare ask. However it happened, hopefully it hadn't involved a Grimm.
Monroe let me go and took a brief look around my old room. He gave a quick chuckle at my taste in posters. "I'm getting a purple theme with your bedrooms," he observed, although my bedroom in Portland was a few shades lighter than this bolder hue.
"Yeah," I replied. "I'm a fan of lavender,"
He nodded, giving me his trademark genuine smile. "Favorite color, lavender. Duly noted."
Monroe walked over to my shelf of awards. Everything from quiz bowl blue ribbons to my track championship trophies were on display. He was more interested in the trophy in the back with a treble clef. I kept that one in the back for a reason.
"Second place Kentucky State Championship Old Time Fiddlers Contest?" Monroe questioned, his eyes grinning while he tried to keep a straight face.
I walked over and took the award from his hand. "I live in Kentucky. It's a requirement to play the fiddle if you play the violin." I gave him a teasing grin. I loved classical, but I could also play a mean fiddle. "That one needs to go behind the others where it belongs," I urged, putting it back in its place of shame. Not shame for the fiddle part, shame for the second place.
I hated to lose, and that year I'd been bested by a guy who was good at rattling my cage, and I lost focus. That award was a constant reminder of being manipulated. Ever since then I'd practiced my calm and control. Monroe was also able to penetrate my focus, but I welcomed it. His manipulation was different, but seeing that award had me thinking, regardless.
"Second place is still good," he said, guessing my disdain for it. He met my eyes to confirm his assumption, knowing he was right. Darn Scorpios!
"If you're not first, you're last," I replied, quoting my dad.
"But it could've been third place, or, you know, you could've not placed at all." Monroe and his silver linings. He had a point; he usually did.
I shrugged. "It's my blemish."
"Now I need to hear you play the fiddle." He chuckled.
I gave him a smirk. "Perhaps I can fiddle-dee-dee sometime, so you can have a good laugh."
A/N: So, I've had a few concerns if I like Nick or not. Personally, I love Nick! But does Renée like Nick yet? Please go to the comments and read the one I wrote about the POV of Renée on Nick. Remember that what I think and what my character thinks are two separate things. (; I hope that helps.
I added a YouTube of the bluegrass song to my profile, go give it a listen!
The two songs I referenced on the car ride actually came on as I was writing and listening to the radio. I wanted there to be some lyrics in that scene and the radio played two songs that I thought fit perfectly. LOL!
I wrote the back story on Jack shortly after I'd completed Sweaters Are a Girl's Best Friend. I really didn't want it to go to waste, so I added here. Hopefully it still flowed well. (:
There's still more coming soon. Stay Tuned...