11. Envelopes Are Not My Friend

DARREN

Acup of coffee and a plate of food is left discarded on the counter while I bury my head in Evangeline"s lap as she threads her fingers through my hair.

"What was Rausch talking about, when he asked about the other information he'd given you?"

I sigh but understand her trepidation given Rausch's reputation.

I lift my head and stand up straight, but I don't let go of her. Instead, I settle my body between her legs as her feet dangle off the counter.

"I asked Rausch about my grandfather."

She gives me an inquisitive look while her hands rest on my shoulders and her thighs squeeze against my hips.

"After the funeral when he had my grandfather escorted away," I refresh her memory.

"Escorted is too nice a description." She quirks one side of her mouth.

"When I asked him about it, I believe he gave some cryptic answer like even your father didn't tell me everything," I explain in a mocking tone, trying to sound like him.

"That is the worst impression of Rausch," she teases.

I shrug, happy that I don't sound like him. "I guess my career as a comedian is over."

She smiles, and it's impossible not to smile right along with her, though this doesn't feel like a particularly happy moment.

"All he gave me was a police report from thirty years ago, and who the fuck knows if my grandfather still lives there," I say frustrated, and realizing how awkward the word ‘grandfather' feels rolling off my tongue.

"You didn't want to look into it?" she asks curiously, while she traces a pattern on my chest.

My eyes meet hers. "I was preoccupied with other things," I remind her.

"So, you can see why envelopes are not my friend these days." I plant a kiss on her exposed shoulder.

Her skin smells clean and floral, with the hint of cherry blossoms that makes this house more like a home than I have ever known. It's almost enough to make me forget, but the thick brown envelope is staring at me and so I move away reluctantly to gather it up.

Ripping it open, I pull out the report and begin skimming through it.

"They're prosecuting the pilot," I say almost to myself. "There's a lot of technical stuff in here that I don't understand, but they believe the pilot to be negligent."

I throw the envelope down on the counter. "The flight from Virginia isn't even that long, and…" I press my lips together thinking of how many times I'd taken that ride with them.

"They were coming back from their home in Virginia?" Evangeline inquires, sliding off the counter and grabbing my discarded plate of breakfast that she'd been so kind to make after Rausch left, but then I quickly lost my appetite thinking about what was in the report. It's not like knowing the cause makes this any better, but anger licks at the edges of my mind, thinking that technical skill could have avoided the crash.

"They have a place in the country," I explain, right before she stabs a piece of egg and holds it to my lips.

"I'm not a child, you know?" I complain absently.

"I know," she soothes, still holding the fork in front of me until I pull the piece of egg off and eat it.

"Did you go there a lot?" she questions.

"When I was a kid, we went all the time," I affirm. "We drove back then. I hated being in the car that long with nothing to do."

"No games of I Spy?" she giggles.

I look up at her and give a small chuckle, placing my hands on her hips. "We did." I had forgotten about that.

"When my father started his campaign our life became chaotic, and then I went to boarding school so we only made it for the occasional holiday," I sigh as she holds another forkful of egg out to me, but instead of complaining I just eat it like a good boy.

"That must have been nice to have a place like that," Evangeline muses, while I hook my thumbs under the waistband of her sweatpants and drag her closer. She makes a startled squeal.

"I don't like these." I tug on her pants, making a face.

She smiles, playfully pulling away. "Too bad, it's cold. Did you like going there?" she prods me further.

I furrow my brows, and it's not an unpleasant thought that crosses my mind; quite on the contrary. "He wasn't Senator Kerry Walker there," I admit. "He was just my dad. He took me hunting," I chuckle at the thought. "I remember he told me that he used to go turkey hunting in the spring with his brothers when he was younger." That was probably the only thing he said to me about growing up.

"I didn't want him to be disappointed in me, so I went, but he could tell I didn't like it," I admit. "I think the Republican in him died a little bit when he found out his son didn't like guns," I chuckle at the memory.

She grabs a piece of bacon and holds it out to me. "Did he hold it against you?"

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "He never said anything, but instead of hunting, we would go for walks in the woods and he'd make a game of trying to figure out what kind of animal prints were in the dirt." I smile at the memory.

I lean forward and take a bite of the bacon from her hand as if I'm a dog getting a treat, my teeth gently grazing her fingers. "We should go," I exclaim while chewing.

"Where?" she asks, while brushing the remnants of bacon off her hands and cleaning up the rest of our plates, apparently satisfied with what I've eaten.

"To Virginia, the lake house. We can have Thanksgiving there." I never thought I'd be excited at the thought of going to my parent's lake house, but the timing is right. "I think it'll be good to get out of the city," I beam, looking at her expectantly. "And I need to check on it before winter." I scratch the back of my head.

Evangeline starts loading the dishwasher. "You know you don't have to do that." I gesture to the dirty dishes in the sink.

"I'm not leaving this for Lottie." She bumps the door closed with her hip and stares at me.

"So, what's your parents lake house like?" She leans against the counter, wiping her hands on a towel.

"It's a log cabin in the woods near the lake. You'll like it. Lots of open space. There's a trail along the lake where you can run if the weather holds out long enough," I explain.

"Sounds quaint," she smiles, tossing the towel on the counter.