A Season of Firsts

Chapter 26 - Early Hope and Early Snow

Before December 31st

DANIEL

Somehow, Cleo's dad manages to convince the officers to drop the citizens' charges and their own against me. I don't know how, but he does. It's only on account of me getting rid of my paints and promising to never vandalize any properties in Stowe again, though. If I do it one more time, they won't be very forgiving.

I'm feeling overwhelmed. Not so much because I spent half a night in the police station, but because twice in twenty-four hours, two different people did something unexpected and kind for me. First, it was Cleo, who tried to get me out of trouble, and then her dad, who cleared things up with the law for me.

Don't get me wrong, he's still mad as anything.

"Do you realize what you got my daughter into tonight, Farley?" he says, tersely, as he drives us both home. I want to hear him call me Daniel, but I know what he must be thinking about me now.

I nod. Then, realizing that he obviously can't see me from his seat in the front because he has his eyes on the road, I clear my throat. "Yes, sir."

"You're lucky Kirkpatrick knows me and believed us about Cleo not being involved." I can see from the backseat that he's frowning severely, by the reflection in the rear view mirror. "First, you disappear from her life when she thought you were her best friend, never answering her attempts to reconnect and causing her more hurt than a man ever wants to see his daughter take. And now, this."

I find myself accepting his words. Honestly, I feel like I deserve them.

Wait, what's happening to you? Cleo is as much at fault as you are over how things happened. Don't get all mushy about it now, I tell myself.

I bite the inside of my cheek and decide to ignore his stormy remark instead of defending myself, and flash back to when Trent Rayburn was more of a father to me than my own distracted, busy and hardworking dad.

Things have changed, for sure. Not the part about my dad being busy with other things, but rather the fact that Mr. Rayburn is not very fond of me anymore.

Cleo sits next to him silently, her hands folded in her lap. Her wrist still looks bad. I was glad when her dad got all up in Kirkpatrick's face about it.

"And you, young lady," he gives a quick glance to Cleo that speaks volumes of his disappointment and fury. "I really thought I could trust you not to lie to an officer of the law. At the very least, I thought you would be smart enough not to."

She opens her mouth as if to say something, and then wisely closes it again, ducking her head. She is indeed smart if she knows not to make any retorts when Trent Rayburn is in a huff like this.
We drive the rest of the way to my apartment in soundlessness that I would normally find peaceful, but everyone is too on edge for that to be a possibility. I'm angry at the same time I'm thankful towards both Cleo and her dad. And I'm mad at myself, too, for getting myself into a situation like this again.

I feel something else as well, something other than frustration or vexation. Something much worse, something I haven't experienced in a long time.

Hope.

Ever since Cleo's prayer for my dad, I've been wondering. Is it possible? Could God heal him? Would He heal him? Does He even exist, after all?

I try to swallow my hopefulness, willing it to land in the pit of my stomach so that I can do my best to forget about it. Feeling this way just leaves too much room for a huge let down, and even though I'm familiar with disappointment, I'm not particularly partial to it.