For Her, He Will

Chapter Twenty-Four - Fix the books and the family.

Oakley finally heard Tate's door open when she was halfway through making dinner. She glanced over her shoulder to see Tate walking into the kitchen area and sitting at one of the bar stools. His dark eyes met Oakley's and she was stuck by how those were Monica's eyes. Kayce's were golden, a warm caramel color but Tate got Monica's dark irises.

"Hey Tot," Oakley looked back down at the chicken she was cooking for some easy fajitas.

Kayce had texted an hour ago saying he was on his way back so Oakley thought a good supper would be in order...for all of them.

"You okay?" Oakley asked, not looking up at Tate again. "You've been kind of quiet this evening."

Tate hasn't been out of his room until now. Oakley thought this approach might be better for the current topic. She wanted to see if Tate would come to her.

"Did you talk to Dad?" Tate asked quietly.

Bingo.

"A little bit," Oakley nodded. "He'll be home here in a few minutes."

a few more minutes of silence passed between them. 

"I got mad at my grandfather," Tate said. "Think I pissed Dad off too."

This time Oakley looked over at Tate. His eyes were watery, but more so because he had been crying instead of him feeling like he wanted to cry.

"Why did you get mad at your grandfather?" Oakley asked, trying to stay neutral and calm in her tone.

"He doesn't listen to me," Tate sighed.

"Most people won't if you're yelling at them buddy," Oakley shook her head. "Why were you yelling at him?"

"I don't want to be an Indian," Tate muttered.

Oakley stopped tending to the chicken and veggies and sat her spoon down. She lowered the temperature on the stove and walked over to face Tate from across the island.

"Tate," Oakley sighed. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be...we're all lucky that we get to choose that in our lives."

Tate was staring hard at Oakley.

"But I want you to realize that sometimes it's not that we hate a part of us...it's just that we don't feel comfortable, or we may not know that part of us anymore," Oakley frowned. "Does that make sense?"

"No?" Tate shook his head.

The front door opened, and Kayce walked in. His eyes bounced from Oakley to Tate as he took his jacket off and hung it up before walking over to them gently.

"It means..." Oakley looked back at Tate. "That just because you've lost someone that you thought made you one way, doesn't mean you can't still be that way without them. Them not being here doesn't diminish it inside of you."

"But I wanna be a cowboy," Tate looked at Kayce. "Like Dad."

"You are," Kayce said, not knowing what the conversation was really about.

"Why can't you be both?" Oakley asked and Tate looked back at her. "That's what you've always been, right?"

"I don't wanna be an Indian without my mom," Tate said, and Oakley had to bite her tongue from sobbing.

"Then you don't have to be," Oakley said softly, and she saw Kayce look at her from the corner of her eye. "As I told you earlier, you can be whatever you want to be, Tate. But that doesn't take away from who you are inside."

"So even though I don't want to, I still have to be an Indian?" Tate asked.

"Is it that you don't want to be that because you don't feel a connection to that part of you anymore?" Oakley asked.