Then There Was You: A Single Parent Collection

by Gianna Gabriela

  All of a sudden, the truck stops, and the man lets out a deep sigh. I’m just about to tell him that Daniel will be fine until we get to town when he climbs from the truck. I look out the windshield and realize he didn’t stop for Daniel, but because a tree’s fallen across the road, blocking our path. The man walks to the tree, looks at it for a moment, then comes back to the truck.

  He hammers his hand on the steering wheel once, mutters a curse under his breath, then looks over at me and mumbles an apology for cursing in front of the kids.

  “I can’t move it and that’s the only road that leads to town, unless we want to go up the mountain and around, which will take hours in this weather, and there’s no guarantee we’ll make it.”

  I look from the tree in the road to him, then down to the kids and back to the tree. I talk to the windshield when I say, “I’m sorry.” I bring my eyes to him. “Do you know Mrs. Myers? Could you take us to her place, and I’ll call someone in town when the roads clear up and the tree’s gone?”

  His stormy eyes face me. “No,” he says bluntly. “I’m surprised you even made it down the mountain in this weather.”

  He looks out the windshield, his brows narrowed into a frown. Kelsey fidgets beside me, and I look down at her. She’s looking forward and most wouldn’t notice it, but I see the worry on her face. She doesn’t show her feelings often; the scared look on her face earlier and right now are more than I’ve seen in a while. I reach over and grab her hand. She looks up at me and I smile, trying to ease her worry.

  The man’s hand brushes my shoulder when he lays his arm on the back of the seat. He turns his head to look out the back windshield and the truck starts to move backwards slowly. A minute later, he’s backing into a narrow road that looks to be access to a field, then pulls forward and drives the way we just came from.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, curious.

  “My place,” he grunts.

  My eyes widen in shock. I’m not sure what I expected his answer to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

  “Do you have a landline? Maybe I can call someone—”

  “And what?” he interrupts. “Have them drive over the huge tree in the road? Or have them risk themselves going over the mountain?”

  I snap my mouth shut, because he’s right. My only two choices are to take the kids back to the car, something I wouldn’t do, or let him bring us to his house. I know nothing about this guy, but he doesn’t rub me as being someone to harm us. I still hate knowing we’ll be imposing on him though.

  “Mom,” Daniel says, tugging once again on my jacket. “I really have to go.”

  Before I get a chance to respond, the man does. “Five minutes, kid. Or I can pull over if you can’t wait and you can freeze your willie off.”

  I sputter out a laugh and the guy looks over at me. His face is blank and the look wipes away my lingering mirth.

  “Can you wait five minutes, Daniel?”

  I can tell he wants to say no, but he’s trying to pull off the big-boy act in front of the man. After several seconds, he nods.

  I look up. “Since you’re taking us to your home, can we have your name?” That’s one thing that’s bugged me since yesterday, not knowing his name.

  He takes so long to answer that I fear he won’t. We’re passing by my car on the side of the road when he says gruffly, “Alexander.”

  For some reason, the name suits him perfectly. “Thank you for helping us, Alexander,” I tell him.

  He doesn’t respond, just keeps his eyes pinned on the road in front of us. Several minutes pass before we turn down what I assume is his driveway. The snow is still coming down heavily, so it’s hard to see what we’re driving toward. Everyone stays silent as we slowly creep along, until we pull up to a small cabin. And a cabin is definitely what it is.

  He pulls to a stop, shuts off the engine, then opens his door. I follow suit and get out of the truck, then turn to help the kids down. As we walk to the porch, I take stock of the cabin. It’s rustic and well-used, but looks properly maintained. We follow Alexander up the steps, and I notice two wicker chairs and a small table between them. On the railing, there’s a coffee mug. He notices it at the same time I do and picks it up.

  “I was out here drinking coffee when I noticed your truck,” he explains.

  I turn and look out over the yard toward where I know my Range Rover is. I can barely see anything but a little red blip off in the distance. My eyes slide to the left, and I see a big red barn about fifty feet away. Then they land on a partially built structure.

  When I turn back around, Alexander is already gone and the door is standing wide open. I walk the kids across the threshold, then close the door behind us. I take a minute to look around the place. It’s just as small as it looks from the outside, but it has a homey feel to it. The floors are a dark hardwood, along with the walls. On one wall is a mounted TV with a brown leather couch and a small wooden table across from it. In the corner is a fireplace that currently holds burning logs. There’s a fluffy gray rug in front of it. Very cozy. At the opposite end of the room starts a small area where it looks like a table should be. Beyond that is the kitchen. I spot Alexander standing at the stove.

  A wiggling Daniel reminds me that we need the bathroom. I take off my jacket and gloves and have the kids do the same, then hang them on the hooks by the door. Grabbing his hand and with Kelsey following me, I walk us to the bar that separates the dining area and kitchen.

  “Could you point us to the bathroom?” I ask Alexander’s back.

  He doesn’t turn around as he says, “Down the hall on the left.”

  With one last glance at his back, I lead the kids across the living room and into the hall. The bathroom we enter is small, with only a toilet and sink. Kelsey and I wait outside while Daniel does his business. I notice a closed door across from the bathroom and another down at the end. Kelsey goes next while Daniel and I wait.

  Once they’re both done, we go back to the living room to the couch. “You both sit while I go talk to Mr. Alexander.”

  He’s still standing at the stove when I walk into the kitchen. Steam rises from the pot he’s stirring.

  “I want to thank you again for helping us,” I say. “Hopefully the roads will be clear enough tomorrow so my truck can be pulled out and we can get out of your hair.”

  “They won’t.”

  He leaves the stove and grabs three mugs out of the cabinet to the left.

  “What do you mean, they won’t? How could you know?”

  He starts pouring the contents of the pot into the mugs before turning to face me. His scars stand out in the light of the room. They’re harsh, but oddly beautiful.

  “Because I’ve lived here my whole life. They don’t move fast around here. It’ll be at least two or three days before the road is clear enough to pull your truck out and for them to move the tree.”

  He grabs two of the mugs and sets them down on the bar, then hands me one.

  “Hot cocoa. Figured you and the kids could use some to warm up.”

  Before I get a chance to respond with a thank-you, he leaves the kitchen. I turn and watch as he walks out the front door without a backward glance. I look down at the mug in my hand, then at the ones on the bar. The man is a contradiction. At the market yesterday I got the feeling he’s not a very friendly person. I got the same vibe in the truck, but then he’s thoughtful enough to make my kids and me hot cocoa because he thought we may need to warm up. It was very kind of him, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips at the kind gesture.

  I call the kids over and they sit at the bar and drink their cocoa while I stand beside them. Holding the mug up to my lips, I look around the kitchen. The appliances seem to be newer than the rest of the house that I’ve seen so far. Above the bar is a rack of pots and pans, and down at the end hangs cooking utensils. The counters and cabinets are a polished wood.

  Worry starts to set in when I realize that we’re stuck here for God kno
ws how long. From the rumors in town and his behavior so far, I don’t take Alexander for being a people person. I’m sure having a strange woman and her two kids thrust upon him isn’t something he’s looking forward to. I look down at the kids. I hate to impose on him, but it’s not like we have a choice in the matter. Staying in our car until the roads are clear enough for someone to help isn’t a choice. We’d freeze out there.

  My thoughts are interrupted when I feel something bump my leg. Looking down, I’m startled to see a pair of green eyes looking up at me. It’s a medium-sized dog with longish black hair, sitting on its haunches with its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. I almost laugh at the comical look.

  “Hey,” I say calmly. When Daniel makes a move to get up to see what I’m talking to, I tell him, “You stay there.”

  He whines, but stays put. I need to make sure this dog is safe before I allow my son to come near it. I squat and hold out my hand and the dog immediately comes over and licks it. Its tail is wagging as it butts my hand with its head.

  “Hmm… are you a boy or a girl?”

  It doesn’t take long to figure out it’s a girl, as she flops to her back, then rolls over, showing off her swollen teats.

  “You’ve just had puppies,” I murmur, rubbing along the side of her belly.

  I laugh when she wiggles her back around, almost splitting herself in half sideways. I look over when Daniel walks up beside me with a big smile on his face. I can’t scold him for not waiting for me to say it’s safe for him to come over. Although he’s plenty short enough for the dog, Daniel gets down on his knees. When the dog bounds up and starts licking his face, he laughs, bringing a smile to my face.

  I get up from my crouch and face Kelsey. “Would you like to come pet her?” When she shakes her head, I try enticing her with, “She just had puppies.”

  Her eyes light up fractionally before she looks down at her mug still half-full of cocoa, the look disappearing. A twinge of pain hits my chest. She should be down there with her brother, enjoying playing with the dog. She should have friends. She should be doing sleepovers and pillow fights. Not sitting there looking like this is her last day alive. I want to rush to her and gather her in my arms, promise her that everything will be okay. But I don’t. I baby her enough, and don’t want to smother her. I have to pick and choose the times I coddle her.

  I turn back and watch Daniel roll around on the floor with the dog jumping around him. I laugh when his giggles get louder. I grab Daniel’s and my empty mugs and carry them over to the sink. There are a few other dirty dishes sitting in the sink, so I decide to wash them. It’s the least I can do after everything Alexander’s done for me and my kids.

  4

  ALEXANDER

  WHEN I PULL OPEN the door an hour later, both pain and longing stop me in my tracks. Laughter rings through the cabin, both childish and feminine, something these walls haven’t heard in years. Still gripping the doorknob, I track the sound and find Gwen and her son on the floor in the living room with Gigi. Her daughter is on the couch watching them with a blank face. I’m not sure what it is, but there’s something not right about the young girl. She seems too quiet and withdrawn for a girl her age.

  Gwen looks up at me and her grin falls away. I don’t know why, but for some reason that bothers me. I don’t say anything as I close the door, take off my jacket, and hang it up before walking to the kitchen. My nose picks up a smell, and I see something boiling in a pot on the stove. I frown, not sure if I like the woman going through my cabinets and fridge, then I feel like an ass because they obviously need to eat.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she says from behind me. “I’m making potato soup. I didn’t want to plunder too much in your cabinets. I found the potatoes on the counter.”

  I turn and face her. “It’s fine. Cook whatever you want.”

  She nods. “I didn’t say it earlier, but thank you for the cocoa. It was thoughtful of you.”

  I turn from her and go to the sink to wash away the dirt on my hands from hanging out in the barn.

  “It was no problem,” I throw over my shoulder.

  She steps further into the kitchen and leans against the bar, her hands resting beside her hips.

  “I always get the cheap powdered packets of hot chocolate. I haven’t had homemade cocoa in years.”

  I grab the dish towel and dry my hands. Hanging it back on the stove, I turn around and mimic her stance against the sink. I don’t say anything. Hell, even if I wanted to say something, I wouldn’t know what to say. Besides my mom and sister, I haven’t had a woman here since Clara died. What surprises me is that having her here isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. What surprises me more is her total lack of interest in my mangled face. Not once have her eyes lingered on the scars. Even now, she’s looking directly into my eyes.

  “You have a nice place here. It seems very cozy and quaint,” she says idly.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, pushing off from the counter. “Going to grab a shower. Make yourselves at home.”

  My abrupt departure startles her. Her mouth parts slightly with surprise and she turns and watches me walk out of the kitchen. I need to be alone. Her being here, talking with her soft, gentle voice, smelling like vanilla, and complimenting my cabin is too much. I don’t know how to act around women anymore. It’s been years since I’ve had to.

  As I pass by the living room, the little boy stops playing with Gigi and looks up at me, his smile disappearing as his eyes go to the right side of my face. I’m used to the looks, so they don’t bother me anymore. When he asked what was wrong in the truck, it was no shock to me. It was actually refreshing to have someone say their thoughts out loud. The people in town, the ones I used to be friends with, always keep their concerns and thoughts to themselves or whisper behind their hands, worried they may offend me or some shit. I grew up in these parts, but the people seem like strangers to me now.

  Gigi leaves the boy’s side and trots over to me. I pat her head when she puts her front paws on my lower stomach.

  “Hey, girl. You havin’ fun?” Her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth is my answer. She jumps down, and instead of going back to the boy, she takes off for the kitchen and the doggy door separating her from her pups.

  I catch sight of Gwen standing at the bar looking at me. Her eyes drop when she notices I’ve caught her staring. I turn on my heel and walk down the short hallway, anxious to get away for a few minutes.

  I take a hot shower and push away the weird feeling of having strangers in my house.

  Twenty minutes later, I emerge from my bedroom dressed in jeans, a green thermal shirt, and bare feet. The TV is on when I walk out into the living room. The boy is sitting on the floor leaning against the couch, watching a bunch of meerkats run around on the screen, while the girl has her head bent over a book she’s writing in.

  A pang hits me square in the chest at the sight. Once upon a time I wanted this scene to be my reality, and while this is reality, it’s not my reality. It’s fake, it’s someone else’s. It’s the woman’s who’s in the kitchen cooking something on my stove.

  Seeing the fire has dwindled down, I walk over, crouch, and throw a couple small logs into the fireplace. Standing, I walk into the kitchen. Gwen is scooping the potato soup into bowls. When she hears my approach, she turns with a smile on her face.

  “What’s that smell?” I ask.

  She grabs one of the bowls and hands it to me. “Sugar cookies.”

  I nod and dip my spoon into the soup, bringing a chunk of potato to my mouth. She watches me eat for a moment before grabbing the other bowls and setting them on the bar.

  “This is good,” I mumble around a mouthful.

  “Thank you.” She fidgets for a minute. “I feel strange being in your kitchen. Like I’m imposing in someone’s space. I don’t feel right looking through your cabinets with you standing there.” She laughs. “So, where are your glasses?”

  Carrying my bowl with me, I walk ove
r to the cabinet by the fridge and open it, showing her the shelf of glasses and cups. She smiles gratefully and grabs two glasses and two plastic cups. She sets them on the counter, then opens the fridge and takes out a jug of juice.

  “Juice?” I nod.

  “What are your kids’ names?”

  Handing me a glass, she takes the cups over to the bar and sets them down beside the bowls.

  “Daniel and Kelsey.”

  She calls the kids, and the boy, Daniel, rushes and takes his seat, wasting no time in digging in to his food. Kelsey comes at a more sedate pace. I watch with interest as she sets the book down on the bar—I can now see it’s a crossword puzzle book—sits on the stool, and starts eating. Her eyes don’t show any emotion at all as she stares down at her food, just disinterest. This girl is holding something deep inside her, it’s there in her eyes. I just don’t know what it is. I lean back against the counter across from them as Gwen picks up her own bowl and starts eating.

  Minutes later, the stove’s timer goes off and she sets her bowl down to take a tray of cookies out of the oven. The smell is stronger once they’re sitting on the stove, and although I’m currently eating, my stomach still rumbles. I haven’t had homemade cookies in years, and these look and smell really fucking good.

  “Hey, mister,” Daniel says, and I turn my head to regard him. “What’s your dog’s name?”

  “Gigi.”

  “What kind of dog is she?”

  I lay my empty bowl in the sink, then turn back around.

  “She’s a Lab mix.”

  “What does a Lab mix mean?” He scoops up some soup and puts the spoon to his mouth.

  “It means part of her breed is Labrador.”

  “What other part is she?”

  This kid is just full of questions. I look over at Gwen, who’s taking the cookies off the cookie sheet and setting them on a plate. There’s a small smile playing on her lips as she keeps her head bent. I turn back to Daniel.