Over the Fence Box Set

by Aarons, Carrie

  “Yes. I have to do this. Especially for the acorn.” I rub my tummy and smile.

  “I love you. My sassy, kick-ass lady.”

  Clint clears the top of the hill, and I see Jackson’s office come into view. I can feel the nervous sweat start under my boobs, which have already grown a size in my first trimester. Talk about perks of having a baby. I hope I get to keep them.

  After pulling to a stop, he palms my chin and turns me toward that now clean-shaven, but still fucking sexy face. It’s all I can do not to pull on that tie until I’m straddling his lap. That’s another thing about pregnancy. The constant horniness. Although, I guess I had that one before.

  “Just listen for once, okay? I think Jackson has some things to say that you’ll want to hear.”

  He knows me too well. He gives me just enough room so that I still feel like my free, independent self, but has no problem going over my head to make decisions when he knows I’m being a coward.

  “All right.” I press my lips to his and mourn the loss of the scratchy stubble. It will be back soon he assured me.

  It’s not until I’m watching him drive back down the hill that I wish he was holding my hand through this. And it’s amazing that I even think like that now when just months ago I wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to become a vital part of my life.

  My nerves are trying to wiggle out of my body as I trek up to Jackson’s office. I haven’t talked to him since the blowup, and I hadn’t given him a chance to explain in the first place.

  Clint and I have talked sparingly about what Jackson told him, so I know some of the backstory. But it’s still painful to talk about, like a scab that keeps ripping open if I breathe the words biological dad. Clint tried not to push it, but he also wants me to have the facts. And after two months away, I think I’m ready to stop picking at this issue, letting it fester. It’s time to heal the wound.

  I don’t even bother knocking, because I never have, and let myself into the rusted old trailer he insists on keeping up here. I remember him telling me once that he wanted the preserve guests or visiting scientists to visit him up here so that they would take him seriously. I think he just likes that this is sooo Jurassic Park.

  “How can I …”

  The man sitting in the chair trails off as he looks up and catches me standing in the doorway.

  And everything clicks into place. The nose, the way our eyes are set on our faces. The ears pointed slightly at the top to give that fox look everyone always associates with me. And a dozen other things.

  I don’t know how I didn’t notice it until now, but it’s clearer than the oceans of Antigua that Jackson is my father.

  Now that I’m here, standing in the door, I’m not sure what to say. I can’t go with, “Hey, tell me about that time you and my mom had a secret affair and then had a child—me—and never told me about it.” That would be awkward.

  “Kelsey …” It seems Jackson is just as dumbstruck as I am on what to do here.

  It’s strange. We have this relationship, a great friendship. He’s my greatest ally, my mentor. Finding out he is my father, something I’ve wished for as a child and even as a teenager, should be a good thing. Except it slices at my heart that he was never honest about it.

  “Would you like to sit down?” His rough voice is oddly tentative and gentle. Maybe he’s just as scared of me as I am of him.

  Taking his direction, I move into the musty space, so full of paperwork and old magazines that I have to step over piles to get to his desk. I see his eyes trail over my bump, and I move my hand to rest over my growing stomach. I can’t even imagine what I’ll look like when the baby is full term. I’ll be so top-heavy, even the Hawaiian Punch guy will feel bad for me.

  “Are you … uh …”

  “Pregnant? Yes.”

  Jackson’s eyes are miles-wide, but then he rights his expression. “I’m sorry that was so rude of me. I have no right to ask that.”

  I smile. “Well, you are an old friend. And apparently my father, so you probably do have the right.”

  I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. And I’m not nervous often. So I feel like a fucking moron, babbling on and smiling like a loon.

  “I can explain …”

  “Please do.” I curse myself for cutting him off again. Okay, Clint, I’m going to listen and shut my trap.

  Jackson sighs, and I can see his leg jiggling up and down like a jackhammer under the desk. He starts to talk, his voice ragged and hoarse. I study his face as he tells me the tale, the story of my life. Deep lines run through the overly tanned skin, making him look older than he actually is. But in a handsome way. The way that men do after forty. Damn, it sucks to be a woman.

  His brilliant green eyes are the exact shade of the rolling hills in Blarney, Ireland. In his usual khaki uniform, Jackson is as much a part of this landscape as the wildlife and fauna that live here.

  He weaves the sad story of young love, at least on his part, gone wrong. How my mother got pregnant, how she left. The first time he saw me. The way he confronted her, only to have his hopes of being my father, providing for me, dashed. How he had to watch her choose Hugo and then forfeit all right to me to keep his career. How he did it to protect me from the media.

  “If I could go back and do it all again, I would fight for you. I took the coward’s way out, the one your mother provided to me. I should have taken the media firestorm. It would have meant being in your life.”

  Tears suffuse my eyes, making it hard to see or think straight. I wipe them with my sleeve. I get it, why he did it. I know I’ve only just embarked on this journey of motherhood, but already I feel a fierce, almost violent protectiveness to my child. I would cut down anyone in his or her path, walk through any fire.

  “You did what you thought would protect me best,” I say simply, and Jackson nods as if I’ve found the Holy Grail. “I would do the same for my child.”

  At this, his face splits in two with the smile running across it, causing the dimple in his leathery left cheek to pop. “You really will be Mother Nature now.”

  “You can call me Head Mother Nature, now.”

  “What?” His face is curious and blank, letting me know that Madeline hasn’t alerted the staff yet to my takeover. I’ll have to do something about that.

  “I told Madeline and Hugo that they would transfer the ownership of this preserve over to me, or I was running to the media. Say hello to your new boss.”

  He’s silent for a moment, but then Jackson tilts his head back and laughs like a hyena. “Of course you are.”

  We laugh some more until the moment dies out and we’re just kind of awkwardly staring at each other.

  “Listen, Kels. I know you may never feel comfortable enough to call me Dad or think of me as family. But … I’d really like to try. As you know, I don’t really have anyone. I’ve waited half my life to tell you just what you mean to me, and I’d love the opportunity to get to know you. As my daughter.”

  My heart swells to epic proportions. Ever since I came home from Africa, I believed I would never have anyone who mattered in my life. And look at this little hippie nomad now. I have a boyfriend, a baby and a father all within six months. Life really couldn’t get much better. Except, I also have a preserve that’s all my own. And all the exotic animals I could ever want. So yeah, life really couldn’t get any better.

  “I would love to try too.”

  28

  Clint

  What no one tells you about the real world is that time moves fucking fast.

  After accepting an offer from Healthy Kids, Healthy Lives, a nonprofit half an hour from the preserve, Kelsey and I bought a decent-sized townhouse. We spent weekends scouring furniture stores for just the right mix of modern—my style—and hippie chic, obviously her style.

  Madeline and Hugo ceded control of the Virginia preserve to Kelsey and she kept Jackson on as her partner. They renamed it The Nole Wildlife Preserve. Even though she acts tough, Kelsey crumble
d at the mention of having a real father. She and Jackson are as close as any father and daughter could be and driving all the staff crazy with their ridiculous antics and pranks.

  And as for my job … I’ve found what I’m supposed to do with my life. The little guys I work with on a daily basis have always been told they’re not good enough, too big, too slow, too whatever. They’ve been beaten down, made to feel useless. Kind of like I had been.

  I get to watch their faces light up as we play sports, each child having their own turn to excel. I get to watch as specialists come in and tailor their food to be healthy and satisfying. I get to watch them start to feel more confident in their bodies. It is the most rewarding thing I have ever done, and I love my girlfriend even more for stripping just so I could figure out my dream. She sacrifices so much for the team.

  Speaking of that girlfriend title, don’t think I haven’t tried to change that. I bought her the most expensive ring I could afford and got down on one knee. You know what that little brat said to me?

  “Ew, babe. I’m fat and swollen. Plus, you’re delusional if you think I’m ever obeying you. No, we are not getting married. I quite like calling you my baby daddy.”

  She’s such a saucy punk. I’ll get her to be my wife one day. I think I have a better shot after she has the baby. Because man is she pregnant.

  Kelsey is nearing her due date, just two short weeks away, and her stomach is more inflated than one of those giant beach balls kids always sneak into graduation. She can barely walk, just wobbles wherever she needs to get to. Not that I’m not waiting on her hand and foot.

  I’d convinced her, finally just a week ago, that she needs to stay off of the preserve until after her maternity leave. I’m usually tense about her being over there, even when my child isn’t inside of her. The sheer multitude of animals who could attack her scares the ever loving shit out of me.

  It helps that Minka and Chloe arrived two weeks ago, clucking like mother hens around our condo. They dote on Kelsey and helped get the entire nursery set up in two days flat, something we hadn’t been able to handle yet.

  Owen and Miles flew in when they could over the last couple of months and stayed with us whenever their teams played in DC. And we tried to make those games, watching our best friends play in the majors.

  Miles, of course, got brought up to the majors in New York about a month after we left to come to Virginia. He’s tearing it up, the media is calling him the Rookie of the Year. And if he’s the Rookie of the Year, Owen is the league MVP. Owen is racking up more wins for his major league team in California that he’ll soon break the record for the entire club, let alone a first-year starter. Sometimes, I miss baseball, but one look around my new life and I have all that I need.

  I find Kelsey in the nursery, rocking in the pastel yellow chair holding her belly while singing John Mayer to the more-than-ample bump.

  “Chloe and Minka really went crazy in here, didn’t they?”

  I walk over to plant a kiss on her forehead, then her lips, and feel the usual, cock-hardening heart-flipping sensation that takes over my entire body every time I come within ten feet of her.

  “Well, at least we know our daughter will never go unspoiled.”

  I tickle her side. “Or our son. Don’t play that game with me, Roo.”

  “Don’t you think I’m actually Kanga now?”

  I looked at her petite frame sitting in the rocker, her slim arms and legs jutting out from her big belly. She’s still just as small, a fireball of energy, as the first time I met her. “Definitely not, babe.”

  Turning my attention to the room while I keep my hand in hers, I can see her and the girls have been busy. They’ve done the room in greens and yellows, matching our attitude on not finding out the sex before Kelsey gives birth. Because, of course, why would the self-proclaimed gypsy miss out on life’s ultimate surprise?

  But the real theme of this room is wildlife. The walls are adorned with hand-painted scenes of the African jungle. Stuffed polar bears, hippopotamuses, giraffes, and dolphins are piled in the corner. A tiger mobile hangs above the crib. The one that I put together because I insisted on being the best father ever. I only had to redo it three times after screwing the wrong parts together.

  “God, my back hurts.” Kelsey moans while readjusting in the chair.

  I move to lift her up, my arms all but carrying her up. “Come on, baby, let’s get you to bed.”

  I feel so helpless these days but in a good way. Because for as uncomfortable as she is, I know we are that much closer to seeing our baby.

  We’re halfway through the hallway, laughing about the sad state of Kelsey’s walking, when I hear what sounds like a bucket of water being dumped on the floor. She stops dead, her arms going tense where I’m holding them under her armpits.

  My heart goes into overdrive thinking she’s hurt. It’s hard to keep my voice neutral. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

  Kelsey looks over her shoulder, that wild hair brushing my chin. “I think my water just broke …”

  “What?” I can’t have heard her right. We still have two weeks. We aren’t ready! I haven’t even finished the last chapter in So You’re Going to Be a Dad.

  “Uh … yeah.” Kelsey seems in a daze, and I know I need to step up. This is my moment. I have to take care of my girl, and my baby is on its way.

  Snapping into crisis mode, I call Chloe and Minka, who are visiting Chloe’s family. After a rushed, excited, and frantic phone conversation, it’s decided they’ll meet us at the hospital.

  After laying Kelsey down in the tub where she insists on washing herself before we leave because, “I’m not going anywhere with wet pants on,” I run around our bedroom like a chicken with my head cut off. I throw things into a suitcase, not sure if they’re suitable for this experience or not. I pack like we’ll be there for a week when in all honesty I could always send Minka or Chloe to come get anything I forgot.

  I usher Kelsey out of the house as she practices the labor breathing we did in Lamaze. To say that we were the class clowns is an understatement. It’s a miracle we even learned anything. Then again, neither of us is very good at school. Here’s to hoping Baby Bellows inherits his Aunt Minka’s smarts.

  A pile of paperwork, wheelchairs, and hospital gowns later we’re in the delivery room. And I hate it. Kelsey is screaming her head off, refusing the pain medications because she’s my fearless, lionhearted, take-no-shit spitfire. But no pain meds means she’s screaming her beautiful little head off in excruciation. I wish there was technology to transfer that pain to me, let me take it.

  I can’t stand to see her body being ripped apart, but I stand behind her, letting her squeeze my hand until it feels like it might fall off.

  “You can do this, baby. You’re doing so well.” I kiss her sweaty forehead and thank God for giving me a dick.

  Kelsey just makes an unintelligible grunt, screaming and moaning while also trying to focus on her breathing.

  Six hours in and my girl is holding strong, refusing any kind of drugs and giving the doctor a death glare anytime she utters the words “C-section.” But she’s not dilating enough. The doctors are worried it will put the baby in distress, and I will do anything to make sure she and the baby are safe.

  “No, I can do this. It’s what my body was made for. I’m doing this the natural way.” Kelsey keeps pleading with them, me, and anyone who will listen.

  “Okay, listen, Kels. We’re going to try to push a little more. But if you can’t get the baby out now, we are going to have to take you in for surgery.” Her OB talks slowly and steadily, making it a firm offer that Kelsey won’t go back on.

  “Okay, okay.” Kelsey is sweating, tears streaming down her, face and her slim limbs tense in pain. But she’s never looked more beautiful. I’m in awe of her, how perfect and strong she is.

  I prepare myself, readjusting my stance and taking both of Kelsey’s hands in mine. This could be it. We could meet our little guy right now.
r />   “Push!” The doctor instructs her.

  Kelsey gives a blood-curdling scream and tenses her entire tiny body, putting all of her focus on pushing the bowling ball size person out.

  The doctor tells her to breathe and then push again. Kelsey gives a tiny groan and then goes silent, holding her breath while she tries to force the baby out.

  On the third push, the doctor gets excited. “Okay, I see the head, you are almost there! One more big push for me, Kelsey!”

  Kelsey looks up at me, her hazel eyes exhausted, happy, and dazed. And then she’s pushing, and I hear the wails of our baby for the first time.

  We’re both crying as they bundle up the baby and hand it to us.

  “Congratulations, you have a little girl!”

  The whole world falls away. I see Kelsey, holding our perfect baby girl, and there is nothing more important in this universe than them now. All the other problems fall away, my aches and pains, any conflicts. We have a daughter, and she is healthy and beautiful. I’m already in love, itching to steal her out of my girl’s arms and keep her cradled in mine for the rest of her life.

  “I know it’s not a boy …” Kelsey looks up at me, tears in her eyes as she kisses the baby’s forehead.

  “Shush. Who wanted a boy anyway? Not me. We have a perfect, amazing little girl.”

  She hands me the little bundle, and I’m mesmerized by the tiny face that peeks up at me, her hair the same color as her mother’s. And I know, at this moment, that life will never be the same.

  But, if our girl is anything like Kelsey, at least it will never be boring.

  Epilogue

  Kelsey

  Three Years Later

  Giggling from the third-base side pulls my attention away from the conversation I’m having with my two best friends.

  I see them, those red curls bouncing wildly around her head as she runs clumsily toward her Uncle Owen’s arms.