by Staci Hart
My environment had changed, and I found I’d changed a little, too. Not enough, but it was a start.
And it felt good.
That morning, I hung my suit coat on the back of a dining chair when I walked into the kitchen where the kids were eating, Hannah between them, all three of them smiling up at me.
Mornings used to be a time for bedlam, but everyone seemed calm and happy and ready for the day, myself included.
“Morning,” I said, smiling back at all of them. I’d been doing quite a bit of that lately, too.
Katie handed me a cup of coffee with a wink, and I took a seat on a barstool, facing out toward the table.
“How’d everyone sleep?”
Hannah nodded and wiped yogurt off Maven’s face. “Well, thank you.”
“Daddy,” Sammy said excitedly, “I had a dream I was a dump truck! You were a fire truck and Maven was a Barbie car and Hannah was a race car and we were looking for buried treasure.”
“Did we find it?” I asked, taking a sip.
“Uh-huh,” he said with a nod. “It was full of duh-floons!”
I laughed. “Doubloons?”
“That’s what I said! And then the bad pirates came, and you fought them with a sword.”
“I thought I was a fire truck. Did I have hands?”
“No, we turned into people again, and you wore a funny hat.”
“Did we beat the pirates?”
He grinned. “We stole their ship! It was a good dream. I’ll draw you a picture, Daddy. That way, you can see.”
“Arr, matey, that sounds like music to me ears,” I cawed in my best pirate voice. “Everybody ready for school?”
Sammy pushed his plate away and hopped off his seat. “Yep, look!” He modeled his little button-down, pointing one foot out and, then the other to display his shoes which were neatly tied. “I tied them myself! Hannah showed me! She’s smart, Daddy. Really smart.”
“So are you, bud.” I stood and held my hand out, palm up.
He slapped it as hard as he could, and I shook it out, sucking in a breath through my teeth.
He looked so proud of himself, I could barely stand it.
Hannah picked Maven up from her booster seat and set her down. She was also fully clothed all the way down to her little pink shoes with sparkles on them.
“Mind if I walk with you all today?” I asked.
Sammy cheered, and Hannah froze for a split second, quickly enough that I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it, before turning to button Maven’s cardigan.
“That would be nice,” she said enigmatically as she shepherded the children out of the kitchen.
I tried to ignore the warm flush of disappointment.
What’d you expect, Charlie old boy? Did you want her to jump up and down and giggle? Get a grip, man.
I downed as much coffee as I could and passed the mug to Katie, who took it with a knowing smile.
“Have a good day, Charlie.”
I offered a smile that told her to leave it be. The last thing I needed was Katie making things harder than they were.
“You too, nosy.”
“Who? Me?” She tittered innocently.
“Ha. Bye, Katie.”
She laughed as I walked away.
They were in the foyer, Hannah helping the kids get their coats and backpacks on. I pulled on my suit coat and then my wool coat, reaching for my scarf. When I looked over, I caught Hannah’s eyes roaming, and she flushed, turning for her own coat, shielding her face from me.
It shouldn’t have made me feel like a goddamn king, but it did.
I slung on my leather bag and picked up Maven, who rested her head in the crook of my neck, thumb in her mouth. And we headed out into the crisp fall morning together.
We didn’t speak for a little while. Sammy filled the air with questions and curious chatter for a block or more, and Hannah answered every one with patience and genuine interest.
I found myself wondering just how such a person existed. Even at my best, I had limits to how many questions I could answer in a five-minute span.
Sammy launched into the chorus of “Yellow Submarine,” which was quiet enough that I could chance a conversation with Hannah.
“Anything planned for today while the kids are in school?”
She shrugged, her arm swinging with Sammy’s as he marched next to her in time to the words. “I have some postcards to write, and I thought I might bake a little something. Katie told me about some specialty shops nearby, a new cheese shop I’d like to visit, too.”
“I wondered where you’d gotten quark cheese. I’d never even heard of quark.”
Hannah chuckled. “Katie picked it up for me. We Dutch love our cheese. I hope they have imported cheese. American cheese is …” Her nose wrinkled.
“Plastic?”
A nod. “It’s even shiny, like wax food. Things are just different here.”
“Different good?”
She shrugged. “Just different. Faster. Easier in a lot of ways. Things are convenient and accessible. But that also sort of makes you feel like you should be able to get what you want, whenever you want it.”
“As opposed to …”
“Well, for instance, in my town, nothing is open on Sundays but restaurants. If you don’t have bread, you don’t have bread. You make do with what you do have.”
I laughed at that. “Yeah, Americans wouldn’t go for that.”
“Exactly. It’s convenient, but … I don’t know. It’s just a different state of mind in Holland, I suppose. Slower-paced, easygoing. No one works more than thirty or maybe forty hours a week.”
Even the thought of working so little was borderline obscene. “Man, they are doing life right.”
“There’s no right or wrong, just different.”
“Yeah, well, their different sounds like voodoo magic to me.”
Sammy’s song and marching escalated in volume and violence until he was jerking Hannah’s arm and slapping his sneakers against the pavement. She joined in singing, slowing him down enough that he wouldn’t dislocate her arm.
Another block brought us to their daycare, and Hannah followed me inside. The kids doled out hugs and kisses before running in to join their friends. Well, Sammy ran, and Maven walked in with a furtive glance over her shoulder. We waved, which seemed to fortify her, and she toddled away.
I ushered Hannah into the lobby with my hand on the small of her back; it wasn’t intentional, just an instinct, the desire to guide her and touch her overriding any thoughts I might actually have on the matter. But Hannah didn’t stiffen or pull away. She looked up at me and smiled.
The girl behind the counter at the front desk did little to hide her judgment as I signed in the kids, pinning me with a look that said she could see straight through me.
And I couldn’t find it in me to care.
We said goodbye to the curious counter girl and walked outside, pausing on the sidewalk, facing each other.
“Well, good luck with your cheese,” I said stupidly.
She laughed. “Good luck with your contracts.”
I chuffed. “Please, contracts are the easy part. It’s the twelve-hour negotiations I’m about to walk into that have me squirrelly.”
Another moment of silence passed as we watched each other.
I wanted to touch her again. I wanted to talk to her, to hear her laugh, to—
I broke away, my effort toward being responsible. “Don’t have too much fun. I’ll see you later.”
“Tonight?” she asked.
And my heart skittered at the optimism I heard there.
“I wouldn’t count on it, but I hope I’m wrong.”
She smiled. I smiled.
And I stepped away, not trusting myself to say more. “Have a good day, Hannah.”
“You too, Charlie.”
My mind was still pointed back at her as I walked away, as if it wanted to watch her go. It was unfair to her and even to me to consider her in any w
ay but the professional one, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
I tried to tell myself that it was just because she was the first woman I’d been attracted to in so long. I wanted to believe it was just that I’d had that door closed for a long time—even when I was still with Mary—and now that the possibility had arisen, I’d jumped into the feeling too soon.
I told myself it was a fluke, that it meant nothing, and as I walked away, I thought I’d maybe begun to convince myself that it was true. But that was just another lie in a long line I’d been telling myself.
Hannah
I walked away from Charlie, heart thumping too hard.
How he did that to me, I’d never understand.
In two weeks, Charlie had changed, the shift so slight but strong and swift. It had started with the night we baked kwarktaarts, the first time that he joined in on the fun, relaxing, slowing down, even if only for a moment. On the weekends after that night, he would always stop for lunch and dinner and would handle the kids through baths and bedtime. I’d shadow him at his request, but he didn’t really need my help. Charlie knew what to do. He only needed to believe that he knew what to do.
A small part of me whispered that he’d only asked for my help as a way to keep me close by. But the truth was that Charlie was afraid and unsure. And because I saw his uncertainty, there was only one thing to do; I had to help. So, I’d step in when he deferred to me and offer encouragement where I could. I believed in him, and it seemed he was beginning to believe in himself.
He was happy, I realized, giving me a little glimpse into another version of him that seemed to have disappeared over time. But as it resurfaced, it was changing him, even on the outside. I only wondered how it was changing him beyond what I could see.
And through it all, we’d become friends. The bruises on my heart left by Quinton had faded until they were almost gone, the pain all but forgotten.
Charlie had completely disarmed me. And with that openness came a different sort of danger.
Sometimes, things would happen when nothing happened at all. Something hidden in a stolen glance, a change in our breaths, in the brushing of hands when we passed a child from one to the other. I knew I should try to keep my distance, keep as much space between us as I could, but instead, we would circle each other in a dance I found myself not wanting to end.
It’s harmless, I told myself.
Neither of us would act on it; I was convinced. I wouldn’t do anything to endanger my position. This was the first time since I’d come to America that I felt good, safe, happy, and I didn’t want to lose that.
And so I pushed thoughts of him away, though they never stayed gone long. But I’d keep trying.
Nothing good could come from traveling that path.
A little while later, I found myself in the small cheese shop—which was as glorious as Katie had promised—with a full basket and a happy heart. I didn’t look up when the bell over the door rang, not until I heard his voice.
“Hannah?”
My grip on the basket tightened, the muscles in my body flexing on reflex, and I looked up to find Quinton standing at my side.
He was so tall, his hair dark as pitch and eyes the color of ice—so pale, they were closer to gray than blue. His jaw—a hard, dominant line—was set, his lips curled into a smile that sent a trickling coldness through me with every racing heartbeat.
I couldn’t speak.
“It’s good to see you,” he said genially. “I didn’t realize you had come back from Holland.”
I opened my mouth, dry as bone, summoning the words through my shock. “Yes, only just,” I lied. “I was told my old position had been filled.”
“It has. And you’ve found another job, I suppose?”
I nodded. “How are the children?” I asked, desperate to fill the air with enough pleasantries to be able to get away.
“Fine. Listen, I’m sorry about what happened and all.”
Nothing about him spoke of the truth—not his eyes locked on mine, not the edge in his voice, not the set of his shoulders.
But I said, “Thank you,” all the same. Accepting his apology was beyond me.
“I’m glad you’re back. Weird, running into you,” he said on a chuckle, slipping his hand into the pocket of his slacks. “I thought I saw you from across the street and had to see if it was really you. Imagine that.”
I smiled, lips together and tight. “Yes, what a coincidence.” I took a step back. “Well, I have to—”
“Of course. I should go too. It’s good to see you, Hannah,” he said, his eyes holding me for a moment before he nodded once and turned to walk away, leaving me standing stunned in the shop.
It wasn’t until the door closed and he was out of sight that I moved, heading to the counter to pay with shaking hands and a spinning mind.
Something told me it was no coincidence at all that I’d seen him.
I didn’t feel safe again until I was home with the door closed and locked behind me. Panic had driven me to walk back too fast, my eyes scanning the sidewalk in front of me and across the street, looking for him so intently that I imagined a few people were him who weren’t.
So I spent the day inside with Katie, baking and talking and busying my hands and distracting my mind. And with every hour, I convinced myself I’d overreacted.
What could he have possibly wanted from me? Surely he’d had no expectations, no offer to make that I could entertain, and he had to understand that. Surely he wouldn’t have sought me out to hurt me. It had to have been chance, nothing more.
If I hadn’t promised Lysanne I’d meet her at the park, I would have picked up the children and gone straight back home. But instead, I packed up a snack and picked up the kids early to meet her.
Hand in hand, the kids and I headed to the park where we found Lysanne waiting at the sandbox where her youngest ward, Charlotte, sat playing with plastic buckets and shovels in primary colors. Sammy took off running for the slide where Lysanne’s older ward, Sydney, waved at him, and Maven headed for the sandbox with me.
Lysanne and I greeted each other with kisses on the cheeks as Maven sat down next to Charlotte and began to dig.
“I brought you something,” I said with a smile.
Lysanne lit up as we sat. “Oh, I love presents.”
I opened up the bag and retrieved a container, popping off the lid to reveal a cheese and sausage spread.
Her mouth opened, her eyes big. “Is that Leyden cheese?” she breathed.
I nodded, beaming. “Mmhmm!”
“Oh my God,” she said as she reached in to pick up a piece of speckled cheese. She popped it in her mouth, and her eyes closed in ecstasy. “Hannah, oh my God.”
“I know!” I practically giggled the words.
“Where in the world did you find this?” She went in for another piece, this time stacking it on a slice of sausage.
“A cheese shop.” I took a bite of my own.
“It’s incredible,” she said with her mouth full, loading another stack in before she swallowed the first.
I laughed. “I have bread too, and crackers.”
“Ugh, I could kiss you.”
“Maybe swallow first.”
Lysanne laughed, and I unpacked the rest of the food. The girls approached, and we offered cheddar and crackers.
I watched Lysanne for a moment before taking a breath. “Something happened today,” I started, not knowing how to even bring it up.
She didn’t inquire, only raised one dark brow.
“I ran into Quinton.”
Her jaw, opened in anticipation of cheese, dropped a centimeter more. “No.”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“He said he saw me and wanted to say hello. He asked about Holland and my job, though only a little. I tried to get out of the conversation as quickly as I could.”
“Do you think he was telling the truth? Surely he wasn’t following you, right?”
“I …” I shook my head, not wanting to even consider it. “I don’t know. Whatever could he be doing in a cheese shop on a Tuesday morning?”
Her hand dropped to her lap. “What are you going to do?”
“What can I do? He didn’t do anything wrong, didn’t say anything that wasn’t all right.”
“Well, he assaulted you, so it isn’t like he’s completely innocent,” she volleyed.
“No, I know, but …” I sighed a deep, long breath. “There’s not much to be done. He greeted me in a public place and with no intentions, none that I could see.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either.”
“Well, hopefully that’s the end of it,” she said.
And we both smiled, the gestures thin and transparent.
“So, how is Charlie?” she sang, batting her lashes like a cartoon.
“He’s fine,” I answered pointedly, though I had to chuckle.
“You like him.”
“I barely know him. And even if I did think anything more of him, I wouldn’t do anything about it. That’s not why I’m here.”
She snickered. “No, you’re here to, what? Find Dutch cheese and take care of someone else’s children and absolutely not because you’re hiding from your family?”
My cheeks warmed up. “I’m not hiding from them.”
“You’re hiding from the bakery.”
“That was all decided a long time ago,” I dodged.
“I’m only saying, I understand it’s hard, knowing you can’t run the shop like you want, but I bet they’d let you work there at least.”
I shook my head. “I know, but … Lysanne, there’s no room for me there, and that’s all right.”
She gave me a look.
“It is,” I said as I covered her hand with mine. “For now, where I am is just fine. And it was your idea for me to come here, so you should be careful throwing around ideas on me leaving.”
