“I heard you—” she begins but stops, looking at the ground.
“What did you hear?”
“Crying. My tummy hurt and I wanted to sleep in your bed, but you was cryin’.”
Her words cut me like a thousand razorblades. Gutted. It happens less and less these days but still, some nights I allow myself time to wallow. To miss my husband and to mourn the loss my children will experience. Growing up without a father isn’t something I can imagine. My dad is such a huge part of my life, always there for his kids even if we’re adults now.
“Oh baby,” I say, pulling her into a hug. “There is nothing wrong with crying sometimes. Remember how I cried watching your princess movie? Your mama has a tender heart and even if it makes me look like Shrek, a good cry is good for my soul.”
“What’s a soul?”
Smiling, I stand and place my hands on either side of her face, pulling her gaze up to face me. “The soul is like the air of our heart. I like to think it’s our souls’ job to keep our hearts beating so we can live and love. Go on and play with your sister while I make breakfast, okay?”
Nodding, she smiles and skips off, seemingly okay with my response. It isn’t a lie. I do think a good cry is good for the soul. But it’s been a long time since I’ve cried to feel better. Mostly, I cry for every mountain I’ve climbed these last few years and how utterly proud of myself I am.
Life hasn’t worked out like I expected, and I’ve made a lot of mistakes as I maneuver through my loss and the consequences it has created. Jeff would be proud of me. Of us. His girls and me making it, and maybe one day, I’ll open myself up again to the possibility of sharing this life with someone else.
Until then, it’s scrambled eggs and fruit for my little ones before they get ready for a sleepover at their grandparents. Tonight, if the emotions hit me, at least my girls won’t be here to catch the tears.
Chapter 6
Grant
“Well, hello handsome. What’s your name?”
The woman’s voice rises about ten octaves with each new word and I can’t help but cringe a little. Thankfully, my little dining partner garners all the attention and doesn’t notice. Kicking his legs and blowing raspberries with drool flying everywhere, Nick matches her shrill voice with a screech of his own.
“Whoa there buddy, we’re in a restaurant,” I tease as I take one of the napkins from the stack next to my plate and wipe his face.
“You’re just as handsome as your daddy,” the stranger says as she leans over, exposing more cleavage than should be allowed in a family restaurant.
“Godfather,” I correct as she rises and offers me a smile, her hand resting on the table as she leans in. She’s a pretty girl. Light brown hair cut short and carefree, a huge smile, and big brown eyes. The key word there is “girl.” She’s far too young for a guy like me.
“Well then, that made this all the better, didn’t it? There’s something sexy about a man caring for a child that isn’t his own.”
Good grief.
“Thanks.” There isn’t much else to say, but I’m not rude, so I wipe my hand before extending it to her. “Grant Ellison, and this little man is Nicholas. You may know his parents, Taylor Cain and his fiancée, Scarlett? Taylor owns Country Road.”
“Misty. It’s a pleasure. I know Taylor. It was a sad day when he went off the market. How about you? I don’t see a ring.” Her eyes dip to my hand and then back up to my face.
Before I can answer, I spot a familiar face at the counter and shout, “Hey Dakota! Over here!”
Misty, who has yet to release my hand turns her head toward the front of the restaurant. Eyes wide, Dakota looks between us and at our hands. Hoping she can see the desperation in my eyes from far away, I pull my hand from Misty and wave her over to the table.
When she steps up, brows furrowed and a small tentative smile on her lips, I stand and put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her to my side. “I didn’t think you were going to make it. Oh, sorry. Misty, do you know Dakota? Dakota, this is Misty she was just stopping by to say hello to Nick.”
Looking up at me, Dakota hesitates, but then I see it. The realization of what I’m asking her to do. Her smile grows, and she wraps her arm around my waist.
“Nick sure is a lady’s man. My girls adore him.” Looking down at the messy little guy in a highchair, she catches my eye and winks before lifting her head and scanning the room.
“Oh, honey I think your friends are trying to get your attention,” she says to a very disappointed Misty before pointing to a group of young women on the far side of the restaurant. Each are staring our way, one with her phone pointed our way.
“Hmm . . .” Misty murmurs, following Dakota’s direction. Looking back to me and then Dakota, she rolls her eyes and says, “Y’all enjoy your meal. Bye, cutie.” Ruffling her hands through Nick’s hair, she spins on her heel and sashays away.
Slowly, I release my arm from Dakota and don’t acknowledge the loss.
“That was interesting,” my savior says with a giggle while taking a step to the other side of Nick’s chair. She picks up a spoon from the ground before setting it on the table, out of his reach. “I should go. Takeout and Netflix wait for no one.”
“Stay,” I bark before she can move. My less than cool tone seems to shock her. “Sorry. I mean, would you like to join us?” I ask, motioning to the other side of the booth.
“Oh, I don’t want to impose. My food shouldn’t take long. I swear Rosa must have an assembly line of twenty people back there, she’s so quick.”
“There’s no imposition. Join us. Really, I should buy you dinner for saving me.” Her smile is tentative as she looks to the counter and back to me. “Come on, this guy, as cute as he is, leaves something to be desired when it comes to dinner conversation. Save me from a night of talking to myself.”
Shrugging, she unfurls her purse from across her body and slips into the booth. Without hesitation, she begins wiping up some of the mess Nick has made while talking quietly to him about messy boys with cute dimples. It’s best if I simply ignore how fucking hot I think this mom look is on her.
“Thanks again for the save. I’ve never met such a forward woman.”
“I find that hard to believe. You forget I’m friends with Scarlett. I’ve heard stories upon stories.”
Groaning, I take too long of a sip of my drink from the straw. Maybe if I stall long enough, she’ll drop it. There’s no telling what she’s been told and how much of it is embellished for dramatic effect.
“Something tells me the ladies didn’t have much of a chance when you, Taylor, and Connor were out together.”
Guess she isn’t going to drop it.
“Nah. I’ve always been the old man in the group. My idea of a good time is a movie marathon and pizza. Maybe a competitive game of Monopoly. Bars and hookups are for the younger guys.”
“Oh come on, Grant. You act as if you’re getting ready to cash in a senior discount for a free slice of pie. Take the attention from young women like your friend back there as a compliment.”
“It isn’t about being old,” I begin as I let Nick take a sip of water, “but more about knowing that girl and I have nothing in common. Besides, I’ve always found tall blondes much more interesting.”
Pink tints her cheeks as she looks at her hands. I wonder if the blush is from her compliment or my poor attempts at flirting. A small smile appears, and her eyes drift up to meet mine. We sit for a few beats, smiling at each other like a couple of mutes.
“I wanted to apologize for upsetting you when we first met.”
Her smile falls, and she tilts her head as if she’s trying to figure out what I’m talking about. Eyes squinting, she opens her mouth to speak, and then she must remember because her confusion is gone and in its place a mask of . . . sadness and guilt?
“No, it’s me who should apologize. You did nothing wrong.” Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes as she exhales. Eyes back on me she says, “
Wow this is harder than I thought. When you mentioned Mr. Jennings and flirting in the same conversation the realization of what was happening hit me like a Mack truck.”
Nick smacks his hands on the table, distracting us both. I hand him one of his toys from the diaper bag and motion for her to continue.
“My husband passed away a few years ago. It’s been . . . well, let’s just say I’ve been through a lot, and it all hit me at once. I shouldn’t have been so rude.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Dakota. Had I known, I wouldn’t have been so forward. And awkward. Truly, I never would have put you in that position.”
Gone is the sadness or guilt she was carrying a moment ago, and a new grin begins as her name is called from the counter. She reaches for her purse and begins to step out of her seat when I stop her.
“You don’t have to go. Stay and eat with us.”
“I should get home. Ya know, that whole takeout and Netflix plan. It was good to see you, Grant. Bye, sweet boy.”
Before I can say another word, she rushes to the counter to retrieve her food. Peering over her shoulder, she offers me a small wave before scurrying from the building.
“Well kiddo, looks like it’s back to just you and me. How about we stop by the store on the way home for some ice cream? It’s the least I can do for your parents before I leave in the morning.”
My toothless buddy blesses me with a huge gummy grin and lets out an ear-piercing sound I assume is an agreement to my plan. I’m going to miss it here. Lexington has a way of sucking you into its charms.
The parking lot of Sunny Hills Retirement Community is more active than the last time I was here. Cars I recognize are parked in the employee parking and the bus that takes the residents for their appointments sits idle, the driver with a clipboard in his hand. He looks up and catches my eye, waving, before pulling away from his spot. Walking through the double doors, I wave to Leslie, chatting with the receptionist, and make my way to the director’s office to check in. The ten days I was gone seemed to fly by when I was in Lexington, days feeling shorter than normal. Now that I’m here, back in Fayhill with my regular routine, the opposite seems true.
Knocking on the wood before stepping through the open doorway, I smile at the man banging his head on the desk. Laughing, I draw his attention, a look of horror on his face before it morphs into relief.
“Shit, I’m glad it was you. Last thing I need is a patient’s family member seeing me acting like a toddler. Good to see you, Grant.”
“Keith should I be worried? Grab Teri to check for a temperature?”
“What? Oh, no. I was just talking to an insurance company. I swear before I took this promotion and had to deal with all the bureaucracy bullshit, I had a full head of hair. Black hair, Grant. My hair used to be black.”
Leaning back in his chair, he runs his hand down the front of his face and I grunt in response. “Yeah, well me too. Welcome to the club.”
“The difference is you’re a decorated veteran and grow facial hair like your cousin is a Sasquatch. Meanwhile, I may need to start investing in some hair plugs or at least spray paint for hair. And this,” he says patting his belly, “don’t even get me started on what a desk job has done for my waist size.”
“And yet, Nora loves you just the same.” Keith may grumble but he’s a happily married father with three daughters and wouldn’t give up his life for a six pack of abs or full head of hair.
“That she does. So, what’s up with you? How were your holidays?”
For the next thirty minutes I catch him up on my time out of town and show him pictures of my little buddy. The pride in my voice is evident and he doesn’t miss an opportunity to tease me about starting a family of my own. I manage to deflect and refocus the conversation on his girls, his favorite subject.
“Okay, I know you aren’t here to just shoot the shit. We could get a beer and do that. Before you go check in with Teri, I wanted to see if you wouldn’t mind stopping by one twenty-two before you leave today.”
“Sure. Who’s in one twenty-two?”
Clicking a few times with his mouse, he leans toward the screen because he refuses to see an eye doctor and join the rest of us over-forty guys with glasses. I lean back while he reads and clicks a few more times before turning to face me.
“Eugene Wilkins, eighty-seven, angry, frustrated, and a royal pain in the ass. He’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of a mountain and has been giving the staff a hard time.”
“And you think I should hang out with him? Because I’m so cuddly?” I say between chuckles.
“I don’t expect you to hug it out with him, but he has no family and was a military man. I thought maybe if he has someone to talk with, someone who speaks the same language for lack of a better word, maybe he’d chill out a bit. I swear, I thought I was going to have a stroke last week when he threw his Jell-O because he doesn’t like the green flavor.”
I shudder, “Nobody likes the lime, Keith.”
“I know, but dammit, this isn’t a posh resort. He could have just passed on the dessert. Come on, man, if anyone can get through to him it’s you.”
With a nod, I rise from the chair I’ve been occupying and head for room one twenty-two. Might as well get this over with. As I approach the door, I hear a gasp behind me. Turning slowly, I catch Teri with her eyes wide and the tablet she’s holding close to her chest. Protecting her like a shield. She frantically waves me over.
“Yes?”
“Grant, why are you going in Mr. Wilkins’s room?”
I lean forward and whisper, “Why are you whispering?”
Smacking my arm she smiles but before she can reply, I give her my simple answer. “I’ll be fine.”
With a quick knock on the closed door, I wait for a count of three to be welcomed into the room. Instead I’m greeted with silence. Here goes nothing.
Pushing the door open, I spy a small elderly man sitting in his recliner chair next to the bed with the remote in his hand watching television. He doesn’t bother to grace me with a look, but he also hasn’t thrown anything at me, so I’ll take that as a good sign.
“Mr. Wilkins, sir?”
Silence.
“Sir, my name is Grant Ellison. I volunteer here at Sunny Hills and wanted to check in with you and introduce myself.”
“Don’t need any volunteering. You can leave.”
“What are you watching?”
“None of your business.”
Well, okay then.
“How about I just sit with you for a bit while you find something to watch.”
“Suit yourself but I ain’t talkin’ to ya.”
I don’t bother pointing out that by telling me he isn’t talking to me, he is doing just that. Instead, I pull the small desk chair up parallel to him and settle in while he flips from channel to channel. I’m perfectly happy to sit here in silence if it shows Mr. Wilkins he’s not alone.
Chapter 7
Dakota
If I could go back in time, I would pick my sixteenth birthday. That’s the day I’d tell teenage me about the lack of metabolism after thirty. My first suggestion would be for teenager Dakota to quit making excuses in gym class and embrace the sweat. Or at least fake it and get some decent cardio. While I can’t go back twenty years and have that conversation there must be a way I can go back two months to New Year’s Eve and change my goals for the year. Or modify them.
Getting healthier was high on my list for the new year and when I’m working out and pushing my body, I feel good and grateful. There was a time not long ago, taking a walk was the most I could manage. Now, I attend at least two sessions of yoga each week and incorporated some free weights and cardio at home. If anyone asked me why I was making this a priority I would tell them the perfectly crafted response of “I want to set a good example for my daughters. I don’t want them to look at being active and healthy as something negative.” I’m proud of that response. And, while true, I really would like to wear my sk
inny jeans straight from the dryer without having to do some pretty deep lunges and toe touches to stretch them out.
When all I want to do is flop down on the couch and binge Jane the Virgin for the third time, I remember the moment I took control of my life. The day I sat with my sister crying in the most pain I’d ever felt. Months after a car accident claimed my husband, I was without the casts and braces, physical therapy pushing my body to function once again. But deep in my soul the shattered pieces remained. I was leaving my children for an unknown period of time. Minnie stepped up and changed every aspect of her life to help me, and I’ll never be able to fully repay her.
I was desperate and terrified for the months ahead of me, wondering what kind of mother leaves her children behind to enter treatment, not only for my dependency but also to work through my grief and loss. How did I lose so much of myself and control of my life? I’m proud of the way I’ve created a new life for us and, as I grumble about stupid squats, my heart rate still racing, I’m grateful to be here and in a place I can fuss about something so mundane.
Shaking off the negative thoughts that threaten to pull me back to a time that tugs at the fissures around my heart, I meander to the kitchen and gather the ingredients for my morning smoothie. While the blender whirls the fruit and yogurt into a tasty breakfast, I pull a paper towel from the roll and dab at the sweat running down my neck.
When the raspberry concoction is the consistency I prefer, I pour the drink into my favorite cup just as my phone signals a video chat is starting. Glancing at the clock, I know it’s my sister.
Taking a spot at the breakfast bar, I tap the accept button on my phone and wait for the line to connect.
“What do you think about a winter wedding? It could work, right?”
“Good morning, Minnie. I’m having regrets about my new exercise choices but doing well. Thank you for asking.”
“Sorry,” she sighs. “Morning, Sissy. You look sweaty.” Her nose scrunches and I laugh.
“Learn from my mistakes, little sister. Start working out now so when you have babies it won’t suck as bad.”
Cherish Her Page 4
