LuLLaY

by Freya Barker

  And boy, can he deliver; in more ways than one. I feel more worshipped, as well as sated, than I ever have.

  The man is a rock in a crisis, Prince Charming to my daughter, and a powerhouse in bed. Matt Savela spells trouble in capital letters. Good thing tomorrow is the expiration date on this fairy tale, or else Flynn won’t be the only one heartbroken when we go our own ways.

  “I’ll go check,” Matt says, pulling up his pants.

  I’m still scrambling to find my own clothes when I hear the low rumble of his voice and the much higher pitch of my little girl’s from the bedroom. I’m just pulling my shirt over my head when he walks out, Flynn on his arm.

  “This little princess needs to pee.” Matt presses a soft kiss to her hair, melting my heart. “You should probably take her,” he whispers over her head, outright killing me with his thoughtful care.

  Ignoring Flynn’s mumbled objections, he hands her to me before making himself scarce, and I rush her into the bathroom.

  “Want Man, Mommy,” she complains sleepily, rubbing her eyes while I help her take care of business.

  “Tomorrow, Peanut. We need to do a bit more sleeping first. Come on...” I set her to her feet and pull up her bottoms, scooping her up in my arms. “I’ll tuck you in.”

  “I want Man!” she whines louder when I open the bathroom door.

  Matt is already waiting on the other side, and I shoot him an apologetic grin and shake my head. "I'm sorry, she's a bit of a handful. To think I once wanted a big family—"

  "I'll take her, if that's okay?" he asks, interrupting me with a strange melancholy smile on his face.

  “Sure.” I don’t object when she reaches for him, wrapping her little arms around his neck, clinging on like a monkey.

  Tomorrow is going to suck all around.

  Matt disappears with her into the bedroom, and I turn in the opposite direction, in search of my glass of wine. I need a drink.

  I notice he did some rearranging while I was in the bathroom. The tent has come down, and he has placed all the couch pillows on the floor, covering them with one of the sheets. He turned it into a large bed and it’s obvious he’s intending to sleep here with me tonight. There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than to cuddle up in his arms all night, but I’m already teetering on a slippery slope. Self-preservation has me pick up a pillow, and head back to the bedroom.

  I ease the door open and am struck by the sight of Matt, sitting on the edge of the mattress, watching my daughter’s angelic face, his hand stroking her hair. He appears to have fallen for her just as hard as she has for him.

  “Lully, lullay, thou little tiny child,

  Bye bye, lully, lullay.”

  The sound of his deep voice, softly singing my baby to sleep with a Christmas carol has a lump form in my throat. The beautiful song has always moved me, but hearing him sing those words to her gives them an even deeper meaning.

  Resolved, and with the pillow still stuck under my arm, I turn and pad back to the make-shift bed on the floor.

  It’s already too late for self-preservation.

  A few minutes later, he walks out and gently pulls the door shut behind him. I’m already in bed and flip the covers down on his side. He recognizes the invitation and wordlessly slips between the sheets, pulling me straight into his arms, tucking my head under his chin where I snuggle in.

  We lie like that for a while, just softly stroking and breathing each other in. Memorizing touch and scent.

  “I wish—“ he starts, but I stop him with my fingers to his lips.

  “Hush,” I whisper. I don’t want to hear anything that might spoil tonight’s bittersweet magic. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. “Just hold me.”

  Matt

  There is no point in trying to resist either mother or daughter—they already own me.

  Flynn’s little girl voice was irresistible, asking me to sing her to sleep. The “Coventry Carol” immediately came to mind and it didn’t take long for her eyes to flutter closed. Little did she know I felt every word I sang to her tear at my soul.

  For a while, I just lie beside Tana, thinking about our unusual situation. The fact she’d be in Duluth for an undetermined time, and I should be back in Boston with Leena before long, isn’t exactly conducive to any kind of relationship. The different possibilities and solutions churn in my mind. I was just about to voice my spinning thoughts, when she stopped me in my tracks. As if she’d known what I’d been planning to say and didn’t want me going there.

  Instead of talking anything through, I ended up holding her until we finally both fell asleep.

  This morning we were woken up by a very energetic Flynn, who somehow had climbed down from the tall hotel bed and managed to open the door. Her little body snuggled between us on the floor and her mouth going a mile a minute, half of it I didn’t understand. Tana looked at me over her daughter’s head, regret clear on her face.

  As predicted, the snow had stopped last night, and we could already hear the snowplows clearing the parking lot outside. Leaning over Flynn, I kissed Tana lightly on her lips, pressed one on Flynn’s forehead as well, and headed for the bathroom, knowing I’d just said goodbye.

  Tana already had the room back in order when I walked out of the bathroom. Once again stark and functional, there was nothing left to show the beautiful ripple in time we shared.

  Listening to Flynn’s chatter from the bedroom, I quickly pull on my clothes, stuff the rest of my belongings in my bag, and head to check the front desk for news on the Toyota.

  "They were here first thing this morning, sir," a clerk I hadn't seen before tells me. "The vehicle is parked out front." He hands me the keys Tana had left with them.

  “What about the roads? Any closures still in effect that you know of?”

  “The 90 was open as of five this morning. I just drove it to get here myself.” The man smiles like he’s just given me good news. He has no fucking idea.

  With a nod of thanks, I wander into the small dining room, grab a few things for breakfast from the buffet, and head back to the room.

  “Wasn’t sure where you’d gone,” Tana comments, a little breathless as she rubs her hair dry from her shower. There’s no sign of Flynn, but I hear the splash of water coming from the bathroom.

  “Your Toyota is out front.” All movement freezes as she blinks a few times at my brusque words. “I’m just gonna make sure it’s in good driving order, while you guys eat breakfast and get ready. I’ll be back to help you load up,” I suggest, trying hard not to look directly at her.

  One look at me and she’d probably see right through the resolute tone of my words, to the uncertain hurt in my eyes. I barely hear her, “Okay,” as I leave the tray on the coffee table, snag my duffel, and walk back out.

  Twenty minutes later I return, both my car and hers now parked side by side in the parking lot, engines running to get them warmed up. Flynn’s car seat is installed in the Toyota again.

  “Man!” her little voice greets me when I walk in the door.

  “We’re ready,” Tana announces, just as the little one clamps onto my leg. Unable to resist her, I bend down and swing her up in my arms, burying my nose in her still damp hair. “Matt,” Tana whispers when I lift my eyes to her, unable to hide the loss I’m already feeling.

  Resolutely swinging Flynn on my hip, I grab their bags in my other hand. “I’ll help you load up.”

  Flynn launched a few protests when I strapped her in her seat, but when her mother lined up Bambi on the tablet hanging off the back of the front seat, she settled right down.

  With the little one already lost to her movie, I turn to Tana. “Hand me your phone.”

  She looks at me puzzled for only a moment before digging through her purse. “Why?” she asks, handing it over.

  “In case something happens?” I throw out, as I enter my number into her contacts and give the phone back.

  “Oh, okay.” Her disappointment is obvious and suddenly I can’t bear
to send her off with a lie.

  “Fuck. The truth is I’m not ready to let go yet. I can’t,” I confess, and she nods, tears welling in her eyes.

  “I know. Me too.” Suddenly her arms are around me and we hold onto each other.

  I shove my face in the crook of her neck and the right words fail me. “I’ve had...It’s been...If only...” I stumble, unable to string a coherent thought together. “Call me if you need me. For anything. I’m...I’ll be there.”

  “I know,” she mumbles.

  “I wish...”

  “Me too. I wish that too.”

  One moment she is in my arms, and the next she's behind the wheel, backing out of her parking space. I can see Flynn in the back seat, oblivious to the emotional turmoil surrounding her.

  As I watch them drive off, I feel as if I’ve just sent off my one chance at the life I never thought I’d have.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Tana

  “There are my girls!”

  Mom must’ve been looking out the window, because she’s heading toward the car, bundled in her winter coat, before I even have the car door open.

  Nothing feels better than being wrapped in welcoming arms when you’ve just spent close to thirteen hours on the road, with a three-year-old full of beans, and a sharp ache in your chest. I have to battle back the tears—fatigue—mostly.

  “You should’ve stopped,” Mom says, putting a cool hand to my cheek as she scans my face. “No person in their sane mind would have tackled that in one run. Not with a baby in the car.”

  “I just wanted to get here. It’s been a long few days.”

  “I bet,” she says, with one last scrutinizing look at me. “Now where’s my Flynnie?”

  “Shhh,” I caution her. “She’s been asleep since just past Eau Claire. I’d just as soon drop her straight to bed if we can manage.”

  “I’ll take her. I have her in your old room, and you’re on the other side of the bathroom, in the guest room.”

  “We could’ve shared a room, Mom,” I remind her, but she waves me off.

  “This way you don’t have to disturb each other. I bet it’s been ages since you were able to sleep in.”

  Three years to be exact.

  I watch as Mom unclips Flynn’s harness and lifts her deftly out of her seat without waking her.

  “Grab just what you need for tonight,” she instructs me as she passes. “We’ll get the rest tomorrow morning.”

  The house smells familiar—like home—when I walk in the door. I drop my bags and barely shrug out of my coat when I’m wrapped in an equally familiar hug.

  “Princess,” my father’s deep voice rumbles over my head, as I wrap my arms around his expanding waist.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Too long, my girl.”

  “I know. It’s good to be here.” I try to step back so I can look at him, but he holds me tight, giving me an extra squeeze before finally letting go. “How are you doing?” I ask, taking a visual inventory of my ailing father.

  “Can’t complain,” he states, shrugging off the attention he’s not comfortable with. “Better now that you’re here. I see my granddaughter is growing like a weed.” I recognize the distraction tactic and decide to let him get away with it. For now.

  “She is,” I confirm, smiling at him. “And smart as a whip. She talks up a storm these days.”

  “Bet she’s a firecracker, just like her mom was.”

  “Why are you all standing in the hallway?” Mom says as she comes down the stairs. “Come inside, sweetie. Let me get you something to eat.”

  I let her guide me into the kitchen, where she has me sit down while she pulls out more food than I could possibly eat in a week. All my favorites. My parents join me at the kitchen table and ask me a hundred and one questions while I pick at the food. Mostly about Flynn, and about Best Bites, but they have some questions about my trip too. I answer most of them, but when they start asking about my unplanned stay in Chesterton, I avoid saying too much. It’s not that I won’t tell them what happened eventually—Flynn will make sure of that—it’s that I need a good night’s sleep before I even begin to tackle the feeling of loss I’ve been pushing down these past thirteen hours.

  Since catching my last glimpse of Matt standing in the parking lot of the Hilton Garden Inn.

  -

  “Morning,” Mom chirps when I pad into the kitchen in my pj’s.

  I slept a solid eight hours but woke up disoriented and missing Matt. Ridiculous that after spending only a couple of days together, his absence already feels like a painful void. I almost indulged in a little pity party for one when I heard the high-pitched chatter coming from downstairs.

  A quick visit to the bathroom and a splash of cold water on my face, and I went in search of my daughter.

  “Mommy!”

  My baby is sitting cross-legged on the counter, her hands stuck in a big bowl of dough.

  “Morning, Peanut,” I mumble, kissing the top of her head. “What are you up to?”

  “Seaman bums. I helped,” she informs me with a big smile.

  “Cinnamon buns?” I grin at the enthusiastic bounce of her head. “Yummy.”

  “Yummy,” she echoes.

  Mom hands me a cup of coffee and waves me to the table. “Sit. These’ll be in the oven in a jiffy. Flynnie is being a great help.”

  “I can see that.” My daughter has dough stuck to the front of her shirt, her face, and most of the counter around her. “Where’s Dad?”

  “At the bakery.” Her answer is short and I see a shadow slide over her face.

  “What time did he leave?”

  "Three. Damn fool got all of three hours sleep. I'm going to have to physically go kick him out of there, or he'll stick around ‘til closing time."

  “I’ll talk to him tonight,” I promise. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll be the one heading in early.”

  Mom snorts as she takes the bowl from Flynn and dumps the dough out on the floured counter. “Good luck with that. It’s gonna take more than a talk to keep him away. I finally got him to hire extra help, with Christmas orders piling high, but he still insists being there to supervise.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” I repeat. “And if I have to I’m not averse to using threats or blackmail.” That puts a little smile on Mom’s face, but the strain on her is obvious.

  Dad is a proud, stubborn man, but he has a few soft spots: the biggest one is his granddaughter.

  We spend the morning putzing around. I’m doing laundry while Mom is busy getting on top of her bookkeeping. I’m just moving the last load from the washer to the dryer when Mom sticks her head into the laundry room.

  “Who’s this man Flynnie keeps asking for?”

  I knew Flynn would eventually spill the beans, I just hoped I’d have another twenty-four hours or so to let the hurt scab over.

  “Matt. It’s Matt, but Flynn keeps calling him Man.” I recognize the hopeful flare in my mother’s eyes. She never says anything, but I know she was disappointed when I announced I was going to raise Flynn by myself. Despite her open mind, she still carries traditional values. She’d like nothing more than to see me settled with a good man. It burns that I’ll have to let her down. Again.

  “Let’s put on a fresh pot of coffee for this.” She grabs my hand and pulls me into the kitchen.

  Installed at the kitchen table, with my hands folded around a warm cup of java and a gentle prompt from Mom, I tell her everything. Well, almost everything.

  “He sounds like a good guy, honey. So why walk away? Is it because he’s younger than you are?” Mom covers my fingers that have been plucking at the tissue I needed halfway through my story. Her eyes are warm and understanding, and I fight off another wave of sadness.

  "Maybe at first, but in the end, it was just all...complicated."

  “Why?”

  I roll my eyes at her persistence. “For one thing, we live in different cities. It would be too inconvenient.”

 
“What kind of reason is inconvenient? Besides, didn’t you tell me last month you were thinking of moving up the coast?” Trust Mom to remember every conversation we’ve ever had verbatim.

  “I was just toying with the idea.”

  “So? Toy a little harder.”

  “Okay, but then there’s the fact I have a busy life: a business I’m responsible for, a child I’m raising on my own. I don’t know how I could make time for a relationship. And Flynn—what if things don’t work out? Look at how attached she’s grown, in just a few days. What if after a couple of months he decides it’s not working out? She would be devastated. And then there’s the situation with Dad. There’s so much going on in my life right now, it’s overwhelming. I can’t even begin to—”

  “Montana,” Mom interrupts my verbal diarrhea with a soft admonishing tone. “Take a breath, honey.”

  “I’m just—”

  She gives my hand a firm squeeze. “A breath, sweetheart.” I do as she says, take a deep breath and then another, while she nods encouragingly. “Good. Now let’s deconstruct for a minute, and please correct me if I’m wrong. You hired a business manager so you could delegate, right?” I nod. “And you mentioned how amazing this Matt was with Flynn, jumping in, putting her to bed and all that?” I nod again. “You’re here now to help us out and find solutions for the bakery, but that’s only temporary. Once we have a plan in place, you won’t have to worry about us.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Hang on, I’m not done.” I feel ten years old being made to sit through one of Mom’s lectures, but I let her continue just the same. “I know you prefer holding all the strings in hand, but you’re also smart enough to know you can’t control everything, no matter how hard you try. Take this from someone with a little more life experience than you; all good things come with risks attached. I can’t tell you if this man will stick—no one can predict the future—but I can tell you with certainty that unless you open yourself to the possibility, you will never find out. And wouldn’t that be an absolute waste?”