by Jiffy Kate
Sitting in the dark, empty kitchen, I take a slow sip of the lukewarm cup of coffee I’ve been nursing for the past hour. The package from Nathan, along with the envelope containing my mother’s life insurance policy, are on the table in front of me.
I don’t know why I’ve been so reluctant to open both items. Even though I know what’s in the envelope from my mother, it remains sealed. I have no idea what’s in Nathan’s envelope and the fear of the unknown is weighing heavily on me. It’s as if I somehow know opening them will change my life forever. I could use some direction, sure, but the longer I wait, the harder it is to take that final step.
“Kadi, you’re being silly. Just open them already,” I command myself with a whisper. It’s the middle of the night and, once again, I can’t sleep. I thought, if I allowed myself to open the envelopes, I’d be able to relax enough to sleep but, instead, I’ve been sitting here for over an hour just staring at them.
I think what I’m most afraid of is the finality of opening them. Once these seals are broken, I’ll have to face whatever Nathan wants to say to me. It’ll also be the final form of communication with my mother. Proof that, after leaving me and my dad behind, she did love me in her own way.
Letting out a huff, I grab the envelope from my mom and rip the top open just like one does a bandage. The faster you rip, the less it hurts, right?
I’m surprised at the disappointment I feel when I remove the paper from inside and see that it’s simply a document stating that I am my mother’s sole beneficiary for her life insurance policy. The amount is a bit startling, only because I’ve never, personally, seen or had that kind of money before. But since my dad told me about it, I’ve allowed myself to wonder and dream a bit, even amidst all the events of the past few days. It’s hard not to when given this kind of gift… opportunity. But I guess I was expecting…hoping…there’d be a letter or something from her, but no.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for the money she left but it just feels weird accepting it. Part of me feels like I should give it back, but of course, that’s impossible. Another part feels like I should give it to my dad, but it’s obvious my mother wanted me to have it.
The permanent ink of a document is hard to argue with.
It’s not until a teardrop lands on the envelope that I realize I’m crying. There have been moments since being home that I’ve felt like I could cry or that I should cry but the tears never came. I didn’t let them. Until now.
Now that they’ve started, it feels as though they won’t ever stop, so I let myself cry. I cry for my teenaged self, back when I first lost my mother, and I cry for myself now, knowing we’ll never have a true reconciliation. I cry for my dad and I cry for my mom because I really do feel sorry for her. It must’ve been hard not ever being able to settle down and just be happy or content…always running from your life and searching for the unknown, leaving behind those who cared for you.
After a while, my thoughts drift to Nathan. I used to think we were so different—too different—but I can see now that we’re very similar. Our family backgrounds, our likes and dislikes, our work ethic…we’re pretty much cut from the same cloth.
I saw it in the beginning, it’s what drew me to him. The way he cared for people and didn’t allow his wealth or status to dictate how he saw the world, it was one of his most attractive qualities. Still is. But somewhere along the way, I allowed my pride and stubbornness to guide me and all I could see was how I didn’t fit into his world.
And then there was fear—fear that all of it was too good to be true, fear that I would be a passing phase and when Nathan was finished with me, he’d move on and I’d be left with shattered pieces that used to resemble a heart.
I’ve loved people before, but the love I felt building for Nathan was life-changing. I was falling in love with him and it was shaking up my world. The world I had worked so hard to make my own. The world I had sacrificed for. The world that was stuck on its axis before Nathan Hendricks showed up and set it spinning.
Is it okay to be that in love with someone? For so much of your happiness to depend on theirs?
I don’t know.
It’s a scary feeling.
But what’s been scarier, in the few weeks Nathan and I have been apart, is the thought of him never being in my world again. I could live without him. I could go back to status quo, just getting by. I was happy before he came along. Sure, life was a struggle and I didn’t have much to look forward to, but I was making it… on my own.
Footsteps shuffling down the hall make me jump and wipe at my tear-stained cheeks. Clearing my throat, I turn to see my dad standing in the doorway of the dimly-lit kitchen.
Without saying a word, he grabs a coffee cup and pours some from the pot I brewed earlier before sitting down in the chair across from me.
“Did you love her?” I ask, the question coming out of my mouth before I have a chance to think. “Like really love her?”
He lets out a deep sigh, bringing the cup to his mouth and taking a small sip before answering, “Yeah, I did… still do.”
“Do you regret it? Knowing how it all turned out, would you have still loved her?”
“Yeah,” he says with a thoughtful nod. “If we knew the future, we’d probably all be holed up in little caves somewhere. It’s human nature to want to protect ourselves from pain. But sometimes the pain is worth it.”
“So, no regrets?”
“Not when it comes to lovin’ your mother. But I do have one regret,” he says, sitting the cup down and looking me straight in the eye. “I should’ve been a better dad.”
The lump in my throat is back with his confession and I want to tell him that it was fine… he was fine. But I can’t, so he continues.
“I was broken after your mother left. All I knew to do was keep my head down, keep workin’... make money to provide for you. But I failed on doing the things that mattered. I left you to practically raise yourself and I regret that.”
He squeezes his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before blinking and looking away.
“Don’t live with regrets, Kadi. Whatever it is you want to do, go do it…” he says, pushing the envelope that has my mother’s life insurance policy toward me.
My dad and I sit in silence for the longest time, drinking our cups of coffee and staring at the small space we shared for so many years. I want to tell him something to comfort him, something to let him know he shouldn’t have regrets, but his words are true. I would be lying to him if I told him he was a great dad, because he wasn’t, but he was the best one he knew how to be. And sometimes, your best has to be enough.
“I’m okay, you know,” I finally tell him. “I’m not saying my life was perfect or wonderful, but whose is? Everyone has things in their past that are less than ideal. I never went hungry. I always knew I had a place to lay my head at night. That’s a lot more than some kids have. So, you might not’ve been the best dad, but you did your best.”
He nods his head a small, sad smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“You always were one to find the silver lining.”
Sometimes, a little perspective is all we need to move forward in life. Nathan Hendricks is the silver lining. He helped me see that my life could’ve been so much worse.
Table 10
I woke up early this morning after finally sleeping through the night on the couch in the living room. I can’t force myself into the room that once was mine. That’s where my mother spent her last few months and took her last breath. One of these days, I’ll probably be able to go back in there and not see her lying on the bed dying, but not now.
My dad was already outside, working on some old truck, before the sun was even completely over the horizon. I watched him for a few minutes from the screen door, before deciding what I needed to do for the day.
Bake.
I needed to feel dough between my fingers and smell the sweet aroma of pie coming from the oven.
T
his house needed it too. It needed a cleansing of sorts, something to clear the air and push out all the staleness of the past few months.
I decided I’m going home tomorrow morning, but I haven’t told my dad yet. I know he’ll be okay with it and even if he’s not, he’ll pretend like he is, but I thought a pie might soften the blow.
I set out to make one—peach—his favorite. But two hours later, I have an entire counter full of pies. I found a bag of frozen blueberries in the freezer that were begging to be used and a jar of apples in the pantry that had pie written all over them.
“Kadi?” My dad’s voice comes from the doorway, but I’m up to my elbows in flour, so I don’t look up.
“Yeah?”
“What are you doin’?” he asks slowly, slower than his usual drawl.
“Baking. Pies.”
“Uh huh. And who’s gonna eat all these pies?”
“Oh,” I say, straightening up and wiping my hands on the old apron I found on the hook behind the front door. “Well, I made a peach one for you and then I found some blueberries… and apple… and I used those left-over bananas for one. I… you could freeze a couple…” I say, lingering off, because this is a lot of pies now that I think about it. And I’m leaving.
“Between the tuna casseroles and pie, I won’t have to buy groceries for a month.”
I smile up at him, apologetically.
“Maybe we could take one up to Old Mr. Johnson’s place. He always loved your pies.”
I nod and look around the kitchen, wondering if this is a good time to mention my early morning departure.
“I’m going home tomorrow,” I tell him, still looking at the flour-covered counter.
“I figured as much. Thought you might’ve left a few days ago.” He wipes his hands on an old cloth and stuffs it into his back pocket before sitting down at the small table. “Now, how about a slice of that pie?” Something about the familiarity of this moment—pies, my dad in his dirty work clothes—lets me know everything's going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.
“Coffee?” I ask, pulling a plate out of the cabinet.
“Milk.”
“Okay.” I let out a relieved sigh as I busy myself with pie and milk.
The next morning, before the sun has had a chance to make its appearance, I’m hugging my dad and telling him goodbye. But for the first time ever, I know it’s really only a see you later, because things feel different between us now. I know he needs me and, if I’m being honest with myself, I need him too.
“Call me when you get to Dallas,” he says, sitting my bag down at my feet.
“I will. And you have my new number?”
“I do,” he says, patting his front pocket where his new cell phone resides. We’re probably the last two people on the planet to finally have cell phones to talk to each other on.
“Take care of yourself,” I instruct. “And don’t forget about those pies in the back of the truck.”
“I won’t. There’s no way I’d let all of that goodness go to waste.”
I smile and nod. We agreed that a few of them could go to the local shelter near the bus station. So, he’s going to drop them by there this morning. And two to Mr. Johnson when he gets back to town, leaving him with three for the freezer.
I might’ve gone a little overboard with the baking yesterday, but it felt so good, I couldn’t help it.
With one last quick hug, I turn and walk into the station.
Once I’m in my seat on the bus, I pull out the package from Nathan and laugh quietly at the rumpled edges… and at myself. I can’t believe I’ve had this for almost two weeks and still haven’t opened it, but no time ever felt like the right time.
I still have no clue what’s inside.
It could be a complete let down, but that’s impossible when you don’t have any expectations.
Regardless, I’ve decided that nothing inside could change the way I feel about Nathan. Unless, it’s a letter confessing that he’s married with three kids… or a serial killer… or that he secretly hates pie.
Tearing the top of the envelope, I reach inside and pull out the stack of papers. On top, is a handwritten note and I know without looking at the signature that it’s from Nathan. His penmanship is a lot like him—precise and neat, but not too rigid.
Kadi,
First, I miss you. I think you should know that, because it’s important. I’ve never really missed anyone or anything in my life. But the feeling that’s settled deep down in my soul since you left can be described no other way.
Second, I care about you. People around me seem to think the only thing I care about is work and charity. And I do. But I also care about you and you’re neither of those. You’re a breath of fresh air… a warm summer day… a slice of my favorite pie. Don’t think for one second what we had was ever anything but me wanting you. Third, I believe in you.
The documents in this envelope are everything you’d need to present your business idea to any financial institution. I know you don’t want my help, but I feel like this is something I can give you that doesn’t cost anything. I would, however, support you in any way you’d need me to. All you have to do is ask.
One day, I hope we can at least be friends, because although I miss your scent on my sheets and the feel of your skin beneath mine, more than anything I miss you—your laugh, your smile, your tenacity, your wit, your strength.
Always,
Nathan
Chapter 8
Nathan
Opening the drawer of my desk, I pull out my phone and check for missed calls. It’s been almost a week since I talked to Kadi. I’m trying to give her space and time, but it’s killing me to not go to her. It’s killing me not knowing what’s happening in her life or how she’s coping with her mother’s death.
I’m hoping that when she’s ready, she’ll call me. But I’ve decided that if I don’t hear from her by tonight, I’m calling her.
Patience has never been one of my virtues, but Kadi is definitely forcing me into it.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling, I ignore the urge to pull up her number and shove the phone back into the drawer.
She’ll call.
“Your father should be here within the hour. His plane landed half an hour ago,” Nancy says over the intercom.
“Thank you, Nancy. Could you make sure the small conference room is ready and the bar stocked. We have a lot to go over and I know we’ll need provisions.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re the best.”
“It’s my job.”
I smile to myself as I lift my finger off the intercom button. Nancy is awesome. I stole her from my father after I’d been here for a couple of years. She was one of two receptionists he’d used for years. I convinced him to let me have her on the grounds that I was new and she’d keep me on the straight and narrow. He fell for it and I benefited greatly. I’d like to say it was my first, and probably most profitable, business deal.
She never asks questions, but if I need advice, she’s always willing to give it to me and she always shoots straight, never one to sugar coat her words. I like that about her. And she’s older and happily married, so she doesn’t want in my pants, which is refreshing. The first receptionist I hired when I got my own floor and office was a nightmare—short skirts, low-cut tops, always dropping shit and making innuendos. She only lasted a week and that was because I couldn’t answer the phones and conduct business all at the same time.
Nancy coming onboard was like gaining a fairy godmother. I ask and she grants.
Getting lost in my thoughts and my overflowing inbox, I lose track of time, nearly jumping out of my seat when a hard knock comes from my closed door.
“Come in.”
It must be my father or my Uncle Teddy, no one else makes it past Nancy without an introduction and fair warning.
“Nathan.”
“Sir,” I say, acknowledging his presence.
Before I can look up from my
computer screen, I hear someone clear their throat and it’s feminine, definitely not my father.
“I expect you in the conference room in thirty minutes,” he says, walking out of the door he just came through and leaving behind a sight for sore eyes.
Kadi is standing in my office, wearing a smile and a dress.
She’s beautiful.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, but immediately regret, because her face drops and nerves replace the smile she was wearing when I first looked up. “I mean, I’m so happy you’re here, but…”
“I came to talk about this,” she says, placing a familiar looking envelope on the edge of my desk.
Oh, shit.
My heart is beating so fast at the moment that I wouldn’t be surprised if she could see it from where she’s standing, looking like a dream.
Maybe I’m dreaming.
Maybe I fell asleep and this is all a…
“I know you’re really busy and I’m sorry I barged in like this. I had no idea that it would be so hard to get into your office,” she says, laughing nervously and fidgeting with the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “Your father was in the lobby and overheard me begging the security guy downstairs.” She stops, swallowing hard. “I hope this is okay.”
“It’s perfect. I just can’t believe you’re here.”
“I got back early this morning and I went home, showered, changed clothes and here I am.”
That confession sets me on cloud nine.
She came to me.
“This,” she says, tapping her finger on the envelope that I can see she finally opened. “Did you mean what you said in here?”
“Of course.” Part of me wants to know why she wants to know first, but I can’t lie to her. “Of course, I meant every word of it.”
“And the business plan, you said you’d help me with it… does that offer still stand?”
I try to control the smile on my face, but it’s hard. She’s coming to me… for help.
“Yes, it still stands.”
“Good, because I know how to bake pies, but I don’t know anything about starting or running a business.”
