by Pamela Tracy
Any other day, she’d feel proud. What an independent little guy, and was he growing up! Much too quickly. Today she wanted that small hand in hers. She wanted to smell the baby shampoo in his hair. She needed to know that she was the most important person in his world, the one who put batteries into trains and bandages on boo-boos, the one he’d call for in the middle of the night.
But what was best for Robby?
The community center was down from the church. Robby sat up straight as they drove past. He held up his finger and twirled it. “Little light of mine,” he sang over and over. He looked at her, as if expecting her to join in, but she didn’t know the words. She managed to hum the tune a bit as they pulled into the parking lot of the community center and parked. Robby was still singing when she pushed open the door to the preschool room. She ushered Robby in and to a seat. Today, seven toddlers sat around two tables while parents or caregivers helped them trace their hands. Two stopped what they were doing, put their finger lights in the air and started singing.
Natalie shook her head as she watched Jasmin, Allison’s little girl, glue eyes to her turkey. Would Robby be that careful and artistic when he hit four? Right now his turkey looked more like a ham, and it looked like green would be the color of choice. One of the assistants was reminding the children about the pilgrims and the first Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving!
The kids were making turkeys because, of course, Thursday was Thanksgiving. She’d had her calendar open this morning and hadn’t even noticed. Patty had invited her weeks ago. Had she said yes? Better make a phone call and soon. Luckily, holidays were on the long-term portion of Lucky’s list.
Robby dropped his green crayon and grinned at all the “Robby!” and “Hi, Robby” greetings he received. He even received one “Hi, Thawobby.” Playing the strong—make that short—silent type, he neglected to do more than give a tiny “Hi” in return. The lady in charge touched Natalie’s arm in welcome. Funny, up until two weeks ago, Natalie assumed every touch, every nod, every tearful look was an act of sympathy because of her father. Now, she worried that they knew something else.
Which was why Natalie needed to deal with it before someone said the wrong thing in front of Robby.
He’d gone to her place, but she wasn’t home. Yesterday, she’d been about to invite him over. He knew it. Whoever was on the phone had upset her. He wanted to know why because his gut feeling was that right now everything that was upsetting her in some way, shape or form came back to him.
They had to get past this.
He found her at the park next to Selena’s town square. She was sitting on a bench dividing her time between reading a paperback and watching Robby.
Lucky sat down next to her, enjoying her look of surprise, but then feeling empty when her eyes darkened to suspicion.
She’d been pleased for all of a nanosecond.
He didn’t have time to ask why.
“Lucky!” Robby launched himself into Lucky’s arms. Lucky stood, twirled the boy and then chased him across the playground. Lucky realized his mistake two minutes into the game. Sitting astride a bull was an eight-second ride; chasing a three-year-old was a much lengthier investment of time and energy. By the time Lucky climbed the slide, slid down, circled the swing set and jogged twice around the length of a park that rivaled a football field, Robby finally fell to the ground giggling. Lucky landed beside him. When Robby’s giggling stopped, Lucky heard an echo. No, not an echo. What he heard was Natalie laughing at him.
Okay, so he was a bit winded.
Standing up, he managed to limp toward Natalie. She’d put her book down because he and Robby were much more entertaining.
“Again?” urged Robby.
“Oh, Lucky’s got to rest,” Lucky said. “You play on the slide and in a minute, I’ll join you.”
“I wish I had a camera.” The November wind whipped Natalie’s hair across her face. She brushed it back and looked up at him. The sting of winter put red in her cheeks, but still the laughter didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“And I wish I had an eraser.”
“What?”
“I wish I had an eraser so I could get rid of all your suspicions about me.”
She shook her head. “It would need to be a pretty big eraser.”
“I’ll buy it if you’ll use it,” Lucky offered.
She looked up at him, somewhat frightened, but also managing a brave smile. He went down on one knee in front of her and said, “Natalie, I promise. We can make this work out so everybody’s happy.”
She nodded, silently, and then waved Robby over. “It’s time for his nap. You offered to come over yesterday. If the offer still stands, how about today?”
“Best offer I’ve had all day.”
Natalie’s house hadn’t changed since his first visit, except this time the “Welcome” on the front mat was literal. He followed her into the living room, where she turned on the television before ordering him to sit down. Then she and Robby marched up the stairs because Robby had announced in the driveway, “I wet.”
Lucky followed orders, because resisting orders might result in him assisting with diaper duty. He sat down in what was definitely a man’s room: beige walls, tan carpeting and heavy, brown leather furniture. The walls displayed a hodgepodge of pictures with no definite design. Some were of family, primarily Robby and Natalie. Standing, he started walking the room, really studying the pictures, the lives depicted on the walls. He saw Natalie as a small girl, in pigtails and missing teeth. He saw Natalie and her parents—she looked like her mother—in studio poses. Then he saw Natalie with Robby and Natalie’s father.
They looked happy.
Interspersed between the family photos were the pictures of the property, from the beginning when it was a true working ranch to today when it, at best, could be called a house on a very large piece of unused property.
It seemed a waste. Natalie had mentioned her father’s love for this land. She’d mentioned how the earliest house resembled an outhouse. It took him a minute, but he found the picture she’d been describing and almost laughed. She’d nailed it. Based on size and design, the first house had all the earmarks of an outhouse. The people of this era cared more to preserve land than faces. If an ancestor of Natalie’s appeared, they were in the distance, on horseback or leaning against a fence. He glanced out the window. She still had plenty of room for horses and such. Really, this place was about the same size as Bernice’s. It could easily be a working ranch again, maybe not Bonanza, but definitely a smaller version of Southfork. He looked at the pictures on the walls again. Nope, not a single one of Natalie on a horse.
They existed; he knew it.
He turned off the television. On Monday afternoons, soap operas, judges and home shopping salespeople ruled. Lucky’d rather live in an outhouse than watch.
Actually, he’d rather think about the lovely Natalie Crosby, who, by the way, muttered. The whole drive over here, she’d been talking to herself. From his vantage point directly behind her, he could see an occasional nod of her head. Every once in a while she made gestures, both fists of anger and then one quick open hand signifying exasperation. In the backseat, Robby’s head turned right or left. He didn’t seem to care that his mother was having a virtual conversation. Robby knew that Lucky was following them. Obviously, Robby intended to make sure Lucky didn’t get lost.
Lucky had no intention of getting lost, ever.
After a moment, Robby and Natalie came down the stairs. Robby headed right for a leather chest in the corner of the room. He pulled out two or three trains and immediately started changing the look of the room. The oversize coffee table became a world with trains and accidents. He immediately started having a conversation. Lucky figured he was the recipient, but he definitely wasn’t needed.
Natalie headed for the kitchen. “You can come with me if you want. I’m making peanut butter and jelly.”
The kitchen looked a lot more like it belonged to Nata
lie. It didn’t have the heavy browns of the living room, but more hues of burgundy and pink. It fit her personality. It smelled of cinnamon and Kool-Aid. It wasn’t the smell, though, that made him look twice. It was the woman, standing at the counter opening a jar of peanut butter.
She took bread from the cupboard and started talking, almost more to herself than to him. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. “Before my father died, we had Robby pretty much potty trained. In a matter of days, right after the funeral, he was back to having accidents and wanting his bottle.”
“Makes sense,” Lucky said. “After Marcus died, I was all messed up. I wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t sleep. I kept waiting to hear him snore or have him wake me from a solid sleep because he suddenly remembered a joke.”
“I thought you guys had stopped traveling together.”
“We had, but when he was alive, it was like I knew he was out there somewhere snoring, saving up jokes to tell me. When he died, I knew it would never be the same again. There was this empty feeling I couldn’t seem to get rid of. I think it was then that I really understood why some people give up hope.”
He watched her, waiting. Surely she’d flinch, look sad, or something. The memory of Marcus’s death should inspire some emotional response from her.
Nothing.
Not a tear, not a dirty look, nothing. She didn’t mutilate the sandwich bread or fling jelly.
Nothing.
“Eat!” Robby ran into the room before Lucky could start to question.
“Yes, we’re going to eat,” Natalie said calmly. “Why don’t you help set the table.”
Robby headed toward the pie safe and took a handful of paper plates. Lucky followed the boy and watched as he set the table. “Pop Pop sat here.” Robby pointed to where Lucky would be sitting.
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“Otay.” Robby ran to the counter, holding out his hand, and then dashing back to the table once the sippy cup full of cherry Kool-Aid was secure in his grasp.
Lucky took his seat, make that Pop Pop’s seat, and waited. If he were a bit more comfortable, he’d be helping with napkins and drinks, but there was something disquieting about knowing he was sitting in Pop Pop’s chair and doing what Marcus apparently never got to, maybe never wanted to do.
Robby picked up his sandwich and took a bite. Natalie stared at hers.
“Maybe we could say a quick prayer?” Lucky suggested.
“Okay,” Robby agreed.
Natalie didn’t bow her head, but she didn’t object. Lucky made it short and easy. “God, thank you for this food. Amen.”
“Amen,” Robby echoed.
Robby took over the conversation. Good thing because it didn’t look like Natalie intended to talk much. She stared out the window while Lucky listened to Robby talk about Lucky’s truck—he wanted to ride in it again; to Robby talk about playgroup—he was glad they were going again; and to Robby talk about “Tanksgiving”—the boy liked turkey.
“Where are you going for Thanksgiving?” Lucky asked.
Robby looked at his mother; an exaggerated expression gave away that he knew the word Tanksgiving but not the meaning, yet.
“We’re going to my friend Patty’s.” She finally focused on what was in front of her. Maybe what she was seeing out the window was not the wind in the trees but the past.
“Patty’s,” Robby echoed, like he really knew. “For turkey.” For the rest of lunch, Robby turned his peanut butter sandwich into a train and then a horse. Lucky followed suit by turning his peanut butter sandwich into a plane and then a bull.
Natalie managed a tiny smile before reminding Robby that if he didn’t eat his sandwich there’d be no treat.
“For you, either,” she told Lucky.
“And you,” he responded pointedly.
He and Robby finished their sandwiches in record time.
When the last crumb was accounted for and the last potato chip put back in the bag, Robby scooted from his chair and took his paper plate to the trash.
“Mommy, nooooo,” he immediately whined.
“Robby, yes,” Natalie countered. Looking at Lucky, she said, “It’s nap time and because you’re here, he really doesn’t want to go.”
“Nap time! Wow, I wish I could take a nap,” Lucky said.
Robby didn’t look convinced.
Glancing at Natalie, Lucky suggested, “How about if I go with you two? I’d like to see your room.”
Robby’s eyes lit up. “I have choo-choo room.”
The stairs creaked under Lucky’s weight. Robby made it to the top first with Natalie right behind. It didn’t take a genius to figure the positioning was on purpose. If Robby tripped, Natalie would stop the fall. Judging by the three-year-old’s sure-footed scampering, falls didn’t happen often.
“Hurry,” Robby urged.
Robby’s bedroom, like the kitchen, showed Natalie’s touch. Trains ruled. “I started with Winnie the Pooh,” Natalie said, “but when Robby got old enough to choose, it quickly became apparent that he liked trains.”
Robby climbed in a train tent and choo-chooed for a minute. Then he scooted out and hopped on his train-shaped bed.
“Under the covers,” Natalie ordered.
“But—”
“Under the covers,” Lucky echoed, surprising himself. His words surprised Natalie, too, judging by her expression. They worked wonders on the boy, though. He crawled up to the top of the bed, put his head on the pillow, pulled up the covers and closed his eyes.
Then, he opened one.
When he saw they were both still in the room and still staring at him, he giggled and closed it again, this time covering his head with the blanket.
“Go to sleep,” Natalie ordered.
“Lucky here awake?” Robby peeked out.
“I don’t know if Lucky will still be here when you wake up,” Natalie said, “but if you don’t go to sleep, I’m asking Lucky to leave now.”
“Go to sleep,” Lucky echoed sternly.
“Otay.”
This time he closed his eyes fiercely and pretended to snore.
And Lucky knew he intended to be there when Robby woke up.
Closing the door to Robby’s room, Natalie turned to Lucky and said, “Go on downstairs. I have one thing to do and then I’ll join you.”
He left without arguing, continuing to be the one sane, reliable person in her world. She leaned her head against Robby’s closed door.
Changes were coming, and if Lucky was any indication, Robby would benefit. There existed a family who was so thrilled with the little boy they’d probably bring a boxcar into their backyard if Robby wanted it.
“Natalie.” Lucky’s voice was low. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Can you see me?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
Great. First of all, what man can hear a whisper? Her father certainly never heard her whisper, but then, he was hard of hearing. Natalie had called it his selective hearing. Worse, since Lucky had answered yes, it meant he’d been watching her lean against Robby’s door.
She turned, heavy hearted, and headed for the stairs. When she reached him, he didn’t move. He simply said, “Are you all right?” She was forced to look up at him, feel his warmth, and he was warm. He made the house feel alive again, like when her dad moved through the rooms.
No, she wasn’t all right. Her world kept spiraling out of control, and everywhere she turned, here was this man offering to make it better, offering to help. The kicker, what made it all so frustrating, was that not only was he the most willing to help, but also he was the most qualified. “I’m all right,” she finally said. “I was just thinking about all the decisions I have to make.”
He nodded, and it looked like he started to reach for her but stopped himself. Natalie wanted to sit on the bottom step and cry. Since meeting Lucky, time and time again he proved that he was someone she could rely on, lean on.
“When I woke up this morni
ng,” she admitted, “I decided today was the day I’d tell Robby about his relationship with you.”
He smiled and she noticed that he was one of those guys who had a half smile. She’d never realized just how appealing half smiles were.
“Good,” he said. “Can I help?”
She led the way to the kitchen; he willingly followed.
“Natalie,” he said when he sat across from her at the kitchen table. “You know what I like best about you?”
She looked at him suspiciously. “What?”
“You bounce back good,” Lucky said.
Natalie blinked. Her father used to say that, until she fell off the horse that last time. “What?”
“You bounce back good. No matter what life throws at you, you meet it head-on, and no matter what, you’re keeping Robby as the most important aspect of your life. I admire that.”
She swallowed. If this were a Lifetime movie, she’d be the one with the secrets, the one the audience pushed to tell the truth. She was the one lying, Lucky was the hero, and every day he seemed to grow even more heroic. Yet here he was saying he admired her. Truth was, she didn’t bounce back; she fell flat.
“How well did you know Marcus?” Lucky asked suddenly.
“Not well at all,” she admitted.
“Did you love him?”
“No, I didn’t love him.” In some ways, though, she was starting to have warmer feelings toward Marcus. Surely any brother of Lucky’s couldn’t have been all bad.
“Why didn’t you?” Lucky asked slowly.
“He belonged to Tisha,” Natalie said simply. Desperately, she tried to think of a way to change the subject.
“Would you even know Marcus if not for Tisha?”
Natalie shook her head.
“Marcus used to be my hero,” Lucky admitted. “He could do everything, and he did it well. He made the top forty-five in just three years. I’m in my sixth and still haven’t gotten there. This might have been my year, but truthfully—” his grin disappeared “—my heart’s not in it.”
