by C. A. Harms
Violet on the other hand was a mirror image of myself. She loved her naps, and her idea of the best day ever was lounging around in her pajamas all day while watching cartoons. I was amazed how the two of them could be so different, yet so much alike in other ways.
“Sure we can,” I told her, causing her to leap from the bed and sprint to the kitchen.
Violet and I took a little longer to crawl out of bed, but eventually we joined Viv. She already had the waffle maker out on the counter along with eggs, milk, and waffle mix and was impatiently tapping her foot, waiting.
I chuckled, shaking my head. Like I said, she was just like her mother, attitude and all.
Chapter 6
Greer
“Do you have everything you need?” my mother asked for the third time in the last ten minutes. I’d woken to the ring of my cellphone just after eight in the morning. I had fully intended to sleep in and recover from my day of travel, but she thought I should get up and see the area. Apparently she had found her inner tourist and had already been out and about, scoping out the little town my gran lived in.
“If not, I can have Uncle Mark get in touch with the—”
“I’ve got it covered, Mom.” I couldn’t help but smile at the fact she still worried about her twenty-five-year-old daughter as if she was an adolescent. “I’m capable of going to the market if I need something. I don’t want Uncle Mark calling in the crew to grocery shop for me.” I’d already been told all about the locals that were on standby at the request of my aunt and uncle to run to my aid if need be. From the sound of it, I could pretty much get half the street’s attention if I just stepped outside and waved.
I still wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about that.
“If you’re sure,” she said, still sounding unsatisfied with my need to handle things on my own.
“I am,” I said once more. “Besides, I planned on exploring the area, and I can stop by the market on my way back. I want to check out the beach anyway.”
Total lie—well, partly. I did want to go to the beach and put my feet in the sand, just not today. Or maybe not even tomorrow. I wanted to be a couch potato for a day or two before I set out voyaging. But since I was already up and fully awake, why not start today? It would be a surefire way to get my mother to stop worrying about me wasting away in a dark room filled with nothing but sad thoughts and memories of my father. I think she imagined the worst when she thought of me here alone dealing with my grief, without any support.
“That’s perfect,” she said, suddenly sounding much happier. “Make sure to take lots of pictures. The last time I was there, your father and I had just celebrated our first anniversary.” She paused as if remembering it. “I’m sure it’s still just as beautiful.”
“It is,” I said, suddenly feeling raw and once again saddened that my father would never share another vacation with my mother. “How’s Vermont?” I asked, hoping to change the subject to something lighter.
“Grandma Monroe is as fiery as always, and Uncle Mark sure knows how to get her fired up. Last night she poured a full glass of iced tea in his lap, and you could hear the shriek he let out throughout the entire house. We’re all still laughing about it, and for the rest of the night she carried around a full glass, taunting him as if she was going to do it again. She would lunge at him and then cackle when he shrunk back covering himself.”
Hearing my mother laugh warmed my heart. “You’d think by now he’d stop hassling her,” I said, also amused. “Wasn’t he the one she superglued to the chair at the last family reunion because he told her that her pie tasted like dirt?”
“Yes, it was,” she confirmed. “I think that’s why he hassles her so much. Do you know that she put so much glue on that chair that it seeped through his pants, and when they tried to pull him free, it yanked out half his leg hair?”
I laughed and placed my hand over my mouth as if there was a reason to hide it.
“The words that fell from that man’s mouth that day!” She let out a sigh. “I’ve never heard anyone use the F word so many times in one sentence.”
“Oh Mom.” I shook my head, grinning. “I’m glad you’re there with them. It’s good to hear you laugh again.”
“Greer.” The way she whispered my name assured me that what she was about to say would make me cry. “We’ll never be able to think about your father without feeling a loss so deep it aches. He is irreplaceable, and my heart will forever be his, no matter the circumstances. I just know in my heart that he would want us to live on and do our best to make the most out of life. We’ll never forget him and he’ll always be a part of our daily lives, even if only in our minds.”
I found myself nodding at her words, as if she could see me. They were true, every single one of them.
“I want you to find your happiness again,” she whispered. “Whether it be in North Carolina, here in Vermont, or in Southeast Asia.” I laughed at that random geographical addition. “But I think we both know Tucker was not your happiness.”
And again with the random. Tucker was the furthest thing from my mind.
“Tucker and I were never meant to be together, Mom.” I needed her to understand that he was a thing of the past. I wasn’t suffering from a broken heart. Well, at least not at Tucker’s hands, anyway.
“Okay,” she said without pushing or prodding further. “Gran is dragging me and Stella off to a pottery class, so I better get going.” I could hear the humor in her voice. “This should be interesting, Gran in a room with breakable items. Thank goodness Uncle Mark is staying home.”
We ended the call on that happy note, and I finally crawled from bed and made my way toward the kitchen. The place was honestly one of the most gorgeous homes I’d ever been in. It was fully furnished and had an open floor plan and the greatest views a house near the beach could offer.
With fresh coffee made, I grabbed a muffin from the stash my uncle had had delivered prior to my arrival and walked out the back door to the enclosed porch wearing only a T-shirt that barely covered my boy shorts. I headed right for the window that overlooked the yard of the neighboring houses. It was early on a Saturday morning, so the neighborhood was deserted save for a man in his backyard who was bent over what appeared to be the remains of a gas grill, pulling piece by piece away and tossing them to the side. I wasn’t sure if he was fixing it or destroying it, but I was leaning toward the latter.
The same light laughter I’d heard the night before echoed up toward the patio I was perched on, and I turned in its direction. Once again, I became mesmerized by the beauty of what I saw. This time, the two little girls were playing alone as they held hands and skipped around giggling just before falling to the ground, where they laughed even louder.
I watched without realizing how much time had passed until I lifted my coffee mug to take a drink and found it had gone cold.
“Hi.” I jumped in surprise at the sound of a man’s deep voice, sloshing coffee all over my shirt. The greeting was followed by a deep chuckle.
I looked to the left of the two little girls and found the man from last night looking up at me. He had short, caramel-colored hair and a trim, sculpted beard.
“Didn’t mean to scare you. Just thought I’d offer a neighborly hello.” He grinned knowingly, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Hi,” I said in return, trying my best to regain some dignity. The coffee I’d spilled was seeping through the front of my shirt, and a few drops were now slowly trailing down my thigh. I hoped he couldn’t see what a disaster I was from the angle he was standing at. And let’s not forget the fact I was barely covered. I slouched in an attempt to hide my lower half a little more.
“Vacationer?” he added, regaining my attention.
“Um, yeah,” I said with a shrug. “I guess you could say that. My family owns the place and I’m staying here for a while.”
“Darren,” he said, lifting his hand in the air and pointing to himself. “The littlest one is Violet, and th
is one here,” he said, reaching down to lift up the other blonde girl, who stood at his side, “this is my Vivian.”
Pride practically swelled around him in a big wave as he looked back and forth between his girls. It was the sweetest thing.
“They’re adorable,” I complimented his princesses. They were, in fact, two of the sweetest children I’d ever seen—big smiles, bright eyes, hair as blonde as my own.
“I think so,” he said before kissing Vivian’s cheek.
With a jolt, I realized I had yet to introduce myself. “I’m Greer,” I added as I spilled my coffee once again. This time it ran down my arm. I was a hot mess—or a sticky one. However you classified it, mess summed it up.
“It was nice meeting you,” he said as he reached his hand out for Violet. She darted toward him and placed her hand in his. “But we’ve gotta go. We’re late for Grandma’s house.”
“Nice meting you too,” I said with a gentle wave. “Have fun, Vivian and Violet,” I added as they walked away, both girls waving back at me with curiosity written all over their faces.
And suddenly I understood the appeal of a man with his children. Darren had definitely made my stomach do that little rush of awe that I’ve heard about from others, when they see a man show his love for a child. That display of a father’s protective nature made my longing for a family of my own reappear with a vengeance.
I wanted to know more about the man from the big yellow house behind me. He had to have a gorgeous wife who hung on his every word and knew just how lucky she was to be blessed with a guy who obviously adored his children. The fact he was easy on the eyes was a definite bonus.
Chapter 7
Darren
“So who is the girl?” My mother’s question confused me, and the look on my face must have expressed that confusion. “The one the girls keep talking about,” she added unhelpfully. “Vivian said you were talking to a pretty lady today and she made you smile. The one from the blue house.”
I shook my head and chuckled as I finally understood. How could a friendly introduction between two neighbors be interpreted as anything more than it was? Then again, I was dealing with two girls that had their pushy, nosy, need-to-fix-it-all granny fishing for any snippet of my nonexistent personal life.
The woman was hell-bent on me being happy, but I was happy. I had my girls, and I didn’t need anyone else.
“Just a new occupant in the vacation home behind us,” I said and got back to working on the pipe below her kitchen sink.
But she kept hovering. “Oh yeah,” she said dragging out the word a little longer than necessary.
“Yeah, Ma,” I said, ignoring her strange interest in nothing. “Just a simple hello, nothing more.”
“That isn’t what Vivian told me,” she said, her voice laced with humor.
Oh Lord, the woman either needed a damn hobby or she needed to focus on my brother, who was twenty-six and still living above her damn garage. He was the one who needed a push, not me.
“Vivian is four years old, and she still believes in princesses and dragons.” I leaned out from under the sink and gave my mother an exasperated look. “Gossiping with my daughter about my love life, or lack thereof, isn’t your style, Ma.”
“Yesh, it is.” I looked to my left to find Dean, my brother, talking through a mouthful of chips as the crumbs fell from his lips to the floor at his feet. “She doesh it all the time,” he assured me, still attempting to talk with his mouth full. I looked back at my mother.
She shrugged and gave me that innocent look she used to her advantage often, only this time I didn’t buy it. She was guilty.
Guilty of prying and using my daughter—or daughters, I had to assume—as her window into my life.
The woman was evil.
***
Later that night when the girls were finally tucked into bed, I did something I didn’t do often. I grabbed a beer and sat outside alone. I didn’t usually find time to spend by myself, but that was my own doing. I kept my girls as close as I could, because when they were with me, they were safe. And I wanted them safe, always.
Yes, I hovered and I crowded them. I think I needed them more than the other way around, but I was okay with that. I was fine with having just them and them alone. I didn’t need anything more.
So why did that thought make me feel so empty? Why whenever I thought of my future did I always feel as if I was denying myself something? It was a constant battle.
Replacing Lynn had never been an option. Not when she was lying at my side, smiling up at me, or now that she was gone had I thought I could ever be with another woman. It hurt to think about. Even doing so felt as if I was betraying the love we shared. I couldn’t do it.
I was happy. That’s what I kept repeating over and over in my mind as my gaze wandered toward the house behind me, the god-awful blue one with the red doors. The same house that held the woman of mystery who I’d found myself wondering about since she offered me her name that morning. And then the guilt set in and I felt like a complete ass for even allowing my mind to wander in that direction. I wondered how I’d feel if the shoe was on the other foot. Would I want Lynn to move on if I was the one that’d passed?
It was a hard question. When I thought of it, I grew angry at the idea of another man touching her. But would it be fair to have asked her to spend the remaining life she was given alone?
I was young, and though I’d planned on spending my life with Lynn by my side, she was taken from me, from me and our daughters, and I no longer had that chance.
And then there were the girls. Bringing another woman into their lives when they were so young seemed cruel. My heart broke just thinking of drowning out what few memories they had of Lynn with new ones made with a different woman. Because damn it, it was my job to make sure they always remembered their mother. If I’d died instead, I’d have hoped that Lynn would have showered them with thoughts and stories of me.
A light flipped on over the back door of the blue house, and I remained perfectly still as I watched Greer step outside with a cellphone against her ear. In the silence, I could hear the conversation she was having.
“No,” she said, then paused. “I’m fine. It just hits me when I least expect it.”
I felt guilty for eavesdropping, but my curiosity to know more about her won out. I remained silent, not moving and barely breathing in hopes of hearing every word I could.
“It’s still feels like a dream,” she began again. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up tomorrow back home with both my parents safe and alive.” She paused again. “I told my mother this morning, and I’ll tell you the same. Tucker and I were never meant to be. I think I always knew that, but I still gave it a shot and now we can’t even be friends. So am I pining over him? No. Have I thought of him? Yes, only because I wish I would have throat-punched him the night I caught him with his pants down.”
I chuckled at her feistiness.
A silence set in, and I continued to watch her closely. She remained frozen as she stared toward the direction of my patio. My hand tightened on the beer bottle I was holding as I held my breath. I hoped the noise I’d made hadn’t given my presence away.
“I gotta go.” She lowered her phone to her side and continued to stare directly into the dark space I occupied. It was strange because I could almost feel her eyes on me, even though I was sure she couldn’t actually see me.
Then suddenly she spun around on her heel and walked to her back door, stepped inside, and pulled it shut. The curtains on the door closed just before the porch light flipped off.
Only then did I let out the deep breath I felt like I’d been holding for hours.
Chapter 8
Greer
I’ve been here a week, and I’ve managed to accomplish very little in figuring out where to go from here. Don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t been a complete bust. For starters, I now have a cat.
Yes, a cat.
She wandered up onto the patio two days ago, and bein
g the sucker I am, I fed her. Okay, okay. So I fed her, cuddled her, and let her inside—after I ran into town and bought a litter box and a bag of food. I’m not sure what the house’s owners would have to say about that, but I decided I wouldn’t tell. Boots was now my friend.
I’d also made best friends with Mr. Ridge, who owned the small minimart just down the road, and Mr. Berry, who ran the marina. They both were friends of Uncle Mark, and I had a feeling they were keeping tabs on me anyway, but I didn’t let it stop me from interacting with them whenever I saw them. They were both sweet, and when they got together they reminded me a lot of Gran and Uncle Mark. They hassled one another, and I could see the ornery in each of them. They kept my daily walks interesting, to say the least. Neither allowed me to pass without sharing a story of some type, which I gladly listened to with a smile.
My nights were filled with a different type of entertainment. Most people would find it weird, but I found that the best part of my day was watching the man in the house behind mine interact with his girls.
It was strange, I know, but in a way it gave me a sense of home to see that kind of love between a father and his daughters. To know that even in my dark time, a life like that still existed in the world; that life moves on around us even though we feel hollow inside. Each night they played different games, danced to different songs, or simply sat side by side looking up at the sky. I could clearly see the obvious love he felt for them. I’d laugh when his daughters played ballerina and he mimicked their movements. The best part was when Vivian insisted he wear a crown as he danced and he didn’t even hesitate. He wore it proudly.
It warmed my heart to watch the extremes he would go to just to hear them laugh or see them smile. But there was a sadness about him too. Sometimes he seemed to watch them as if they were his only reason for breathing. He would get a blank look on his face, and only seemed to be present when they stopped playing to talk to him or ask him to join in again.
