How are things with you? I Googled Kuwait and Afghanistan. It looks like it’s super cold there, just like here. What would you rather be—too hot or too cold? Do you think you’ll get done sooner than the timeline you were given, or are those things set in stone? Forgive my ignorance, but I’m not familiar with the whole military thing.
Write me back when you get a chance. Also, I attached a picture of Hazel and me. Your sister took it. She added a filter because there are bags the size of Jockey’s Ridge under my eyes in real life.
Missing you,
Campbell
PS: Your momma seems really, really happy we’re here. Everyone says so, too. Well, everyone I’ve met, but that doesn’t include Deacon, Duke, your niece River, or your sister-in-law Ophelia. I’m already an expert in who’s who around here.
PPS: Stay safe because I want to see you again, and not just over FaceTime.
PPPSS (or however you do it): Write back to me.
With a grin, I hit reply.
What’s up, Chicken Butt?
That’s how you start a letter, honey, because the only thing that’s poppin’ are my knees when I get out to stretch (And yes, only my sister greets people with that phrase. She’s not as cool as she pretends to be.)
I’m really glad to hear that everyone is treating you exactly how I said they would. Seriously, Cam, I wouldn’t have sent you there if I didn’t think it was a good idea. As for my momma watching Hazel, if you’re good with it, then I don’t see the harm. She needs the distraction, the hope, and the joy that a baby can bring.
When my dad died, River brought her joy in a way that no one else could at the time. Maybe there’s something about a baby that makes people think of the possibilities or the future to come. That there’s still hope and goodness in the world when it seems so bleak and darkness threatens to smother us.
I look up, not really seeing anything. That’s how I’d felt when I held Hazel. But when I held Campbell, when I laid her down on the bed and—son of a bitch. This is not the time to fantasize.
When I get back, I’ll take you and Hazel to Shell Island. We’ll have to take the ferry to Bald Head Island first, then wait until the tide is low and walk out there to collect sand dollars and seashells. You two will really like it.
Don’t worry about my bills; I’ve got them covered all ready. The house used electricity before you got there, so it’s on auto draft. Pretend you’re staying at a hotel, without room service, if you want. Besides, if I couldn’t afford to allow you and Hazel to live there, then I would have asked Momma to let you live with her.
Stop worrying so much about money. I realize it might sound harsh, but I mean it. You need to stop stressing and let me take care of you and Hazel. For too long, you’ve only relied on yourself or guys who took advantage of you. That’s not happening anymore, I guaran-damn-tee it.
As for things with me, I’m fine. Normal. As expected. Functional. I don’t relish being here, but I do look forward to working with local leaders. Maybe this time, we can accomplish something good.
I hear a familiar whistling sound and grab the seat, letting my phone fall to the floor. “Incoming!”
We brace for impact. The Humvee rocks hard to the left, so hard I think we’re going to tip, but then we’re hit from the other side.
The sound of gunfire breaks out. I’m itching to join them, itching to do more than sit here with a target painted on us.
Suddenly, there’s silence.
A voice on the radio assures us the hostiles are taken care of.
“Nothing like a little welcome to get the heart going,” the driver says.
I nod grimly. “Yeah.” I pick up the phone, my jaw clenching and my heart slowing to a reasonable rate. I focus on what I wrote, but I can’t put myself back into the same mood.
Take care of my baby girl, and I’ll catch up with you later.
Knight
PS: I miss you, too.
Chapter 14
Campbell
I miss you too.
Did Knight mean that in a passing way, or a real way, like he truly missed me... and was the ‘you’ a general one to include Hazel or was it just for me?
Only for me?
I’ve reread his email at least six times. It was dated four days earlier, but I think there’s someone reading our messages right after we hit send.
Oh well.
At least I have nothing to hide in those.
Still... we texted last night, and he didn’t say he missed me. He said he’d talk to me later.
Oh my Lord. I have to stop analyzing. It’s stupid. The man is deployed to a foreign country, missing his entire family, not just me.
In any case, I should focus on my job. My brand new, earning-the-big-to-me bucks job at Quinn’s hair and nail salon. It’s the most perfect job ever. All I have to do is make small talk, check clients in, and make sure everything in the front is stocked to Quinn’s specifications.
For once, I feel useful.
For once, I feel like my old self.
For once, I’m Campbell Faircloth, receptionist, and not just Campbell Faircloth, single mother who not only divorced her first husband, but also couldn’t keep Hazel’s father around to help raise her.
Not that I want either of them around... but still, it’s sucks to have that kind of baggage before I’m even thirty.
“What’s shakin,’ bacon?” Quinn asks as she breezes inside the salon. Today, her hair is multicolored at the top, with pinks, greens, and blues, while the very bottom is a solid, deep navy. I don’t know very many people who can pull off that look, but Quinn is so confident and tall—yes, I have height envy—and fashionable that she makes it work.
I point to the jar on my desk. It’s labeled Things Quinn says that rhyme and/or aren’t really that cool. Knight and I came up with the title. We’re a team like that.
“That will be one dollar, please.”
“Ugh.” She makes a face, digs out a buck, and shoves it inside. “Good thing I’m okay with this going to the animal shelter.”
Knight and I also came up with the charity—one he insisted his twin would have a hard time saying no to. The woman loves animals almost as much as she loves doing hair, he insisted.
Of course, Knight was right. I don’t think he’s ever been wrong in his life.
Inwardly, I roll my eyes, then smile a little before focusing on Quinn.
“All you have to do is greet people with ‘Hey, how are you?’ Or even ‘How’s your momma?’.”
“Boring.” She checks her reflection in the mirror behind me and adjusts her hair. If I didn’t know what she did for a living, and that her own hair was sort of a billboard for her business, I’d think Quinn King was the vainest woman on the planet. “Where’s my baby?”
“With your momma.” I hand her a pile of messages I carefully took down while she was out this morning. “These are for you.”
“Thanks, doll. If you need me, I’ll be prepping for the future Mrs. Barron King’s appointment.”
“Barron’s engaged?”
“Knight didn’t tell you?” Her brows scrunch together. “Then again, why would he? It’s not like guys talk about that. Since men don’t wear engagement rings, we can’t tell either.”
“Who is he engaged to?” I ask, trying to keep Quinn from hopping down a bunny trail that leads to a discussion on why men should wear engagement rings, which will lead to asking about my lack of an engagement ring. How could I have lost them both, and why hasn’t Knight replaced them yet? After only a week of working with her, I already know how prone she is to go off on tangents.
It’s what I consider one of her best traits, because she’s simply so much fun to listen to... and it means I don’t have to lie while I talk to her, because she wants to know everything about my relationship with Knight.
And I mean everything.
“Emory Stillwater. Her daddy owns the paper mill in Royal Bay.”
“Got it. Order paper from... Still
water Paper?”
“No. They process it, not make it.”
“Dunder-Mifflin Paper, then,” I tease.
Quinn takes the bait. “That’s what she said.”
“In the jar.”
“Hey, I didn’t rhyme anything,” she protests.
I spin the jar around. On the back, it’s labeled, Incorrectly used The Office references. “Knight said you’re a huge fan.”
With a little growl, she shoves another dollar in. “That’s what he said, huh?” She eyes me, but I don’t make her give up more money. “He’s so going to pay me back when he comes home.”
My stomach flips. “Yeah, you can get him back then.”
She arches a brow. “Would you be interested in helping me? I know he’s your husband and all, but still, he’s so freaking bossy sometimes.”
I shrug. “He’s only a little bossy to me.”
“Your loyalty is so gross and overrated.” She grins, belying her harsh words. “I’m so glad you and Hazel moved here, Campbell.”
“Me, too.” And that’s not a lie at all.
MY HOURS AT QUINN’S salon are only part-time at the moment because the lady who is retiring doesn’t do so until next month. Plus, Hazel is still nursing, which means if I were to leave her for longer than a few hours at a time, I’d have to breakdown and buy an electric pump.
For now, I’m using a hand-powered one and, oh my Lord, it’s a pain. Last time I used it, I got a cramp so bad I could barely pick up Hazel, much less a pen, afterward. Thankfully, by the time I get home, Hazel will be ready to nurse and my boobs will get some relief. I don’t think my body has adjusted to all the changes pregnancy did to it.
I read that I should give it time, but I’m not the most patient person in the world.
Since I don’t have a car or the money to get an Uber, I walk to Knight’s house, taking the time to cross Dogwood Street so I can grab some donuts from Bette’s on the boardwalk. The boardwalk is practically famous with its little stores and eateries. Bette’s has been around since the forties, and it has been run by the same family, too. I love stopping there and ordering two donuts. I can get any flavor I want as long as I like glazed.
I giggle and get in line to wait my turn. Even though it’s February, Bette’s is packed, but that’s also because they’ll be closing in an hour.
The lady at the counter hands me a bag, and I give her exact change. “Threw in an extra one.” She winks.
“Oh, let me pay for that—”
“Nonsense. Your man is over there fighting for us. It’s the least I can do.”
“Do you know Knight?” I ask, eager to get another opinion about him from someone who is not related to him.
She nods. “Sweetest boy you’ll ever meet. Would go out of his way to help people. I remember when my daughter came back to school, all nervous and worried the other kids would make fun of her or treat her like an outcast—she was still bald from the last round of chemo—and he took her by the hand and made sure she got everything she needed from her teachers. Even drove her home because the bus made her so sick, but she was tired of being different.”
“Was this in high school?”
“Yup. Jane Ellen is a saint, and I don’t care what anyone has to say about their daddy or how things went down. You’ll never convince me the Kings are anything but golden.”
What would people say about him? I want to ask, but then she’d know I didn’t know and it might get back to the Kings that I’m being nosy. Worse, I’m being nosy with someone who is not family.
“How is your daughter now?”
“Cancer free going on twelve years.” She gives me a pointed look. “Too bad Knight didn’t come home and get a gander at her before he married you.”
My cheeks heat, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe my donuts are poisoned. “Were they sweethearts?”
“Right up until graduation.” My heart sinks and my stomach, formerly excited about the prospect of donuts as an after-lunch treat, sours. My donuts are totally poisoned. “But there’s no hard feelings. Ariel was in a good place by then, and she didn’t want to give up her scholarship to State to stay here.”
“Smart girl. Education is very important.” So important I didn’t graduate from ECU, so I could escape to Connecticut to be married to Baylor. “Makes it easier to get a job, too.”
Pleased with my compliment, she waves me off. “When the baby gets old enough, bring her down... first donut is free.”
I smile and start off for Knight’s place again, tilting my face up at the sun as I go. My pink hoodie is just right for the semi-cool temperature, but I’m a little wary because it could snow next week.
Basically, natives of North Carolina know that every season can happen at any time during any month, so we never put up seasonal clothes. They’re just clothes.
Ten minutes later, I arrive at Knight’s house. It’s right on the ocean and flanked by large, house-empty lots as well as empty lots across the street that Jane Ellen informed me no one could build on. When I asked why, she said it was because Knight had bought them, too.
Opening the gate, I walk to the front porch and punch in the code. Jane Ellen’s car isn’t in the drive, so Hazel’s not home yet. Worry settles inside of me, but I push it away. This is the first time she’s ever been late, and I won’t freak out or panic until I have to.
As I open the door, I stumble over a fabric cooler. There’s a note attached to it.
For your dinner tonight.
Don’t worry. I know what time you get home, so it’s fresh.
Deacon
I look around for Knight’s brother, but the street remains empty at this end.
Going inside, I shut the door behind me, but leave it unlocked. Jane Ellen respects my privacy if I arrive before she does. Not that it should matter.
This isn’t my house, and she’s doing me a favor.
I move to the kitchen, one of my favorite places in the house, and set the bag of donuts on the counter along with the cooler. I open it, finding a clear plastic bag with peeled shrimp.
I think I can eat this, but I’ll have to look it up on my phone to make sure. And if I can eat it, I’ll have to search how to cook it, too.
“Knock, knock,” Jane Ellen calls from the porch.
“Come inside,” I yell as I take the cooler to the fridge to store it until dinnertime.
“You got some sun today,” Jane Ellen says, smiling at me. Hazel is in her arms, holding her head up straight. She blows bubbles when she sees me, and I clap my hands. “She missed you, but not too much.”
I take my daughter from her. “You don’t have to qualify your statements. I’m glad she missed me, but I’m also glad you’re having so much fun with her.”
Jane Ellen strokes my hair. She’s a toucher, but since I am, too, it doesn’t bother me. Plus, it’s not creepy. Auditioning for parts in movies showed me what creepy looked and felt like.
“I don’t think Hazel’s hair is going to be dark like Knight’s.”
“Maybe when she’s older.” I snap my mouth shut, unable to believe how easily the lie sprang from my lips. “Because my hair was a lot lighter than it is now.”
“Whatever color it will be, she’s going to continue to get prettier and prettier, just like her mother.” She pats my shoulder. “I don’t think we mommas get enough credit.”
Now that, I can agree with. “Would you like to stay for lunch? I’m having a turkey sandwich.”
“Oh no. I’ve already eaten.” She pulls Hazel’s diaper bag from her shoulder and sets it on the counter of the bar. “Is there anything you need? I’m sure Knight’s pantry wasn’t well-stocked after his absence.”
“Oh no. I’m fine. It’s just me.”
She eyes me, but decides not to argue. “We have family dinners on Saturday night. River, Duke, and Ophelia will be there.”
“Every Saturday night?” Hazel turns in my arms, rooting around for her lunch.
“No.” She smiles. �
�I figured it would be easier to meet the family in shifts. We can be rather...overwhelming until you get to know us.”
“Deacon left shrimp on my porch.”
“Did he?” A faraway look comes into her gaze. “He and Laird used to go shrimping all the time and bring back their catch.”
“Knight had nothing but good things to say about Laird.” That’s true enough, I suppose, because he had nothing bad to say about him either.
“Poor Ophelia,” she murmurs, then shakes her head as if to clear the clouds in her eyes. “Anyway, if you and Hazel-boo can join us, I’d love it.”
I move to the sofa, so I can feed Hazel. “We’ll be there.” It’s the least I can do for her and for Knight.
Chapter 15
Campbell
IT’S BEEN TWO WEEKS since I last heard from Knight, and I’m getting worried.
Okay, I’m worried and nervous because tonight I’ll finally be eating with the Kings I haven’t met because Duke had some business stuff come up and River had to go to her mom’s every other weekend.
Sue me, I’m needy and—
My phone stars buzzing like crazy, and I jump up from the sofa to grab it.
I hit accept and instead of Knight’s smiling face greeting me, I find a mountain man staring back.
“Holy crap, you ‘ve grown a beard,” is the first thing I say.
He strokes said beard. “Helps keep my face warm.”
“That’s good.” I click off the television with the remote, prop the phone against a shell-filled vase in the center of the coffee table, and plop my bottom on the floor so I can focus on him.
“How are you?” I ask lamely. Wow, Campbell. How do you think he is while at freaking war?
“Tired.”
“You look good, though.”
“That’s what all the ladies say.” He cocks a brow. “By ladies, I mean goats.”
“That’s... not weird, at all.” I shudder playfully. “Um...” For some reason, I can’t think of anything to say.
Picture Perfect Lie Page 9
