Heart of Glass

by Nicole Jacquelyn

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” I thought about how beautiful Morgan was. Etta definitely wouldn’t have lost anything if she’d looked more like her mother. Henry and Morgan must have looked like a couple of movie stars when they’d been out together. The thought made my stomach sour.

  “What’s pretty cool?” my aunt asked as she and my uncle let themselves in the back door.

  “How much Henry’s baby looks like him,” my mom answered, grinning. “It’s uncanny.”

  “No kidding,” my aunt replied, setting a dish filled with something that smelled like heaven on the counter. She’d seen the photos dozens of times, too. She and my mom had studied and scrutinized them over and over, talking about how happy and healthy the baby looked, what her body language might have meant, and what dolls she seemed to prefer based on the toys in the photo.

  It was like they’d turned into private detectives, body language experts, and child psychologists overnight. And if I was being honest, it was getting a little annoying. They talked about Etta a lot, but they didn’t mention her mom much. I knew it wasn’t deliberate because they had no frame of reference, but I’d seen her. I’d seen why Etta was so happy. Why she seemed fearless in the pool and perfectly happy playing by herself on the floor. That was all Morgan’s doing. She was raising that fearless, happy kid.

  Whenever my mom mentioned how Henry was fearless at that age—he wasn’t—or how he played by himself—he didn’t—I’d had to grit my teeth against the need to argue. My mom was still grieving. She was remembering Henry the way she wanted to, as the happy and confident kid he’d become later, after years of living in a stable home with loving parents. Why would I take that away from her? I wouldn’t. Not in a million years.

  “Have no fear, Arielle is here!” Ani called as she carried Arie into the kitchen Lion King–style, the baby squealing in delight as Ani held her high. “And we’re starving.”

  “I brought beer,” Bram said, exhaustion clear in his voice. “I’ll put it in the cooler.”

  He shuffled past me with nothing but a head nod. From what I’d gathered when I’d seen him at work, Arielle wasn’t sleeping at night. Ani and the baby were able to catch up on some of that rest during the day while he was at work, but he’d been pretty much falling asleep at his desk all week. It didn’t look like he’d gotten much rest over the weekend, either.

  “I’m crossing my fingers that she sleeps this week,” Ani announced, putting Arielle into one of the high chairs next to the dining room table. “At some point, she’ll get tired enough to sleep, right?”

  “She’s still giving you trouble, huh?” Aunt Liz asked, smoothing down Arielle’s hair as she moved around the table.

  “Yeah. Her pediatrician said this phase is normal, but holy shit. I’m about to drop.”

  “You?” Bram asked with a huff. “You’re napping during the day.”

  “Barely,” Ani snapped. “If you think that I’m sleeping all day, your head is so far up your—”

  “Children,” my dad said in warning, shutting them both up. “Know you’re both tired, know you’re both grumpy, but hell if I’m gonna listen to it. Figure it out at your own house.”

  I chuckled, then grunted as Ani elbowed me in the side as she strode past. My dad and uncle had both made it perfectly clear that they didn’t want to deal with any of the kids’ relationship problems during family dinners. It wasn’t a new thing.

  Any other day of the week and the older men were ready and willing to listen and offer up advice. All of the older generation were like that. However, at dinner on Friday, you were expected to leave all of that nonsense at home. Even when we were kids, we hadn’t been allowed to argue at the table.

  We were sitting around the table discussing anything and everything that happened lately when my phone chimed in my pocket. If I’d thought about it, I would have silenced the stupid thing.

  When the phone beeped, my mom’s head shot up like a bloodhound’s.

  “No phones at the table,” Ani griped, stuffing food into her mouth. Damn, that woman needed to get some sleep. She’d come in trying to hide it, but the longer she sat there, the more convinced I was that at any moment she was going to face-plant into her mashed potatoes.

  “Is it her?” my mom asked as I cut up the meat on my plate. “Trevor, is that her?”

  “I don’t know,” I said calmly. “I’m eating.” I lifted my fork and knife like they were evidence.

  “Well, check it,” she said, annoyed.

  I knew she was anxious and waiting for news, but it still drove me crazy that I was fishing my phone out of my pocket in the middle of dinner so that I could tell my mom who was contacting me. I kind of hoped it was someone from work, but I knew it wasn’t. Those guys might text me later in the night to invite me out with them, but they wouldn’t text the boss—me—right after work on Friday.

  Hey, Trevor. Sorry, I haven’t texted back, I’ve been crazy busy. Yeah, you guys can visit, but we’re actually moving, so it’ll have to wait a bit.

  Moving? Where the hell were they going, and why? The thought made my stomach churn. I knew where they were now. I knew how to find them. If Morgan moved and changed her number, they could pretty much disappear. Was that what she was doing? Son of a bitch. I glanced at my mom and stood up from the table.

  “She said you could visit,” I said, giving my mom a small smile as she clapped her hands together once in happiness. “I’ll be right back.”

  I strode outside and hit Morgan’s contact before the door had even shut behind me.

  “Hello?” she answered. I was a little surprised.

  “You’re moving?” I asked.

  “Nice greeting,” she said drily. “Yes, we’re moving.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed and I snapped my mouth shut, swallowing against the need to interrogate her. I was being kind of an ass. A nosy ass.

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” she said, not unkindly, “But I lost my franking job, so we’re headed up to stay with my dad in Sacramento for a while.”

  “You lost your job?”

  “It’s like I’m talking to a parrot.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, shaking my head. “That sucks, what happened?”

  “I took the job under the conditions that I’d pitch in if someone else didn’t show up,” she said, sounding frustrated. “Which was fine, because no one ever really did that. Pretty much everyone in the shop needed the money, so we always showed up for our shifts. But then the owner hired his franking cousin or something, who never showed up, and they had to keep asking me to come in.”

  She went silent.

  “And you can’t just drop everything and go in,” I said in understanding. Those motherfuckers.

  “I make it a point not to drop my kid,” she joked miserably. “I took some of the shifts, but Carmen’s got a life, too, and she couldn’t watch Etta every time they called.”

  “They fired you for that?” I asked, assuming that Carmen was her babysitter.

  “Well, they hemmed and hawed, but yeah. Which is crazy. Now they’re down a piercer and that cousin is still working there and never showing up for his shifts. Someone needs to go to franking business school. Idiots.”

  “Idiots!” Etta yelled in the background.

  “Etta, don’t say ‘idiots,’” Morgan replied.

  “Idiots!”

  “This is what my life looks like right now,” Morgan said into the phone while Etta sang the word over and over. “No joke, this is my life.”

  “Shit, that sucks.” I leaned against the railing of the porch as Morgan sighed into the phone. The people she was working for must have had their heads up their asses.

  “It is what it is. Not the end of the world, you know? But damn, it’s frustrating. All my clientele are down here, and I’m going to have to start from scratch in Sacramento.”

  “You’re staying with your dad, huh?” I tried to sound nonchalant, but it was hard not to completely i
nterrogate her.

  “Yeah. He’s totally stoked that we’re moving in with him. Me? Not so much.” She laughed a little, but the noise was forced.

  “You have a rainy day fund,” I reminded her quietly. “If you really don’t want to move—”

  “No,” she cut me off. “That’s for emergencies and hopefully I won’t ever have to use it and Etta can have it for college.”

  “Morgan, that’s for life,” I argued. “That’s for when you need it.”

  “But I don’t need it,” she said. “Not right now. I have enough cash to move us and get settled. This isn’t an emergency. It’s just a franking speed bump.”

  “I can help.”

  “Nope,” she said, huffing in annoyance. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I take care of my own ship,” she said. It took me a minute to remember that “ship” was her word for shit. “This really isn’t a crisis, Trevor. It’s just a frustration.”

  “Well, what about the move?” I asked, picturing her driving a truck with Etta riding shotgun. “Do you need help with driving or any of that?”

  “Hell no,” she said, and somehow I knew she was smiling. “I’ve got Etta’s babysitter Carmen and her man coming over to help pack us up, and I can drive a moving truck like a boss.”

  “You seem very proud of that.”

  “Heck yes, I am,” she said with a small laugh. “It’s a good life skill to have. I can also change a tire, check and change the oil in my car, and shoot a pistol and a rifle.”

  “Well, look at you,” I replied, grinning. My body relaxed as I realized that whatever had been going on with Morgan didn’t really have anything to do with me. She was back to the same funny, easygoing woman I’d met, and she wasn’t talking to me like she couldn’t wait to get off the phone. She was…chatting. Like we were friends. It was a complete 180-degree change from the text responses I’d been getting.

  I didn’t take the time to question why she ran so hot and cold. I probably should have.

  “So, yeah. My landlord is being super cool about all of it, so if I move out before the end of the month I don’t have to pay next month’s rent,” she said. “Me and Etta are packing like crazy.”

  “Damn, you only have a few days,” I replied. “You sure you don’t need any help?” If I helped her move I’d know exactly where she was headed. It wasn’t as if I could ask for her dad’s address without sounding like a stalker.

  “Nope, we’re all set. Most of the stuff in this house isn’t ours, so I’m just packing up the bedroom and bathroom, really. Piece of cake.” I wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she sounded a little out of breath.

  “I should probably let you get back to it,” I said reluctantly, glancing at the front door of my parents’ house. “Let me know how the move goes.”

  “I will,” she replied.

  We hung up, and I stood outside for a few minutes more. Damn, I liked her. Part of me knew that it was a good thing, but another part of me, the more realistic part, knew that I was sliding quickly into forbidden territory. I really liked her. More than I should have.

  Beyond the fact that she was fucking gorgeous, because I’d been with gorgeous women before, she just—seemed to fit me, which was not something I should even be thinking about. It was just so easy to talk to her, even when I was nervous. I liked hearing about what she was doing and I liked listening to her talk to Etta. Hell, I even liked the way she moved, all efficient and quick.

  And I was thrilled as hell that she was moving closer to me, even though she was still an entire day’s drive away.

  I needed to get my head on straight. Quick. Even thinking about Morgan made my stomach flip in a mixture of lust and guilt. So much fucking guilt.

  “Everything okay?” my dad asked, stepping out the front door. I knew my mom had sent him to investigate, but I couldn’t even be mad about it.

  “Yeah.” I nodded and scratched at my beard. It needed a trim. “Morgan and Etta are moving, so I was just calling to get some details.”

  “Moving?” he asked, coming farther onto the porch. “She tell you about that before?” I understood the suspicion in his voice. It mirrored my own.

  “She lost her job—”

  “Well, that’s no good.”

  I listened closely for judgment in his tone, but there wasn’t any. Damn, I was on edge. Of course he wasn’t judging her. My dad was one of the most easygoing and accepting people I’d ever met.

  “No shit. She and the baby are moving up with her dad for a while, I guess.”

  “You know where that is?”

  “Sacramento,” I answered, turning to face him as he sat down on one of the rocking chairs that lined the porch. “She’s cool with a visit, but she asked that we wait until they’re settled.”

  “Mom’s not gonna be thrilled about that,” he said with a sigh. “She’s been damn near counting the days to a date that hasn’t even been set yet.”

  “I know.”

  I wasn’t looking forward to telling her she was going to have to wait even longer. She’d been looking at flights since the day I got home and showed her the photos of Etta. I knew she was trying to keep her excitement in check, but it was clear to anyone who knew her how anxious she was.

  It killed me that she was so fixated on my niece. I understood it, to a degree, but I worried about how it would all play out once she’d met Etta. The sweet baby girl wasn’t her father, and treating her as a stand-in wasn’t right. It wasn’t that I thought my mom was doing it on purpose—I didn’t even think she realized what she was doing—but it still worried me.

  “I’ll let her know after everyone leaves,” my dad said, giving me a small nod. “If you don’t want the interrogation, you might have to leave the rest of your dinner.”

  I chuckled a little, but nodded back. If I went back inside, I’d never be able to leave without telling everyone at the table exactly what my phone call had entailed. Unfortunately, I’d only gotten halfway through my dinner, but the rest of it wasn’t worth the headache.

  I gave my dad a hug, holding him for an extra few seconds as I remembered the first time I’d willingly touched him—nearly two years after I’d moved in—and left. The man had been watching out for me in small ways and big ways since before I’d even acknowledged his presence, and as I rode home through the woods, I wondered if I’d ever get to step into that role for someone else.

  * * *

  A few hours later, after eating half a package of Oreos and ignoring calls from pretty much everyone in my family, I got a picture message from Morgan. It was kind of dark, but I could still see Etta curled up on her side, with her thumb in her mouth, halfway inside a moving box that was tipped on its side. The caption read, “Finally figured out a way to keep her occupied…then she fell asleep ten minutes later. Fail or win? You decide.”

  I laughed out loud and saved the photo on my phone, making it my screen saver before I texted back.

  She was occupied for ten minutes AND put herself to sleep for the night. Definite WIN.

  I swear to God, she unpacked half of the stuff I packed today. LOL. I need to start taping the boxes right away instead of waiting until I have the tape handy.

  I smiled and muted my TV so that I wasn’t distracted.

  Still don’t need my help?

  Nope! I’ll pack more while she’s sleeping. I’ll be done with everything by the time she wakes up in the morning.

  Damn. Pulling an all-nighter huh? You’re going to be tired tomorrow.

  I’ll be okay. It should only take a few more hours.

  I glanced at the clock and grimaced. It was almost eleven o’clock already.

  When are you getting the moving truck? And what are you going to do with your car?

  Tomorrow, and pull it behind me. LOL. I can’t leave her behind, she’s been a loyal transporter. Plus, I’ll need wheels when we get to Sac. My dad rides a Harley—no room for a car seat on one of those.

&nb
sp; Keep me posted on the move? I knew that the question sounded like a good-bye, and I didn’t text anything more. I didn’t want to stop talking to her, but hell if I was going to interrupt her packing when she was already going to have to be up all night.

  Sure. We should be there by late tomorrow night…and then I’m going to have a drink. A big one. LOL

  I didn’t text back, but I didn’t turn up the volume on my TV, either. I hated the idea of her driving a moving truck all the way to Sacramento on only a few hours of sleep. I believed her when she said she was fully capable—it didn’t have anything to do with that—it just went against every instinct I had to watch her do it alone. The women in my family were as strong and capable as the men in every way that mattered. I’d known that from the beginning, and had been reminded of that fact my entire life. But the men in my family would never sit idly by while the women moved/hauled/unpacked their house alone. Hell, Ani was one of the most independent people I’d ever met—man or woman—and we still went over to her house to help her fix it up. I’d painted and sanded more things in her place than in my own.

  For about an hour I sat there, wondering if there was any way that I could get Morgan to change her mind and wait one more day so that I could fly down and help her. An entire hour.

  When I finally realized what an idiot I was being, I stood up and stretched as if that would make the rationalizations in my head disappear. I was being an idiot. A nosy, pushy, idiot—even if it was only in my own head. Acting like that worked for some men, my cousins and brother in particular, but that wasn’t me. I stepped in when I was needed, but I didn’t try to make decisions for other people or convince them that I was right. Besides, I’d barely talked to Morgan since I’d left California. She wasn’t my responsibility by any stretch of the imagination.

  I pulled up my cousin’s contact and pushed CALL.

  “Why the hell are you calling so late?” Kate asked, her voice scratchy.

  “Did I wake you up?”

  “No,” she groaned. “I was laying on the couch watching TV. Shane’s gone this week doing training. What’s up?”