by J. L. Berg
I was so used to dropping in on Jake, during his lunch break or just whenever the hell I needed to, knowing he’d make time between patients for whatever I needed, that I guessed I’d just assumed…
I’d assumed.
My mother’s voice came in my head, screeching loud and clear, like it was on some sort of speakerphone. “Do you know what happens when you assume?”
Yeah, Mom, I do.
Realizing I should probably save this conversation for some other time, I decided to just leave the coffee and a note for Jake, and maybe we’d meet up for beers later on in the day.
Because, damn, this place was two patients short of a zoo.
Stepping up to the deserted front counter, I set both cups down and leaned over, grabbing the first pen I could see. But, before I could, my movements were interrupted by a tiny voice.
“Are you stealing that?”
“Um, what?” I asked the disembodied voice of a cherub.
The presumed cherub, who turned out not to be a cherub but a little girl—Cora’s little girl, to be exact—emerged from under the desk and pointed to the pen in my hand. “Are you stealing that pen? I saw you grab it from the little hole right there.” She pointed to the small hole next to the computer monitor where several wires had been neatly shoved down to the floor.
“Um, no,” I answered, unsure of if I was being interrogated by a five-year-old or if she was just curious of my intentions. “I just planned on borrowing it.”
She shrugged, seemingly unaffected either way. “Oh, okay.” Her little head, covered in dark brown curls began to disappear below the desk again.
“Hey!” I said before she disappeared. “What are you doing under there?”
She popped back up again. I took that moment to properly examine her. I’d watched her from afar the night before as she ran around the backyard, playing with a streamer as she dodged the water’s edge. But I hadn’t gotten the chance to interact with her or to stare into those familiar brown eyes while wondering if she’d inherited her mother’s dazzling smile.
“Being tiny,” she answered. “Mommy said I wasn’t using my tiny voice well enough, so I told her I’d go practice. I thought, maybe if I tried to be tinier, it would make my voice tinier, too. Is it working?”
God, she is cute.
“Hmm…well, I don’t know. What does your normal voice sound like?”
Her mouth scrunched to the side like she was thinking real hard. Tiny freckles dotted her cheeks. “My grandmother says it kind of sounds like a bird squawking. I didn’t know what squawking meant, so I had to look it up in the dictionary.”
My heart melted a little. Okay, a lot. What kind of grandmother was this?
“Well, I’ve heard birds squawk. Lots of birds, like a whole mess of them. Big, mean birds out by the docks. And let me tell you, you don’t sound anything like them.”
“Really? What kind of birds?”
I leaned my arms on the counter. “Pelicans, egrets. The same kinds you had in Virginia Beach, I’m sure. But the really annoying ones are the seagulls.”
She got that face again, the one where she seemed deep in thought. Her lips got all squishy, and tiny frown lines appeared on her brows. “Did you know hummingbirds can fly backward and sideways?”
I was nearly thrown backward from shock. Who was this clever kid?
“I did not know that. Did you know an eggshell is porous so that the baby bird can breathe while inside?”
Her eyes lit up almost immediately. “No! Do you know what the fastest bird on the planet is?”
“The peregrine falcon.”
She smiled a bright, happy smile, which only confirmed my suspicions.
She did indeed have her mother’s smile.
I caught a glimpse of a missing front tooth, making my heart melt a little more.
“How’d you know that?” She giggled, covering her mouth with her small hands.
“How’d you know?” I pressed.
“I looked it up online.” She shrugged, like it was most obvious answer in the world. Like all five-or six-year-olds in the world looked up random bird facts in their spare time.
“Is my mommy gonna fix your arm?”
“What?” I asked, briefly caught off guard.
Looking down at her slight frame, her head resting atop her arms on the desk, I saw her gaze was now eye-level with my prosthesis. But, unlike many kids her age, there was no wide-eyed look of fear.
Just that flat-out curiosity again.
“That’s why you’re here, right? To get your arm fixed?”
My eyes briefly settled on the flesh-colored hand that rested atop the desk. “Uh, no,” I answered. “I’m afraid that’s as fixed as it’s going to get. But it looks kind of cool, huh?”
She leaned forward a little, examining it with her inquisitive stare. A hesitant finger rose up in the air, hanging there for a moment as indecision wavered in her mind. It didn’t take long before made the choice to go ahead though, placing the tip of her index finger along the top of my fake hand.
“Does it hurt?” she asked, her young mind still trying to make sense of it all.
“Nope,” I answered, knocking on a higher section of it with my fist. “Plastic,” I explained. “All the way up to here.”
Those dark brown irises followed my finger all the way up to the top of my bicep near my shoulder.
“How does it—”
“Mr. Pond?” Cora’s familiar voice called behind me.
Turning around, I was met with a surprised expression as she waited for the middle-aged grocer to gather his things. He’d all but moved in, bringing in several magazines, books, and other things. Realizing it might take a while, Cora stepped out of the doorway and walked in my direction.
“Um, hi?” she said, forming her greeting more like a question rather than a friendly salute. Although she said it nice enough, the meaning came across clear enough. What the hell are you doing here?
Yeah, I guess I deserved that.
“Hi,” I replied awkwardly.
Ah, good. The painfully uncoordinated Dean was back. Excellent. He was always a hit with the ladies.
Actually, I didn’t know that for a fact because this side of me—the all thumbs, couldn’t talk his way out of paper bag—only seemed to come out whenever she was around. It was like, the second Cora turned up, I’d revert to that dorky thirteen-year-old version of myself who thought talking about video games and Star Wars was the way to a girl’s heart.
Clearly, I’d outgrown him.
Or I’d thought I had…until I met Cora Ashcroft.
“Hey, what is your last name now?” I blurted out.
She looked up at me with a wry sense of curiosity, still trying to figure out why I was there in the first place.
Me, too, Cora. Me, too.
“It’s just that, before, you were—I mean, it was different,” I said, tripping all over my words as I tried to explain my meaning.
“Oh,” she said. “Um, Carpenter. It’s Carpenter, I guess.”
Smiling, I nodded in approval. “Okay, good. Well, I just came by to drop off a cup of coffee for Jake, but then I got highly distracted by your very charming daughter. By the way, did you know that hummingbirds can fly backward?”
A smile flashed across her face. “And sideways I’ve heard.”
Yep, I thought to myself. Just like her mom.
We hung in that moment, our mutual smiles reaching for each other like magnets.
“Um, Miss Cora?” old man Pond called out. “I’m ready.”
“Oh, right,” she said, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “I’d better get back to work.”
“Oh, right. Me, too. I mean, going. I should get going.”
I am a fucking idiot.
“Don’t go!” Lizzie protested, a little too loud for her mother’s liking.
“Shh!” she immediately scolded, holding her finger up to her lips.
God, those lips. What I wouldn’t do to—
I cleared my throat. “Why doesn’t she spend the day with me?”
Wait, what?
“What?” Cora echoed my internal thoughts.
Too late now. Can’t take it back.
Might as well go with it.
“Um, sure. I’m not doing anything, and clearly, you’re swamped. I could show her the birds we were talking about down at the docks and give her a tour of the town.”
“We already did a tour of the town,” she replied, her eyes dodging between me and Mr. Pond, who was currently standing next to her, holding his huge pile of books and magazines.
The whole thing was awkward.
There was no other way to describe it.
But then again, that was the definition of my interactions with Cora thus far.
Awkward.
Just all sorts of awkward.
“Please, Mommy?” Lizzie begged before amending her plea to something much quieter. “Please?” she nearly whispered.
Cora’s gaze alternated between me, her daughter, and Mr. Pond, who was now watching the entire interaction like a true townie—with enthused observation.
“No boats,” she said sternly.
“Wouldn’t even dream of it,” I agreed.
“And you’ll feed her?”
“Best food in town,” I promised.
“And bring her back before we close?”
I nodded. “With bells on.”
“Bells!” Lizzie cheered, her voice breaking into laughter.
“Fine,” she agreed but took one step closer toward me.
I could feel her breath on my neck and smell the floral fragrance of her shampoo, and if I bent forward even an inch, I’d know exactly what her skin tasted like.
“Eyes forward, Sutherland,” she barked, jolting me out of the lust-filled haze I’d momentarily stumbled into.
I looked down at her, seeing the seriousness in her eyes. I took a tiny step back, hoping it would help me focus.
“That right there is the most important thing to me in this whole damn world.” Her finger went up to my chest as she tried to find more words to drive in the significance of what I was doing.
“I’ll treat her like the treasure that she is, Cora. I promise.”
Our eyes met, and once again, I tried to ignore the tightening in my chest and the yearning deep in my belly.
Because, as much as Molly wanted to believe, this was not a love story.
No fireworks, no happy endings.
Just one nice person doing a favor for another.
Period.
“So, what’ll it be?” I asked after nearly collapsing into the chair at the local restaurant I’d picked out for lunch.
Lizzie was a ball of never-ending energy, asking questions with every glance, about everything from street signs and local life to types of animals, and even giving her own fun facts along the way.
And, in the few hours we’d spent together, I’d grown pretty fond of the spunky little girl. Even if I did want to fall over from sheer exhaustion at the moment.
“Chicken fingers!” she announced after looking over the menu with a bit of scrutiny.
It didn’t surprise me one bit that she could read the thing. Considering she was looking up random facts on birds on the internet, a simple kid’s menu was a no-brainer.
It did make me wonder how she was going to fare in kindergarten though.
Or rather, how the school was going to fare with her.
“Chicken fingers?” I scoffed. “Out of everything this place has to offer, you’re going to choose chicken fingers?”
She shrugged. “I don’t like fish.”
“You were born in a beach town. How can you not like fish?” I joked, recalling I, myself, hated the taste of anything sea-related until the age of twelve, and I was the son of a fisherman.
She shrugged again, this time even bigger, her shoulders nearly reaching the bottoms of her ears. “I don’t know. I just don’t.”
“Hmm,” I said, making an exaggerated face, like I was trying to think of a solution. “Well, what if I said you could eat with your fingers? Would that change your mind?”
She slightly perked up. “Maybe. All the other fish I had was slimy.”
“Slimy?” I echoed, wondering just where she had been getting her fish.
Remembering who her father was—or at least, what little Cora had spoken of him—I realized she’d probably been fed only high-priced, fancy stuff, which was good, if you were a high-priced, fancy adult.
But a kid? A kid needed something that was more at their level.
Something more—
“Hey, Dean. You two ready to order?” Billy asked as soon as he reached our table, setting two glasses of ice water down in front of us.
“Hey, Billy! Have you met our newest resident, Miss Lizzie?” I paused a moment, unsure of if she was still an Ashcroft or a Carpenter. Deciding to let that go, I just smiled as Billy, a guy I knew from high school, greeted Lizzie like a queen.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Lizzie,” he said, shaking her tiny hand. “Can I get you anything else to drink besides water?”
She looked sheepishly in my direction, asking for permission. With eyes like those, I’d probably give her the damn world, but for now, I’d settle on giving her a soda.
“Sure,” I said before she asked for a root beer. I did the same and proceeded to order our lunches, forgoing Lizzie’s request for chicken fingers. I knew Billy could fry up a basket real quick if she hated the fish.
But I was pretty convinced I’d have a fish lover by the end of the meal.
“I’m glad my mommy can’t fix your arm,” Lizzie said, bringing my focus back to her. Now that her menu was gone, her head was resting on her hands, eye level with mine.
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Because you are kind of like a robot.”
I grinned. “Pretty sure a robot can do more than just wave.”
She watched as I demonstrated the point, holding up my prosthesis and giving her a lame wave with the frozen hand.
She laughed a high-pitched giggle that made me smile.
“How come it doesn’t move?” she asked, that inquisitive expression taking over her face as she gave my arm a once-over. She leaned in closer for a better look, my short sleeves providing an ample view.
“Well,” I said, pointing to the top of the device, “this one isn’t meant to. It’s just supposed to look like an arm.”
“But why?” she pressed. “If it looks like an arm, shouldn’t it move like one, too?”
I swallowed deeply, unsure of how to answer.
“If I were bigger, I’d make one that shot lasers out of the fingertips and could make you fly.”
I laughed. “That doesn’t sound like any arm I’ve ever met.”
She shrugged just as our drinks were being delivered. “I’d make sure it could do all the other stuff, too, but definitely lasers.”
In the little time I’d gotten to know Lizzie, I had no doubt she could do it, too.
Give her a few years, a little time on the internet, and she could probably build an entire robot, laser limbs and all.
“Mommy!” Lizzie’s voice exploded my eardrums a second before she hopped out of her chair and darted in the direction behind me.
Alarmed, I jumped up and turned but instantly calmed, seeing Cora wrapped around her daughter.
Still dressed in her scrubs, that reddish-brown hair pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head, she was immediately dragged to our table and instructed to sit.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I asked, a wry smile spreading across my face.
“I have a lunch break,” she scoffed before adding, “but, no, it’s a Wednesday, and I was just informed that means I only work a half-day.”
I nodded. “Ah, yes. Jake usually travels up to Nags Head or Virginia Beach to the hospitals today to check on patients or meet with doctors.”
“That’s what he told me. Anyway, I’m free,
so I can take over from here.”
Her blank stare from across the table spoke volumes. Clearly, I wasn’t needed anymore, and I was being dismissed.
“Right,” I said, taken off guard and suddenly feeling a little pissed. Obviously, the idea of being neighborly hadn’t been explained to our new resident. “I have stuff to do anyway.”
“No, Mommy!” Lizzie whined. “We haven’t eaten yet, and Dean hasn’t shown me how to eat fish with my fingers.”
Cora’s eyes stared daggers into mine.
“I said I’d treat her like a treasure.” I shrugged. “Not royalty. This is how we roll in the ’Coke. You can’t tell me you’ve never dug into a basket of fresh seafood with your bare hands.”
She shook her head, the annoyance still written all over her face. “Not even once.”
Leaning forward, not even making a single attempt to leave, I asked, “Where are you from again? Texas?”
She nodded.
“And you’ve been here, living the beach life, for how long?”
“A little over seven years.”
“And how many of those were spent with the lawyer?” I asked.
“All but a few months, but I fail to see how any of that—” she answered stiffly.
“You never got a proper introduction,” I said. “You moved here, met the rich guy, and were shown a completely ridiculous side of shore life. You’ve missed out on Jeep rides, late-night bonfires, and pigging out on seafood so fresh, you can’t help but eat it with your hands.” I grinned, ignoring all those Southern manners my mother had drilled into me.
I mean, she’d started it by barging in here. That reminded me…
“Hey, how did you know where we were?” I asked.
“What?” Cora asked, knocked somewhat off-balance by the abrupt question.
“Well, you weren’t planning on meeting us for lunch, and I don’t recall getting any calls from you, so how’d you find us?”
One glance over in Lizzie’s direction told me she was enrapt with the whole conversation, drinking her soda as her short little legs swung from the plastic chair on the patio, soaking up every word.
“Um, well, I just sort of drove around.”
“You drove around? Why didn’t you call?”
Her face went blank, a kind of innocent face you’d make when you’d been caught in a lie.
