Always Our Love

by Tawdra Kandle

  “It’s so good.” Becca swiped her fingers over her cheek and sniffled a little. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Kiki sat back, studying both Becca and me, her eyes narrowing a little. “So, Becca. Tell me a little about yourself. How old are you? And do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “Twelve, and one brother. His name is Oliver, but we all call him Ollie. He’s a dweeb.”

  Kiki laughed. “I’ve been given to understand that all little brothers are. I only had a little sister, so I can’t speak from experience, and Jenna here’s the youngest of four girls, so she doesn’t know, either.”

  “He likes bugs and snakes and the twelfth Doctor. I hate anything creepy-crawly and snakes freak me out.”

  “And which Doctor?” Kiki leaned forward, expectant.

  “The tenth one. Of course.”

  “Whew!” The older woman clapped a hand over her heart. “That’s a relief. We can be friends now that we know we agree on the important things in life.” She lowered her voice. “Jenna here—she’s not a Doctor Who fan. Can you imagine? Sydney and I—Sydney’s my niece, she runs the catering place next door—we tried to get Jenna to watch the show with us, and she didn’t get past two episodes.”

  I shook my head. “True story. I’m not much for crazy screwdrivers and alien invasions, I guess.”

  “What do you like?” Becca rested her cheek in one small palm.

  “Oh . . .” It had been a long time since I’d had to think about the answer to that question. “Um, I like to read. And I love superhero movies. You know, like The Avengers and Thor?”

  “Yeah, my Aunt Abby likes Thor, too. I don’t know why, though. He seems big and stupid to me.”

  I smirked a little. “Give it a year or two, kiddo, and I bet you’ll start to see it.”

  “Jenna likes to dance, too,” Kiki put in. “She took lessons growing up.”

  “I took ballet for a year in Canton, but I didn’t like it that much. But I like to watch people dance. One time my grandparents took us to see Sleeping Beauty, and it was so cool.”

  “We went to The Nutcracker in Savannah when I was ten.” I sighed, remembering. “I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. But I knew I didn’t have that kind of discipline. I liked modern dance more, for myself.”

  “You could’ve done anything you wanted, Jenna. Don’t sell yourself short.” Kiki helped herself to a sugar cookie from the plate. “Becca, believe it or not, I’ve known this chick here since she was about your age. I’m sure you find it hard to accept that I could be that old, but it’s the truth. She came in here one day when she was fighting with her sister, and I fed her a chocolate chip cookie.”

  “And I was hooked.” I finished my peach Danish and took a final drink of tea. “She couldn’t get rid of me after that.”

  “Never wanted to.” Kiki’s tone held more meaning than her words did. “Not once, in all those years.”

  There was an awkward moment of silence, and then I stood up, pushing back my chair. “Well, I should go. I have a lot to do tonight.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, and I wondered if Kiki suspected how empty my evenings really were. “Kiki, thanks for the pastry and the tea. I’ll probably be in later this week. Becca, it was nice to meet you. Good luck in Burton.” I paused before adding, “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again soon. Small town, you know.”

  “Don’t worry, Becca’s going to be a regular here. I’m sure of it.” Kiki beamed at the younger girl.

  “There are worse places she could hang out.” I hoped my friend understood what I was saying, even though I couldn’t quite muster up the words. “Bye, y’all.”

  I stepped outside into the June heat and turned back toward the Bryan County Historical Society where my car was still parked. Somehow, despite my visit with Kiki and meeting Becca, I felt more alone and isolated than ever.

  For the last year or so, being alone had been a relief. I felt safe and in control; moving to my own small apartment from my parents’ house hadn’t been easy, but I’d quickly realized how much I liked being able to relax. With my mom and dad, my every move made them anxious. They’d greeted me each night with questions designed to sound casual, although if I answered the wrong way, I’d catch them glancing at each other over my head, telegraphing questions or worry. It made me want to scream.

  I knew that having me living on my own caused them stress, but it allowed me to let down my guard every evening. It gave me the freedom to stop putting on a happy face. I did my daughterly duty and called or texted to reassure them that I was alive and well. I ate dinner with them once a week. I commented on my sisters’ posts on social media and responded when they sent cute pictures of their kids or cats.

  For the last year, maintaining status quo had been enough. It had been all I’d been capable of doing. But as the bright midday sun began to give way to the dimming light of dusk, I somehow felt a twinge of regret and the unsettled feeling of missing something vital.

  What that was, however, I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—have said.

  With a sigh, I climbed into my car and drove home, by myself.

  “OLLIE, GET A MOVE ON.” I stood just inside the front door of our house, my arms crossed over my chest. “I don’t want to be late for this meeting.”

  “Daddy, I can’t find my other sneaker!” Frustration filled my son’s voice. “I think Becca hid it.”

  “I did not. You never put anything away. You leave your stuff out all over the house, which is why we’re always looking for it at the last minute.” Becca stomped down the steps, a scowl on her face. She wore a pair of denim shorts that came nearly to her knees and a sleeveless cotton blouse with its tail knotted at her waist. Pristine white Keds completed her outfit, and her hair was in its perpetual neat braid. I thought briefly of other girls her age I’d seen around town, dressed in cut-offs and T-shirts with dirty sneakers or flip-flops, and hair escaping from sloppy ponytails. I knew I should’ve been grateful, and maybe a little smug, that my daughter resembled a throwback to the 1950’s, but instead, I wished she might’ve veered a little more toward her own decade.

  Summers were meant to be carefree months of running wild, of playing in sprinklers or pools or creeks, coming home with mud-caked feet and filthy hands. At least, that had been my own experience, and it was what I wanted for my kids. Ollie was cheerfully embracing that life, but Becca clung stubbornly to the standards her grandmother had instilled over the past six years. Even now, she stood in front of me, twisting her fingers as we waited for her brother.

  “He hasn’t unpacked his room yet, you know.” She spoke to me in a furious whisper. “I told him I’d help. I offered to even do it for him. But he said he didn’t want me touching his stuff, and then he tried to slam the door in my face, only he couldn’t, because there was too much of that precious stuff on the floor.”

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead. The reality was that the whole house was still in a state of chaos. I’d had great intentions of getting all the boxes unpacked and put away before I launched into this project, but . . . yeah, that hadn’t exactly happened. It shouldn’t have been that difficult. After all, I’d sold just about everything after Sylvia’s death; the kids’ stuff had gone with them to my in-laws’ house, and I’d traveled the last six years with just clothes and personal effects. I’d kept a few boxes in Sylvia’s parents’ basement, things from Becca and Oliver’s babyhoods that Syl had saved. But everything else, I’d sold or given away.

  When I’d taken the kids back and bought this house, Abby had insisted on putting together what she called essentials. She’d called Sylvia’s mom and talked to the kids, determining what kind of furniture they needed, and then she’d used her contacts in the hospitality industry, the same people who helped her furnish hotels, to set us up with beds, dressers and assorted other sundry bedroom items. She’d also furnished my bedroom from afar, promising me that she’d keep it all simple and manly. And of course, Abby had also co
nvinced me that the kids and I needed a couch and chairs for our living room and a table for the kitchen.

  Her housewarming gift to us was everything else for the kitchen: pots and pans and plates and glasses, silverware and tea towels. When I’d protested to Ryland, he’d simply shaken his head.

  “Linc, buddy, I learned a long time ago that when my wife makes up her mind, it’s best for me to just get out of her way or lend a hand.” He’d laid a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “Abby’s so happy for you and the kids, being back together and starting a new life. She wants to celebrate that, and this is how she wants to do it. So do me a favor, and just say thank you.”

  I was truly grateful. I couldn’t imagine trying to make a home out of empty rooms, now that we were here. But I was also overwhelmed. I’d never had to do this part of a move before; Sylvia had always handled unpacking and setting up while I went on with the business of my job. She’d made it look easy, and now I wondered how she’d done that, particularly after the kids had been born.

  The only room that was already set up and perfect was, of course, Becca’s. She’d worked long and hard to put her books on the shelves, her clothes in the dresser drawers and every little knick-knack she’d brought from her grandparents’ house placed in just the right spot. The boxes from her room were broken down and stacked on the back porch.

  I’d managed to set up my bed and put sheets on it, but the comforter Abby had sent was still in its plastic bag. My clothes were in the duffel bag on the floor. I had a path that led from the door to the bed, but that was about it. I’d worked a little in the kitchen, a little in the living room and a little more in the garage, where my tools were set up. But I hadn’t spent enough time in any one room, clearly, and today I was starting work again. Or at least I was having a meeting, which was going to lead to the start of work.

  Which reminded me . . . “Oliver! Get your butt in gear. We need to leave five minutes ago. Just grab whatever shoes you can find.”

  “Okay, okay.” My son appeared at the top of the steps and stumbled down, holding one sneaker and one . . . was that a soccer cleat? I rolled my eyes, but before I could send him back to his room, his expression brightened.

  “I see my other sneaker. It was right behind you the whole time, Dad.” Ollie jumped the last few steps and landed at my feet, where he stretched to grab the lost shoe where it had been hidden under some brown wrapping paper. Opening the door, I pointed outside, shaking my head as both kids meandered to the truck.

  “Where are we going again?” Ollie’s voice was muffled as he bent over to tie his sneakers.

  “I’m going to a meeting at the site of my new project. You and Bec are going to hang out with a couple of friends of mine, at their farm.”

  “You know people here? I thought you’d never been to Burton until we moved.” Becca sounded vaguely accusatory. Sometimes it felt as though she was always trying to catch me in telling her a lie, in misleading her on purpose. I tried not to believe that my mother-in-law might have said things to my kids . . . things they didn’t need to know . . . but sometimes I wondered.

  “I don’t know them well,” I admitted. “Do you remember The Rip Tide, that restaurant on the beach in Crystal Cove, where you guys had hamburgers?”

  “Yeah, those were awesome.” Ollie wasn’t a boy to ever forget food.

  “We met the owner that day—Jude. Her daughter Meghan lives here in Burton, on a farm. Meghan helped me find our house here.”

  “Did you ever meet her in person?” Becca frowned.

  “Ah, once, when she and her husband were visiting the Cove, and I was there to see Uncle Ry.”

  “Oh. She has a husband?” Becca perked up a little. “Does she have any kids?”

  “Yep, she has a husband. His name’s Sam, and he’s a farmer. The place they live has been in his family for generations. No kids for them, but they own a farm stand, too, and Sam’s sister helps run that. She has two kids.”

  “Do they have, like, animals on the farm? Horses and cows and stuff?” Ollie leaned forward from the backseat.

  “Sit back, please.” I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “No animals, I don’t think. But probably a lot of fun stuff to run around and climb on, if they say you can. Maybe you can go up in the loft of the barn and jump down into the hay.” I had memories of doing that at my great-uncle’s place when I was growing up. “Oh, and I think there’s a lake or a river nearby, so maybe you could go down and play there. Go fishing or something like that. Catch frogs.”

  “Are there snakes?” Becca’s tone sharpened with worry. “Because we shouldn’t go near the water if there might be snakes. There are six different poisonous snakes in Georgia. There’re three types of rattlesnakes: the Eastern Diamondback, the Timber and the Pigmy. And then there’s the Eastern Coral Snake, the water moccasin and the Southern Copperhead.”

  “Good God, Becca. How in the world do you know that?” I tried not to be irritated that she’d made it a point to be familiar with six ways to die from snakes in Georgia.

  “I looked it up. You’re going to be out at that old house, and there could be snakes everywhere.” She sounded slightly hysterical. “If there’s a creek, there’re probably water moccasins. And Aunt Abby told me they’re worse than alligators. When we were in Florida, she told me gators mostly want to leave people alone, but moccasins are vicious and will actually try to bite you.”

  “I want to catch one.” Ollie, being the consummate little brother, knew exactly what to say to get the biggest rise out of his sister. “Dad, if I catch one, can we put it in a terrarium at home? I’d keep it in my room, and I’d feed it mice and stuff.”

  “Daddy!” Becca’s shriek nearly deafened me. “Daddy, tell Ollie he can’t go down to the water while you’re not there. He can’t catch a snake, and if he brings one into the house, I’m moving out.”

  I counted to ten under my breath. “Oliver, don’t torture your sister, okay? You know snakes scare her.”

  “Yeah, just like everything else in the world.” Ollie mumbled the words, but I knew by the way her back stiffened that Becca had heard him.

  “I’m not scared of everything. I’m cautious about stuff that I know is dangerous. Stuff that could make you sick or kill you.” She sniffed. “Like snakes. If you get bit, Ollie, I swear I’m not going to cut open the bite marks and suck out the venom. And so you’ll just swell right up and die. And I’ll take all your Pokemon cards and sell them on the Internet and get lots of money.”

  “Dad wouldn’t ever let you do that. Would you, Dad?”

  “It’s a moot point, buddy, because you’re not going to get bitten by a snake and die, okay? I have no time for that. Plus, I need your help setting up the rest of the house. You can’t leave me to Becca’s mercy. She’ll make me stay up until it’s all done, and then I’ll sleep through work and lose my job.”

  Becca giggled. “I would, too. I wouldn’t let you go to bed until everything was unpacked and all the boxes were gone.”

  “See that? So if you get near any body of water, just stay away from the snakes. No picking them up to tease Becca—or anyone else.” I was a little out of practice being a full-time dad, but some things didn’t change, and I knew that my kids took things literally. Ollie might not have disobeyed me to torment his sister, but if someone else was there, I could see him taking advantage of that loophole in my words.

  “Daaaad.” Oliver groaned, pulling the single syllable out at least three extra beats. “It’ll be so boring.”

  “Hey. I don’t want to hear that. When I was growing up, my mom would’ve washed out my mouth with soap if I’d used the B word. She always told me being bored was the sign of a weak mind.” I looked into the mirror again just in time to catch him in something that sent a shot of pure irritation up my spine. “And don’t you ever roll your eyes at me, dude. I’m your father, and I deserve your respect. That’s just rude.”

  “You do it.” He mumbled the talk-back, but I heard it anyway. />
  “Yeah, well, there’re a lot of things I do that you shouldn’t. I’m the adult, remember? When you’re grown up and on your own, you can roll your eyes, catch snakes and be bored to your heart’s content. Until then, it’s my way. Got it?”

  “Yeah.” I felt rather than heard his heavy sigh. It settled deep in my heart, making me second-guess taking the tough-dad stance. Some days I just couldn’t figure out which was the right way to be a parent.

  I felt the warmth of Becca’s hand on my arm. She was reaching across the console to offer me some measure of comfort. “It’s okay, Daddy. He gets all grumpy sometimes. Gramma says it’s a boy thing.”

  Chuckling, I patted her hand. “I think you and your gramma may both be right, honey. It’s okay. I was a boy, too, a long, long time ago.”

  We made a turn off the paved road and down a dirt driveway. I slowed the truck as we bumped along, and Becca grabbed for the door handle, her face going pale.

  “It’s okay, baby girl.” I flashed her a smile. “This is just their driveway. See? That’s Sam and Meghan’s house up ahead.”

  We slowed to a stop in front of the large white farmhouse just as the front screen door opened. A beautiful tall redhead stepped out with a toddler on her hip and a girl who looked to be about Becca’s age following in her wake.

  “Hey, there!” Meghan came down the steps to greet us. “Welcome to Burton. Welcome to the Reynolds farm.” She gave me a quick one-armed hug.

  “Thanks. We’re happy to be here.” I pointed to my children. “Meghan, this is my daughter Becca and my son Oliver. Kids, this is Mrs. Reynolds.”

  “Oh, God, no.” She looked horrified. “Please. I’m too young to be Mrs. Reynolds. Call me Meghan, or Meg or Meggie, or even hey, you.”

  Ollie laughed. “My gramma says hey is for horses, and you don’t call people that.”

  “Well, she’s probably right, but I’d rather be hey than missus.” Meghan smacked a kiss on the cheek of the child in her arms. “So this little gremlin is my niece Colleen, and this . . .” She nodded to the girl standing alongside her. “This is my oldest niece, Bridget. Bridge, I think you and Becca are going to be in the same grade this year.”