One to Tell the Grandkids

by Kristina M Sanchez

  “So there is something going on with you two.”

  Caleb winced. He was half out of his head now that Mary had started him thinking about Taryn. Thinking about Taryn meant thinking about Lisa and history repeating itself and how could one man make the same stupid mistake twice? “There was,” he answered Mary.

  He waited, but Mary didn’t speak right away. Instead, she headed back out to the truck for the last of the boxes. They worked in silence for a few minutes, but when the boxes were settled, Mary turned to him. “I know I’m not your mother, but I still want you to be happy. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

  The gesture twisted Caleb’s heart in a much different way, a squeeze of affection rather than a wrench. He pulled the slight woman toward him and hugged her tightly. She gasped, but she soon relaxed into his embrace. Seeming to understand he needed the affection, she hugged him back with just as much fervor.

  Caleb had been so long without a mother, he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he wondered what his mother would have said. A child expected to bury his parents but not so soon. Not before he had a chance to experience adulthood with the safety of a mother’s arms to return to when the road got rough.

  He tried to remember the sound of her voice and imagined what she might have said about Lisa or Taryn only to realize she wouldn’t have had anything to say. He never would have been with Lisa if his mother hadn’t died and his family hadn’t fallen apart.

  But then, he wouldn’t have Slate, his bar, or his life here in LA. And if he didn’t have them, he wouldn’t have met Taryn. Even from where he stood, aching at the loss, he wouldn’t have traded it. It was a curious sensation to want to hold on to something that hurt so badly and made so many aspects of his life much more tangled up than they needed to be.

  Mary looked around, her hands on her hips. “Well, you have other, more pressing problems now. You officially have more stuff than you can fit in one small house.”

  Caleb’s smile was more genuine then. “First world problems.”

  “Yes.” She peered out the window. “Oh, good. The rest of the team is back with lunch and supplies.”

  Caleb let himself be distracted. For the rest of the day, he let himself enjoy belonging to a family again.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Another Sunday afternoon, and despite Pauline and baby Bailey’s notable absences, the Sato’s house was full. Taryn had brought everyone: Slate, Rob, and Mel. With Mike and Dillon there, almost everyone who was most important to Taryn was gathered in the same place. It made her miss Caleb all the more, but it was easier to push thoughts of him away for minutes at a time when there were so many people.

  Her mom sat beside Taryn on the couch and patted her knee. Faye looked past Taryn to Slate. “I’m glad you’re getting to know us.” She glanced over her shoulder, looking to see where Mike was before she leaned in, speaking in a low voice. “I was afraid my son scared you away. He means well, but he can be overbearing.”

  “Oh, hey. No problem.” Slate shrugged, his expression easy. “I don’t have any siblings, but I think if I did, I’d be protective, too. But just so you know, I wasn’t trying to stay away. We thought we should get to know each other better first.” He ducked his head. “I guess that sounds really bad.”

  “You shouldn’t worry about that.” Mel came up behind Taryn and rubbed her shoulders. “Taryn is bad at juggling. She forgot about all of us for a while there while she was playing with Slate and—”

  Taryn sucked in a breath and looked down at her lap. Not for the first time, she wondered if the intensity of her emotions was tied more to her first broken heart or the fact all her moods came in extremes these days.

  Mel squeezed Taryn’s shoulders in apology and cleared her throat. “Anyway. I think she’s coming back to us now.”

  Taryn turned instinctually toward Slate, who looked back at her with an abashed expression. They looked away just as quickly, and Taryn hoped no one had caught the motion. She managed a wan smile. “I wasn’t trying to forget anyone.”

  “It always happens like that when you have kids,” her mother said. “I think life only goes by fast and faster. There’s never enough time. Speaking of which.” She patted Taryn’s tummy. “You don’t have much childless time left.”

  “Eight weeks sounds like forever and nothing at the same time.”

  “How are you feeling?” her mother asked.

  “Hungry.”

  “We just ate.”

  Slate got to his feet. “Baby ate. Now it’s Taryn’s turn. I’ll get you a plate.”

  While Taryn waited for the food, her mother barraged her with the usual ten thousand health-related questions she asked whenever they talked. Taryn bore it in good humor. It used to annoy her that her mother seemed to know every conceivable way a young person could die, but she understood in a way she couldn’t before. Even though she hadn’t laid eyes on her daughter yet, Rory was so real to her. She caught herself worrying about the most ridiculous things, tiny eventualities that didn’t really merit a thought. Assuaging her mother’s fears was the least she could do.

  Luckily, Slate came back before her mother started asking the more embarrassingly personal questions. Taryn made grabby hands for the food, but Slate danced out of reach. He waggled his eyebrows as he carefully balanced the paper plate laden with a hot dog and potato salad on top of Taryn’s belly. When he was sure it wouldn’t fall, he looked up at her with a triumphant grin. “Just as I thought. Built in TV tray. Now that’s ingenuity.”

  Taryn snorted. “You’re very impressed with yourself.”

  “I have mad skills. These are things you’ll want to make note of.” He patted her tummy. “You may have inherited any one of my stunning talents, baby.”

  As if in response, the plate rocked with Rory’s strong kick. “Whoa,” Taryn said. She grabbed the plate before it toppled. “I think she’s vetoing invention in the name of soccer.” She winced. “Or boxing.”

  “Who’s boxing?” Dillon’s attention was grabbed by the mention of physical activity. The kid had been dying to get outside all day, but the rain hadn’t let up.

  “Baby Rory,” her mother said.

  “Cool. I didn’t know babies could box.” Dillon put his hand to Taryn’s stomach. His eyebrows knitted and he stuck his tongue out in concentration, trying to feel. Taryn moved his hand to where the baby shifted, and Dillon smiled brightly at her. “That’s pretty cool. Like Mommy when Bailey was still in her tummy. But Bailey doesn’t box. She can barely walk without falling on her butt.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it.” Mike sat cross-legged on the floor behind Dillon. “You were a late bloomer. We were worried about you.”

  Dillon looked dubious at that, and he turned his attention back to his aunt instead. “Is Baby Rory going to go to daycare with me and Bailey?”

  Taryn’s throat tightened, and her heart began to pound with nerves. This was the part she hated, the part where she had to tell her family about her latest life-changing decision and had to see the disappointment on their faces. “I don’t think so, buddy,” she answered her nephew.

  “Why not? It’s a great daycare, and I think they have the room,” Mike said.

  “Well, the timing might be off, but here goes nothing.” Taryn sighed. She reached back and tugged on Mel’s arm. “Hey Dad, Rob, Mel? This is something you should all hear.”

  “Uh-oh,” Mel said as she came around the front of the couch.

  Slate took Taryn’s hand surreptitiously. His palm was sweaty. Taryn took several deep breaths before she spoke. “Obviously, the situation between Slate and me is complicated. It’s not conventional or easy, but we want to do what’s best for both of us and, more importantly, what’s best for Rory.

  “So we talked about it, and we decided the best thing for our family is for me to move to LA.”

  Her mother and father stared. Dillon looked apprehensive. Mel, Rob, and Mike all shouted some version of, “What?”

  Her fa
ther raised his hands to stop everyone from talking at once. Mike got Dillon to his feet. “Hey, buddy. You think you can go play with your coloring books in the kitchen?”

  “But—”

  “Now, Dillon.”

  Dillon pouted but he got to his feet. “Fine,” he said before he stormed off.

  Taryn stared after him half wishing she could be excused as well.

  Her father cleared his throat to get her attention. “You think this is the best thing for your daughter?”

  Taryn glanced at Slate. He looked so lost and tongue-tied. She turned back to her father. “Well, what it comes down to is economics. I can do what I do anywhere.”

  “But you can’t do tattoos anywhere?” Mike asked, interrupting. “There’s a tattoo shop practically on every corner.”

  Slate looked down at his hands, and Taryn tried not to show her frustration. “From what I understand, an artist’s financial success depends a lot on his reputation.” She elbowed Slate with a light motion to get his attention. “Right?”

  His eyes widened. He had to swallow a few times, but he found his voice. “Yeah. I got a real good thing going at the place where I’m at. They’re all people I trust, which is important. You have a bad artist, it can cast a bad light on the entire shop. We work well together because we know each other’s strengths, which means I can refer one of my potential clients to one of the others because I know they’ll send someone to me if I can do their ink better. Then I have to think about building my client base. I’m not to the point yet where anyone would follow me out here. I don’t have that kind of clout. But if I stick where I am, my client base keeps building, and I’ll be able to provide a better life for Rory quicker than if I started all over in Orange County.”

  “I know we’re not together, but we want to raise the baby together. I want to live close enough that we can be together with her every day.”

  “Tare, you hate LA,” Rob said.

  “I don’t hate LA. I actually really enjoy LA. I hate driving there, but I can deal with that if it means my daughter has her daddy.”

  “But what about a close support system?” her mother asked.

  “That’s why I’m not looking for a job now. I’ll start looking when I start my maternity leave.” Taryn hesitated because she wasn’t sure it was an okay thing to ask for. This was her mess, after all. “When the baby comes, I’m going to need you. I mean, if you want to help.”

  “Are you insane?” Mike asked, and Taryn sucked in a breath, ready for the inevitable dressing down. “Of course we’re going to help you. How is that even a question?”

  Taryn ducked her head. “I don’t know. You don’t always agree with my choices.”

  “But we’d never leave you and Rory alone, Taryn,” her father said. His expression was pinched as though her words had wounded him “What on earth would give you that idea?”

  Taryn shrugged, feeling sixteen instead of twenty-six. “Isn’t there a point where I make too many mistakes and you give up on me?”

  “No,” her mother and father said together.

  Mel held her hands up. “Wait a second. Does that mean you think you’re making a mistake planning to move there?”

  Even Slate was staring at her with hurt in his eyes. Taryn stumbled over her words. “No. No, no. I don’t think it’s a mistake to move to LA.” Her gut twisted and a visage of Caleb flashed before her eyes that she tried to shove away. This wasn’t about him. “I know you must be disappointed, that’s all. I know I’ve never done what you expected.”

  “Taryn.” Her father’s voice was soft when he interrupted. His eyes flicked around the room at the others gathered. “This isn’t a conversation I want to have with everyone, but under the circumstances, it seems like it’s something that should have been said a long time ago.” He perched on the arm of the couch and took Faye’s hand. “Your mother and I are very proud of you.”

  “What?” Taryn couldn’t help but scoff. “For what?”

  “There’s nothing not to be proud of,” her mother said.

  Raising an eyebrow, Taryn gestured at her midsection. Her eyes went wide as saucers when her mother only laughed. “Sweetheart, you and Slate are handling a potentially ugly situation beautifully. You’re taking care of yourself, your daughter. You have a good job.”

  “That you hate.”

  “It doesn’t matter if we don’t understand it,” her father said. “You’re happy, and you have enough to support yourself and Rory. We’re behind you, kid.”

  “It’s not like you’re moving to Egypt,” Rob said. “What’s an hour of pain-in-the-ass traffic to get to you and the little bit? And you, too, cute stuff.” He winked at Slate, and everyone laughed, the tension broken. “You can’t get rid of us now. We’re one big family.”

  Mel knocked her shoulder with his. “Yeah, what this guy said.”

  Hope began to creep up Taryn’s spine. She raised her eyes to meet her brother’s. He looked uncertain, as though he wanted to argue, but in the end, his expression softened. “Yeah, I’m in. Of course I’m in. Anyway, it’s not like it’s a decision that can’t be undone sometime down the line if it doesn’t work out, right? Why don’t you tell us the specifics?”

  Before Taryn left, her parents pulled her to the side to talk alone. Déjà vu washed over her as they sat in the study. Just like when she’d been a teenager, she squirmed in her seat, waiting to see what form her parents’ disappointment would take. She’d known this was coming. They sat there with their heads bowed while she tried to find the best excuse or reason, except this time she had no earthly idea where they were going to start.

  It took about ten seconds for Taryn to go out of her skin. She reasoned with herself that she was pregnant, and this was the kind of stress women in her condition were supposed to avoid. “You’re not supposed to stress a pregnant woman out. What’s this all about?”

  “Bear with us, sweetheart,” her father said. “This isn’t easy to put into words.”

  Taryn sat back in her chair, her arms crossed above her belly. “Okay.”

  Another ten seconds passed before her mother spoke. Her voice was thick with tears that shone in her eyes. “I know we haven’t been close for a long time now.”

  “Mom—”

  “No, Taryn. It’s true, and it’s not your fault. We haven’t been good parents to you.”

  Taryn huffed. “You had a lot on your plate.”

  Faye gave her a sad smile. “People tend to excuse our shortcomings. We lost our baby. Any reaction is understandable. I think we let ourselves believe we were right to be so crippled by our grief.” She took a shaky breath as one tear then another spilled over. “It was too easy to forget we were still parents. We still had you and Mike, and you needed us. It wasn’t fair that we checked out on you.”

  “Oh, hell.” Taryn wiped at her own eyes. She cried at nothing these days, and this wasn’t nothing. In her worst moments, she’d thought these words at her parents and always felt horrible for it. Selfish. Hearing them acknowledge it was a weight she hadn’t realized was there until it lifted.

  “You’ve never come to us in any crisis of your life. That says a lot about how you see us. You’re going to be a mother, and I’ve hardly heard from you since you told us. You’re supposed to be asking me every question.” Her mother’s voice cracked, and she put a hand to her mouth.

  Her father stepped in. “Please don’t get us wrong. It’s good you’ve built such a strong community of friends. I think that was part of our struggle when Bailey got sick. We had no peers. We were isolated. I’m glad that won’t be the case for you, but I’d like for us to be part of that. I know you and your brother haven’t felt like you could lean on us. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry for that.”

  Taryn’s lower lip trembled. She tried to keep a handle on her tears, but a sob escaped anyway. For a long time, her parents had been a chore. She was a daughter. It was her duty to try to make her parents proud. “This was my fault, my own problem.”
She splayed her hand over her stomach. “I was stupid. I was so stupid, and I’m glad. I am. But it was such a stupid thing to do.”

  In the next heartbeat, her parents were at her side, their arms around her. Her father squeezed her shoulders, and her mother stroked her hair. “But that’s the point,” Faye said. She cupped Taryn’s face in her hands and wiped away her tears. “This is life, sweetheart. Not a single one of us gets through it without mistakes. We’re your parents. We’re supposed to be the first people you expect to help you get back up when you fall.”

  Sniffling, Taryn wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’m okay. I’m okay right now. Mostly.”

  “Mostly?” her father asked.

  Taryn’s thoughts turned to the persistent ache in her chest, that spot on her wounded heart that belonged to Caleb, that still whispered his name with every beat despite everything else she had going on. She closed her eyes. Though some small part of her wanted to believe in her parents the way she had when she was a little girl, she knew better than to think they had the answers she needed. Besides, how could she even begin to explain how she’d gotten so wrapped up in Caleb when her every thought should have been centered on her daughter? “I’m scared. I’m afraid I won’t be enough for her, but I hear that’s pretty typical.”

  Her mother laughed and sniffled herself. She kissed the top of Taryn’s forehead. “Just remember we want to be here for you. We are here for you.”

  Taryn leaned into her mother’s embrace.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “You getting the party started early, boss?”

  Caleb raised his eyes to meet Oni’s. Keeping his gaze steady on her, he knocked back the last of his second drink of the day. He set the glass down on the bar with a satisfying thunk. She stared back at him with a cool look on her face. “It’s not even one in the afternoon.”