by Donna Alward
And he’d taken it out on her by making fun of her and a “muffin crisis.” “Dick move, Gallagher,” he muttered to himself.
As penance, he’d told his siblings that he’d stay to help with the cleanup since the boys were staying overnight anyway.
Again.
“Did you say something, dear?”
Moira had heard his muttering, and he tried a smile. “Just saying thanks, Mom, for keeping the boys tonight.”
“Don’t be silly. We love having the boys here. What’s family for, anyway?”
Ethan hung up the dish towel. He tried not to clench his teeth as he retrieved Connor’s worn backpack and reached inside for his son’s day camp schedule. Each afternoon a note was sent home with updates on what was upcoming or needed for the following day. It was almost as bad as school. When Ethan had been in kindergarten, there’d been no such things like agendas and homework. But Connor’s spiral-bound, school-issued notebook had a note from the teacher most nights and a parent was supposed to sign it. The teacher collected them each day and put a check mark beside each signature or an “x” if it was left blank.
It bugged him that he saw his mother’s signature at least as often as his own, if not more. Ethan had his own house. The boys had their own rooms. But right now they spent as much time at his parents’ place as they did at home. They liked it because Waffle, the family Golden Retriever, lived here, and Grandma was a good cook, and Grampa took them on what he called “nature walks.”
How could he compete with that? He’d signed Connor up for soccer, and he tried to take them to the park or even just kick the ball around in the backyard as often as he could. He still felt like a failure. It seemed like he was always telling the boys “in a minute” or “we’ll do it later.”
“Mom, you and Pop are great with them, and I appreciate it more than I can say. But I hate having to rely on you so much.”
“You could always get married again.” When Ethan opened his mouth to protest, she held up a hand and smiled, a teasing glint in her eye. “I know, I know. And I’m teasing, Ethan. All I’m saying is that being a single parent is a tough gig. Your job doesn’t make it any easier.” She rinsed out the sink with a nozzle.
It was true. He loved being a firefighter, but the shift work was killer. It hadn’t been so bad when Lisa had been alive …
It seemed like his whole life had been condensed into two distinct sections: Before Lisa’s Death and After Lisa’s Death. And damned if he didn’t resent the hell out of it. Before her death they’d been ridiculously happy. They had two beautiful boys, he worked as a firefighter, and she planned on staying home until they were both in school and she would go back to work part-time. All that had changed the day the diagnosis had come down. A year of limbo had followed, with treatments and prayers and hopes that they’d be able to reclaim their lives … and then the heavy, heavy weight of inevitability. She wasn’t going to get well. After limbo came grief. And there’s where he was stuck. Just trying to get from day to day.
“I know. But I love my job. So what should I do? Quit? Hire a full-time nanny?” He’d considered that solution, actually, but the idea of someone else living in his house, looking after his kids … it was too much like someone stepping into Lisa’s place, and the idea made something twist painfully in his gut. And he had no doubt he would need someone to live in, because of his night shifts.
Goddammit.
“Don’t be silly,” she repeated. “Like I said, that’s what family is for. And we’re all happy to help out. For goodness’ sake, your sisters love the boys. It’s good for them to be close. We’ll just keep on as we have been.”
Moira took her cup of tea and went to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair and sitting down with a sigh, as if waiting for him to join her. The boys were in the den with their grandfather, probably playing with dinky cars. He could hear their laughter from the kitchen.
This was not how it was supposed to be. Not how he and Lisa had planned it.
He took his mug of coffee and joined her at the table. He was thirty-two. Six years ago he’d married the woman he loved. They’d had a five-year plan and it hadn’t looked anything like this. He had to stop thinking this way. Nothing would change what had happened and he had to accept his new reality. And unless he actually did hire a nanny, accepting his family’s help was necessary. He needed to get over himself and simply be grateful. He remembered Willow after dinner, helping to clear the dessert plates. She hadn’t been able to finish her piece of cake and he’d watched as she snuck the leftovers to Connor and Ronan. They’d looked up at her as if she hung the moon and she’d smiled and whispered something he couldn’t hear. Even though he’d been testy toward her, that same serene smile had graced her face.
But there was more than just envy of her happiness. He’d noticed her. Really noticed her, down to her pink stripe of hair and little diamond nose ring, and the compact body he now envisioned twisting into some complicated yoga pose. The awareness had caught him by surprise, and he didn’t like it.
“What’s your schedule for the rest of the week?” Moira asked, sipping her tea.
“Night shift today and tomorrow, then two days off, then days starting Thursday.” Night shift was the worst as far as caring for the boys. Sometimes they slept here, in Ethan and Aiden’s old room and the twin beds that were still there with the same blue plaid bedspreads. Sometimes one of his sisters came over to his house and stayed over, then took Ronan and Connor to school and day care so Ethan could sleep.
“Well, I’m making that pasta bake you like for tomorrow night. You can eat before you have to go to work, and the boys can stay here again.”
Only Claire and Cait still lived in the big house in the summer, and Ethan figured any day now they’d look at getting their own place together. Tonight they’d gone back to Hannah’s to give her her birthday present and to hang out for a while for some girlie time. He figured Willow probably got invited to that, too. He tried to imagine her letting her hair down and having a few glasses of wine and watching a movie or getting a manicure. The image didn’t quite gel. He expected she’d be more apt to sit cross-legged in front of a Buddha and “om” or something.
And why his thoughts kept shifting back to her, he had no idea. He wasn’t interested. Not like that.
“Well,” he said, standing, putting his hands on his hips and stretching out his back, “I should get the boys into bed and then head into work. I don’t want them to be up late and I still like tucking them in.”
His mother’s face softened. “Aw, honey. I know it’s hard right now. I know how much you hate accepting help, too. It’s that damned pride of yours, so much like your father’s. But it’s going to get better, I promise. You just need to find a new normal.”
“Mom, I gotta say, it pretty much feels like things are never going to be normal again.”
She smiled sadly. “It just takes time, sweetie. In the meantime, give yourself a break. Lean on your family. That’s what we’re here for and we all know you’d do exactly the same for us. Right?”
He nodded, his throat tight. “Right.”
He went to gather the boys and get them tucked into bed. As he kissed their freshly-washed faces and tucked the blankets around them, he knew that his mom believed everything that she’d said.
But deep down, he wasn’t buying it. How could things be normal when it felt like half of you was missing?
* * *
Wednesday was his day off and in the afternoon Ethan picked up the boys early. He’d promised he’d take them out for a treat after day care and then to the playground across the bridge, because they loved the swing sets there best. Once he’d buckled them into their booster seats in the back, they headed toward Main Street.
“So what’ll it be, boys? Ice cream? Pie at the bakery? Slushies?”
Connor shifted in his seat so he was looking up at his dad in the front. “The lady from Aunt Hannah’s party, the one with the pink hair? She works somewhere
where they make cookies with weird chocolate chips in them. And brownies out of beans.” He made a face. “Yuck. But the cookies sounded yummy. Can we go there, Dad?”
The Purple Pig. Ethan tried not to roll his eyes. Granted, he’d tasted her bean salad the other night and it had been delicious, much to his surprise. But the café wasn’t his speed at all. It was … rabbit food, meant more for the seasonal tourists who couldn’t survive without their almond milk lattes.
“Yeah,” Ronan piped up. “The Purpo Pig.”
“You remember that?” Ethan asked, looking at him in the rearview mirror.
Ronan’s dark head bobbed up and down. Connor laughed. “Ronan remembers everything. Right, Ronan?”
Ronan nodded. “Connor farted in his sleep last night.”
Ethan laughed before he could stop himself. There were times that the boys just came out with stuff he didn’t expect. It was a joy, and sometimes bittersweet, but he didn’t know what he’d do without them. “Ronan,” he chided, but his heart wasn’t in it.
The boys giggled and the sound eased the ache in Ethan’s heart. It was impossible to be glum when your kids were indulging in big belly laughs in the backseat.
“I guess we can go there, if that’s what you want.”
“Yeah!” Connor made a fist of victory. “I want the biggest cookie. I ate my lunch at recess.”
“Why?”
“Cuz I was hungry,” he said, as if it were the stupidest question in the world.
“Do I need to pack you a bigger lunch?”
Connor shook his head. “Naw. Danny McBride dared me to put my whole sandwich in my mouth so I did.”
“What about the rest of your lunch?” He eased through the stop sign, looking for a parking spot along the street.
“Then I was thirsty so I drank my juice box. And Grandma packed me raisins.” The humorous tone was missing from his voice and Ethan smiled to himself. He knew Connor hated raisins unless they were in oatmeal cookies.
“What did you do with the raisins?”
“Gave them to Ronan.”
Ronan nodded vigorously. “I like raisins.”
Ethan pulled into a spot about three spaces down from the café. “Hey, maybe when we’re done we’ll pop in and see Aunt Hannah if she’s in the office.”
“Aunt Hannah keeps chocolate kisses in her desk,” Connor said. “She said that it’s … I forget the word. Something-control.”
Ethan put the car in park. “Portion control?”
“Yeah. That.”
Ethan chuckled. Hannah was so into her training right now, but everyone had a vice. He’d get some mileage out of this one.
“All right, boys. Good manners now.”
Ronan held his hand, but Connor put his hands in his jeans pockets. Ethan reached for the door handle and let out a breath. Maybe Willow wasn’t even working right now. Maybe it would just be someone he didn’t know behind the counter, they’d get a quick bite and get out.
The bell above the door chimed and he looked up to find Willow’s blue eyes settled on him.
His chest tightened in a strange way, but Ronan was tugging on his hand, anxious to get to the glass display case. Willow smiled—a small, sweet smile—and the tightness squeezed.
What the heck was that about?
“Well, hello,” she said as they approached the counter. “What a nice surprise.”
Ethan tried to smile, but his face felt tight as he looked at her. She looked so relaxed and comfortable and pleasant. It was damned intimidating. Other than his sisters, he’d avoided conversations with the women of Darling since Lisa died. He’d quickly learned that they either ended up looking sad and pitying, or worse, prospective. He was definitely out of practice in the art of everyday conversation.
“The boys had their pick of a treat today. They wanted to come here.”
He realized he’d put it all on the boys, making it sound like he would have rather gone somewhere else. Which was, well, the truth, but he could have been more tactful. Tact wasn’t exactly his finest skill.
But Willow didn’t seem to even notice. Instead she looked over the counter at the boys. “You did? Awesome! Why don’t you come back here and pick a treat?” She looked up at Ethan. “Any allergies to be aware of?”
“No,” he answered. “Though Connor isn’t fond of raisins.”
“What?” She raised her eyebrows and looked at Connor. “But raisins are delicious! And full of good stuff. I think they’re nature’s candy.”
Ethan tried not to roll his eyes.
“I like them in cookies,” Connor admitted.
“Oh, well then. That’s okay.” Willow grinned. She turned her head and Ethan saw the nose ring wink in the light, and the pink stripe that ran along the side of her head since her hair was pulled back in a braid. She looked about twenty.
She moved to the end of the counter and waved them in. “Come on, boys. You can come back here and pick something out. It’ll be our secret.”
Ethan had to admit, his boys seemed smitten. And she was genuinely nice, that was clear. Too nice, maybe. Or maybe he was just a big old crab. Thinking it just made him crabbier.
He stood back and watched as the boys picked a sweet from the refrigerated display. Willow got them each a little plate and when they came back around he saw that Ronan had a huge chocolate chip cookie and Connor had two plates. One held a square of blueberry cake and the other a fudgy looking brownie with thick icing on the top.
He remembered what Connor had said about the beans and hoped to God that the blueberry cake was for him.
“Daddy, look! I got you a brownie cuz chocolate’s your favorite.”
Shoot. “Gee, thanks Connor.”
Connor beamed up at him.
Ethan reached for his wallet. “Boys, why don’t you go find a table and I’ll be right over with something to drink.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
He looked at Willow. She seemed far too pleased with herself, as if she could read his mind. Right then and there he determined that he’d eat every bit of that brownie if it killed him.
“Milk,” he said quietly. “A glass of milk for each of them, if I could.”
“And for you? Did you want a coffee or tea, Ethan?”
He focused on pulling bills out of his wallet. “A coffee with milk, please.”
When she told him the tally, his jaw nearly dropped and his head came up. “How much did you say?”
It was the better part of twenty dollars. He supposed because they were a specialty market, they could charge through the nose. He added a five to the bills he’d already taken out and handed them over. “Thanks,” he said.
“I’ll bring your drinks out. You go sit with the boys.”
He nodded and went to the table, where Connor and Ronan were already munching on their food. It surprised him that Connor had gone for the blueberry cake, instead of the cookie he’d been talking about. His boy was growing up … too fast.
He was poised to take his first bite of brownie when Willow came out with a tray of drinks. She put two small glasses of milk before the boys, and carefully set Ethan’s coffee in front of him. “So, how is it? Do you like the carob chips, Ronan?”
His mouth was full so he nodded, his brown eyes sparkling. She laughed lightly and looked at Connor.
“Good cake.” He waved with his fork. “Almost as good as my mommy’s.”
Ethan froze. Connor had been Ronan’s age when Lisa died. How could he possibly remember what his mother’s cake had been like? Was he making it up? Pretending? Trying to hold on to fading memories or creating his own reality? Funny how a simple observation made Ethan question whether he’d paid enough attention to his son’s grieving process.
More than that, though, the simple words had brought forth a memory. Blueberry cake had been Lisa’s favorite, usually with a warm, lemony sauce for the top, and she asked for it every August for her birthday.
There would be no more birthdays.
“A
re you okay, Ethan?” Willow’s voice was soft and her hand touched his shoulder.
He swallowed tightly. “Sorry, yes, I’m fine. Just getting ready to dig into this brownie.” He forced the memory away and picked up his fork.
“Are you sure?” She squeezed lightly, and his throat tightened.
“I’m sure.” To prove it, he valiantly stabbed the brownie with his fork and guided the piece to his mouth. He would eat it. He would pretend to like it, the boys would finish their snack, and they’d go to the playground as planned.
He put it in his mouth, steeling himself against the taste, determined not to show his dislike, and then he stopped in surprise.
It was delicious. Really, really delicious.
He looked up at her. “This is beans?”
She grinned. “Yessir. Black beans, and organic cocoa, free-range eggs…”
“It’s moist. And rich.”
“You’re surprised.”
“Well, yeah.”
She smiled at him, a big smile that seemed to warm the whole room. He found himself smiling back. The boys continued to eat, totally unconcerned, but for Ethan it seemed like an important moment. He didn’t like being bad-tempered. It wasn’t who he was, deep down. She’d prompted an honest-to-goodness smile from him, and it felt awesome.
“Did you think all ‘healthy’ food was tasteless and dry?” Her lips twitched.
“Well…” He chuckled. “Hannah always raves about the food here. I should have had more faith, maybe.”
Business was slow so she pulled up a chair. “So,” she said quietly. “Your boys are sweet, Ethan. And they have manners. You’re doing a good job with them.”
He didn’t really care about her opinion, so it didn’t make sense that the compliment touched him. But it did.
“Thanks. I try. If I didn’t have my family…”
“Your family seems pretty great, too.”
