Taking the Fall

by W. Ferraro

  “Come on, Jess. You are going to be late!” Molly Jenson called down the hall, looking at her watch for the umpteenth time.

  This teenager will be the death of me.

  She returned to the kitchen and finished making the peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich. She snapped the lid on its container then placed and zipped in Samantha’s lunch box before placing it in her Tinkerbell backpack.

  One thing down, a hundred and twenty more to go.

  “Mommy, how come Jess is always so late? She obviously knows what time school starts,” Sammy asked as she took another bite of her jelly-covered toast.

  “Careful you don’t get your hair in your toast, sweetie,” Molly said, as she quickly walked to the table and pulled Sammy’s long wavy blond locks from their entrapment in her arm.

  Samantha gave Molly plenty of reasons to smile. She was sweet, considerate, and so even keeled in comparison to her sister, even at the spry age of eight. Molly’s youngest daughter loved everything girly; rainbows and ponies all the way to stuffed animals and dress up. But don’t let her fool you, she could make a mud pie like nobody’s business, in her Sunday best to boot.

  Molly watched as Sammy finished her toast with a wide smile, the jelly stuck at the corners. When Molly tossed a kitchen towel at her, Sammy grabbed it with a giggle and mischief in her green eyes.

  “Because I care what I look like, troll kisser!” Jessica answered snarkily when she stepped into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and stared as if something for breakfast would jump out at her.

  “Jess, stop with the name calling; it isn’t even eight yet. And pick something, electricity doesn’t grow on trees,” Molly pleaded as she continued to fold laundry at the table.

  “Yeah, fart face!” Sammy spat as she stuck her tongue out at her sister.

  Jess had returned with another insult before Molly brought her finger and thumb to her mouth, issuing a loud whistle which the girls knew to mean cool it.

  “Jeez, Mom!” Jess whined as she took an apple from the refrigerator shelf, closed the door with her foot, and sat down next to her sister.

  The clothes dryer buzzed and Molly looked at the clock. Crap! Just never enough time in the day!

  “Okay, we are leaving in five minutes. Sammy, make sure you have your math homework, and Jess, remember to grab the keys to Dad’s house because you are heading over there after school.”

  “Come on! Why do I have to go? She is just going to make me babysit the little brats!” Jess yelled.

  And here we go again.

  “Jessica, I am not going to have this discussion with you again. You know Dad and Tracey love having you girls. And don’t call your brothers brats.”

  “Stepbrothers,” Jess hissed, emphasizing the step part. “And they are brats. Dad and Tracey let them get away with everything, yet Sammy and I get yelled at constantly, or at least I do.”

  “Hey, I love playing with John and Peter. They are so much fun especially now that Peter is running around. Maybe if you were nicer to them or gave them some of your attention, John wouldn’t have felt the need to throw your phone down the stairs,” Sammy said as she placed her dish in the sink and grabbed her backpack off the counter.

  “Shut up, Sammy!” Jess barked again, as she glared at her little sister.

  “So, is that what happened to your phone? I am so glad my money tree keeps growing, especially when I have to shell out four hundred bucks when my daughter tells me her phone fell out of her locker,” Molly said sarcastically, as she placed the last folded towel in the overfilled laundry basket.

  “See, as always, it is my fault. I don’t know why I bother anymore. When something goes wrong, just blame Jess!”

  Jess stomped over to the trash, deposited her half-eaten apple, and stalked to where her books and backpack laid in the connected living room. Molly remained mute as Jess mumbled to herself while she stuffed things into her bag. Molly took a good look at her fifteen-year-old daughter. Jess’ blond hair was curled down her mid-back, falsifying its true length of just above her tailbone. The black streaks she put in her hair against Molly’s wishes were beginning to fade, and as much as Molly hated to admit it, they did give Jess’ hair depth. Her already developed figure was beginning to get her noticed a little too much for Molly’s taste. She wore a ripped sheer leopard print shirt over a plain black tank top paired with her usual low-rise jeans. Jess’ beautiful wide jeweled green eyes were outlined in dark black pencil with equally dark mascara. She looked twenty instead of fifteen, yet Molly knew the fight that would ensue if she commented. To be honest, Molly just wasn’t up for it right now.

  By the time they all piled in Molly’s small SUV, Jess had insulted Sammy a number of more times, and Molly wished she had popped some Tylenol before closing herself in the car with her two daughters.

  She pulled out of the small carport where her car parked under the stairs that led up to their place. After Molly’s divorce had finalized eight years ago, she convinced her parents to convert the empty attic space above the restaurant into a two-bedroom apartment for her and the girls. Florence had insisted that Molly and the girls move in with them in the big house, but Molly wanted her own space, and since she had taken over the restaurant the year prior, being this close only made sense.

  As she pulled out onto Main Street, she noticed Greg had already opened the kitchen up and was starting to prep for the morning usual. As if sensing her, Greg looked up just in time to give a little wave to Molly as she turned the car onto Birch Street to head to the school complex. Greg had worked for her dad for twenty years before Molly took over, and she hoped that he would work for her for as many more. He knew the restaurant better than anyone and was quite picky about who he allowed into his kitchen.

  “God, you would think he would have better things to do with his time than dig in the dirt,” Jess said as she looked down and began to text frantically.

  “Who, sweetie?”

  Not bothering to look up, Jess just pointed out the windshield. “Him.”

  Molly turned her attention toward the town common, where the large white bandstand stood, draped with patriotic bunting for the impending Memorial Day Festival and welcoming someone to come and sit on its wide steps. The lush green lawn made you want to lie down on your back and stare up at the passing clouds. All the shrubbery began to bloom with their own newness of the season enhanced by a fresh layer of redwood mulch around their roots. It was one of her favorite sights—she’d always loved the small common. To her, it represented small town life and safety in the world. It was the beacon of Clearwater Falls, and it meant something different to everyone.

  But, in the safety of her own mind, Molly’s opinion of the most beautiful sight wasn’t anything botanical; it was the strong body that was currently on his knees pushing and spreading mulch all around the perimeter of the bandstand. His upper body extended forward working in the earth, leaving his powerful dirt covered jean clad rear on complete display.

  She would know that ass anywhere. Over the years, it hadn’t changed much except for looking even more perfect. Whether it was walking down the sidewalk or gracing the stools at Molly’s, that derriere was a dead giveaway that Hunter Dennison was near. Most days it was covered in suit pants, but it looked just as wonderful in jeans. It always had.

  And just like every time Molly saw Hunter, her body responded the same as when she was fifteen. Regardless that he’d had a relationship with her friend back in college and left town, only to return a handful of years ago; he seemed less than interested in being anything more than acquaintances.

  Didn’t matter what occurred in the last couple of decades, he still made her stomach flip and had a lingering effect even after he was no longer in sight. Molly just learned to chalk it up to how some people could stare at beautiful paintings for a long time, carrying the emotion of the artist and what they were trying to portray. To her, Dr. Hunter Dennison was the canvas and she was trying to figure out his emotions.

  “
Mom!”

  Jessica’s shouts ripped Molly back to the present. Gripping the wheel with both hands, she slammed on the brakes. Gratefully so, Molly noticed that she was close to rear-ending a late model Buick in front of her. The sound of the squeal of her brakes brought attention from every direction, including from the god-like body she had been stripping in her mind only moments earlier.

  Hunter’s blue eyes missed nothing and locked onto Molly’s. His face had registered concern before growing into a warm smile that Molly knew by memory. Knowing her cheeks had stained to dark red, Molly gave a goofy little wave before diverting her eyes back to the road and driving off to the school complex.

  They arrived just as the bells were ringing and a subsequent spat with Jess about how Molly had no consideration for their schedules including arriving at school on time. Molly was getting quite used to her daughter putting another notch in the post of how Molly has ruined Jess’ life thus far. Molly drove to the Fall’s footpath at Clearwater Park fifteen minutes later, really wishing she had taken those Tylenol for the headache that was beginning to throb at the base of her skull.

  This was one of Molly’s favorite times of day. Every day for forty-five minutes, it was just her alone with her thoughts, her earbuds, and nature.

  She loved to be outside. She loved feeling her skin just soaking up the Vitamin D. No matter how bad her day or what she had going on, she could always find peace just by stepping outside. It was a dream of hers to open an al fresco section to the restaurant, but sadly, that just hadn’t happened, and she didn’t see it in the near future, either.

  The park opened the footpath up about ten years ago. It is a lovely path, which is tree covered and landscaped as it winds around the ball fields, skate park, and playground. As the years went by, the city added more and more landscaping details, and around each corner potted plants or flowering trees had been placed. Whoever was the brain behind the design was incredible at what they did. Molly couldn’t imagine someone not instantly feeling better just by seeing the time and care that went into this.

  With a smile to a passerby, Molly began her brisk pace. There was a light breeze this morning. The trees were alive with the chirps of birds and a wonderful aroma wafted through the air from the flowers in bloom.

  Molly hated to darken her mood, but she couldn’t help but begin to think of the heated conversation she had with Bob, her ex, last night. Bob had always been a loving father, attentive and caring. But lately, well the last three years, his attention had waned from their daughters to his young sons. Molly tried to justify his lack of presence to the girls and even herself, but last night was the final straw.

  “I went ahead and picked up the tickets for you and Tracey for the girls’ dance recital. Tickets were at a premium this year; I took my life in my own hands taking the last six tickets for the front row from Claire Manning.” Molly chuckled.

  “Well, Claire doesn’t have to be upset for long. Tracey and I don’t think we will be able to make the recital this year.”

  Molly wanted to feel appalled but honestly, in a way, she was expecting it. Other than the twice weekly visits to his house, Bob had been mostly absent, often having to work late even on those nights.

  “I see. And what emergency, unforeseen circumstance, or just plain old excuse are you using this time?”

  “There is no reason to be snarky, Mol,” Bob remarked but with a different tone than before.

  “I beg to differ Bob. The girls expect you to be there as do I.”

  Bob let out a long sigh, which echoed through the phone. “Look, Tracey and I just don’t think John and Peter will sit quietly through the whole performance, and we wouldn’t want to upset anyone else’s viewing.”

  Molly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She could think of a hundred ways to solve this solution not to mention the most obvious one.

  “Well, either get a babysitter then, or you come alone and let Tracey stay with the boys.”

  “Don’t tell me how to parent, Molly.”

  “I’m not telling you how to parent, but I would think your concern of being a parent would carry over to your daughters, too.”

  “Don’t tell me I don’t love my daughters!” Bob yelled, causing Molly to have to move the phone away from her ear.

  Silence took over both ends of the conversation, finally ending with Molly saying, “Fine, Bob, if you can’t come up with a solution and choose to not come, that’s fine. But I will not be the one to tell them. That is on you. “

  “You know if I tell them what Jess will say? She will blame Tracey even more.”

  That is your big concern?

  “Come on, Mol, tell them we will do something special at my house after the recital. You know you can put a spin on it that they would understand.” Molly wanted to stand her ground and tell him to break their daughters’ hearts on his own, until he added, “Come on, it is the least you can do considering what you put me through.”

  He knew that was all it would take.

  And suddenly Molly’s resolve shattered into a million pieces.

  “I’ll tell them. Goodbye, Bob,” Molly said as she disconnected the call.

  Some would say Bob was being cruel and unfair by overplaying that card, considering how many years have passed, but to Molly, he was being truthful. She knew she had crushed him when she asked for a divorce. She was well aware of how hard he had tried to make her happy, but Molly also knew that it wasn’t fair to him or to her to live a lie.

  Molly hadn’t been happy in their marriage in a long time. In fact, she hated to admit it, but her pregnancy with Samantha had been an attempt to make her marriage work. She loved Bob, but she didn’t love him the way she should have. It was a little time after Sammy was born that Molly knew she couldn’t do it anymore so she asked Bob for a divorce. She knew she crushed him, but she also knew she couldn’t stay in a marriage that she didn’t want to be in, and that wasn’t fair to the father of her children. It broke her heart, but not her resolve, that the sweet man tried to talk her out of it, but eventually he conceded and signed the papers. But it was not lost on Molly that his signature on the final page was also another way for him to show his love for her.

  Molly had hopes that time would heal this wound, but it hadn’t. Bob still struggled with their friendship, but whether he knew it or not, Molly’s promise to herself was that she owed the man who gave her two beautiful children the respect and expectation of civility if not friendship.

  No one was happier than she was when Bob had met Tracey about four years ago. She had hoped that he was finally coming to terms that they were not right for each other. They dated for a short amount of time before eloping a few months later. He seemed happy, the kind of happy a man should be when he found his equal, his other half.

  However, her guilt over the pain she had caused him hadn’t ceased. It probably never would.

  Over the last couple of years, the sweet man she had met, married, and shared children with had somehow become an almost stranger. Yet, he showed his trump card at the most opportune times.

  As hard as it appeared for Bob to come to terms with what had occurred between him and Molly, she had hoped he wouldn’t take it out on their girls. But as more time goes by, Molly saw more and more causes of him playing less than the devoted dad. And it hurt.

  Molly, this is your time to relax. Getting worked up over Bob is not what you should be doing.

  Molly was on her third lap of the path and currently engrossed in the Maroon 5 song blasting in her ears when she turned the corner that led toward the parking lot and the breath left her lungs. There in the seclusion of the wooded path was Hunter spreading mulch around one of the many granite benches.

  Slowly, these memorial or dedication benches have been added throughout the park. It was a nice place to take a rest or at least to appreciate the sentiment behind the engravings.

  I was not lost on her that he tended to take his family’s mantra of the importance of community servic
e as his deed to beautifying the town with a bit of landscaping.

  But even the beauty of humanity could not stop Molly’s mind from drifting to someplace dark and erotic.

  Just like earlier this morning, Molly’s eyes worked him over of their own accord. Every inch of him flexed and extended in physical labor. The way his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, highlighting the strength beneath, made Molly’s hands itch to feel with her own hands.

  It amazed her how he looked as natural doing manual labor as he did working his chosen profession of an emergency room doctor at Falls General.

  Regardless of how much time had passed, and considering everything that had occurred all those years ago, she knew that she would always have a soft spot for him. Regret riddled with continual longing should have been enough for her to find the strength to at least tell him how she felt, but she hadn’t.

  She considered turning around and walking back the way she came, but that would only show how much of an idiot she was.

  In her moments of indecisiveness, her ears registered him coughing, which caused him to halt what he was doing, still unknowing that he had an audience. He reached over and grabbed for the bottle of water about a yard away.

  Molly watched in fascination as his throat bobbed, swallowing the cool liquid. The corded veins that ran up his arm, clearly visible with the short-sleeved shirt he wore, pulsated as the plastic of the bottle cracked and popped from the pressure his mouth demanded.

  Molly’s heart thumped in her ears and suddenly her mouth felt like the Sahara. The Alicia Keys’ tune faded away until all she could hear was her own body’s reaction to this man. The same reaction she’d had for the last twenty years to him.

  Turn around, be the coward you are. Just go the other way, he will never know.

  “Well, good morning Ms. Jenson. Beautiful morning for a walk, isn’t it?” His velvet-like voice rolled over her, making Molly feel the need to pant for just a moment.

  Just be polite like you’ve done almost every day since he moved back to town permanently three years ago.