by Nicola Marsh
“Good idea.” Cilla sighed. She paused for a moment and then took a deep breath. “One of Tam’s high school friends, a guy she had a crush on, is back in town and wants to date me.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot so high they almost reached his hairline.
Cilla managed a rueful chuckle. “I know, it’s crazy. That’s what I told Bryce. Eighteen years between us is laughable. But he’s genuine and sweet and makes me feel good for the first time in forever.”
“Then there’s no problem. You date him.” Jake reached out to grip her upper arms. “If anyone deserves happiness, you do, Aunt Cilla. Don’t worry about what society or Tam thinks. You go for it.”
“You’re a sweet boy.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “But Tam and I aren’t close, and this seems like yet another insurmountable obstacle between us.”
He hesitated, before continuing. “We hadn’t spoken in eighteen years, yet here we are. Honestly? Family can repair relationships when the time is right. Maybe you and Tam need to have it out face to face one day, but in the meantime, you need to do what’s right for you.”
Problem was, Cilla didn’t know what was right for her. She’d thought sticking it out in an abusive marriage was right at the time. She’d thought being fiercely independent for the last two decades was right.
Now Bryce had breezed into town, made a few heartfelt declarations to charm her, and she thought dating him was right.
What if her inner radar was all wrong?
“Uncle Jake, wanna come play with me?” Olly yelled from upstairs and Cilla gave Jake a gentle shove.
“Go call Sara,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
Cilla nodded and forced a smile. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Make sure you take it, okay?” He hugged her, before heading out of the kitchen.
Jake thought she should date Bryce. She did too.
So why the prevaricating that wouldn’t quit?
23.
Sara had spent hours poring over art textbooks, hoping she could make the history of pyrography fun for the vacation program kids, when her cell rang.
A quick glance at the caller ID made her pulse speed up a tad.
She stabbed at the answer button after five rings, not wanting to appear too eager. “Hey Jake, how are you?”
“Not bad. Hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
His deep voice sent a delightful shiver through her, an irrational reaction that made her wonder if she’d had her head stuck in those books too long and would welcome any intrusion.
“No, I’m just reading.”
“In that case, do you mind if I bring Olly over for a visit?” He hesitated and she heard a muffled bang in the background. “He’s a little stir-crazy today.”
Sounded like Olly wasn’t the only one. Jake’s tone held a hint of desperation.
While she didn’t want to encourage Jake, she admired him for taking on the care of his nephew. Plus a small part of her wanted to see if the progress she’d made last week at Redemption Elementary would affect how she dealt one-on-one with Olly, whom she hadn’t seen for a few weeks.
“Sure. Come on over.”
“Thanks, be there soon.”
Resisting the urge to check her hair in the mirror after he hung up, she tidied up the textbooks. Prepping for her art classes with the kids in the vacation program had been interesting and she was actually looking forward to them. Resuming pyrography had infused her with excitement for the first time in a long time and it looked like these classes were doing the same.
A few months ago, the thought of being surrounded by kids only a few years older than Lucy would’ve made her hibernate for a week. Now, she almost looked forward to being surrounded by innocent laughter again.
Lucy had been a great laugher. She’d laughed a hundred times a day, at the most innocuous of things. From a butterfly landing on her arm to a graffiti tag on a building, Lucy had smiled and giggled and made Sara want to laugh with her. She’d been the shining light in Sara’s life; her death had plunged Sara into darkness, but at last, a flicker of hope made Sara want to do more than nurse her grief in peace.
There was a knock on the front door, and she hastily gathered her notes for the art classes and stuffed them into a portfolio. She’d tell Jake about the classes, had thought about inviting Olly to participate if he was interested, but that might mean Jake tagged along too and she was nervous enough standing in front of a roomful of kids without worrying about his overwhelming presence too. Then again, he wouldn’t be sticking around in the classroom and she knew it would be good for Olly.
She padded to the front door and opened it, to find Jake smiling in relief and Olly half hiding behind his uncle. Wow, she’d really done a number on the kid if he was apprehensive about seeing her.
“Hey Olly, I’m so glad you’ve come to visit,” she said, squatting down to his level. “I’ve got some new art to show you if you’re interested?”
“That’d be awesome,” Olly said, stepping out from behind Jake, who hadn’t stopped staring at her like she was his savior. “Can I look at it now?”
“You bet. It’s in the kitchen. Follow the hallway to the end.”
As she stepped aside to let them in, Jake lowered his head to murmur in her ear, “Thanks for this.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, mostly.” He rubbed a hand over his face. It did little to eradicate the weariness etching deeper lines around his eyes. “Still floundering a little, you know?”
His sincerity impressed her and she touched his arm in reassurance. “Parenting is hard. Don’t let it get you down.”
“I don’t think I’m doing it right.”
He sounded so forlorn she wanted to hug him.
“There’s no manual, so you pretty much have to wing it.” God knows she’d felt that way most days with Lucy.
“I’m a winging it kind of guy but I’m not sure it’s cutting it with Olly.”
“You’re doing great,” she said, wondering what it was about this guy that made her resistance waver.
She wasn’t interested in dating or a relationship of any kind, but whenever she chatted with Jake, she felt strangely comfortable, like they could talk about anything.
Their brief thirty-second interlude discussing parenting was more than she’d done with Greg during the three years they’d been parents.
Greg had been an absentee dad who believed providing financially for his family was enough. He worked long hours and when he was home, he didn’t want to be disturbed. Lucy had loved her dad but had barely known him. It had made Sara resent him all the more.
“He’s missing his mom something fierce and I’m not enough,” he said, his voice filled with pain and resignation.
“You’re more than enough.” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed, hoping he wouldn’t misread the bold gesture but needing to convey that she understood.
She’d have given anything to have a simple hand squeeze after she’d lost Lucy. Not the tiptoeing Greg had done around her, casting furtive glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. Not the overbearing false platitudes from co-workers who she’d never been close to anyway. Not the awkward silences from her neighbors, who’d often complained about Lucy’s colicky crying when she’d been a baby.
Sometimes a touch conveyed so much and when Jake stared at their joined hands, then raised his gaze to meet hers, his obvious gratitude allayed her fear that she’d overstepped an invisible boundary in their tentative friendship.
“You’re amazing. You know that, right?” He squeezed her hand in return and something in her chest did an embarrassing backflip.
“I try,” she said, aiming for flippant, hoping he didn’t see right through her. Time to change the subject pronto. “What’s Olly’s favorite snack?”
“Cookies and milk.” Some of the tension bracketing Jake’s mouth dissolved. “For a little guy, he sure can pack away the food.”
“Bo
ys have bottomless pits, though Lucy seemed to consume more than her weight in fruit and yoghurt.”
“I like it when you talk about her,” he said. “You get this faraway look in your eyes and your lips curve into a soft smile.”
“Really?”
Whenever she thought about Lucy, let alone mentioned her name, it felt like Sara’s intestines twisted into pretzels and her chest caved in on itself.
“Yeah, it’s sweet.” He paused on the threshold. “Anytime you’d like to tell me about her, I’d love to hear it.”
“Thanks,” she said, not quite sure if she was ready to discuss the love of her life without dissolving into tears. But the fact he wanted to be there for her if she did meant a lot. “Now let’s go ply that cute nephew of yours with treats.”
When they reached the kitchen, Olly folded his arms and frowned. “Where have you guys been? I’m starving.”
Sara bit back a grin when Jake shot her a helpless glance. Nothing like kids to get straight to the point.
“Grownups like talking, Olly,” Jake said. “Sometimes we have a lot to say.”
Olly pondered this answer, and eventually nodded. “Kids like talking too. But we mostly do it after we have snacks, like milk and cookies, so we have more energy to do it.”
“Good point,” Sara said, taking three glasses from a cupboard and loading a plate with chocolate chip cookies. “Let’s stock up on some energy.”
Olly pointed to her work, which was spread across the table. “You must’ve had a lot of energy to do all this, Sara. It’s really good.”
“Thanks. I love doing it.” Sara poured milk into the glasses, mentally reminding herself she had to ask Jake about the art classes for Olly. “Do you like drawing and painting?”
“It’s awesome,” Olly said, suddenly solemn. “When Mommy’s tired and lying down a lot, she says I have to draw and keep quiet.”
Jake stiffened and glanced at her, a silent plea for help in his eyes.
Only too happy to oblige, Sara placed the milk and cookies in front of Olly and slid onto the seat beside him. “That’s the best bit for me when I make these pictures, the quiet. I get to listen to the ideas that bounce around my head and it helps me do better work.”
“You have stuff bouncing around your head?” Olly stared at her head, a quizzical frown wrinkling his forehead. “That sounds weird.”
“It’s okay for artists to be weird. It’s how we do really great work.”
He shrugged. “My work is okay, I guess. Maybe I don’t have enough stuff bouncing in my head?”
“I think you have plenty of ideas; you just need to be really quiet to hear them.”
Sara reached out to lay a hand on Olly’s shoulder, then hesitated. She’d barely got used to talking to a child again. Could she face the warmth of a touch?
When Olly looked at her funny, she gave his shoulder a brief pat then reached for a cookie. “The card you made for me had amazing drawings on it.”
“They were okay.” Olly crammed half a cookie into his mouth and almost demolished it in two chews. “Maybe we could draw together sometime?”
Sara wasn’t sure how much time Olly had left in Redemption so she glanced across at Jake for confirmation. When he gave a slight nod, she said, “I’d really like that, Olly.”
“Yay.” He clapped his hands, before reaching for another cookie. “Uncle Jake’s not very good at it, you know.”
Jake guffawed. “Hey, I tried really hard to draw those trees.”
Olly leaned across and cupped his hand to his mouth. “They looked like sticks. Really bad.” His whisper was so loud Cilla could’ve heard it and Sara laughed.
“Not everyone can be an artist,” Sara said, experiencing another pang at the thought of never seeing if Lucy had inherited any of her artistic talent.
Olly nodded. “If you’re no good at art, Uncle Jake, what are you good at?”
In the short time Sara had known him, she could list a few things Jake was good at: honesty, understanding, comfort. And he excelled at filling out a pair of denim jeans.
“Fixing things,” Jake said, shooting her a loaded glance, like he could read her mind.
“That sounds boring.” Olly drank his milk without stopping, then wiped his milk moustache off on his sleeve, catapulting Sara back to the many times Lucy had done the same thing.
Her throat tightened and she swallowed. She wouldn’t freak out this poor kid; he’d been through enough.
Intuitive as ever, Jake picked up on her silent distress. “Hey Olly, want to check out Sara’s backyard?”
“Yeah.” Olly didn’t have to be asked twice. He pushed back his chair and bolted for the back door, where he stopped, like he’d forgotten something. “Thanks for the snacks, Sara. And for letting me see your great art work.”
Touched, Sara managed a wobbly smile. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”
The happiness on Olly’s face faded. “Mom calls me that sometimes.”
Before Sara could move, Olly ran across the kitchen, flung his arms around her neck and snuggled into her.
Sara froze, bombarded with too many memories, too many sensations. But as Olly held on for dear life, she knew this child needed her far more than she needed to hold on to her grief.
With infinite slowness, she slid her arms around Olly and hugged him tight. Tears clogged her throat again but this time she didn’t care, as she rested her cheek on the top of his head and inhaled the fruity fragrance of his shampoo.
When Olly disengaged as suddenly as he’d hugged her and ran outside, Sara finally risked a glance at Jake.
He looked shell-shocked and she belatedly hoped she hadn’t overstepped the mark, not when he’d articulated the problems he’d been having with Olly.
“I hope that was okay?”
He nodded and swallowed several times, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m a stoic guy most of the time but seeing that made me want to bawl like a baby.”
“Me too,” she said, stifling a sniffle. “In fact, you better say something outrageous to distract me right this minute before I start blubbering.”
“Cilla’s a cougar.”
“What?” Confused but pleased he’d changed the subject, Sara beckoned to the chair next to her.
“Cilla’s dating a much younger guy.” He sat and crossed his legs at the ankles, looking way too comfortable and way too appealing in her kitchen. “Eighteen years younger.”
“Good for her,” Sara said, sufficiently surprised and distracted. “How old is she?”
“Sixty. And loving it, apparently,” Jake said, with a wry grin.
“She doesn’t look that old.”
In fact, Sara had pegged her for nearer fifty with her trim figure, barely lined face and spritely step. Not to mention her standard dress of leggings, spangly flip-flops and paisley kaftan tops.
“She deserves happiness, whatever her age.” Jake looked like he wanted to say more before his lips compressed and he glanced away.
“We all do,” she said, wishing she could take her own advice. Most days, she accepted the fact she’d never be happy again.
“Maybe,” Jake said, the doubt clouding his eyes implying he didn’t believe her.
Wanting to get their conversation back on lighter ground, she tapped the portfolio in front of her. “Speaking of being happy, do you think Olly would enjoy art classes?”
“I’m not sure. What did you have in mind?”
“When you rang, I was planning a few classes I’m teaching at the elementary school. The art teacher approached me after seeing the pyrography pieces I donated for the fair and asked if I could run a few informal sessions for the kids doing the vacation program.”
“That sounds great,” he said, staring at her with frank admiration. “If you don’t mind me saying, I think it’s fantastic you’re willing to surround yourself with kids after you confided in me about how hard it was for you to even approach the camp.”
“It’s time,” she said, meaning it. �
��And I think I have you to thank for that.”
“What did I do?”
“Well, you and Olly.” She gestured at the backyard. “That first day, when I freaked out, you were understanding rather than judgmental.” She sucked in a breath and blew it out again. “In a way, you made me confront my greatest fear, being around a child again, and realize I could get through it without falling apart.”
“You did that all on your own. Olly was the catalyst.” His gentle smile made her want to do what Olly had done to her five minutes earlier: fling herself into his arms and hold on tight. “I’m just the bozo uncle along for the ride.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “The nefarious uncle who’s not ashamed to admit he’s thrilled you like Olly so he can tag along to see you.”
She chuckled, his frankness utterly charming. “I like a guy who admits to nefarious methods.”
“And I like you back,” he said, his low tone rippling over her like a balmy breeze, raising goose bumps across her skin.
Sara resisted the urge to rub her bare arms as their gazes locked, neither of them moving a muscle as she tried to decipher if he’d answered in jest as she had, or if he’d meant more.
She might not be ready for any guy to like her, let alone a guy like Jake, but in that long, loaded moment, she wondered if she could be.
24.
Cilla hit the play button on her answering machine for the third time.
“Hey Mom, it’s me. Sorry for being such a bitch before. If you want to date Bryce, it’s none of my business. Maybe I was jealous. Not because of that teenage crush I had on him, but because my own love life is non-existent and I took my frustrations out on you. Anyway, have a great time. From what I remember, Bryce is a really nice guy. You know, I caught him staring at you a few times back then and I teased him about it. Guess I was pretty close to the mark, huh? Let me know how you get on. Love you. Bye.”
When Cilla had heard Tam’s message for the first time, it had floored her. And it hadn’t lost any impact on subsequent listens.
