by HJ Bellus
It was the final straw to my parents’ marriage. Their relationship was on rocky soil before I came home pregnant with my teacher’s child. Then I’ve been in purgatory ever since. I moved out to my Dad’s shop in Idaho to get my nursing license, and I found so much more. Then I crushed his heart and soul.
“Momma, cereal or pancakes?” Baker’s bright blue eyes shine bright back at me.
“Whatever, you’d like.” I pick her up on my hip and pack her into the kitchen.
“Mommy.” She taps my shoulder. “Mommy, there’s a guy on our couch.”
I follow the line of sight of her pudgy finger, to the man asleep on our couch.
“That’s my friend, Hunter.”
“Why’s he on our couch?”
“He needed a friend and is hurt.”
“Does him like cereal or pancakes?”
I smile widely at her. “I’m not sure, let’s see what he’d like.”
“Can I poke his nose?” Baker asks.
I give her a shrug. “Whatever you’d like?”
“Hims look like he’s a waffle or pancake man, Momma.”
I sat her down and watched my miracle walk over to Hunter. She studies his face for a long time, before taking advantage of his sleeping stature.
“‘Cuse me, sir.” She taps his nose. “Are you a cowboy? And do you like pancakes, waffles, or some good ol’ cereal?”
Hunter rolls over for a bit, then rustles around and barely open his eyes. I can sense the pain behind his eyelids. We still don’t know how hard of a fall he took, but he was enough to knock him out and forget everything. Bits and pieces came back to him, and it tore me apart because he bore his soul to me.
“Pancakes or waffles? I ain’t got time for this.” Baker gets right up in his face until they are nose to nose. “Pancake or Waffles?”
She doesn’t even give him a hint at cereal this time. It’s clear what she wants and if Hunter is a smart man he’ll pick waffles. The batter is similar, and I’m not sure of the difference after the gallons of maple syrup she pours onto her breakfast.
Hunter rolls over facing her. The light in his eyes makes my own heart stop. I watch him take in her dark red hair and matching aqua eyes. It all comes to life. I watch his love for me play out in his own eyes as he watches my daughter.
“Darlin’, what do you prefer?” He croaks out.
“Waffles.” Baker’s hands slap down on her hips in sheer victory, then her little face flips to me. “Momma, Waffles!!!”
It’s more of a battle cry, and I watch as Hunter winces at the tone of her voice, but never scolds or corrects Baker. He does his best righting himself up on the couch into a sitting position. It’s like slow motion as I watch everything play out on his features.
None of it matters except the fact it was my number he called first. It means something. I’ve shattered the man, but he’s one of a kind and the attraction is mutual.
“Sissy, can you show Hunter where the bathroom is, and I’ll start your waffles?”
Baker wastes no time ripping him by the arm down the hall. She couldn’t care less about his injury. She tugs and pulls just like he’s an ordinary rag doll of hers and he follows.
It takes all of my concentration to mix the batter, following the simple ingredients on the side of the box. Seeing Hunter with Baker is all too much. It’s like a wrecking ball has been assigned to me, destroying everything I have left in me.
There’s no way I could tell Hunter that my high school English teacher had sex with me and I fell pregnant. Then his family took her from me. I was allowed weekly visiting rights, and she knew I was her mother, but his brother, Jerico, was adamant at keeping her with his family. It was his older brother who knocked me up, and Jerico spent every one of his last dimes to keep Baker locked away in his family.
It was my Dad who pushed, even though he was in Idaho and me in California. He shoved me to fight the law, no matter how high the mountain was. The final obstacle course was a steady career, and she was mine. I was forced to move to my Dad and focus on my career, then Hunter entered my life complicating the impossible piece of my puzzle.
But now I mix a simple batter, while my daughter leads Hunter around my house. The man was running on fumes then he had his accident, but he’s up with Baker running around the house.
I busy myself finishing up the batter, then start pouring the batter in the cooker. I can hear Baker singing the hand washing song to Hunter. The tap of the water doesn’t turn off until she’s finished with the entire song. I’m assuming the drugs from the ER are still coursing through his veins since he’s so compliant, but then again, it’s Hunter. The man with a heart of gold and patience of a saint.
But it’s when Baker and Hunter round the corner, that I find myself smiling. Hunter reaches up, swiveling his hat backward on his head.
“Gordon.” He smiles clutching tight to Baker’s petite hand.
“Hunter.” I duck my head hiding my smile.
“Momma, hims hands are washed, and we are hungry.”
She points to the barstool for Hunter, then climbs up on the one next to him. “I’s been begging to have a friend over to eat at this bar. Glad Momma finally brought one home.”
Baker perches her little elbows up on the bar, resting her chin under her knuckles then stares at Hunter’s profile. Hunter’s busy gazing at me, but it’s the dream stare in Baker’s eyes that makes my heart light and full at the same time. She’s falling in love with him just as fast as I did. It’s the twinkle in her eye that gives it all away.
I plate the waffles and then place them in front of them. The two don’t waste any time digging into the butter and syrup. Once Hunter has a stable amount of food in his stomach, I slide his three pills over to him. He swipes them off the counter and swallows them down with a gulp of orange juice. Covertly, I thought until Baker piped up.
“Momma, my gummies, please.” She shoves her little palm out with her perma-grin in place.
I place the gummy vitamins her palm. Hunter peers over at her with a brow raised.
“What are those for?” He asks her.
“Makes me strong and healthy.” Baker pushes her little chest out.
“I reckon I need some of those then, Darlin’.”
I can’t speak for Baker, but when his deep, caressing voice speaks the word darlin’, my ovaries are down. Then just like her mother, so is Baker. Her dimples shine brighter while she stares at Hunter.
“Momma, can he have one?” She asks, but even though it’s stated as a question, it’s more of a demand.
I don’t think twice about slipping Hunter his own gummy vitamin. He rolls it over in his hand, thinking really hard about whether he needs it or not.
“Will this make hair grow on my chest?” He asks Baker in all seriousness.
I’m just a bystander on the opposite side of the island watching their relationship blossom. When Baker’s nose curls in disgust, I know exactly where this conversation is about to go.
“It’s not damn coffee, Hunter! It’s bitamins.”
I’m forced to bite down on my bottom lip to stifle my laughter. Baker’s been in speech therapy and gets her sounds right about every third time. My dad, her Pappy, has been trying like hell to have her drink black coffee at the mechanic shop to put hair on her chest. Baker wants nothing to do with it.
The spark of interest when Hunter mentions the same topic is hilarious. I can’t even begin to scold her on dropping the word damn.
“Hair is gwoss on your chest,” Baker barks out.
“Not if you’re a manly man.”
“But I’m a princess.”
He taps the tip of her nose, causing me to freeze in my spot. It’s our thing. I’ve done it since the day Baker was born. Then when she was old enough, she’s mimicked the action. And without prompting or thought, Hunter just did the same thing. This man has always fit seamlessly into my life, no matter the dynamic. Tears well up in my eyes with the thought of the conversation we still ne
ed to have. My actions in the past were disgusting at best, but I have to own up to it.
The two goofballs in front of me have second helpings of waffles, then scrape their plates clean. Baker hops up on the barstool, standing on it with her little hand on her hip. She’s also been a monkey, since learning how to coordinate her limbs.
“Wanna come to my birfday party?” She stares down at Hunter.
He swallows, freezes, then stares over at me. I know he’s silently asking permission. I nod, but then the talk before he has a chance to respond to her.
“Baby girl, Hunter’s a busy man. I doubt he’ll have time for a birthday party.”
Her face immediately falls, then she sinks back down onto the barstool.
“I’d love to, Baker.” Hunter wraps her up in a one-arm hug. “But I need an invitation, so I remember.”
She squeals and darts off the barstool without a second thought. The sound of her rustling on my desk, echoes throughout the house.
“Hunter, you don’t have to.” I peer down not making eye contact with him. “She has several friends from her school she’s inviting.”
“What if I want to?”
His question makes my head pop up to stare at him.
“I remember asking you all those questions yesterday when I was on the phone. My head was hurting, and I panicked when I heard your voice. All of our memories came flooding back in.”
“We need to talk,” I whisper.
“Yes, we do.” He leans forward on his elbows. “Whether we still have a chance to make it or not, I’d like to go to her birthday party.”
I nod my head with the tears finally spilling over. They are tears of relief, joy, and fear all mixed together. I feel empty and full at the same time, with the mere thought of Hunter back in my life.
The barstool scoots back on the hardwood floor, causing a loud sound. Then the echoes of his feet padding in my direction startle me. Before I know it, his arms are wrapped around me, pulling our chests together. His hand goes to the back of my head, pulling it into his chest. Hunter holds me, letting me cry out all my fears.
“I love you, Teale. I’ve come to realize that I will always love you.”
My arms low on his waist, pull him tighter to me without a thought. I’ve missed this. His chest was always my home and safe place. He made all the worries vanish with one touch or gentle smile. I’ve missed him so damn much.
I look up to him knowing Baker will be bounding into the room at any moment now. The pads of his thumbs wipe away the tears rolling down my face.
“I’m not married. I haven’t been in a relationship since I was sixteen. I made some bad choices in my life that forced me to grow up quickly, but Hunter, I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”
And on cue Baker comes skipping into the kitchen singing, “Row, Row Your Boat” with her improving on most of the words.
“Because of her,” he whispers.
It’s not a question. It’s a statement. He ultimately gets it with no further explanation, and that’s why I love this man with my entire heart and soul.
11
Hunter
“I live about as country of a lifestyle as you could have” -Blake Shelton
Today is the big day for Dave. He gets to go home. The nurses are throwing their usual party of celebration. But as miserable and mean as he can get at times, they all love his stubborn charm; even when he’s pushing them to their limits.
The infection and MRSA have all cleared up. The doctor left us with instructions on new medicine, and that wound care would be coming in twice a week to check on Dave. The whole ride home he complains about the pain in his feet. I chalk it up to him not being out of the hospital bed for some time.
The smile that lights up his face when we pull down his driveway is contagious. The man is ecstatic to be home. It may look like a junkyard and a once been farm, but it’s his paradise. Dave’s spirit is at an all-time high when we enter his house.
“Why are your feet bandaged up?” I ask him when he settles in his recliner.
Dave shrugs. “Don’t give a shit. Just glad I’m out of that motherfucking hell hole.”
I make a mental note to find out why. I’m shocked when Dave asks about going out to work. I take him up on it, dying to show him his surprise.
“What do you want to get done?” I ask him, glancing over at him slowly creeping along in his walker.
“Thought about moving some parts.”
Perfect.
“Okay, let me help you to your tractor.”
I wait for him to step back from his walker, then scoop him up in my arms. Dave didn’t weigh much before, and now is even lighter. This hospital visit has really set him back.
I set him down and watch him study the tractor.
“What the hell is this?” He points to the rusty seat on the side of the tractor.
“Your bitch seat.”
Dave nods his head, then begins creeping up the steps. I step back not helping him, even though it’s killing me not to hoist him up. But this right here is what Dave needs. The passion and love for his farm to pump life through his dying body. It may be the one thing that keeps him up and going.
We work for hours. It’s a lot faster than when he drives, but in good old Dave fashion, he stops us every couple hundred yards. I wouldn’t expect any more.
“Hey, Dave.” I hold my phone out to take a selfie. “Smile.”
This right here, is too priceless not to snap a picture of it. Dave grins from ear to ear, and then I lean in closer before I snap a picture.
“Does my phone do that.”
“No.”
He nods, and we continue until the sun kisses the horizon. Dave begins nodding off in his seat, and I know it’s time to go inside.
“My goddamn feet hurt,” he says when he flops down in his recliner.
“Is it any better when you’re off them?” I ask him.
“No, the fuckers just hurt.”
I hand him his bucket of pills. “Here, take your meds, and I’ll heat up dinner for you.”
I don’t give him time to argue, because I know he’ll want a damn shake instead, but I want him to have a nice, hot meal. I plate up meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and make him a green salad. He’s nodding off in the chair by the time I get back. The nurses at the hospital told me when I picked him up that he’d only ate a few packages of black licorice today.
“Dave.” I nudge his shoulder to wake him up. “Here’s your food.”
I clean off a spot on the tray in front of him. He shocks me when he doesn’t argue and instead digs into his food. I’m worried about the pain he’s in. The man already takes a ton of hydrocodone for his arthritis, among another large pile for all of his other ailments.
“My sister in law came and visited me today,” he says around a bite of mashed potatoes.
I sit back in shock. “You have a sister in law?”
“Yeah.” Is his simple reply.
“Thought you didn’t have any family.” I wipe away the confusion on my face.
“She’s not family. Married my brother. Brother’s been dead a long time. I’m not close with her.”
“Shocker. I mean you’re such a people person.”
“Don’t be a dickhead, Hunter. She’s over eighty and takes care of her only child who is an adult and is special needs. We’ve never seen eye to eye on much.”
I relax back on the couch, absorbing the information.
“The first time I went to the hospital, I had her come take all my valuables out of the house.”
“Valuables?” I ask.
“My jewelry.”
“Are you high right now?” I ask him with all seriousness.
“No, I collect jewelry. One time I special ordered a ring with two cobra heads coming out of it with real ruby eyes. Fifteen-thousand-dollar ring.”
“Dave, you’re just full of damn surprises.”
“That bitch lost a five thousand dollar check of mine. Not sure I can reall
y trust her anymore.”
“Your sister in law?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think she stole it or honestly lost it?”
“Doesn’t really matter, does it? Five thousand dollars gone, and ever since I’ve been on edge with her.”
“When did this happen?”
“A few years ago,” he responds finishing his plate.
I’m damn happy I put the food in front of him, since he was hungry and opened up to me about his sister in law. Makes me wonder what other bombshells the man is hiding. On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know.
“How about a shower and shave, then I’ll make sure you get in bed.”
He nods.
I know they gave him sponge baths in the hospital, but the man needs a full-out shower and trim. His scruff now covers his entire face. Dave winces when he stands and bitches about the pain in his feet, but he’s a trooper walking into the bathroom with the help of his walker.
We go through our routine of shower and shaving. Dave studies himself in the mirror like he always does after having a clean shaved face. It does wonders for his spirits.
“I’m going to step out for a bit. You need to try and go to the bathroom.”
I cringe once the words leave my lips. I never want to treat him like a toddler or small child, but I also don’t enjoy cleaning up his shit either.
Once he’s in bed, I give him a stern look.
“Now, before you think it’s the morning and give me a call on your cell phone, look at your alarm clock.”
He shakes his head. “Not my fault I lost all track of time.”
“Love ya, Dave, but your three am calls need to stop.”
“It only happened…”
I cut him off. “Five times.”
He shrugs. I make sure he has his home phone and cell phone, medication, bucket, and bottles near him, before I turn off the lights. I’ve brought up the topic of a commode once again to him, but Dave insists cost too much damn money.
He is snoring lightly before I’m even halfway down the hall. I clean up his plate and know it will only be a week before his trash is overflowing again. Flipping off the rest of the lights in the house, I feel light and positive about Dave’s situation for the first time in a long time. It was a good afternoon.
