by Dee Ernst
I wanted to tell him that I didn’t care why I kissed him, but I really wanted to do it again, and could we please just be two consenting adults, take our clothes off and see what happened?
But I didn’t say any of that, because the little niggling I had in the back of my mind about his being Sam’s son had also taken hold in his mind. I was the ex-wife of his father. That made things…complicated. More than complicated. Probably impossible.
I changed tracks. “Have you looked for a job yet?”
“Actually, yes. I spoke to a headhunter yesterday. I have to polish up my resume and get it to her.”
More silence. “Well,” I said at last. “I’m glad we got that straightened out.” I pushed the box of books toward him with my foot. “Just put these on my bookshelf, there’s plenty of space along the bottom there. I have those clothes in my car. I’ll drop them off at the church, and then I’m going across the Bay to do some shopping. I’ll be back late tonight.”
“Amanda thinks you’ll be here.”
Well…poop. “Then I’ll come back this afternoon and head across the bridge after we’re done.”
He dropped his eyes again. “Thank you. She…counts on people keeping their word. It’s important to her.”
“I’ll keep my word,” I told him, and left.
I stopped to speak with my neighbor, Dave, on my way back from the church.
Dave was at least seventy, possibly older. No one knew for sure, and he wasn’t much for sharing. He was born in Eastville and had been on his little place right on the Bay for as long as I could remember, and when Sam and I had first bought the house, we barely saw him at all. He had a huge garden, chickens, kept bees, and lived, as they say now, off the grid. The solar panels on his roof had been replaced twice in the years I’d known him, and he had a wood burning stove for heat. His pride and joy was an ancient Ford pickup that he kept in tip-top condition. Over the years, we’d built a quiet, tentative friendship. When our section of Eastville had been rezoned, and my taxes jumped through the roof, it was he who suggested I keep goats and call myself a farm. When I asked him what I would do with goats, he laughed, and said he’d take care of that.
And he did. He milked the goats and made sweet, creamy cheese that he sold in town. I knew he was a veteran and had been blinded in one eye, so he probably collected a government pension. He always said he didn’t care much for money, he had all he really needed, and I believed him. He was happy and self-sufficient.
He lived in a three-room ranch with an attached garage and workshop. He was out in his garden when I drove up, and he showed me what he’d put in. His was a garden that needed to feed him all year round, with plenty extra to sell at the weekly farmer’s market that ran all summer. He may not have cared for money, but still needed it to pay for the repairs on his beloved truck.
He offered me honey and fresh eggs. I gave him the local news. We drank sweet tea sitting on his bench, right on the water. He had clam beds out there, and I had often waded in with him, raking the bottom, then feasting on fresh clams opened straight from the water, flavored by the bay and a squirt of lemon juice. I worried about his health and occasionally talked him into my taking his blood pressure and listening to his heart. He hadn’t seen a doctor, he told me, in thirty years.
I glanced at the clock on my phone. I still had an hour before Amanda would be home. I figured I was safe from Craig. He was probably in town, or at least on his way to pick up the twins from the bus stop.
Dave rose slowly and walked me to my Jeep. He rubbed the hood, buffing out a smudge, and looked at me keenly from his one dark eye.
“Them’s children at your place now? Who do they belong to?”
“Sam’s grandkids, Dave. Sam had a son. I never knew.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “From that New York woman?”
I froze. “He talked to you about her?”
Dave nodded, is short gray hair gleaming silver in the sun. “He’d come over sometimes. Get drunk. I figgered he talked to me ‘cause he knew I wouldn’t be talkin’ to nobody else.”
I leaned against the Jeep. “What did he say?”
Dave shrugged. “Just that he’d loved a New York woman. Loved her fierce. Wanted to marry her, but she said no. After you divorced, he tole me she gave him a son. Was pleased by that, Sam was.”
I didn’t know what to say. I knew that Sam and Dave spent time drinking, and I was pretty sure that Dave grew marijuana in an overgrown field out in the woods, which was where Sam got his stash. It made sense that Dave would be the one person to keep Sam’s secrets.
I got back home and the Suburban was gone. I left the honey and eggs on the kitchen counter, and went out to look at my potted ferns.
Sam had built a sunroom off the living room that ran across the back half of the house. Since it faced south, it stayed fairly comfortable in the winter, and in the summer, the shade from all the trees kept it from being unbearably hot. I rarely used it except as another place to put things, mostly my outdoor plants, to keep them alive thru the winter. I had a bench full of ferns and four palm trees that I was planning to put out around the dock.
Today was as good a day as any.
I was in my garden when they got back, and I saw Amanda running up, her backpack draped over one shoulder, her thin face smiling.
“You remembered!”
“Your dad reminded me. Bring out your pots, and we’ll see what we can do.”
She came out a few minutes later, carrying the largest pot, Maddie and Larissa trailing behind, each holding another pot.
“Are those eggs from real chickens?”
“Is that honey from the beehives we saw?”
“Did you put the palm trees on the dock today?”
“Can we put white lights on them?”
“I can see strawberries on the plants! Can we eat them yet?”
“The beans are sprouting. How long before they grow up?”
Craig brought up the rear. “Do you need help with anything?” His voice was pleasant and he looked relaxed, nothing at all like the tense and angry man I’d left a few hours earlier.
“I think we’re good,” I said. I saw Maddie crouched by one of the beds, her little hand reaching for a tender sprout. I didn’t want anyone trampling my garden. And I wanted Amanda and I to spend some time quietly, just the two of us. She was worming her way, very slowly, into my thinking. Every time I looked into that little girl’s eyes, I wanted to hug the sadness away. “Why don’t you three walk the goats while Amanda and I take care of these ferns?”
Maddie’s jumped up and she and Larissa were off and running.
Craig’s mouth twitched. “Walk the goats?”
“The girls will show you. Just please, don’t let any of them loose, or I’ll be out here all night trying to round them back up.”
“Okay.”
I looked at Amanda, who was smiling shyly. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“Well, we didn’t need them, and your dad looked like he could use some exercise.”
She poked one of the ferns with a thin finger. “Yeah, he wasn’t in such a good mood today.”
“How about you? Was today better?”
She nodded. “Yes. Tyrell introduced me to his cousin, Keesha, and she and I had lunch together. She’s nice.”
I didn’t know Keesha, but Stella had five children of her own, and six sisters, and her family was spread all across Northampton County.
“It’s good to have a friend,” I said.
“Yes.”
We started by dividing the ferns. Over the winter, they had gone fairly dormant, but by this time of the year, the root balls were dense and new shoots were sprouting everywhere. I did the heavier lifting, cutting through the root balls and shaking away the excess dirt. Amanda sat on the ground at my feet, in easy reach of the large garbage can where I kept my garden soil. She planted the sections carefully, tamping down the dirt, until all three pots were ready. I showed her how to mix water and Ep
som salts in a large galvanized bucket, and we submerged each pot for five minutes, then pulled it up and put it on the worktable, letting the excess water drain away.
“Do this every week,” I told her. “They’ll stay beautiful and green. I’ll help you until you get used to it, okay?”
She was smiling, and her thin face was transformed. I saw nothing of Craig in her at all. She must have looked exactly like her mother.
We heard the twins coming back just as we were finishing up. Craig was walking between his daughters, and each of them was holding a hand. He was laughing, and looked happy and totally relaxed. He’d walk a few steps, then lift up one of the girls by her arm, and she’d hang there, screaming and giggling until he let her down. I watched him, and started to laugh. The girls were so obviously enjoying themselves, despite their screams of protest. I wondered how he had the strength to keep lifting them one after the other, and then quite suddenly, one of the little girls twisted away, and started to scream in such a way that I knew something had gone very wrong.
Chapter Eight
It was Maddie, and she sat, holding her elbow, and screaming, her eyes squeezed shut. Craig was on his knees and looked stricken. Larissa, standing behind her father, started crying.
I dropped down beside Maddie and looked at her arm. She was holding it out stiffly, her little fingers clenched around her elbow.
Craig stood up. “I’ll call 911,” he said.
I looked up at him. “I know what this is, Craig. Don’t call, she’s fine.”
“No, she’s not,” he roared. “I pulled her arm off.” There was fear in his face and in his voice, and Amanda started to whimper.
“No, Craig, you didn’t. Listen to me. This is my job. You can call 911, wait for an ambulance to take her up to the MedCenter half an hour away, or you can let me fix this right now. This is called nursemaids elbow. It happens all the time to little kids, and I can take care of this now if you let me.”
He was breathing so fast and so heavily, I was worried he’d hyperventilate.
“Craig, you need to take a deep, slow breath. Right now.”
He closed his eyes, then opened them, and I could practically see him fighting down his panic. He glanced down at Larissa, who was wailing, her arms wrapped around his waist.
“Craig?”
He nodded.
I took Maddie’s face in both my hands and turned it toward me. “Honey, you need to stop crying for just a second and tell me when it hurts.”
“It hurts now,” she wailed, eyes still tightly closed.
“Are you sure?”
She sniffed and opened her eyes, looking down at her arm. “I’m afraid to move it.”
“Yeah, honey, I know. But let go and let me move it. Please?”
She bit her trembling lower lip, nodded, and unclenched her fingers.
I ran my hands up and down her arm gently. Nothing was broken. “Now, it hurt when you twisted and Daddy was swinging you, right?“
She nodded.
“Okay. I want you to move it, just a little, to see if it hurts again.”
Tears started again. “I don’t want to.”
“I know, honey, but I have to make sure. If it hurts again, I can fix it for you. Otherwise, you have to go to the hospital. Do you want to do that?”
She shook her head, and started to bend her arm. She barely moved it, then stopped. “It hurts,” she whined.
“Good.” I felt her elbow, watching her little face as my fingers found the right spot. “What I’m going to do,” I said, keeping my voice light, “is called a reduction. See, your elbow popped right out of its socket.”
Maddie’s eyes widened. “It’s not even connected?”
I smiled at her. “That’s right. Boy, you should be the nurse! Now, I have to put your arm back together.” I held her wrist. “It’s a very special talent,” I said. “And it might hurt again for just a second. But sometimes it helps if you count to ten, really, really fast. Come on, we’ll do it together.”
She was looking at me with absolute trust. “Okay, Jenna.
“Good girl. Now, look right in my eyes, and we’ll count. Ready? Onetwothreefour—”
I slipped the elbow joint back in place. She gasped, and for a second I thought she’d start to cry again, but she just looked surprised, then scowled at me.
“You tricked me. You didn’t wait until ten!”
I shook my head and put my finger on the tip of her nose. “I never told you I’d wait until ten. I just said we should count to ten. Can you move your arm now?”
She began to bend it, very slowly. Then, she straightened it back down. “I think it works.”
“I think so, too. Come on, baby, get up and give your dad here a hug. I think he needs one pretty badly.”
She scrambled up and Craig swept her into his arms, rocking her back and forth.
“You’re squishing me,” she squealed, kicking.
He let her down gently. “Maddie, I am so sorry. I promise, I will never do that again.”
Her little face dropped. “But Daddy, that’s so much fun!”
Larissa tugged at her sister’s shirt. “Is it better? How much did it hurt? I heard it click, did you?”
Maddie nodded and they started back toward the house, Amanda behind them. “Worse than a bee sting. I felt it click. That part didn’t hurt.”
Craig covered his face with his hands, and when he dropped them, he was still white and trembling. “I thought I pulled her arm out.”
“Technically, you did. This happens to kids. Not usually at this age, but it happens. She’ll be fine.”
He stared at the ground for what seemed to be a very long time before raising his eyes. “Look, I was a real jerk earlier.”
I wanted to say, yes, you were, but managed to keep my mouth shut. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” He nodded, as if to himself, a few times before speaking. “We have to live together in that house, and I don’t want us to feel like we can’t be in the same room together.”
Oh? Because you think I’ll tear your clothes off? But, again, I actually thought before I spoke. “We’re both grown-ups, Craig. We can be nice and polite to each other.”
“Yes. Good.”
We stood in the fading sunlight, staring at each other. I was acutely aware of the stretch of his denim shirt across his chest, the faint shadow of a beard on his jaw, his dark eyes, narrowed and searching my face.
“We’re good, Craig. It’s all good.”
And I turned and went into the house, leaving him standing on the gravel drive, alone.
We each kept our word. We were nice and polite to each other.
Weeks went by. School ended, and the twins went to the town recreation program every morning. Amanda insisted she was too old for it, but found a perfect solution. She and Keesha volunteered to work with the counselors, so she spent the mornings with her sisters. The days I worked, they walked from the large playground in the center of town back to Main Street for lunch with Craig, and then they spent the day at the beach. Keesha and Amanda were both paid by Craig to babysit. Rainy days were spent in the upstairs apartment, now furnished with a collection of kid-friendly movies for the DVD player and a Wii.
I tried to take the girls on Thursdays. Keesha came with us, as she and Amanda had become BFFs in a very short time. Stella confided in me that Keesha’s mom, her sister’s youngest, had a drug problem and was currently serving another six-month sentence in jail, leaving Keesha with a strict and loving father who worked two jobs. Keesha had been spending too much time alone. The friendship was saving both little girls.
We went up and down the Delmarva Peninsula, playing tourists. We saw gardens and historical spots, played minigolf and saw the ponies on Chincoteague. I took them to my favorite beaches, the ones the summer people hadn’t found that you could only get to by walking through forgotten trails and ducking under old wooden fences.
We had a great time together. I was starting, very sl
owly, to fall in love with those girls.
Craig was busy. Sam’s on Main kicked into high gear, and on the weekend, I never saw him. I had the house to myself, as he and the girls lived in the apartment from Friday night to Monday morning.
I spent that time with my friends. We still had a standing Friday night date, starting at the Grove, then dinner, then …whatever. The summer people were there in force, and our usual rhythm was thrown off, but we still had each other, the best company in the world. Stella mentioned Dara French, the new doctor in town, just often enough for all of us to start gently teasing her, which she took with her usual good grace. Terri had talked her friend Chris into buying the little house on Main Street.
“It’s been gutted,” Terri explained. “Chris and I will be able to do anything we want in there. And I’ve already talked to the McCann brothers and they’re going to help us.”
Stella looked confused. “Did she come down and look at it?”
Terri shook her head. “No. She trusts me. I had power of attorney and she wired funds to Ellis. She’ll be down in a few weeks.”
After that, she mentioned Steve McCann at least once every half hour, which was tiresome, but after Karen started openly keeping count, Terri got her enthusiasm under control. I signed up for Karen’s Saturday yoga class, which started about an hour after our weekly breakfast ended. She and I walked back to her studio, talking. She knew more about my feelings for Craig than any of them, and listened without judgment. Her class was fun, lots of summer people, but it was as much for something to do as it was for the actual class. I found that without Craig and the girls around, the house was a little too quiet.
I knew he’d found a regular meeting to go to every Tuesday morning. He had one day off, Wednesday, and he spent the time with his daughters at the house. Amanda’s furniture got painted, the carpeting was pulled up and the wooden floors buffed. He bought a canoe and paddled all the way up Logan’s Creek. Maddie and Larissa both complained bitterly that they never went out into the Bay, but Craig knew that the water out there was tricky, and there were currents and sudden gusts that could easily overturn a small canoe.
