Life and Other Inconveniences

by Higgins, Kristan

  “Well, crap. Sorry about that,” I said to Miller.

  “It’s not you,” he said. “Tess, please stop kicking Daddy.”

  “Tess, do you want to go swimming?” I asked.

  “I hate swimming,” she said.

  “Okay. Well, I’m going swimming. You can watch if you want.”

  “I love swimming,” she said.

  “She actually does,” Miller said with a slight smile.

  “Come with me, princess. Miller, we’ll see you at the pool. Why don’t you get a drink first and maybe some food? We have to change, right, Tess?”

  “Yes, Daddy. You go away now.”

  His faint smile dropped, but he handed me the backpack with Tess’s stuff.

  It was awfully nice, her sticky little hand in mine. Brought back all the wonderful memories of Riley as a little one, when we always held hands. It was something I never took for granted. Truth was, we still held hands, and God, I was grateful.

  This summer had been so good for her, taken her out of herself a bit and let her remember who she was. She radiated a sense of pride . . . not because she was staying in this house or because she was the great-granddaughter of Genevieve London, but because she was needed, by Gigi and Donelle, her brothers, and Tess and Miller.

  Maybe, in all my years of ultracareful parenting and watchfulness, I’d forgotten to let Riley grow up a little bit.

  Tess and I changed without too much difficulty, though she was jumping up and down the whole time.

  “I see Wiley! I want Wiley!” she kept saying. The straps of her bathing suit fell off her shoulders, so I tied them up with a hair ribbon. When we went downstairs, Miller was out by the pool, talking to Saanvi Talwar.

  “Go away, Daddy!” Tess commanded, and his face lost all expression. He kept talking to Saanvi, though, and she gave me a little wave.

  Tess was tough, all right. I took her over to the wisteria bower, where no one else was.

  “I want swimming!” she said.

  “Tess, when you told Daddy to go away, that made him feel bad,” I said.

  “So what?” Her lower lip pushed out, and she looked away, telling me she knew she’d done wrong.

  “What if I told you to go away, Tess? Or if Riley told you to go away? It would make you sad. Wouldn’t it?”

  “No. Yes.” The lip got poutier.

  “So why don’t we go up to Daddy, and you can say you’re sorry, and then we’ll go swimming with Riley?”

  “I go swimming now.”

  “No. You go swimming after you say you’re sorry.”

  “I not sorry.” She stamped her little bare foot.

  “You made your daddy feel sad. That’s not a nice thing to do. You say you’re sorry, or we can go upstairs where there’s no swimming.”

  She scowled at me.

  “Would you like to go swimming, Tess? Riley and some other kids are in the pool right now.”

  “Yes. I go swimming with Wiley.”

  “Then let’s say sorry to Daddy.” I scooped her up and carried her over. “Excuse me, Miller. Tess wants to say something.”

  “Sorry, Daddy. Sorry.”

  The way his face changed was remarkable. It softened with surprise, and his dark eyes widened a little. “Thank you, Tess.”

  “I go swimming now.”

  “Have fun.”

  “We will. Thanks,” I said, smiling. “Great job, Tessie,” I whispered as I carried her to the pool’s shallow end. “You made Daddy feel happy.”

  “Tess! Hooray!” Riley said. “Come on in here and play with us!”

  Duncan and Owen were swimming around like eels, playing some kind of game with Rav, who was clearly their hero.

  I went in and kept an eye on Riley’s supervision of Tess. Kids in the water always made me a little nervous, a leftover from the tale of Uncle Sheppard.

  I wondered how my father would’ve been different if his big brother hadn’t disappeared. If he would’ve been better, stronger, more morally grounded.

  I glanced over at Genevieve, who was talking to my grandfather (and, shockingly, not appearing to be irritated). Both of them had lost children, and both stories were almost unbearably tragic. Yet here they stood at a party, decades into their grief.

  Please, God, I said silently. Please, Mom. Please, Grammy, and Grandpa Garrison, and Uncle Sheppard if you’re up there. Don’t let anything ever happen to Riley. Or Tess, or Duncan, Owen and Rav.

  It was ridiculous, I knew. Children didn’t disappear or die because the parent hadn’t prayed enough. But there were no atheists in foxholes, as the saying went, nor in the hearts of parents.

  When the kids got out of the pool, Riley and Tess and I went upstairs to her room to change. Tess’s hair was again almost dreadlocked with snarls. “Let’s see if we can do something here,” I said to my daughter. “Got a brush?”

  “I no brush my hair,” Tess said firmly.

  “Really? I do,” I said, doing just that. “It feels nice.”

  “Your hair looks very shiny, Mom,” Riley said, grinning. “Want me to put some conditioner in it?”

  “Sure!”

  And so we were able to woo Tess into letting us put conditioner in her hair, combing out the snarls and even putting it in braids.

  “How’s Rav?” I murmured as I French braided. I was an expert, having done Riley’s hair most of her life. Now that it was short, I missed this job.

  “He’s a nice kid,” she said. “We might ride our bikes out to Birch Lake and hike a little this week, if it’s okay.”

  “Oh. Um . . . let me think about that.”

  “Mom. To hike, not to have S-E-X.”

  “S-E-X,” Tess echoed, and Riley covered her mouth with her hand to smother the laugh.

  “It’s probably okay. I just need to think about it.” I paused. “That’s where my uncle, uh, went away.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll talk about it with Saanvi,” I said.

  “Okay. Be protective. Come on, Tessie-bear, you look so cute! Look in the mirror. Aren’t you cute?”

  “I cute,” she agreed.

  “Let’s go show your dad,” Riley said. “I’ll give you a piggyback. Giddyup! Look, Mom! I’m Tessie’s horse!”

  “She my horse!” Tess confirmed, hugging Riley’s neck tightly.

  My heart swelled with love for my girl. Once, I’d been so afraid she’d reject me when she became a teenager (and there was still time). When she was tiny, I was afraid I’d love her less as she grew out of her infancy, toddler years, little-kid years.

  It hadn’t happened. Every day, I loved her more. Every single day.

  “Get that look off your face, you big softy,” Riley said.

  When we found Miller, his jaw dropped. “Tess! You look so pretty! And clean!”

  “I’m going to find the boys,” Riley said.

  “I come, too,” Tess said.

  “Okay. You have to hold my hand, though,” Riley said.

  Off they went, looking damn adorable.

  “I can’t . . . I don’t know how she does it. Riley. She’s so good with her,” Miller said.

  “She loves little kids.”

  “You do, too,” he said. “That thing you did with her straps so they wouldn’t fall down, and combing her hair . . . She won’t let me near her with a brush.”

  I patted his arm. “I have the advantage of being a glamorous stranger.”

  He smiled a little. “How do you learn all that stuff?”

  “You just do it. Dr. Spock says you know more than you think you do about taking care of your kid. And it gets easier when they learn to talk about how they’re feeling. Tess is bright. It won’t be long.”

  “I hope you’re right.” He glanced at me. “You hungry?”

  We
got some food and sat at a table, swatting the occasional mosquito as we ate. It seemed that every time we started to talk about something, someone would do a double take when they saw Miller, and say, “So good to see you!” or “How are you?” or “You look wonderful!”

  “Sorry everyone’s giving me the Sad Widower treatment,” he said after one woman had hugged him a little too long.

  “They’re glad to see you,” I said.

  “I don’t get out a lot. Grocery shopping is the height of my social life.”

  “Don’t knock it. I worked at a grocery store for years. It was my lifeline to the real world.”

  He laughed a little, and my heart squeezed.

  I really liked this guy.

  When the fireworks started, we found the kids, all sitting on a blanket, Tess sitting on Riley’s lap, Rav flanked by Duncan and Owen. All of them gazed up at the sky over the Sound as the fireworks lit up the night, and truly, if there was a more perfect moment, I didn’t know what it was . . . those five kids, all still young enough to be awed by the fireworks, their faces perfect in the glow.

  Afterward, the guests started to leave, all of them stopping to thank Genevieve, who stood there like the queen. I chatted with some of the guests, most of whom mentioned how lovely Riley was, with which I fully concurred.

  I waved to the Talwar family as they walked past. Saanvi indicated that I should call her, and I nodded and smiled. Rav waved, too. He seemed like a sweet kid. Miller emerged from the crowd, Tess wriggling like an otter in his arms, whining. His hair ruffled in the breeze.

  “You want to have that dinner tomorrow?” Miller asked over Tess’s complaints. “Kimmy said she’d babysit. I meant to ask earlier, but things got a little backed up at work.”

  I was glad he said so, since I’d been wondering when he was going to make good on that invitation.

  “I’d love to have dinner,” I said.

  “No! No dinner!” Tess said. “I hate dinner!”

  “You’re not coming,” Miller said, wincing slightly as she caught him in the side of his head with her elbow. “Just Emma and me.” The corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile, and there it was again, that warm squeeze of attraction. It had been a long, long time.

  “I better get this one home,” he said.

  “No! Not home, Daddy! We not leaving!”

  He ignored her despite her struggles. He just held on tight and kept looking at me, that faint smile on his lips.

  God. There was something about him.

  Just then, Jason came bounding up. “Left off the invite list to the biggest party in town yet again,” he said with a grin. “Keeping my record pure, at least. How were the boys?”

  “From what I saw, they were great,” I said.

  “Is it okay if I leave them with you and Riley tomorrow?” he said. “I have to do something.”

  “Um . . . actually, I have plans tomorrow. And they’ve been here since four.”

  “Right. Hey, can we talk for a sec?”

  He hadn’t acknowledged his cousin yet. “Sure,” I said. “Miller, it was great seeing you. Bye, Tess! Can I give you a hug?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” I knew better than to ask a child to accept physical contact if she didn’t want to. “It was fun playing with you.”

  She let out a wail that made my bone marrow vibrate. Miller gave us a nod and left, Tess writhing as if she were on fire. “Daddy, you hurt me! You hurting me, Daddy!”

  “Jesus, that kid,” Jason said.

  “She’s going through a rough stage,” I said, feeling protective of the little demon.

  “Yeah, well, at least Riley never did.”

  “Not that you would’ve known.”

  He pulled back, wounded. “That’s not fair. I was there as much as I could be, and a hell of a lot more than most guys would’ve been.”

  “You’re right. Where’s that medal I’ve been meaning to give you?” I pretended to pat down my pockets.

  “What’s gotten into you?” he asked.

  “You’re very judgmental about Tess, and Miller’s your cousin. You could be nicer.”

  “You’ve always had a thing for him, haven’t you?”

  “No, Jason, I never did. But I can recognize that he’s heartbroken and lonely and exhausted, and his family seems to do jack shit for him.”

  “Okay, fine, whatever. Listen,” Jason said. “Jamilah and I are trying to get back together. I wanted to take her out for dinner, you know? Can you please help out? I mean, Riley can watch them here, right? There’s a whole staff in this place, plus Genevieve.”

  My spine stiffened. “Genevieve’s staff is not a fleet of babysitters, Jason. They’re all well past sixty. She’s made it clear the boys are welcome to visit, but they’re little and pretty wild themselves. If you want to ask Genevieve yourself, go right ahead.”

  “I don’t want to talk to her. She hates me.”

  “Well, I can’t give you permission. It’s not mine to give.”

  “So you’re mad, is that it? Because Jamilah and I are getting back together?”

  I counted to three, then five, then ten. “I wasn’t aware that you were getting back together, for one, and for two, why would I be mad about that?” The honest answer was because, from what I’d observed, Jamilah deserved better, but I didn’t voice that opinion.

  “Because you’ve always hoped we’d end up together. You said so.”

  “That dream died when I was about twenty-three, Jason.”

  My grandmother glided over, wearing white silk pants (at a picnic, really showing off), a yellow blouse and a peach-and-yellow-floral-printed summer cardigan. “Jason,” she said in that regal, frosty tone. “I wasn’t aware you were here. Let me have someone fetch your boys so you can leave.”

  Man, she was good.

  “Hi, Mrs. London, nice to see you, too.”

  “Did I say it was nice to see you? I don’t recall saying that.”

  “You didn’t,” I said.

  “Genevieve,” Jason began.

  “Mrs. London will do nicely,” she said.

  “Mrs. London, would it be all right if my boys came over tomorrow night and hung out with Riley?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Your sons are lovely and well mannered. Your wife is to be commended on raising them so well.”

  “Yeah, well, I did have a little something to do with that,” he said, smiling. His charm didn’t work.

  “I’m sure you think so,” Genevieve said. Boom! “Emma, dear, come with me, would you? I don’t think you had a chance to chat with Amy and Anne. Good night, Jason. The boys will be right over.”

  Emma, dear. She hadn’t called me that since I was eighteen. As we left Jason behind us, I said, “You know, Gigi, you do have your moments.”

  “Thank you for noticing,” she said. “Ah, there they are. Owen, Duncan, your father is waiting for you by the wisteria bower. Riley, darling, would you be so kind as to escort them?”

  “Boys, please let me escort you,” she said, taking their hands as they giggled and tugged at her. Gigi and I watched them go.

  “That girl is absolutely lovely, Emma,” she said.

  My mouth dropped open. “Thank you,” I managed.

  “Well. Don’t just stand there. Anne and Amy are waiting. You have something on your shirt, by the way. Perhaps someday you’ll learn to eat without soiling yourself.”

  But the words were said without the usual bite. With a faint smile, I followed her across the lawn to meet her friends.

  CHAPTER 29

  Riley

  After Mom and Mrs. Talwar had, like, eleven conversations, Rav and I finally got permission to ride our bikes out to Birch Lake with instructions not to go swimming, since there were no lifeguards there. Which was ridiculous, because it was a perfect spot for
swimming. But it was a state park or something, and budget cuts, the usual.

  Rav and I both had backpacks on; mine had sunscreen (try being the color of milk in the summer), two bottles of water, two turkey sandwiches I made while Helga glared, and a couple of apples. He had a blanket in his, and some food his mom had packed. We’d had dinner at his house the other night, Gigi, Donelle, Mom and me, and man, it was fantastic. I wished we were Indian. The food was incredible.

  The weather was perfect again; it had been muggy for days, but a thunderstorm last night cleared everything out, and the air was dry, which was great, because when it was humid, the mosquitoes found me like I was painted in blood.

  We rode across town, away from the shore, taking the roads our mothers had mapped out like we were going to Mecca or something. The entrance to Birch Lake was a wide dirt road; the parking area was about ten yards down, so everyone had to walk down a path to get to the actual water.

  Rav and I locked our bikes together.

  He was nice. And cute. And almost as tall as I was. His eyes were so brown they were almost black, and his eyelashes were insanely long. But he was fifteen (and ten months) and I was sixteen (and seven months). I was going to be a senior; he was going to be a sophomore. When we’d been with other people, the age difference didn’t seem to matter. Right now, it did.

  “It’s pretty out here, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Do you come here a lot?”

  “Not really,” he said with a shrug. “My parents aren’t outdoorsy.”

  “Do you like being an only child?” I asked.

  “Yeah! I mean, I don’t know what it’s like not to be, so I better like it, right? Do you?”

  “I’m not an only child. But I guess I sort of am.”

  “Is it weird, having brothers who live so far away?”

  “Yeah. But it’s nice. They worship me.” I gave him a sideways glance.

  “Of course they do.” He smiled.

  Crap. I liked-liked him. My first crush ever, and on a younger man.

  “So show me where this kid disappeared,” he said.

  That, of course, was why we were here. To track Great-Uncle Sheppard’s last known location.