Old Fashioned

by Steiner, Kandi

  It melted my heart to see them together.

  Jordan had been so comfortable with Paige from the start, and she was the same with him. It was like they were best friends from the very moment they spoke in the park. Paige counted down the days until she could spend an afternoon in the backyard running football drills with Jordan, and he never seemed to mind her stealing a Saturday of his. In fact, if I had to put money on it, I’d say he looked forward to it just as much as she did.

  My stomach soured as Randy floated into my mind, as he still tended to do, this time as I compared his relationship with Paige to the one Jordan was building. It wasn’t that he and Paige weren’t close, or that Paige didn’t look up to him and love him dearly, but I couldn’t help but note that they’d never spent time together the way she and Jordan had. Randy had always put work first, from the very moment he was promoted to Chief of Police, and Paige and I had taken the backseat willingly, lovingly, with understanding and grace.

  I wondered what they did when he had her for half the week.

  I always did my best not to pry, not to ask her about her father when I already knew we’d put her in a tough position being the daughter of divorce. And, to Paige’s credit, she never volunteered what they did. It made me wonder if she ever talked about our time together, or if she kept that between us, too.

  She was a tough kid, and though I knew the divorce had affected her, she was the kind who wanted to handle it on her own. We almost never talked about it, or about her dad, or about how things used to be.

  Paige was a survivor, and she looked forward, with her eyes on the brighter horizon, always.

  My mind was still spinning when I sat next to Jordan on the couch, eyes blurring on the television screen with a football game on that I really couldn’t have cared less about. Instead, I sipped the wine I’d traded in my champagne for, thinking about Randy, about my own father, and eventually, about Jordan’s.

  When I’d been at his house Monday night, not even a week ago, he’d revealed a secret to me that no one else in this town knew — one only he and his brothers shared. I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since then, because while I was digesting what he’d told me about what they’d found at the distillery, I was also digging through my foggy memory, straining to recall what I had heard that night.

  It had been late by the time Randy had come home — to this home, our new home at the time, one we’d bought with the help of his parents and my own when I’d come home from college earlier that summer. I wasn’t even a full two months’ pregnant with Paige, but I remembered holding onto my belly when I tiptoed down the stairs, pausing when I heard his hushed voice on the phone with someone in the kitchen.

  The fire had been all anyone could talk about, all the local news could show that evening, and there was little information getting out. To this day, I’d never known what made me stop and listen at the foot of those stairs for a while before I made my way down the hall and into the kitchen.

  Randy had ended the call quickly, and though he’d tried to smile and be gentle with me at first, his anger showed the more questions I asked.

  He assured me it was an accident, that I was crazy, that it was started by a cigarette and they’d be closing up the case easily. He growled at my questions, when I asked how a cigarette could have started such a fire without John Becker noticing and being able to get out. Was he sleeping? I’d asked. Was the door locked? How was he the only one to perish?

  That hadn’t been the first night my husband had raised his hand to me.

  But it had been the first time he’d let it fall.

  He’d told me to mind my business, reminded me that I knew nothing about what was going on and that I was better suited to tend to our home life.

  He’d said I was crazy, and I remembered that clearly because it was the first time he’d said it, but it wouldn’t be the last.

  What I didn’t fully remember was why he’d said it in the first place, why he was struggling to explain himself, getting angry with the more questions I asked.

  The memory was foggy, but every now and then, when the smoke cleared, I swore I remembered holding my daughter where she slept in my belly, my heart racing out of my chest.

  And my husband’s hushed voice in our kitchen whispering something about homicide.

  Jordan

  On the Thursday before our final playoff game — the game that would determine if we went to fight for the championship — I rallied up the boys, got them ready for practice, and sent them out on the field to work drills with Coach Pascucci and Coach TK.

  “Sydney,” I said, eyes on my clipboard as I made my way to my office. Everyone else was making their way outside. “A word in my office?”

  I kept my face neutral, though my neck was hot, and no one suspected a thing as I continued on to my office without checking to see if she followed. The coaches were already on their way out, and the boys shuffled out behind them, their energy palpable with so much riding on tomorrow night’s game.

  I sat in my chair, and when Sydney entered the office, I told her to close the door behind her without looking up.

  When she did, and we were alone, I dropped my clipboard, stood, and rushed to her.

  She was in my arms in the next breath, giggling and whispering for me to get off her as I kissed up and down her neck, over her chin and jaw, her cheeks, before I claimed her lips and silenced her protests.

  “Are you mad?” she whispered, but she was still smiling.

  “Crazy about you, that’s for sure.”

  I continued my assault of kisses, but she pressed one hand into my chest and shoved, putting space between us.

  “Do you actually have something you need to see me about, or did you just interrupt work to make out?”

  “Is both a reasonable answer?”

  She rolled her eyes, but her smile was light and playful.

  I gestured for her to sit, and then I leaned my ass on the edge of my desk, folding my hands in my lap as I looked down at her. The longer the silence passed between us, the more my heart raced in my chest.

  “What?” she asked when I didn’t say anything. Then, her smile slipped. “Oh, God. Did something bad happen?”

  “No, no,” I assured her, shaking my head, but the words were still lodged in my throat. I was equal parts excited and terrified over what I wanted to ask her. “Do you have plans for Thanksgiving next week?”

  Sydney blinked, brows folding together in confusion. “Um… well, I have Paige. But, we’re not going anywhere, just staying home, doing a little dinner with the two of us.”

  “Come to Thanksgiving at my house, instead.” I paused. “My mom’s house.”

  Sydney’s eyes shot wide, her skin paling, lips parting in shock.

  “Hear me out,” I said before she could answer. “Mom loves having a big Thanksgiving, and everyone will be in town since the wedding is the Saturday after. Paige will have me and my brothers to watch football with, and you could meet everyone before…” I swallowed. “Noah knows I have a plus one to the wedding, but I haven’t told him who it is yet. And I just thought…”

  Sydney’s expression morphed slowly into a soft smile. “Jordan, I’d love to join you and your family for the holiday.”

  “Really?” I let out a long, relieved breath.

  She nodded. “Yes. But… can we just…”

  She paused, standing and moving until she was between my legs, and my hands moved to her hips instinctively while her own pressed into my chest.

  “For now… can we just tell everyone we’re friends?”

  My shoulders sagged.

  “Not for much longer,” she said quickly. “I just… I want to talk to Paige first, and with playoffs in full swing right now, and the holiday, and the wedding… it’s just a lot.” She swallowed. “I also think I need to tell Randy. He needs to hear it from me.”

  “You don’t owe him anything.”

  “I know, but… it might save some drama in the long run.” She
shook her head. “I’m scared, for many reasons, and I know it’s asking a lot of you, I know this was my part of the deal, but… I’m asking, anyway. I need a little more time. Okay?”

  The next breath that came through my nose was short and hot, but I nodded, though my chest was tight. “Okay,” I agreed. “But, if I’m being honest, I don’t think my family will buy it.”

  She smirked at that, lacing her arms around my neck and pressing a kiss to my chin. “I don’t think so, either. But, I appreciate you letting me do this the way I need to. I’ll talk to Paige as soon as we make it through this busy time, okay? And then…”

  “And then you’ll be mine.”

  Her brown eyes searched mine, and she shook her head, pressing up on her toes to kiss me long and slow before she whispered, “I already am.”s

  Jordan

  “No, Betty, you’re supposed to break the wish bone with someone,” Ruby Grace explained to Betty Collins, who was holding both sides of a broken turkey bone in her hands. “And whoever gets the bigger piece is the one who gets the wish.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I broke it on my own — better odds that way.” She pointed the bigger piece of the bone at Ruby Grace. “That’s just simple math, sweetheart.”

  Betty was a feisty old woman who’d been brought into our life courtesy of Ruby Grace and her time at the nursing home. She and Mom had become fast and furious friends, and she quickly became part of our family.

  Ruby Grace rolled her eyes, but smiled still, taking the pieces of bone from Betty to toss out before she continued working on the stuffing she was making.

  Mom had been trying to shoo her out of the kitchen all morning, repeatedly pointing out that Ruby Grace was a bride-to-be and should be relaxing two days before her wedding — not cooking. But Ruby Grace insisted she wanted to be in the kitchen, and Mallory and Kylie were helping, too.

  I’d never seen Mom so frazzled at a Thanksgiving before. The poor woman didn’t know what to do when she had actual help in the kitchen.

  “Can I help with anything, Mrs. Becker?” Sydney asked, already reaching for a knife where sweet potatoes were waiting to be diced up for the casserole.

  Mom swatted her hand away, and then instantly reddened, covering her mouth with wide eyes. “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry. I just…”

  I chuckled, grabbing my mom by the shoulders with a tender squeeze. “Why don’t you come hang out with your sons in the living room and let the ladies work? I can’t remember the last time you took a Thanksgiving off.”

  Her bottom lip trembled, and Sydney glanced at me with caring concern before she smiled at my mom. “You know what? I would actually love a little tour of your garden, if you wouldn’t mind? I saw the beautiful violas and pansies out front, and Jordan said you have a garden in the back.”

  Mom shifted her weight, glancing up at me before a small smile bloomed on her face. “That’s where all the squash came from, and the pumpkin.”

  “You have a pumpkin patch?” Sydney shook her head. “Now you have to show me.”

  At that, a genuine smile found Mom’s lips, and she patted Mallory on the back. “Alright. You ladies let me know if you need me, I’m going to take Sydney for a garden tour.”

  They all smiled at her, and I mouthed thank you to Sydney as they passed by me, headed out the front door.

  As soon as Sydney was gone, all four pairs of female eyes were on me.

  I inwardly groaned, knowing this was coming. Mom hadn’t said much when I asked if Sydney and Paige could join us for the holiday. I’d proposed it under the pretense that it was Paige’s first Thanksgiving since the divorce, and that Sydney’s family lived in Texas, and that we had grown a friendship since she started working for the school. I’d mentioned how I’d been training Paige for football camp next summer, and that I knew they’d fit right in.

  I knew Mom didn’t buy my story, but she’d smiled knowingly and not asked a single question — bless her.

  My brothers’ significant others and Mrs. Betty Collins on the other hand…

  “So,” Kylie said, one eyebrow cocked. “Seems Mikey and I have missed a lot since our move to New York. Care to fill us in?”

  Mallory and Ruby Grace exchanged looks before their smiles grew, Betty tapped a dirty spoon on the palm of her hand, and all of them waited for me to answer.

  Just then, a roar of cheers and groans came from the living room.

  I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Sounds like the game’s getting good, I better go see.”

  “Jordan Becker!” Ruby Grace chided, throwing the top of a cut up celery stalk at me. “Don’t you dare leave without spilling the tea.”

  I dodged the greenery and smiled, making a notion like my lips were sealed before I ducked out of the kitchen to the tune of four dramatic huffs.

  I chuckled, knowing they would all be in there going crazy trying to figure out what Sydney and I were, but they knew by now that I was not the kiss-and-tell type. I wasn’t the anything-and-tell type. I preferred to keep my private life just that — private.

  At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

  I rounded into the dining room, glancing out the front door where Sydney stood in the front yard with my mom. Mama was bent down, showcasing something as Sydney leaned over and nodded, her brows pinched in concentration.

  And my heart pinched at the sight.

  That’s when I realized that while it wasn’t out of the ordinary that I didn’t want to talk to the girls about Sydney, that wasn’t what had my chest tight.

  It was that I wanted to talk about her.

  Hell, I wanted to talk to everyone about the woman, and that was completely opposite of who I’d always been. The truth was if I had it my way, I’d likely talk more than I had in my entire life if I had the chance to tell someone, anyone, about the time Sydney and I had spent together.

  But here we were, two months in, and the truth was I didn’t know where we stood.

  Until I met Sydney, I’d avoided dating with the general consensus that love was dangerous, and when you engaged in a relationship with someone, you put yourself and, maybe more importantly, them at risk. I’d watched my friends’ parents go through divorce, watched my brothers break hearts and even get theirs broken in return, and above it all, I’d seen the unbreakable love my parents shared shattered by tragedy.

  And maybe deep down, I’d always been afraid I wouldn’t know what to do if I ever found “the right woman.” I didn’t know if I could treat her the way my father had treated my mother, if I could put her first, be patient and caring and kind.

  With Sydney, it was effortless.

  I treated her like gold because in my eyes she was. I didn’t have to try to care about her, to put her first, to love her.

  I did it all because it was as if there was no other choice, and all my life I’d been preparing for this moment with her.

  My chest tightened again, because though I was fairly certain that I wouldn’t be the one to hurt her, I didn’t have a shred of assurance that she wouldn’t do the same to me. Not because she wanted to — but because I swung into her life when I knew things were complicated, when I knew she wasn’t ready, and when I knew we had an army of circumstance working against us.

  That afternoon in her backyard, she told me what she could give me, and what she couldn’t.

  When I asked her to join us for Thanksgiving, she’d asked me for more time.

  And now, it was two days before Noah’s wedding, and we hadn’t come back to that conversation to discuss her part of the deal.

  I’d done what she needed me to do — stayed quiet, kept our relationship a secret, respected the boundaries she’d put in place. She assured me the time was coming, that she needed to do it her way, and I believed her.

  But I wanted her so badly I couldn’t bear the weight of not knowing if she felt the same way I did any longer.

  And I knew I had to ask her tonight — before the wedding, before I had the chance to fall any further.


  Though I knew in my gut it was already too late.

  Another roar came from the group in the living room, and it shook me out of my daze. I chanced one last glance at my mother and Sydney together before I leaned over the back of the couch where Noah and Mikey sat. Logan was in Dad’s old recliner.

  And Paige was smack dab in the middle of the floor, sitting on her knees, eyes glued to the television.

  “I told you the Cowboys didn’t have a chance against the Bills’ defense,” she said, looking pointedly over her shoulder at Noah. “This isn’t 2007.”

  “Were you even alive in 2007?” Mikey asked.

  Paige turned back to the TV with a flick of her wild, wavy hair that had me stifling a laugh. “Doesn’t matter if I was or not. I clearly know more about football than any of you do.”

  Noah’s mouth popped open, him and Mikey exchanging glances before they looked over their shoulders and up at me.

  Logan chuckled. “I like this kid.”

  “Me, too,” I said, and Paige smiled back at me with pride.

  A battle of emotions roared on inside me as the cheers roared on at the AT&T Stadium. I both loved having Sydney and Paige at my mother’s house for Thanksgiving and loathed it, because I’d never brought anyone home with me before, and because they fit in like they’d always been here, and because I knew without having to ask that my mom was already falling in love with Sydney — her heart easier to win than my own — and that my brothers would already go to war to protect Paige, if they had to.

  It was the weekend before my brother’s wedding, and we were all gathered in the same place for the first time in months — Mikey and Kylie home from New York, Ruby Grace no longer separated from Noah with her AmeriCorps contract, and Mallory and Logan closer than ever with a baby on the way. Mom was at the head of it all, watching her family grow, and all the while, I thought I’d been flying under the radar, watching from a distance with nothing to add but a hug or a small piece of advice from time to time.