by L. B. Dunbar
“You get settled, and then I’ll come to you,” I tell her.
She quiets a little. “You know, I don’t expect…I wouldn’t ask you to come here all the time, but I just can’t—”
“I’m not worried about making this equal travel or wherever your pretty little head is taking this. We’ll work it out. I promise.”
“I just don’t want to take advantage of you. If it ever becomes too much or you can’t see yourself handling the baby, just…please…be honest and let me know your feelings. I’ll understand. I will.”
What’s she saying?
“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Go get your baby and your crib and your diapers. You’ll be rethinking those diaper changes at two in the morning when you haven’t had any sleep.” I scoff, hoping to lighten the mood. “And call me tonight.”
“I love you,” she says breathlessly through the phone, and for the length of those three words, I actually believe we’ll be all right.
“I love you, too, Cricket.”
+ + +
“What’s up with you?” Billy guffaws, pounding me on the back while we hang out on Thanksgiving Day at my parents’. Elaina Harrington is in full force when her family gathers, and nothing is forgotten. Food. Beer. Desserts. I’m stuffed from overeating and a little heartsick without Letty present. The focal point of this holiday is the newest addition to our family, Christopher Jaxson Rathstone, Mati’s grandson. CJ’s adorable, and Mati gloats about another boy when all us brothers only have girls. Baby talk seems to be surrounding me lately, and I’m suffocating.
“Nothing,” I snap, lifting another beer to my lips.
“Uh-huh. Trophy Room. Now.” Billy brushes past me and walks down the back hall from the living room to a room off the garage. It’s a silly name for a room, but the enormous shelving unit once held all our sports’ trophies and contest ribbons, along with our high school senior pictures. Board games and gaming systems were stored in the cabinets below the shelves, and a large screen television sits in the center opening. Eventually, wedding pictures replaced the trophies, along with framed images of all the grandbabies. This room was our man cave as teenagers, conveniently located off the garage so we could sneak out, stash beer, or bring a girl into the house undetected.
“Talk,” Billy demands, and I want to tell him to mind his own fucking business. He’s been just as ornery today.
“Letty got a baby.”
Billy’s eyes widen so big I think they’ll pop out of their sockets. “She was pregnant?”
“No, idiot.” I swipe a hand over my beard. “She adopted a baby. And you’re catching flies.” His mouth remains open, gaping in disbelief.
“Did you know about this?” he asks, his lips slowly closing.
“Of course.” I sigh.
“And you aren’t happy?”
I lower to the old leather couch that has seen better days and its fair share of naked Harrington ass on it. “I’m happy for her. Thrilled. This is what she wants.”
“But…?” He rolls a finger, encouraging me to tell him more.
“I just…I hoped we’d have some time together. Long distance is hard enough. Actually, I was hoping to convince her to move here, but now with the baby thing, she can’t leave Illinois for at least six months. Maybe longer.”
“It’s not a thing,” Billy retorts, and I’m about to tell him he knows what I mean, but he doesn’t. Billy and his ex-wife, Rachel, never had children. I briefly explain the adoption process and restrictions. “I don’t think I see the big deal. Put a ring on her and get her down here in six months.”
I chuckle and scrub a hand over my jaw, stroking my thick scruff. “Doesn’t it seem a little fast? It’s hardly been three months.”
“Is there a time limit on these things?” Billy finally lowers to a chair opposite me, reminding me of what my sister said a few weeks ago. Billy and I both married our high school sweethearts for different reasons. Billy had stars in his eyes over Rachel. They were that image of a perfect couple: Homecoming king and queen, most likely to live here forever. He wanted to have sex with her, and she held out until their wedding night.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“Look, I’m not the man to offer advice about love.” He scoffs. “But I’d have to say if the timing is right now, there’s nothing wrong with acting on it.” This is Billy’s philosophy on life. Since his wife left, he’s been living in the moment, screwing just about everything crossing his path for the past sixteen years. He’s out of control, but he’s my brother, and I love him.
“I just don’t know.”
“What don’t you know? I already told you that if you make her happy, you’ll be happy. If she wants the baby, accept the baby.” His voice lowers as he speaks, and he turns a little ashen.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I gotta thing…but we aren’t talking about me.”
“Did you get someone pregnant?” I sit up a little straighter.
“Not exactly,” he says lowering his head and squeezing his hands together. Then his elbows hit his thighs, and he covers his face with his hands.
“What did you do?” I hiss.
“I… I’m a father.”
“To who?”
“She’s sixteen.”
“You got a sixteen-year-old pregnant? What the fuck?” I feel a little sick to my stomach.
“That’s how it happened.” He chuckles. “And I mean the child is sixteen, not the mother, dumbass.”
“William Forrest,” I reprimand. “This isn’t a joke.”
“Do I look like I’m laughing?” He lowers his hands from his face.
He doesn’t, actually. He looks sick to his stomach. “How? When? What? Who?”
“It’s a long story, so let’s finish yours first,” he says. On that note, Charlie enters the room. He smiles big and bright at me.
“Man, the memories in here.” He chuckles. “What are you two doing back here?”
“Hiding out,” Billy mutters.
“Billy’s a dad,” I reply.
“What the fuck, Giant?” Billy snorts, looking up to glare at me.
“What the hell?” Charlie asks, staring down at our brother.
“It’s a long story, okay, and we’re in here for Giant, not me. He’s the one questioning if he wants to be a dad again.”
“I am not.”
“Who did you get pregnant?” Charlie asks, turning on me.
“No one. Letty adopted a baby.”
And damn Charlie, he smiles. “Well, alright.” Charlie knows the details as I’ve already spoken to him about the legality of adopting in Georgia, should I convince Letty to move here.
“She can’t leave Illinois for six months.” I stare at my brother, but he doesn’t acknowledge the concern in my voice.
“And you won’t see her until then?” His brows pinch in question.
“No,” I begin. “I plan to still see her.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Charlie asks. He’s the family member who understands a long-distance relationship as his ex-wife lived in New York while he was here. It didn’t end well for them.
“See?” Billy mocks as though he’s an authority on advice. “Win-win.”
“No win-win. I want Letty here, and she can’t be.” I sit up straighter as my voice roughens.
“For six months,” Charlie clarifies. “That’s nothing. The bigger question is, do you want a woman with a baby? A newborn, Giant. Your girls are in their late twenties. You have grandchildren already. Are you willing to start over again?”
Am I? I mean, I want Letty, sure, and I’ll take all that comes with her, but a baby?
“Why is this suddenly so hard for me?” I whisper.
“Guilt,” Charlie mutters. He’s not wrong. Guilt pecks at me because of my girls. I wasn’t there for them as babies, hardly as toddlers, and emotionally distant while they were teens. I’ve done it all wrong with them. “But it will pass, Giant.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t know what any of this means. Do I ask her to move in? Should we get married? Do I adopt the baby?”
“Don’t you think that’s a little fast?” Billy snaps.
“You’re the one who just told me there wasn’t a timeline and to put a ring on her.”
“I mean, don’t you think you should talk to her before assuming she’ll do any of those things. Like marry you, for one.”
He’s right, and my shoulders slump. Maybe she doesn’t want to get married. Maybe she just wants a baby. She’s told me over and over she isn’t looking for any commitment from me. My girls tell me plenty of women do this nowadays. Single mom power without the hassle of a husband. Still, Letty seems like she’d like a partner. She’s told me love and marriage, children and happily ever after.
Charlie laughs. “Giant, you should see your face. I’ve never seen you so love-sick and forlorn all in one expression. You’re normally so brooding. I’m Giant. Don’t talk to me.” Charlie throws his voice to sound deep and rough as he mocks me.
“Now, he’s all I’m in love with Letty,” Billy teases with a feminine twist.
The door to the Trophy Room opens, and our father leans in, holding the doorknob. “You boys might want to come out here before your mother finds you.” He winks, as this is something he’d say when he caught us drinking in this room or a girl under one of us. James was the main culprit in his day, and I suddenly feel the loss of him.
“Coming,” Charlie says, always the kiss-up, always the good kid. He’s a politician, so it’s in his nature.
“Seems coming is the problem,” Billy mutters as he stands from his seat.
“Only for you,” I say, standing as well and wrapping a hand around the nape of his neck, tenderly shoving him forward. We all walk out of the room with laughter on our lips but questions in our hearts.
The crowning moment to the holiday is when my nephew proposes to his girlfriend, who just had their son. He gives a toast, acknowledging our dad for his beer-crafting skills and then...
“And to Hollilyn, the mother of my child. Who could have predicted this is how it would end?”
Who could predict, I think—a woman demands I sell her my land and then follows me up a mountain to go camping?
Jaxson nods to his son in Hollilyn’s arms, and she pinkens. Their son is the result of a one-night stand that turned into many nights thereafter.
Would it be so bad to have another baby? Would Letty want to share him with me?
“But if I could have known the path would lead me here, I would do it all over again. I only wish I’d met you sooner, so I hope I’m not too late to ask.”
If we could only know where life would lead.
If only I’d met her sooner… I dismiss the thought. I loved Clara, but I want Letty in a way beyond what I felt with my wife.
Jaxson lowers to his knee before the overstuffed chair where Hollilyn sits, and she breaks into tears. Mati gasps as we all see what’s coming next.
“Will you be my wife and share the rest of my nights with me?”
Hollilyn struggles to stand from her seat, and Mati’s man, Denton, pops up to take the baby from her arms. With another hand, he helps her stand while Hollilyn nods and nods.
“Don’t do it,” Billy whispers, and I knock him in the back of the head from where I stand behind him. He’s seated on the couch next to my sister.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Hollilyn says, staring down at the ring Jax holds up to her. Jaxson murmurs something to her, and she pulls back to give him a kiss, which deepens rather quickly.
“That’s how they got in trouble in the first place,” Billy says, and Charlie laughs next to me.
“Jaxson,” Mati snaps, clapping her hands once as if that will break them apart. She sounds every bit like our mother.
“As if you don’t kiss him like that,” Billy mutters to Mati implying Denton, and Charlie snorts.
I know someone I’d like to kiss like that, and I hope I’m not too late.
30
Gratitude
[Letty]
When I try to explain to my sister that being a mother overnight feels strange, she tells me it’s because I didn’t have the nearly ten months of incubation of the baby in my stomach. I hate her a little more.
The nurses said I should talk to the baby, but babies don’t verbally respond, so I spend all day speaking to myself.
Then there’s this whole switch to calling myself mom. Mommy has been even harder.
“Mommy loves you.” I stare at my beautiful boy rocking in the baby swing, relieved he finally stopped crying. I lie on the couch on my side, watching him tick-tock back and forth. I’m so tired, but I feel wired. I wonder if he knows I’m not his biological mother. Does he wonder where his birth mother is? Does he know she left him? I worry she’ll show up one day to reclaim him. The agency warns against sudden attachment, yet Dayna says it’s important to form an immediate bond. What does she know about children, though? Her boys are as distant from her as if they weren’t her kids.
The agency cleared the baby of all initial medical concerns. They thought he might have a heart murmur and ran a bunch of tests. Heart surgery would have been imminent, but the diagnosis passed. Now, I just need to look for typical milestones of development. I’m already an anxious mess. It’s been a rough couple of days, and I’ve been tackling most of it on my own. I skipped the family tradition of gathering for Thanksgiving. I can’t remember when I last ate a meal. My eyes are drifting shut when there’s a knock on my door. I will myself not to answer it. No one’s home, I want to say, but instead, I get up, hopeful it might be a family member deciding to visit me.
I peek through the peephole and then whip open the door.
“Giant,” I hush-whisper, staring at him in disbelief. I must be dreaming. I’ve gone delusional. I’m hallucinating.
“Cricket?” The moment he says my name in question, I leap for him. Oh my God, he feels so good as my arms loop around his neck, and I tug him tighter to me. I melt into his embrace, inhaling his neck, addicted to his scent. Then I remember I can’t recall when I last showered.
“Oh my gosh, Giant. What are you doing here?” I pull back from him, my voice rising, and then the baby cries. My shoulders fall. Well, that was only a hot minute. Giant chuckles and steps inside, closing the door behind him. I continue to stare. He should be home with his family. “It’s Thanksgiving.”
“Actually, that was yesterday,” he teases, and I look toward my windows. It’s been dark and gloomy for the past two days, and with the lack of sleep, I guess the days have run together. I swipe a hand over my hair—finding it greasy—as Giant watches me. I’m a mess. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever set eyes on.”
I should cry.
I want to cry.
I’m too tired to cry.
He steps up to me, hugging me again quickly before pulling back and walking over to the baby swing. He stops a step before it and stares down at my son. How weird is that to say?
“He’s—”
“He’s biracial,” I interject, and Giant turns to me, brows pinched in question at the sharpness of my voice. I’m sensitive because of the high-pitched surprise in the voices of my mother and Dayna, their judgment apparent.
“I was going to say he’s a king of kings,” he states. His brows remain pinched, but a grin spreads on his face.
“I’m sorry.” I fold down to the couch. I’ll need to get used to reactions without sounding defensive, but the disapproval from my mother and sister has eaten at me for days. I don’t see skin color. In fact, I didn’t make any specifications on my adoption request. I wanted a healthy baby boy. I wanted a child, any child who had an economic disadvantage so I could give him all the love he deserved, which is why I registered with the foster system.
“My family hasn’t been very accepting.” His skin is a rich tawny color with eyes a deep onyx. His hair is as dark as fresh-tilled soil after rain. He’s beautiful, and I already love him. “His
birth mother is Latino; his father African American.” The liaison knew this information from birth records in the hospital where Finn was deserted. I shrug. I don’t care about any of that. “His name is Finnikin. Finn for short.”
Giant squats before Finn who has stopped fussing even though our voices woke him and the swing stopped moving. “Can I pick him up?” He looks at me over his shoulder, and my heart weeps.
“Of course.” The new mom in me wants to tell him how to pick up a baby—support the head, hold the back—but then I remember he has children and grandbabies. He knows how to handle a baby, and at three months, Finn already has more strength than I expected. Giant scoops Finn out of the seat and stands, spinning to face me. The baby looks so small in his large hands, and then Giant cradles him in the crook of his elbow. I’m speechless as my ovaries explode. I didn’t need them anyway, I tell myself as the man I love holds my baby to his chest. Finn seems mesmerized by Giant’s warmth or heartbeat or something.
“He’s quiet,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief and frustration.
“Sometimes they need a fresh set of arms,” he says, the expert father. “Clara used to get so mad when the girls cried all the time, and then a family member would come over, and they’d be angels.” Giant’s head lifts, and he looks at me. I can’t decide if he’s worried at the mention of her or concerned at the state of me. I brush back loose hair near my face.
“I haven’t showered.” Lately.
“When’s the last time you slept?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Go shower. I’ve got him for a few minutes.”
My eyes narrow. “You spent days with me in a tent without running water,” I snap, implying we didn’t exactly bathe while camping.
“Yeah, but then you smelled like me, not baby spit-up.” He winks, and I want to snap again, but instead, my shoulders fall. I’m failing at this mother thing. “Come here.” He tips his head, so I stand and walk over to him where he spreads out his other arm and pulls me to him. He kisses my forehead. “I love you.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper, and a tear escapes. Once the dam breaks, I know there will be no going back, so I suck in a breath to contain them, but another traitorous one releases.