Then There Was You: A Single Parent Collection

by Gianna Gabriela

  Her eyes brim with tears. “But the risk is—”

  “Every day you get out of bed is a risk. You and I know better than most how true that is. Whether you’re here, or somewhere else, won’t make a difference once the truth is out there. If they dig they could still find us, and all those other families. Leaving won’t serve any purpose.” I’ve been pacing back and forth, but on my last words I stop and face her.

  “I don’t know what the smart thing is to do.”

  She wrings her hands in her lap and her teeth are biting her bottom lip so hard I’m afraid she’ll break the skin.

  I’ll examine why it’s so important to keep her here later, but for now I place my hands on the stair railing to brace myself, and lean forward, my nose almost touching hers.

  “Stay.”

  MIKA

  “What about that?”

  I follow the direction Kelty is pointing. The remnants of a fishing net are tangled around a piece of driftwood where the last wave is just receding, leaving the sand even and smooth.

  I didn’t expect I’d still be here, but the force of Jude’s determination I stay held a promise I wanted to grab onto. It helped that he reassured me, right before he left, we would talk through any issues that popped up, but there was no rush at this point.

  Kelty surprised me just twenty minutes after her dad left, coming over to ask if I could help her with her camera. That led to her coming with me to the beach. As did her grandfather, who sat stoically beside me in the passenger seat, grumpy as ever. I don’t know whose idea it was for him to come, but given the circumstances I wasn’t about to complain. In any event, he’s sitting on a bench at the edge of the parking lot, keeping an eye on his granddaughter roaming the beach below.

  “That would make a great shot, but instead of aiming right at it and clicking, try to push the button just a little until you see that box appear in your viewfinder. The camera will automatically focus on anything that shows in the box and keep it like that as long as you don’t move your finger. Then you carefully move the camera, just a little, so the wood isn’t in the middle, but more on the side.”

  “Oops,” she says when I hear the shutter click. “I pressed too hard.”

  I grin at her. “That’s the beauty of digital pictures, it doesn’t matter whether you try once or a hundred times, you can just keep trying until you get it right and delete the rest.”

  She tries again and this time she seems happy with the result when she checks her display. “Is this right?”

  I take a peek. All that is visible is the perfectly smooth sand with the driftwood coming in from the right side, making for a more interesting composition. “Right on the nose,” I tell her, handing back the camera. “Want to try something cool?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remember I showed you that button where you can switch from close-ups all the way to landscapes, depending on what it is you aim the camera at? There’s a setting on there with a little flower beside it.”

  “The one that says micro?”

  “Exactly. Set it to micro and aim the camera at my hand.” I hold my hand just a few inches from the lens. “You know what a microscope does, right?”

  “It makes things look bigger,” she confirms.

  “Well, yes, but more importantly it make the tiniest things visible. Take a look in your viewfinder, what do you see?”

  “Lines, and hair, little holes.”

  “And what do you see now?” I pull my hand from under the lens and hold it up to her when she lowers the camera. She pulls it closer to her face.

  “I can see the lines, but barely.”

  “Exactly. Now let’s have a close look at those rocks.” I point at an outcropping that’s hidden by the sea when the tide is high, covered in algae.

  I’m not sure how much time has passed when I notice Kelty’s yawn. I check my watch and see it’s a lot later than I thought.

  I wrap my arm around her shoulder and lead her back to where Jim has dozed off, his head tilted back, on the bench.

  “Grampa, have a look.”

  She giggles when he snorts awake, but he patiently sits through the thirty or so pictures Kelty took. “You did good, Peanut,” he says, kissing the top of her head.

  Just like that, I feel any negative emotions I have toward the man slip quietly into the background. It’s obvious he dotes on his granddaughter.

  The drive home is quiet without Kelty’s enthusiasm filling the air. I check the mirror to find her slumped in the back seat, her eyes drifting shut. When I pull into the parking lot, and turn the engine off, I’m surprised to find Jim facing me.

  “Going out again tomorrow?” he asks, almost flooring me.

  “If the weather is good.”

  “What time?”

  “Probably around nine,” I answer, not sure what to make of this.

  “If the sun is out, we’ll be ready.”

  Without another word he gets out, helps Kelty out of the back seat, and walks her to the main house, while I’m still behind the wheel, figuring out what to make of him.

  Apparently my solo trips to the beach have become a group affair.

  13

  JUDE

  I’m standing by my office window when I see Mika’s car return, and like almost every day this past week, my dad lifts himself out of the passenger seat and opens the back door for Kelty.

  This has become their daily routine; one my father seems to have settled into as easily as Kelty has. To say it surprised me would be an understatement, as far as Dad’s concerned. It’s not like he was a fan of Mika, but it almost seems like he’s warming up to her. Ever since Kelty’s birthday.

  I’ve been keeping my distance since my early morning heart-to-heart with Mika. Not because I’m still upset, but because now that I know where we both stand, I’m not sure how to move forward.

  Cassie is the first person I’ve thought about telling. She deserves to know what’s going on as much as I do. What’s holding me back is the concern that Cassie may have her own ideas about having Mika connecting with our daughter.

  I’m being a coward, hanging onto this status quo, and I know it. I’ve seen Mika’s questioning glances in my direction, and I know she’s waiting for my lead. My problem is any move I make, anything I do, might have consequences I can’t foresee, prevent, or control.

  On top of that, it looks like Kelty is pretty worn out again, something that has me a little concerned. I’ve got to make sure to mention it to the cardiologist at her six-month checkup in a few days.

  “Did you call the supplier yet?” Mandy asks, when I walk through the restaurant on my way to check on my daughter.

  “What?”

  “You were supposed to call in that liquor order, or we won’t get it in time for the weekend.”

  Shit. I totally forgot. “I’ll do it now.”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Mandy snaps. “At least that way I know it’ll get done.”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry, I haven’t had my head in the game.”

  “No, you haven’t,” she confirms, never one to mince words. “It’s been up your ass.”

  “Now hold on a minute…”

  “You know I’m right, Boss.” She steps in my space and lowers her voice. “I don’t wish what you have on your plate on anyone, but for God’s sake, step away and take some time to sort it. You’re not helping anyone if you’re here, but you aren’t really. And it’s contagious, because Mika can’t focus when you’re around either.”

  “It’s not that easy…” I let my voice trail off, because whatever I would’ve spouted after is just an excuse.

  “I get that. I get it. I’m probably the only one who does. Who do you think dealt with Mika after you stormed out of here on your daughter’s birthday? I know, and I’m telling you as a friend, get this sorted. Right now you’re just holing up in your office, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Get ahead of the game, Jude.”

  It’s rare that Mandy calls me by my name, so I know
she’s dead serious. She’s right too.

  Instead of getting pissed, I hook her around the neck, pull her into a hug, and kiss the top of her head. “You’re a good friend.”

  She immediately wrestles from my hold and fake shivers as she addresses the ceiling, “Jesus, now he’s going soft on me. Get outta here.”

  The house is quiet when I walk in, and I wonder if Dad went to lie down too. Kicking off my shoes, I make my way upstairs to Kelty’s room to find my father sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her.

  “She okay?” I look down on my daughter, who looks like she’s already fast asleep.

  “Yeah,” he says a little hesitantly before getting to his feet. “Let’s let huh sleep.”

  I follow Dad downstairs and into the kitchen. “Did she have lunch?”

  “No, she was asleep on huh feet when we got back. I’ll make something when she wakes up.” He pulls the makings for a sandwich from the fridge and sets it on the counter. “You gonna eat, or aw ya headin’ back?”

  “Mandy kicked me out.”

  His eyes lock on mine. “She sick of ya mopey ass too?”

  Guess I’ve been more obvious than I thought I was. “Something like that,” I mumble.

  “Mmmm.” I watch silently as he slaps together a couple of sandwiches and shoves one my way. “She’s not that bad,” he says, his mouth full.

  “Who? Mika?” I guess.

  “Mmmm. Treats my granddaughtah like gold,” he says, taking another bite.

  I set my sandwich down and take a deep breath. It’s the perfect opening. “Mika cares about her. A lot. She has reason to.”

  His looks up at me. “That so?”

  “Yeah. Those stories you heard—the ones going around about her—they don’t tell the whole story. Mika fought for her son to be taken off life support so his organs wouldn’t deteriorate before they could be harvested.” I see awareness come into his expression. “His outcome was inevitable, but she wanted to give his death meaning.”

  “Kelty?” he whispers, putting his own sandwich down on the plate before pulling over a stool and sinking down.

  I simply nod, giving him a moment to absorb that before I start at the beginning. Lunch sits untouched, all but forgotten by the time I finish.

  “You like huh.”

  “It’s complicated, Dad.”

  “Bullcrap. Nothin’ in life worth anything is easy. Ya problem’s always been wantin’ to know the next step, instead of trustin’ ya feet will land eventually. If this past yeah should’ve taught you anything, it’s that sometimes you gotta just grab on and have a little faith.”

  “I thought you didn’t like her?”

  He shrugs, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite before he responds with his mouth full. “Now ah do.”

  “That simple?” I question him but he just shrugs.

  “She’s the reason ah still have my peanut? Then hell yeah, that simple.”

  MIKA

  After clearing away the remnants of lunch, I’m just sitting down to upload this morning’s pictures when my phone rings.

  “Bryan, I hope you have good news?”

  I smile at my realtor’s responding deep chuckle.

  “I might,” he teases. “That is, if you consider a bidding war good news.”

  “What?”

  “Did an open house last weekend, like I told you, and had a great turnout. So good, I had two couples setting up a subsequent walk-through, one after the other, and both their agents contacted me with numbers.”

  “Good numbers?” I ask hopefully.

  “At this point, between the two bidders, we’re sitting fifteen grand over asking.”

  “You’re kidding!” I grin wide. I’d been prepared to settle for that amount less than the listing price, so this is an unexpected potential boost of thirty thousand dollars.

  “Not even a little. The only difference between the two offers is that one is looking for a closing September first, and the other couple is currently renting so they’d like a closing of mid-July, so they can be moved in before their lease expires the end of that month.”

  “The sooner the better,” I quickly answer, barely able to contain my excitement.

  Working at the Cooker helps, as do the free meals, but the sale of my house will set me up for whatever I end up wanting to do, without worrying about my basic needs. I have some ideas, especially after stopping by The Cape PhotoArt & Framing. The guy running that place was very helpful, and he did a great job on my prints. With the money from the house I’ll be able to move from toying with ideas to seriously exploring my options.

  “When can you come into town?”

  “Whenever, I may need to shuffle a few things here, but I’m sure I can make it happen. Mornings are better.”

  “How are you enjoying the Cape, by the way?”

  “I love it here. A completely different pace than Boston. I used to love the hustle and bustle of the city, but I have to say, at this age, I’m enjoying this more laid-back vibe.”

  “So can I take that to mean we won’t see you back on the tube?”

  “I haven’t quite figured out what it is I’ll be doing, but I can assure you it will not be in front of a camera.” I realize as I’m saying this how true it is. I don’t really care if it’s waiting tables the rest of my life, or something else, but I’ll never rejoin a profession that can turn on you as quickly as it did on me.

  “I hear you on that,” Bryan rumbles with understanding, and I’m warmed to realize I still have some friends left in this world. “So I’ll set something up and text you with a time. Sound good?”

  “Perfect.”

  The moment I hang up my smile slides from my face.

  I sold my house. The place where I was happy in a previous life, but the memories are painful now. The walls that still echo the disgruntled cries of a newborn baby boy in such a hurry to make an appearance, we never quite made it to the hospital. The kitchen counter, where he’d sit in his high chair, feeding me half his Cheerios with his wide toothless smile. The stairs he fell down, crying uncontrollably until I kissed the bump on his head better. The twelve marks on the kitchen wall, recording how much he’d grown up with every passing birthday. And even the split doorframe, the result of a slammed door during his first adolescent tantrum.

  All of those things had become like sandpaper to my emotions, keeping me raw and mourning. It’s also the place where Sam found me, one morning earlier this year, almost lost to the shadows surrounding me. That wasn’t a testament to Jamie; it was an insult. The once happy house had turned into a trap I couldn’t get out of. Until I did.

  Things, places, and even people aren’t memories—feelings are.

  I don’t realize I’m crying until a knock sounds at my door and I open it to find Jude on my step.

  “Fuck. What happened?”

  He rushes me inside, closes the door, and pulls me close, pressing my face in his neck.

  “I sold my house,” I mumble against his skin, and he immediately loosens his hold. I tilt my head back and look in his confused face.

  “And here I was, thinking that would be good news,” he quips with an eyebrow raised, but concern in his eyes.

  “It is,” I confirm, turning out of his arms and waving in the direction of the Keurig as I head toward the bathroom. “Make yourself a coffee, I’m just going to clean up.”

  By the time I’ve splashed some water on my face and walk out, he’s sipping fresh brew while leaning against the counter. Immediately he sets his cup down and meets me halfway, slipping his arms around my waist. I brace my hands against his chest.

  “Wanna tell me what that was about?”

  “Letting go.”

  He scans my face with his eyes. “Jamie,” he finally says, with a depth of understanding only a parent having gone through his own version of hell could feel.

  “Yeah,” I confirm. “I had to let it go to move forward, let his memory free instead of leaving it locked in brick and mor
tar.”

  “You won’t forget,” he promises, lifting a hand to stroke my hair, “You’ll keep him here…” before moving his palm to press between my breasts, “…and here.”

  The feel of his large hand on my chest has a flush rise to my cheeks, and my heart beats a staccato against his palm.

  “What brings you here?” I ask, the sound almost breathless around the lump in my throat.

  “You. I want you.” He doesn’t bother hiding the hunger in his eyes, which is both exhilarating and more than a little frightening. “All I’ve been doing is thinking. Fuck, I’ve been thinking so hard my head hurts. I’ve always been one to trust in facts and figures. To process information until I could line it all up in my head. But I’ll be damned if I can make sense of this with any logic or formula or even rationale. There is none, I’ve tried. What’s left are feelings, and as my dad reminded me just now, sometimes you just have to grab on and have faith.”

  Lord, this man is lethal, not only with his lips and hands, but his words too.

  “Your dad?” I clue in on what he just said.

  “Mmmm. Got a stern talking to when I shared with him how much exactly we owe you—owe Jamie,” he quickly amends.

  “You don’t owe anything,” I remind him softly, but he shakes his head.

  “You’re wrong,” he says firmly, his head lowering so his lips brush mine softly. “We owe you and your son our world.”

  14

  JUDE

  The kiss starts soft, tentative.

  I still have a hand on her lower back and the other between the soft swells of her breasts. It wasn’t meant to be a sexual touch, but with the hitch of her breath at the slightest brush of my lips, and her rapid heartbeat under my hand, it’s where this moment is taking us.

  I angle my head slightly and lick along the seam of her mouth. Immediately she opens to let me in, as her hands slide from my chest up and around my neck, the subtle shift inviting me to stroke my palm over her breast. She groans in response and hardens underneath my thumb when I lightly brush her nipple.