“Holler if you need something. I’ll be reading for a while.” Smoothing the hair on Theo’s head with my fingers felt right and for a moment, he leaned into my palm.
“All right, Sadie. Sweet dreams.”
I turned away before Theo caught the teardrops perched on my lower lids.
Chapter 21: Theo
“Any thoughts about having a fitness center in the area? As in, right in the village?” I asked Mike, the owner of the general store. Tuesday morning and I wanted to get a jump on things. Leaving the kids with Lena for an hour—Sadie would be heading to the library, again—I’d walked up to the village area to gauge the interest of the year-rounders. Walloon Lake Village had a lot to offer its visitors and residents by way of food, drink, and entertainment—both indoor and outdoor—but a fitness center didn’t round out the list.
“Here? In town? You know there’s one up in Petoskey, right? And that...that thing. A spa or whatever the ladies like to go to? It’s up on Michigan Street, I think, plus there’s the salon next door.”
I jotted down the three places he mentioned on my data collection clipboard. “Yes, here. In the village. My boss is scoping out new sites, and he wondered if a fitness center might do well in this area.”
“If you can get to it in the winter.” Mike smiled.
“Yeah, there’s that. But people get here in the winter, don’t they?” A blast of cool air pushed against my back as a customer entered the store.
“Touché. But in the summer, well, there’s the lake. The trails. We’re all so used to driving over to Petoskey or Charlevoix when we want something a little bigger. Sometimes it’s pretty clear we’re not so good about change here.”
Change? Who was good about it? Wasn’t that part of my inherent problem?
“And yet, five years ago, you might not have used the word ‘touché’ in everyday conversation, right?” Mike shook his head at my words and tapped a roll of quarters against the counter as I continued. “You’ve had a lot of change here. The new restaurants, the hotel, the pop-up shops. I’ll keep asking around, but thanks for giving me your opinion.”
“You’re welcome. I’m not sure it was the one you wanted.”
“It’s fine.” I clicked the end of my pen twice before stopping myself. There was no reason to be irritated with Mike. “And I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. So, one last question: if a fitness center went in up the street, not blocking the view mind you, but something that fit in nicely with the area, would you use it?”
Mike patted his belly and then flexed his right arm. “Well, I have no reason to use it, obviously.” His deep laugh rang across the store, and a few customers glanced at him. “All kidding aside, yeah, I’d go. Having one close would force me to stop procrastinating.”
Procrastinating? Is that what he liked to call it? Since we’d been coming up to the lake, Mike had been telling me how he had big plans for an exercise regimen. I had yet to see it happen. “All right. That’s useful data. I’ll see you later—when the kids want ice cream.” I tapped the counter with my pen and backed toward the door.
“I bet I can predict what flavors they’ll get this afternoon,” Mike said. “Wouldn’t it be great to have their metabolisms?”
“My point exactly, my friend.” As the door closed behind me, a smile spread across my face. It felt good.
. . . . .
The next on my list? The hotel. It had a twenty-four-hour fitness room for the guests, but what about the employees? How would they feel about a place, as close to on-site as possible without being on-site, to work out after a long day on the job? Turns out, they’d feel just fine about it: all the employees I surveyed gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up.
After the hotel, I popped my head into the always-busy restaurant, the antique store, and the post office. The pop-up shops that sold seasonal clothing, accessories, and tattoos had closed months before, but we could always send them a survey via email or snail mail. I noted the thought on the clipboard, along with a few store names and descriptions.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Lena. Kids are fine. Just checking in with you. All okay?
Had Sadie set her up to do this? The day before with Lena had been comfortable. The kids took to her like they would Brooke, and she had been helpful but not smothering. The situation felt less like she was babysitting me than I thought it would.
Yep. Still making my rounds. Kids okay?
Yes. We’re outside in the yard. Thank goodness for this weather.
We’d been lucky. While we needed jackets and long pants, I had originally thought we’d be dealing with snow and ice. Most of the country was experiencing a warm spell, and Walloon was no exception. When I was finished with this task, I’d like to come back to the lake and have the kids dip their feet in. The water would be frigid again, but we’d have fun. Lena could get them ready.
Do the kids want to dip their feet in the lake this morning?
All three say yes. To today and tomorrow!
Ha! Can you get them ready? I’ll be back soon.
Sure can.
Thanks.
The next text that came through showed a lineup of emojis: a unicorn, a star, a heart, a birthday cake, and four smiley faces. Lexie.
And then a new text from Lena: Sorry. Lexie grabbed the phone!
Not a problem. See you in a few.
Lexie confiscated phones often, which is why Brooke always put hers on top of the countertop microwave and set the ringer to the highest setting so she’d hear it no matter which room of the house she was in. Lena would learn, quickly, how to deal with the little imp. The thought of Lexie, Charlie, and Delia—
Someone up ahead drew my attention as I rounded the corner of the post office. From the back, the man looked like Andrew, but that didn’t make any sense. His company was back in Kettering. The man ducked into the general store, and I shook my head. That project of Andrew’s had been on my mind so much lately I was seeing things. He wasn’t here, was he?
The thing about a veteran with PTSD is this: when in the throes of recovery, we can still be paranoid. And the thought of Andrew MacKinnon, a man I didn’t know too much about, being in a place I was? That sounded just too convenient. My pulse slammed against my skull, and my breathing staggered. How had the thought of him triggered me? I had to find out if it was him or not and what he was doing here.
I could send a text, but I had to be cool about it.
Hey. Just tossing the idea of future proposals around in my head. Leaning toward a yes. You busy?
His text came back in an instant. Yes, I’m working on a couple things right now. Aren’t you out-of-state anyway? Shouldn’t you be relaxing?
I am out-of-state, but my mind doesn’t stop. And I thought I just saw you.
Way to be direct, Theo. My foot tapped a steady rhythm against the concrete, and my hands shook as I waited for his reply. What did I expect him to say? Why in God’s name would he be here, at Walloon Lake? Instead of an affirmative or negative reply, an undeliverable message popped up. Damn! The service here had often been spotty in the past and now here again. As I contemplated heading to the coffee shop, my phone vibrated with a text—another from Lena. What was so special about what she had to say that her texts were all deemed deliverable and some of mine weren’t?
Kids almost ready. Do you want us to meet you at the beach?
I looked up at the sky—part blue, part white, with the sun cresting right above me—and closed my eyes. Lena’s texts concerned the kids, so any message she sent should come through. Breathe in, breathe out. One, two, three.
A reply jumped to my mind.
Just humor me,
Lena. Tell me I’m not crazy. And yes, just meet me there, if you would.
You’re not crazy. See you in ten minutes.
On the walk to the beach, I glanced in the windows of the coffee shop but didn’t see Andrew. Trick of the mind? Stranger things had happened to me before. But the thought of him stuck with me until the sight of the kids and Lena—beach towels tucked under their arms, wide smiles on their faces—broke my concentration. And for the next forty minutes, nothing but beach, laughter, and cold water occupied my thoughts. We all waded in—if you called it that—up to our ankles, standing there until our teeth chattered and our lips turned blue. And then we brushed off the cold sand, dried our feet, and put our socks and shoes back on before ambling over to the general store for hot cocoa. I’d been so busy having fun with the kids and Lena I didn’t think about Andrew until our walk back to the cottage, when Charlie brought up his project.
“Dad, I have this project.”
“Okay, what is it?”
Charlie had always had trouble walking and talking at the same time. I expected him to tell me to wait until we got back to the house, but he surprised me. “Well, I don’t want to tell you the details, but it involves Dads.”
“Huh.” Lexie’s movement next to me drew my attention, and I grabbed her by the waist, hauling her onto my shoulders. Her position above would amuse her to great lengths, and she’d be safer up there—the lake was directly to our left. She stuck her fingers into my hair and kissed the top of my head.
“Dads? That’s it? How vague. Do you need help with the project?”
“Well not really. But I wanted to ask you a question. Did you always want to be a dad?”
Talk about a question only Charlie would come up with. Delia would have asked me what I liked about being a dad.
“That’s a complicated question, Charlie. But the short answer is no. When I was young, I didn’t even consider it.”
“At all?”
I turned toward him, catching his gaze. “Do you think about it?”
“I guess not. But then, what changed?”
“Well, I met your mom, and who knows? But when she took the pregnancy tests, I was happy. Surprised but excited. Why? What’s this all about?”
Charlie didn’t answer right away. He bent to pick up a pebble and threw it into the lake, then turned to me with a smile on his face.
“Did you see how far I threw that?”
“I did! That’s quite an arm. But let’s go back to what you said. Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just that I have a friend who asked his Dad the same question, and he said he’d always wanted kids. I’m not sure if it matters but...”
I stopped in my tracks and put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, urging him to look at me all while holding onto Lexie. “Want to hear what I think?”
“Yes.”
“If you asked a dozen people, you’d get a different response from each dad. I bet there are dads who always wanted kids but don’t have them. I bet there are dads who always wanted kids and now, they’re not so sure. I didn’t imagine having kids when I was young, but from the moment I thought about you—when your mom stood in front of me, tears of happiness in her eyes and a pregnancy test in her hand—my world changed. For the better. And when you were born? I cried. Did you know that?”
Charlie’s eyes grew wide. “You did?”
“I did. And, I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
Charlie scuffed his shoe against the street, dipped his head, and then looked back at me again. “Do your military buddies know about you crying?”
A glint of amusement shimmered in Charlie’s eyes, and then he took off, running ahead on the gravel road with his arms spread out, hair flopping in the breeze, a complete picture of happiness. Left in his wake, I deflated and clutched Lexie against my shoulders, grounding myself in the present. A present that included ushering the kids home safely. My gaze darted from Charlie to Delia to Lena and to the road ahead as a cloud passed over the sun, which sent a chill down my spine. Something was off. With me. Maybe even with Charlie, who had so nicely deflected any of my questions about the project.
Chapter 22: Sadie
After a phone call with Jackie that was interrupted twice by the neighbor’s dog next door—something about the backyard called to him and his digging—I gathered up my laptop, phone, and water bottle and rushed out the front door. Five minutes later, I stood on the wide, wooden porch spanning the front of the Crooked Tree Library, waiting for someone to unlock the door. It was already three minutes past the hour, and while I considered knocking on the sidelight of the library, I chose instead to adjust the strap of my shoulder bag and check for messages one more time. The morning breeze caressed my ears and reminded me Walloon time was different than Kettering time, and relaxation and family were supposed to be the focus of our week. So far, that plan wasn’t—
A click sounded, and the door opened.
To my surprise, the little, gray-haired lady I’d seen walking her dog the evening before peered at me from behind round glasses that did nothing to disguise the deep blue of her eyes. In the daylight, the gray streaks in her hair fought for control over the fading blond highlights, and she had affixed, once again, a flower clip to her side-swept bangs.
“Well I guess you’d be waiting for me to open now, wouldn’t you?” The lady pushed the door toward me with one arm and ushered me forward with a wave of her other hand. “Sorry for the wait,” she continued. “I’m getting up there these days. It takes a little longer for me to do about everything now. Someday you’ll understand what I mean.” Crinkles fanned out from the corners of her eyes, and she smiled, her mouth turning upward into a huge U. “Come on in, sweetie.”
With little time for chitchat, I spat out a short, “Thank you, ma’am.” The door handle required a fierce grip, and I bore the brunt of the weight since this woman couldn’t have weighed much more than one hundred pounds. My time here was precious, but rudeness never got anyone anywhere, so while my gaze darted toward the large clock hanging on the wall above the circulation desk, I said nothing.
“Oh honey, don’t call me ma’am,” the woman said. “Call me Pickles. Pickles Martin.”
By the look on her face, she caught my surprise, despite my attempt to hide how much her first name shocked me. What an endearing, yet odd, name. Her parents didn’t really—
“Yes. Pickles is my rightful name. It says so on my birth certificate. My folks always said my mom ate so many pickles when she was carrying me it would have been a crime not to call the baby Pickles. Of course, if I’d been a boy, they would have gone with Dill. They felt that would have been more suitable for a male.”
Despite my annoyance I hadn’t yet begun my work, I laughed out loud, and Pickles’ face erupted into another smile. “I’m not laughing at you, Pickles. I love the name. But somehow, the thought of baby Dill cracks me up.” The slight echo of my laughter reminded me I stood in a library, a place meant for quiet, and I shook my head and looked around, searching for other patrons.
“Not to worry. You aren’t the first to laugh at that name, and there’s a difference between laughing like yours and laughing that does harm.” Pickles moved her hands to her skirt, where she shifted the material to the left and patted her hips. “Now, is there anything I can help you with this morning?” Then, she adjusted her glasses and looked up expectantly at me.
“Why thank you, but no. The tables near the magazine rack will be perfect for what I need to do, and I should get started soon.” Without hesitation, I turned to leave the desk but then thought better of my lack of manners. “If I need something, though, I’ll be sure to come find you.”
Pickles nodded her head and opened the drawer
of her desk, about to start her day. I thought about her dog, possibly all alone at home. But at the back of my mind, the clock ticked on my allotted work time. My computer powered up, and I attacked my project.
About ninety minutes later, the presence of someone nearby, right behind my elbow, distracted me. Slowly, I pulled my earbuds out of my ears and looked to the right, where Pickles hovered close. A little too close, considering I’d just met her.
“I’m about to take a quick break for tea. Would you care to join me?”
My digital wristwatch read 11:35 a.m. If I stopped working, I would be leaving details unfinished since I needed to be back at the cottage by noon. On the other hand, Pickles stood next to me with bright, eager eyes.
“Sure. Let me close this up, and I’ll join you. Thank you for asking.”
“Great.” Pickles extended her hand and pointed to a hallway tucked behind the circulation desk and flanked by two enormous bookshelves. “The break room is right through the doorway at the end of the hall. I’ll have a cup of tea and scones waiting for you. Cream or sugar?”
Who could resist tea and scones? “Just cream, please. And thank you again.” My annoyance at having been disturbed dissipated as I closed the lid to my laptop and slid it into its case, making sure to secure the zipper and lock. One mishap a few years prior with a runaway laptop had taught me a lesson I had no intention of learning again.
As I pushed my earbuds into the side pocket of the bag, Pickles sauntered toward the break room with the same nonchalant gait she used yesterday. Halfway down the hallway, she leaned over and spoke to the air, her head bobbing back and forth as she gesticulated wildly, as if the person she was speaking to had argued a valid point. Had her beagle snuck into the library? A quick glance to the ground proved no one was there, and I chuckled to myself. That might be you in thirty years.
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