“TJ’s his name, you say?” His voice was low, matching the quiet of the room.
Trina peeled off her coat and sat on the bed. She looked as worn out as any woman he’d ever seen, as worn out as their mother had been, battling those same demons long ago.
She nodded and put her face to her hands. “Yeah. TJ.”
Dakota tugged at his arm, then pushed her finger in his face.
“Is he going to need anything? Formula or something?”
“In the bag.” She spoke without opening her eyes, and it was clearer than Dakota’s baby-blue eyes that he could push Trina over with one finger and she’d be asleep before she touched the comforter.
Who knew where she’d come from. How far she traveled just to get here.
Again, Jett looked to the baby. Maybe the tiny being in that car seat would be her miracle baby, bringing her back to life.
He was breaking the rule, but hoping just the same.
“Boo-boo,” Dakota insisted, pushing her finger in his face again.
He kissed her finger and repositioned her on his hip.
“I’ll take it from here. You go on and lay down.”
She moved under the covers without another word. Jett turned to the door, paused, and looked back to the car seat. Several seconds of deliberating went by before he tiptoed over and pulled back the blanket. He watched TJ’s closed lids flutter as he tucked the blanket beneath his small arms, then stepped back and shut the door behind him.
Trumpets blared to the rhythm of a drum line as Jett and his affectionate sloth of a niece moved through the living room. Drew had moved to the couch beside Sunny and was very seriously mimicking whatever gestures Sunny had taken upon himself to demonstrate. Currently, UT was winning.
“Yeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh, baby!” Sunny gave an exaggerated growl as he pounded the air three times and looked expectantly to his toddler comrade.
“Yeeeeeeaaahhhhh, baby!” Drew jumped on the couch and repeated the gesture.
“I’m going to run to the store.” Jett paused, awkwardly uncertain of his new responsibility. “Drew you, uh, wanna come?”
The football on the screen spiraled to the receiver. An eruption of cheers from thousands of orange fans followed.
“We’re good here, man.” Sunny gave a thumbs-up and returned his attention to the game, giving a hardy slap on his thighs as he and Drew started hopping like monkeys.
Jett grabbed his keys and shut the door. He was halfway down the stairs when the realization hit him.
Car seats. Three-year-olds still used car seats, right?
Up the stairs he started again, asking Dakota along the way, “You think you can stay with Sunny and your mom while I run to the store?”
But before he could even get the question out, her nails were digging into his neck. She was scrawny, yes, but she held on as though her fingers were Gorilla Glued to his skin.
He stopped at the door, lingering in the hallway. “Just for a few minutes? I’d be right back. You can watch the football game . . .”
And then she began to wail, the note matching the volume of the siren on his Medic 2–10—yet with the added bonus of being directly against his ear.
“I’ll bring you back a treat, Dakota.” Desperately he grabbed the doorknob. “You still like those sour gummies?”
She raised her pitch an octave higher.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“Jett?”
Jett turned to see Sarah in her doorway, swiftly tightening her robe. Her striped pajama pants and socks peeked out from underneath.
She gave a wry smile. “Need I ask?”
Jett swung his body around for Sarah to see Dakota’s tear-streaked face. He practically yelled over the crying. “Sarah, meet my beautiful niece, Dakota.”
Sarah took a step toward them. “Why, hello there, Dakota.” She touched the girl’s back lightly before covering one of Dakota’s cold, red hands with one of her own. Sarah looked up into Jett’s eyes. “Why are you outside?”
“I’m thinking through my options.”
“Want to skip the hypothermia and think through your options in my place?” She pushed the door open with her free hand. “I make a mean hot cocoa. Straight from the packet and everything.”
It was two hours to midnight, the kid was three years old, and the last thing he had a feeling his niece needed was forty grams of sugar. Nevertheless, he was also fairly certain the ear-deafening wail she’d so blessedly provided for every neighbor in the complex had all been performed with a single intake of breath. These were desperate times. “Absolutely.”
Inside the apartment, tears immediately stopped, wails ceased, and Dakota peeled herself off Jett—more than that, she hopped down and skipped toward a chair at the breakfast table. He could be replaced easily.
“So, what are you going to do?”
After listening to his explanation and preparing everyone’s cocoa, Sarah leaned against the kitchen wall and cradled a mug in her hands.
“I’m not sure how long Trina’s staying, but no matter what, the kid needs a bed. Right?” He looked at Sarah with uncertainty. Of all the topics he could throw out a sentence or two about at a dinner party, babies were not one of them.
“No, you shouldn’t leave the baby in the car seat overnight. That’s like leaving them in cars when you go into the supermarket.”
His brow lifted. “And that . . . is definitely bad.”
“And on that note, let’s just be glad they aren’t yours.”
“Kidding.”
Sarah popped her hip off the wall, setting her mug on the counter with resolution. “You just stay here. I’ll be back in less than an hour.”
And sure enough, forty-three minutes later, Sarah sent him home with some sort of portable bed contraption from a mother of three two buildings over and a trash bag full of formula, three different kinds of bottles (“for if the baby gets particular” Sarah stated), a pack of newborn diapers, two packs of wipes, and a handful of newborn-sized clothes.
An hour after that, the twins lay on a sleeping bag on the living room floor. Jett had managed to set up the foul bed contraption and had gingerly begun to transfer his newest nephew to it.
Which prompted the tiny blue eyes to open. And the newborn shrieks to begin.
Two hours after that, with the kitchen covered in bags of baby items, formula dust spilled on counters, an unusually fat diaper lying open faced on the carpet, and three dirty bottles lying in the sink (turned out TJ was particular), Jett abandoned the portable bed, and all eight pounds of the little guy settled upon Jett’s chest. Jett leaned back against the recliner, wearily rubbing his eyes.
He couldn’t fathom how Trina did it.
Truly. Some people said that as a means of expressing a compliment at someone’s hard work, but in this case, he meant it in the deepest sense.
It was a real miracle these kids were alive.
Then, impossible to his own ears, he heard the faint ding of his cell phone, the text to Cassie and his hope for a reply having been forgotten what seemed a lifetime ago. Carefully, inch by inch, he reached for his back pocket. The clock read 1:43 a.m.
Backup date? You’ve clearly forgotten where you live, son. The closest decent backup date would live two hours away. Better start getting used to me.
9
Cassie
She couldn’t let this little, tiny, totally all-encompassing thing like harboring three girls stop her from at least trying to have the man of her dreams. Even if it meant she was breaking all sorts of social communication rules by returning a text well after midnight.
Cassie’s heart felt like Thumper from the old Bambi movie had moved in and taken residence. Then again, texting Jett wasn’t entirely to blame for that; she’d felt on the tip of a stroke for hours.
Four hours ago she’d shuffled clumsily through a conversation with Rachel about where the girls would be placed, and eventually the girls moved from Rachel’s car to hers. Three hours ago she’
d foraged through her own totally unprepared pantry for some sort of hot meal to soothe the four-year-old’s incessant crying. But Kennedy cried through the offer of elbow noodles and butter, quinoa and black beans, and scrambled eggs. She cried through the offer of chicken noodle soup. She cried through the offer of five different types of cheese.
Despite Star’s attempts to calm her sister, Kennedy was clearly terrified. She had a 101.6-degree fever. She didn’t like or understand anything about her current situation—including Cassie. The child wouldn’t even look at her, and Cassie felt helpless in her own home. And so she kept cooking.
Two hours ago had been the heavy lifting. Cassie pushed a desk to the corner of the “office” she never utilized. Nearly decapitating herself in the process, she folded up the treadmill in the “gym room” she hadn’t touched since her short-lived New Year’s resolution of 2016. She dragged cardboard boxes of childhood keepsakes off the guest mattress.
Not that any of her work was very useful. In the end, Deidre and Kennedy deserted the beds Cassie made with soft, rose-colored quilts, covered with her own beloved stuffed animals from her own childhood. Cassie had followed a sneaky trail of water from the laundry room to Star’s bed, where she found Deidre and Kennedy snuggled up with their sister. Kennedy clutched the sopping wet dog, Tinker Bell, she had stolen from the wash.
At least it was cleaned.
That was more than could be said for the girls, as with the night they’d already had, Cassie hadn’t had the heart to try.
So after all were in bed, Cassie busied herself cleaning all the nonliving things around the house—as in things that wouldn’t scream violently whenever she touched them. It was 1:05 a.m. when she finally caught Jett’s text and was brought back to her former world.
Four minutes of deliberating passed before she wrote the short, playfully committed text and pressed Send. Cassie waited on her bed, knees bent to her chin, mildly aware of her own bated breath.
His reply was instant. Whoa, now. Didn’t realize I was signing up for dating a night owl.
The corners of Cassie’s lips twitched as she began to type. A turnoff? Tucked yourself in early?
When his reply didn’t come immediately, she picked up the cup of hot tea. She wasn’t worried.
Still, communicating without the ability to catch his facial cues or tone was enough to build up a little doubt. Perhaps she had annoyed him. Perhaps her message had woken him up and he was being serious.
She held the cup closely to her lips, focusing all her energy on watching the little tea grains floating in the tawny water. More specific, she was not focusing on his reaction. She was not focusing on potentially passive-aggressive responses or the growing feeling of regret.
Could she help it she was too excited to wait until the morning?
Finally, the phone beeped.
Nope. Still wide awake. Just tucking in all the kids.
Cassie exhaled, grinning at his joke.
Naturally. I almost forgot about the secret wife and kiddos.
She put her cup back on the bedside table and rubbed her eyes. The adrenaline of the day was wearing off like a drip pulled from her arm, and before she could get to the point of being too lazy to get up at all, she moved to the bathroom and took out her contacts. Her phone beeped as she spit toothpaste into the running water.
What about you? Night on the town? Or were you busy tucking in all your kids too?
If he only knew.
She rubbed her mouth on the hand towel and replied the only way he wouldn’t take her seriously. The truth.
Just hanging out in potential meth labs. Washing the kids’ clothes. Moving treadmills.
Your usual, then.
She grinned. Naturally. Off to bed now.
Night-night.
Cassie set her phone on the stand and switched off the light. She heard one of the youngest cough down the hall.
The image of two diverging roads sprawled across the back of her eyelids, and with quickening breath she opened her eyes, staring up at the blank ceiling.
This was going to be fine.
This wasn’t going to be an issue at all.
Cassie adjusted the feathery pillow beneath her head.
If given the time, she would fall for Jett Bentley. She knew it with a certainty that betrayed her slow and methodical methods.
It wasn’t just about settling for what was left of the litter. He was kind. He was fun. He made her laugh in the middle of a serious conversation. He was the kind of guy who leaned on the side of down-to-earth experiences, but at the same time knew how to take a girl out.
And most important, he had a credit score of 747. And a beat-up truck with 319,000 miles. Clearly she was well on her way to becoming a trophy wife.
But then, there were the girls.
Rachel had been vague about the children’s future. She’d said a meeting with DCS would come in a few weeks after Rachel gathered more information about the situation. The decision to bring the girls in right now had been only as a temporary haven.
Even so, Cassie wasn’t stupid. She knew Star’s family tree fairly well, and none of it included some benevolent aunt about to step up. So unless there was some long-lost relative willing to take the girls in, they were going to be displaced for a while. Maybe a long while.
What would Cassie do then, faced with that reality?
One day at a time. She’d just have to take it one day at a time.
Two separated, curvy roads shifted back into her mind and she punched the pillow beneath her once more, forcing her eyes to shut, and with it, the worries that would have to wait until tomorrow.
* * *
Had she told herself she would take it one day at a time? Silly her. She meant hour.
“No, no, Deidre. Let’s leave the doctor’s—” She blinked, unable to remember the word. Long sticks. Cardboard. No, not cardboard. Stickish. Of wood. It was only one o’clock and she felt like she needed an espresso IV. “Let’s leave the doctor’s bowl of sticks alone.”
“Tongue depressors,” the doctor said with a mild grin. He tried, yet again, to press the stethoscope to Kennedy’s back. “Can you hold her still?”
“Believe me, I’m trying.” Cassie regripped her arms around Kennedy’s waist. Kennedy arched back, another successful four-year-old thwarting two grown-ups.
At least for the moment she wasn’t crying.
The doctor pulled back after one more attempt, rolled his chair over to where Deidre was now inching her hand toward the glass jar of cotton balls, and picked up his clipboard. “I’m going to jump next door while we wait on the results. I’ll be back in a few minutes, Ms. Everson.”
Oh, sure. Super. No problem. These were all words she would’ve calmly said in her former single life. Are you crazy, however, was the phrase that now came most clearly to mind.
“Okay.” Cassie kept her voice calm while hoping he saw the screaming in her eyes. She was currently at that level of desperation—not yet pleading out loud for mercy, but begging without words.
“You’re doing great. But I would try to keep that one from licking the floor again.”
She nodded as she regripped Kennedy, the slippery worm who had in fact been caught licking the floor ten minutes earlier. The sound of the door shutting was like the nail in a coffin.
For not the fifteenth time today, she wished Star had stayed back from school to help her, not the other way around. Star was the one who was transitioning into all of this like the real adult. In fact, at 7:00 a.m. Cassie had walked into a kitchen of stacked plates and used frying pans, where Star had created a breakfast fit for queens: toast, bananas, and whole slices of cheese covering scrambled eggs. Kennedy ate three helpings of Star’s concoction, including Cassie’s share.
Star was the real grown-up here. And really, who needed algebra?
Kennedy squirmed her way off Cassie’s lap again and moved toward the doctor’s computer plug.
“Who wants another story?” Cassie pluc
ked the book from the office’s top stack. Gingerly she turned the page, trying not to think about how many illnesses lived on it. She began reading the story of a big red dog making well-meaning but silly mistakes. In seconds Kennedy dropped the cord and jumped back onto Cassie’s lap as if they were the closest of friends. It took a couple of pages to draw Deidre in, but eventually her bony elbows pressed against Cassie’s thigh as she leaned over her to see the pages.
Which led to the questions.
“What’s that man doing?” Kennedy asked.
“He’s painting his house.”
“Why’s he painting his house?”
“Maybe the paint was peeling off.”
“Why did the paint peel off?”
“Maybe because it was old.” Cassie turned the page, reading the text above the furry feline in the tree. “‘As they walked along the sidewalk, they heard a strange sound. Why, it sounded like it came from the sky!’”
Deidre pointed. “What’s that man doing?”
“He’s going up a ladder into the tree.”
“Why’s he going up a ladder?”
Cassie took a new approach. “Because he’s a fireman, and that’s what happens when cats get stuck in trees. You call the fire department and they come to save your kitties.” Cassie turned to Deidre. “Do you like kittens, Deidre?”
Deidre looked up at her, the same serious expression in her gaze. She turned her head back to the page.
Deidre had not spoken since Cassie had found her hanging on Star’s hip at the apartment. Not one word.
Three more books and 120 questions from Kennedy later, the doctor returned and gave her the news.
“You have one tough cookie on your hands, Ms. Everson. Kennedy’s test came back positive for strep, plus a double ear infection. Ten days of amoxicillin should do it.” He ripped off a sheet and handed it to Cassie. “I’d also like to see them on a diet plan until they are up to full speed.”
Cassie scanned the list of food recommendations as he talked about their BMI.
“And . . .” Cassie hesitated, casting a glance to Deidre, trying to figure out how to word the question without her knowing. “About the . . . nonverbal . . . issue. Is there anything you would recommend? Anything I should be doing?”
The Dating Charade Page 8