Inevitably You

by Abby Brooks

  The man stands, shoving his hands in his back pockets as he stares down at the cats in the cage. I appraise his profile—high cheekbones, strong jaw, dark eyebrows and lashes—and then he turns and catches me staring. He smiles, showing a row of straight white teeth and a glimmer in his eyes that warms my poor, tired soul. I drop my attention to the three cats living their last day in a cage too small to fit them all.

  "I'm gonna take all three home," the man says to the woman leaning against the wall.

  "All three?" the woman asks, the surprise in her voice capturing Claire's attention.

  "Yep." The man nods. "They'll all be fat and happy out in the barn, catching mice and living the high life before the end of the week."

  The woman pushes off the wall and makes a face. "Whatever floats your boat. You need a box?" She gestures towards the cage. "To carry 'em in?"

  "I've got two carriers in the car, but if you've got a box for the third, that'd be great. Give them a little breathing room." The man wastes a smile on the employee. "You mind if I take them out?" he asks as she trudges out of the room.

  "Whatever you wanna do." The poor thing sounds so tired, it makes me wonder what kind of struggles she’s fighting through. Life can be so cruel.

  Claire edges closer as the man kneels and works the lock on the cage door. As he reaches inside, she drops to her knees beside him.

  "Claire, honey..." I don’t want her to crowd him. He doesn’t need a little girl encroaching on his personal space.

  He looks up, recognizes her curiosity, and smiles again. "She's okay," he says to me. "You wanna see?" he asks my daughter as he pulls a tiny kitten out of the cage.

  Claire reaches for the little fur ball and buries her face in its side as she cuddles it close. "She's so soft," she coos. "Oh, Mommy." She looks up at me and I can guess what she's going to say. "Can we please adopt one?"

  A fissure opens along the surface of my heart as the attendant comes back in the room, carrying a cardboard box. "How much does it cost to adopt a kitten?" I ask, even though she can't give me an answer that means I can afford it.

  "Eighty-five." She drops the box on the ground and takes the kitten out of Claire's hands before putting it in the box.

  "Dollars?" I squeak, appalled.

  The woman looks at me like I'm an idiot. "Right. Dollars."

  Claire sighs. "It's okay, Mommy. I know we can't get one. I just got excited."

  The man runs a hand through his dark hair, staring down at Claire with a funny look in his eyes.

  This day is just one embarrassing moment right after the other. As if it wasn't bad enough that I have to say no to Claire at least three times an hour, but now I have the good fortune to do it in front of strangers, too. Deep down in my soul, a small voice cries out that life must be about more than making sacrifices and playing a never-ending game of catch up with my bills. Surely I have more to look forward to than a steady stream of no and not enough. And I don't care how many luxuries I have to do without right now, as long as the day comes when I can start saying yes. And damn it, when that day comes, my daughter will have as many kittens as her little heart desires.

  DAVID

  I can't stop thinking about giving the kitten I just adopted to the little girl in the worn sneakers. The thought is ridiculous on so many levels, but that doesn't stop it from popping back into my head every time I push it away. In what world is it okay for a grown man to give a kitten to a little girl he doesn’t know, especially after her mother just finished saying no? In fact, I’m pretty damn sure that would classify me as creepy as hell. So what if the look on the woman's face told me she would rather say yes to her daughter? I have no right to interfere at all, nor do I have any reason to justify the urge to give a kitten to a stranger, even if the little girl does look a little like Maggie.

  I ball that thought up and shove it way back where it belongs, a place so deep and dark I won't stumble across it again in the near future. As soon as the attendant finishes putting the kitten in the box, I open it right back up and wave the girl over. "You can hold her some more if you want."

  The girl looks to her mother. "Can I?"

  The woman wraps her arms around her stomach and narrows her eyes at me. I understand. If I was in her situation, I'd be wondering about my motives, too. "For a minute," she says after some thought and gives me a tentative smile. She should do that more often. Smile, I mean. She's fucking beautiful when she does.

  I help the girl with the kitten and then stand, extending my hand to her mother.

  "David," I say, "David Carmichael."

  She places her small hand in mine. "Michelle." Her eyes—an extraordinary blue framed by dark lashes—meet mine and I lose my train of thought. She reclaims her hand and points at her daughter. "And that monster trying to sneak your kitten out of here without either one of us noticing is Claire."

  "Hey! I'm not a monster." Claire pouts and then returns her attention to the creature cuddled in her arms.

  "And isn't that exactly what a monster would say?" Michelle crouches beside Claire, her light brown hair falling over her shoulder like a curtain closing her off from me.

  I fill out the adoption paperwork with my attention split between the forms and Michelle. She's a stunner, but nothing about the way she holds herself makes me think she has one single idea how beautiful she is. Those blue eyes, that creamy skin. I have a sudden urge to see more of it, all of it, to trail my fingers down her stomach while she arches her back in anticipation of all the pleasure I'm about to give her. Her hair fanned out across my pillow...

  "Mr. Carmichael?" The tired woman on the other side of the counter leans in to catch my attention.

  I wrench my focus back to the task at hand. "Mmm?"

  "Will that be cash or credit?" she asks. "For the cats," she adds when I don't answer right away.

  "Sorry. Cash." I smile as I reach into my back pocket for my wallet. "I was thinking about work," I add.

  "Sure. Whatever you say." The woman glances at Michelle and Claire, still crouched down and cuddling the kitten I'll be adding to my family of barn cats. I pay her and then approach the women, kneeling beside them.

  "So," I say to the little girl, Claire. "I know you can't take one home with you, but if you'd like, you could name this one. That's the next best thing to having your own."

  The little girl grins widely. "Do you mean it?"

  I nod. "Yep."

  "And you promise to take good care of her?"

  I nod again. "I take good care of all of my animals."

  Claire studies the little ball of fur in her lap. "I think…” She trails off, peering into the kitten's face. "I think her name is Mouse."

  "Mouse, huh?" I ask. "Is that because she's so small?"

  "Nope. She's only small now 'cause she's a baby. She'll grow up big and be a great hunter. I can tell. If her name is Mouse, she'll blend in better and they'll never see her coming."

  I laugh. "That's a very good point."

  Michelle stands and draws her hair over her shoulder. "Why don't you say goodbye to Mouse so Mr. Carmichael can take her home," she says to Claire before turning to me. "That was kind of you. Letting her name her like that." She twiddles the ends of her hair around her fingers.

  "It's no skin off my back, you know? And if it makes her happy..." I shrug, losing myself in the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.

  "Well, it's nice to be on the receiving end of that kindness." Her eyes lock on mine and her lips part before she blinks, swallows, and turns her focus to Claire. "Isn't it, Bear?"

  "Isn't it what?" she asks, rubbing her cheek against Mouse's back.

  "Nice to have someone do something nice for us. I don't know many men who would let a strange little monster name his kitten."

  Claire rolls her eyes at the nickname and then beams at me. "Oh yeah." She stands, careful not to jostle the kitten. "You promise you'll take good care of her?"

  "Cross my heart." I take Mouse back from Claire and put her into her b
ox.

  "You need help?" Michelle gestures to the other two cat carriers.

  Under normal circumstances, I'd say no and let her go back to whatever it is she's doing here, but the prospect of having a few more minutes with her is more than I can pass up. "Sure." I grin. "I appreciate it."

  Michelle carefully lifts one of the carriers, laughing as the poor cat freaks out inside, jostling the weight around and bouncing the carrier against her leg. With Claire carrying the other kitten carrier, we load everyone up in the back seat of my truck without any problems.

  "Thanks." I close the door and run a hand through my hair.

  "It's the least we could do," says Michelle, placing a hand on Claire's back and leading her across the parking lot. "Have a good one," she calls over her shoulder.

  "You, too." I consider calling out to her. Running up and asking for her phone number, because what kind of man would let a woman that beautiful walk away? As Michelle helps Claire into the back seat and then slides into the driver's seat, yanking the door shut behind her, I realize that I'm the kind of man that would let her walk away. Beautiful or not, I don't have time for a woman, her child, and all the things that come along with them. I climb into the truck and watch Michelle's car through the rearview. I think she turns to look my way as she passes, but the way the sun glances off the roof of her car, I can't be sure.

  I bring the truck to life and turn on the air conditioning. This April might as well be August, given how hot it is. The whole winter was mild, which might have spelled disaster for me if the temperature had dropped back down to normal after all the plants started popping. It still could, we're not technically out of the woods yet, but each day that passes without a frost warning has me more confident that things are going to be okay at the farm.

  One of the cats starts yowling a few minutes after I hit the road and doesn't stop until I pull to a stop in front of the Carmichael family farmhouse. "Come on, then," I say as I lift the carrier out of the back. "Let me show you your new home."

  Pogo, my over-zealous—if slightly clumsy—Australian Shepherd comes bounding out of the barn to meet us. One at a time, I bring the cats out and open the carriers in front of the food and water dishes I keep out here for them. Pogo sniffs each one, his little nub of a tail wagging so hard his hips wiggle with the effort. The two adult cats don't give him the time of day but Mouse? She puffs up and hops towards him, her back arched, a teeny-tiny ball of hissing ferocity. Pogo barks and I call him over to me so the kitten can relax and start to settle in.

  A lot of farmers swear by having unneutered cats that have to fend for themselves, only filling their bellies off what they can hunt down. They say they're more aggressive and hungry and are therefore better mousers. Me? I'd rather adopt a cat who can't find a home and do my best to give it a great life. I feed them to keep up their strength and love it when they run up to greet me, bumping and nuzzling their little heads against my legs.

  "Did you find some good ones?" My brother Colton strides into the barn, his hands shoved in his back pockets and his hat pulled down low over his face.

  "Sure did." I smile as Mouse pounces on a piece of straw caught in the wind. I should have gotten Michelle's phone number so I could send a picture to Claire. And then ask her mom out to dinner. I was a fool to let that woman walk out of my life.

  "Mom and Dad are in the kitchen." Colton gestures towards the stately farmhouse with its wraparound porch, a few hundred feet off the road. "Your presence has been requested."

  "Do you think they'll ever figure out that I'm the one living there now? And that maybe they shouldn't let themselves in whenever they want to? And that maybe, just maybe, they can't summon me to a meeting in my own house whenever they want?"

  Colton leans against the barn door. "Dude. You and I both know that nothing on this farm belongs to either one of us. It's all part of the family legacy—" he makes air quotes and raises his eyebrows "—and privacy means nothing if you're a Carmichael."

  I shake my head. "Remind me again why I didn't move out when I had the chance?" I stand and brush my hands off on my jeans as I head out of the barn and towards the house.

  "Uh? Because I'm still here. Duh." Colton pushes off the wall to follow me.

  As I step out into the sunshine, my gaze settles on the house my family has lived in for the last four generations. Blue sky and miles of open space surround the two-story home. Decades of love, devotion, and hard work are evident in the clean white paint and cultivated flowerbeds, in the porch steps Colton and I helped Dad repair last year, and in the neat trim around the windows. The orchard and its early blooms stretch out on my left. Mom's strawberries on my right. The bleat of a goat greets me as I walk by and a warm breeze rustles the hair at the back of my neck. All I need to remind me why I stayed is stretched out in front of me. This farm is a slice of heaven handmade by each generation of Carmichaels to hand down to the next. I love being here, married to the plants and the soil, tending the animals with the people who know me best and love me anyway, the history of my life etched into every single acre.

  I stayed because here at Carmichael Farms, with my days filled with nothing but work and family, my life is pretty damn perfect. After living through my own personal hell, I have a new appreciation for this simple life and I wouldn't change it for the world.

  MICHELLE

  I push through the heavy wooden doors of Smitty's about twenty minutes late for my standing date with my two best friends. It was a long day at work and neither Claire nor I had much energy left when we got home. We both needed a little time to decompress before we got up and moving again. As much as I need the grownup time with my friends, guilt thrums through me as I scour the place for Lexi and Bailey.

  Claire is at Mom's for the night. After Claire spent the whole day at the studio, entertaining herself with her books and toys while I worked away a beautiful Saturday afternoon, I try to console myself with the knowledge that she's having a good time with her grandma, but a big part of me that would like to join in on that good time. All I do is tell Claire she can't have something she wants, or to be quiet, or worse—I have to make her do something she doesn't want to do. Add the guilt over leaving her with Mom to the fact that I can't really justify spending money on drinks, and there are a lot of times that I wonder if I should just duck out of the bi-weekly date with my friends.

  Except for one little thing, one thing that keeps me coming back to Smitty’s, even when there are plenty of reasons to cancel. When I was married to Russell, all of my friendships fell to pieces because he kept me at home, locked in a cage built from his insecurities. None of the people who loved me before my marriage loved me after it. Each and every friend I had slowly faded to black, disappearing behind the mountain of excuses I made each time they invited me out and I turned them down. The night he moved out, I promised myself I wouldn't let my life disappear ever again.

  I’d joined a single mom's group and met Lexi, who had introduced me to Bailey. And so here I am, happy to spend time with my friends and sad not to be with my daughter. Bailey catches my attention, waving at me from a table in the middle of the bar. I smile in return and make my way to them.

  "There you are." She frowns up at me. "We were just starting to wonder if you were about to stand us up."

  "I wouldn't dream of it." I pull out a chair and take a seat, the regret over still wondering if I should call off our outings wandering through my smile.

  "Don't listen to her," says Lexi, sitting back and gesturing towards Bailey. "Bay is all kinds of grumpy because her super amazing fiancé has her house torn apart and is a little behind schedule in getting it put back together again."

  "A little?" Bailey leans forward. "I love the man to pieces. To pieces. But if he can't figure out how to build me a working bathroom by the end of the weekend, I might have to call off the wedding." She laughs, way too happy in love to be serious.

  "Right." I roll my eyes and bob my head. "Because we all totally believe that's a t
hing that might really happen." I pull my hair over my shoulders and play with the ends. "So what are you guys drinking tonight?"

  Bailey holds up a bottle of Bud Light. "Beer for me."

  "I'm going crazy with a Coke." Lexi’s eyes harden as she forces a smile. Last year was a rough one for her and she hasn't had much to drink since. "Consider me your designated driver. You guys are free to go as crazy as you want."

  "You know Michelle's going to order one beer and nurse it the whole night." Bailey chuckles and rolls her eyes. "And I'm not going to get drunk all by my lonesome."

  Lexi swirls her straw, the ice clinking against the glass, and then turns to me, a devilish look glinting in her eyes. "You should go crazy, Michelle. You keep yourself on such a tight leash and you need to let loose. Hell, everyone needs to once in a while. I'm here to drive you home safe. Claire's at your mom's. Why not order something with a little more punch than a beer? And preferably more than one. Get stupid drunk with Bailey so I can laugh at the two of you for the rest of the night."

  "I fully support this idea." Bailey rubs her hands together and grins at me. "Your adorable factor multiplies by about a million when you’re drunk, and heaven knows I'm ready to blow off some steam after a week in a house with zero working bathrooms."

  I haven't told either of my friends how hard my finances are right now. They're amazing women and the very first thing they would want to do is help, which is the reason I haven't said anything. I absolutely, one-hundred percent, do not want to be a burden on anyone. Marrying Russell was a terrible idea but I did it anyway, fooled into complacency by some strange combination of idealistic faith and a certainty that his needs outweighed mine. It's bad enough that Claire has to suffer through the consequences of my actions. I have zero desire to make my friends shoulder the weight of my choices, too.

  I shrug. "I don't know..." I say and then glance at Lexi, hoping to find some help there.

  The look in her eyes proves I won’t find safe harbor with her. The last thing I want to do is disappoint them, but I shouldn't even order one beer, let alone several. Just when I think I'm going to have to get really honest, really fast with my friends, salvation walks by in the shape of someone tall, dark, and achingly familiar.