She breathed a sigh of relief. “You realize you live in Pleasant Hill, right? This place is like Mayberry on steroids.”
The haunted look returned to his eyes. They both turned at the sound of Phillip’s boots approaching. He let go of Tempest’s hand and lifted Phillip into his arms, the haunted look floating away. He kissed his boy’s cheek, and Phillip wrapped his arms around his neck, softening all of Nash’s sharp edges.
“Hey, buddy. How would you like to go to a playground with me and Tempe?”
Phillip nodded and wiggled out of his arms. He ran back into the barn and grabbed his plastic hammer.
“I was a little worried he wouldn’t know what a playground was,” she admitted.
“I’m a busy guy, but I’m not an a-hole. At least not on purpose. I may be a loner, but I’m not trying to keep him hidden away from the world. The last thing I want to do is anything that makes his life harder.”
“DID YOU KNOW this playground was built by the community?” Tempest asked as they crossed the lawn toward the playground. “A group of residents donated their time and local businesses donated the materials. I think that makes it even more special, don’t you?”
“I didn’t know that, but yes, I agree.” Nash had a feeling he was just getting to see how special Tempest was, too.
Kids laughed as they ran from the slides to the wooden climbing equipment, their parents chatting casually nearby. A young mother pushed her daughter on a swing, and a father, he assumed, paced by the jungle gym with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Spending an afternoon at the playground was normal for most families, but he hadn’t thought about how different his and Phillip’s normal was until now.
He glanced down at his son to get a read on his thoughts. Phillip squinted up at him against the bright sun, clutching his hammer in one hand and his father’s fingers tightly in the other. “What do you want to go on first?”
Phillip stared uncomfortably at the equipment.
“How about that cool fort?” Tempest pointed to a wooden climbing fort with slides, a ramp, and a fireman pole down the center.
His son shrugged.
Two young boys ran in front of them, hollering and giggling. Phillip grabbed Nash’s leg, huddling closer.
Concern pressed in on Nash as he knelt beside him, taking in his worried expression. “Hey, buddy, this will be fun. I’ll be right here with you.”
Tempest moved to Phillip’s other side and reached for his hand. “How about if we all go in the fort?”
She smiled at Nash, and he was relieved not to see even a hint of judgment in her eyes. There was enough of that going on in his own head.
They climbed into the fort, where a little blond girl with two pigtails was turning a steering wheel like she was driving the fort and a boy who looked to be around Phillip’s age was looking out a window talking to another boy who was standing on the ground. Phillip remained glued to Nash’s side.
“Want a turn?” the blond girl asked.
Phillip moved behind Nash’s leg. As he tried to pry his son from his leg, he realized that if Tempest hadn’t said anything to him, he would have written this off as Phillip’s typical shy behavior. And maybe it was, but her words nagged at him. I’d hate to see Phillip struggling to catch up when all it would take is a little interaction every now and again. He found himself analyzing his son, and he hated that. His son was perfect just the way he was. He glanced at Tempest, who was reaching a hand out to another young girl as she climbed up a ramp and into the fort.
Taking a page from her playbook, he said, “Come on, buddy. I’ll do it with you.” Nash smiled at the little blond girl as she moved past them toward the slide. He stood behind Phillip and placed his son’s hands on the wheel, turning it both ways. “You’re the captain of our ship, buddy. Where are we going? Do you want me to hold your hammer?”
Phillip shook his head adamantly, clutching the hammer against the steering wheel. “Fishing!” He moved the wheel and said, “Put your hands in the water.”
Nash smiled and pretended to dip his hand over the edge. “It’s mighty cold.”
As Phillip called out directives and pretended to battle a raging storm, the knots in Nash’s chest unraveled. He was fine. His boy was A-OK. He moved away from Phillip and joined Tempest by the window of the fort.
“Do you believe me now?” he asked. “He’s fine.”
“I never said he wasn’t fine,” she said quietly. “I just thought it might be good for him to socialize a little.”
“Here comes a wave,” Phillip hollered.
The girl who had been playing with the steering wheel rushed up the stairs and landed in the fort beside Phillip with a loud, “Hi!”
Phillip made a beeline for Nash, clinging to his leg again.
Maybe he’d spoken too soon. Nash looked at Tempest with his heart in his throat, but her attention was solely focused on his boy as she bent to eye level.
“It was nice of you to give her a turn,” she praised him. “Why don’t you introduce yourself, and maybe you can play together.”
Phillip looked up at Nash.
Nash nodded his approval, feeling the weight of this interaction like lead on his shoulders. Phillip didn’t move. Nash set a hand on his son’s back, urging him forward. “It’s okay, buddy.”
Phillip looked at the little girl again, pushing back against Nash’s hand.
Nash took his hand and stepped toward the girl, but Phillip was rooted in place, shaking his head. All Nash’s protective urges surged forward. He scooped Phillip into his arms and climbed out of the fort.
“Nash?” Tempest called after him. She caught up to them in the grass and grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”
“He was scared. Couldn’t you see that? He’s obviously not ready.” He didn’t dare look at her. He wasn’t just angry that he’d allowed his son to be put in an uncomfortable situation, but he was angry at himself for not realizing this could happen in the first place. Guilt gnawed at his gut. He’d been so damned busy trying to keep their lives going, he’d missed the most elementary of things—and possibly one of the most important.
“Nash,” she said, coming to a stop. “Of course he’s a little intimidated, but he’ll ease into meeting other kids if you give him the chance.”
Nash huffed with frustration and turned to face her. Her gaze was soft, and it struck him again that she wasn’t judging him. She looked as kind and patient as she had the day he’d met her, and to top it off, knowing she was trying to help his son made her appear even more beautiful. He pressed a kiss to Phillip’s forehead, forcing his overprotective urges to settle down, feeling stupid for overreacting.
Tempest ran a soothing hand down Phillip’s back. “This isn’t a race or a contest,” she said sweetly. “This is as new for you as it is for him, and it takes some getting used to. How about if we take a walk?”
He was torn between wanting to protect his boy from feeling any more uncomfortable and wanting to help him get over that feeling. If only fatherhood came with a handbook. Then PJ might still be alive.
Tempest’s hand slid from Phillip’s back to Nash’s arm, pulling him from the dark thought. “It’s a beautiful day,” she urged.
He couldn’t argue with that, despite the guilt and confusion twisting within him. “Sure.” He pressed another kiss to Phillip’s cheek. “Want to take a walk, buddy?”
Phillip buried his face in Nash’s shirt and nodded, all those springy curls bouncing around his cherubic face. He ached with love for him, and the thought that he might have made any part of his son’s life more difficult made him sick to his stomach. He set Phillip on the ground, and they followed a path around the perimeter of the playground. Every step was a measure in self-control as he watched Phillip like a hawk to make sure he didn’t get overwhelmed.
A young mother walked behind two young children far ahead on the path. Phillip gripped his hand tighter as they passed a family sitting on a blanket in the grass. He watched a little
boy playing with a puppy, and his grip on Nash’s hand loosened. A short while later they passed another family in the grass. A baby slept beside a pregnant woman while a toddler picked at something in a plastic bowl.
“My folks were big on picnics,” Nash said out of the blue. “I haven’t thought about that in so long, it’s almost like it happened to a family I once knew. But when I was younger we had picnics all summer long. It’s weird that Phillip and I haven’t once had a picnic.”
“But you eat outside. That’s sort of the same thing. Except there aren’t other people around.” She looked at him thoughtfully, her message loud and clear. He was doing well, but he could do a little better. “We grew up on the beach, and my parents were always taking us into town for festivals and community get-togethers—which reminds me: I saw a flyer for a fall concert in two weeks. I have to go back to Peaceful Harbor that weekend, but maybe you can take Phillip.”
“A concert might be a bit much for him, don’t you think?”
“It’s a Sunday-afternoon concert at Pleasant Hill Park. I’m sure there will be lots of kids there. I wish I could go. There’s no better way to get to know people in your community than those kinds of events. Now I’m excited about it.” She laughed. “That’s the weekend my brother Cole’s medical practice hosts a patient picnic, which I’ve never missed, and I have to see a client in the late afternoon. But please tell me you’ll take him. It would be so good for him.” With a teasing smile, she said, “That is, unless it’s too much for his daddy.”
He nudged her with his elbow and her laughter sailed into the air, shattering any remaining tension. He hadn’t realized he’d been so tightly wound for so long, but just being around her made him feel lighter.
“Okay. I’ll take him. But I make no promises about how long we’ll stay. If he has a hard time, without you there to push me into staying, we might bolt.”
Phillip let go of his hand. It was something that happened many times each day, but now he found himself putting more importance on his son’s independence, and he made a mental note to try to encourage that.
Phillip squinted up at him, and Nash realized Tempest was right. Phillip sought his permission for everything. He wasn’t sure that was a bad thing, but it was definitely a thing. Worrying that he could be accidentally hamstringing Phillip’s independence, he made another mental note to pay closer attention to those types of things.
He nodded, and Phillip walked a few feet ahead of them, his head bobbing to the right, then to the left, as he took it all in. Nash tried to remember the last time they’d been to a playground or a park, and he realized it had been months ago.
“I have a feeling that you’d do anything for Phillip. So if you do want to bolt, just remember how much better he’s done in the short time we’ve been here.”
Phillip crouched by a rock and began hitting it with his hammer. He squinted up at Nash, and out of habit, Nash nodded his approval. Phillip sat back on his heels, banging the rock and then inspecting it more closely.
“Sometimes I look at him,” he said, “and I can’t believe he’s the same human being as the infant I held in my arms. People talk about how fast time goes by, but when you’re in the thick of it, changing diapers, making sure he doesn’t crack his head open when he’s learning to stand, worrying when he spikes a fever, it seems like every day takes a hundred hours. But sometimes, how much he’s grown and changed—how much I’ve changed—hits me so hard it’s difficult to comprehend that we were ever anything other than what we are right now.”
“You’ve done a good job with him, Nash. I know I upset you by suggesting that you put him in preschool, but you really have raised a lovely, happy boy.”
“He’s so little. The idea of sending him off to school seems wrong. I mean, look at him.” He watched Phillip push to his feet and walk down the path again.
“It’s hard for lots of parents,” Tempest said. “My mom said she worried every time she sent one of us off to a new school—preschool, elementary, middle. College. Even though we knew most of the kids we went to school with from community events and playdates, she still worried about how we’d adjust to new surroundings, schedules, the whole deal. And when we went away to college she said that flipped around on her. She knew she had taught us well and given us the tools we needed to succeed and the confidence to adjust to being away from home, but she hadn’t prepared herself for being without us. Parenting has got to be the hardest thing a person can do.”
His parents had never had a chance to deal with one of their sons going off to college, and he had no idea how his mom had dealt with his going to preschool, or any school for that matter. He was a kid. It had never even crossed his mind. But when they’d lost PJ she had been inconsolable for weeks. He’d seen PJ’s ghost everywhere before they’d packed up and left town, and even on the boat his brother’s ghost followed him like a shadow. He was sure that was one of the reasons they’d packed up and left everything he’d ever known behind. Two years was long enough for each of them to shove their feelings so deep they’d need goddamn shovels to unearth them. Long enough for his parents to be able to function again and not walk around like zombies. Long enough for Dad’s cancer to take hold.
“You can try out preschool for a day and see how he does. They have observation days. They’re like trial days, where you can observe him in class to see how he adjusts.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
Tempest lowered her voice and said, “Do you mind if I ask what it was like for you in the early days when you were by yourself with Phillip? It must have turned your life upside down.”
He heard her question, but he wanted to tell her about PJ, to try to finally get it out of his system with someone he trusted. How could he trust her after just a few days? One look in her honest eyes was all it took for him to find his answer. How can I not?
But one glance at his son was all it took for him to hold back that confession. This wasn’t the time or place to talk about his loss. Trying to help Phillip learn how to interact with other kids was enough to deal with.
“Actually,” he finally answered, “I think he turned it right-side up. I’d been living out of my car and in tents for so long, I hardly remembered what it was like to stay in one place for more than a few weeks. I had no one to answer to, no one to take care of.”
“No one to take care of you,” Tempest added.
He’d never thought about it that way, but as he fought the urge to reach for her hand, he realized she was right.
“I guess, yeah. But I’ve never thought like that. I liked being on my own.” The only person I wanted to be around was PJ, and I hated that he wasn’t there. “I hung out with other artists, used a portable forge, hauled my stuff in my truck. And my guitar was the best constant companion.”
“You play?” Surprise lit her eyes.
“Played. After Phillip’s mother left, I was too mad to play, and honestly, there was no time. Have you ever taken care of a baby? If they’re not eating or pooping or crying, they’re sleeping. And when he was sleeping I was trying to do laundry or clean up. I was afraid to leave the house to go to my workshop, even with a baby monitor. Most of the time, when he finally fell asleep, I crashed, too.”
He patted his chest. “He used to sleep right here when he had a stuffed nose or when his stomach hurt. I can’t tell you how many nights I sat up on the couch while he slept sprawled across my chest.”
“That’s so cute. I wish you had pictures.”
“Trust me. That was not a time of my life you’d want to see in pictures.” He laughed. “I got so little sleep I looked like a zombie. I was afraid to leave him alone, so I only showered while he was asleep, and worried the whole time that I’d miss his cry.”
“Somehow I think you looked a lot hotter than you think. But it’s the love I wanted to see, not your looks.”
Jesus, she stopped him cold. How did he get lucky enough that she was the one who’d called about his ad? We’ve been b
rought together for a reason, and we’re connecting. Let’s not overthink it.
“Tell me more,” she said. “Suddenly you’re a homeowner, and a single parent, and you gave up creating the art you loved. I can’t imagine dealing with so many changes at once. I know you said you weren’t in love with Phillip’s mother, but you must have missed her, too, which I’d imagine made it even more difficult. I have friends whose parents are divorced, which I know you’re not, but it’s sort of similar. It seems like so many of them see their ex in their children and have a hard time dealing with that. When you look at Phillip, do you see her?”
Phillip got up and continued walking around the playground. They followed close behind.
“No. When I look at Phillip, I see Phillip. Obviously, his skin is darker than mine, and he has the same type of thick ringlets she did, but those are his attributes, not hers. When he was born, his skin was much fairer. I thought he looked a lot like”—PJ—“me when I was younger. But as I told you before, it wasn’t like you think it was between us. We met at an art show in North Carolina. There were a bunch of artists camping at the same place, and after the show we’d hang out, have a beer, talk, and she and I hooked up. Over the course of the show, we got to talking and realized we were heading to several of the same shows over the next few weeks, so we stayed at the same campgrounds. We did our own thing and got together a few times each week. It’s not like we lived together. We weren’t even a couple. We just…hung out.” Damn, he hoped that didn’t make him sound like an asshole, but it was what it was.
“Then it makes sense that you don’t necessarily see her when you look at Phillip. Maybe that makes it easier than if you did.”
They walked for a while in comfortable silence. Nash was watching a guy teach his dog to play fetch, and Tempest grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking forward. She pointed to Phillip, who was watching three kids spinning in circles with their arms stretched out to their sides. They tumbled to the ground in fits of giggles, and Phillip laughed.
Whisper of Love (The Bradens at Peaceful Harbor, Book Five) Page 11