“I think you’re the first person I’ve seen in shorts this year,” Avery said, eyeing her long, lean legs from just inches away. “I approve.”
“It was hotter than Hades in the brewery today. This shirt had sleeves until nine o’clock this morning, but they had to go.”
Avery was tempted to tell her she heartily approved of her choice, but she tried not to flirt too blatantly. Casey’s arms were simply things of beauty—lean and strong, with muscles hidden beneath soft skin that was already slightly tan. They hadn’t had many warm days, but she’d obviously spent every possible weekend moment sitting out by that fantastic pool.
Lisbet had been patient long enough, and she tried to wriggle out of Avery’s embrace, determined to get back to an area by the bar, where a couple of blankets lay on the floor, with toys scattered around them. The second Lisbet reached the toy she was looking for, she yanked it from a little boy’s hand and shook it in the air, shrieking at her victory.
Avery could have set a timer, so confident she was that the little guy would cry before three seconds had elapsed. By the time she moved to settle the dispute, her mom slid off a bar stool to intervene. She looked over at Avery, cocked her head in surprise, then got down on the floor to take the toy from Lisbet and hand it back to its owner. Avery could hear her say, “You can play with Colvin, but you can’t take his toys.”
The baby looked up at her grandmother, clearly on the verge of crying, then she turned her head sharply and reached for another toy. In seconds, she was happily playing with it, acting like she didn’t even know Colvin was in the building.
Avery and Casey walked over to the bar as a woman emerged from the back room. She was very cute, very pregnant, and a little unsteady on her feet. In a flash, Casey was next to her, holding her arm and guiding her to a stool.
“I can run into the brewery and find a real chair,” she said. “It’ll just take a second.”
“I’m fine,” the woman said, smiling warmly at her. “I can still get on a stool. Barely.”
Casey put her hands next to her hips, ready for action if she needed steadying. It would have been funny if they didn’t act so friggin’ comfortable around each other, but if Avery hadn’t known better she would have guessed they were an expectant couple. At least she thought she knew better, but Casey wasn’t always very forthcoming. While she never lied, she also didn’t reveal a lot, especially about her personal life. For all Avery knew, she and Tara had gotten closer. Maybe a whole lot closer.
Once the woman was settled, and Casey was able to stand down, she signaled for Avery. “Come meet Tara. Since you’re the last person here to have given birth, you can reassure her that it’s no big deal.” Casey moved to stand behind Tara, and made a funny face. One that was silently entreating Avery to lie about the pains of childbirth. Actually, it would have been funny if Avery wasn’t already struggling with her jealousy.
Avery put her hand out to shake, and now that they were just a foot from each other she could see how remarkably young Tara was. Her heart went out to her, with the thought of this child-like woman having a baby on her own seeming like a very big task to take on. “Avery Nichols,” she said when they shook. “Lisbet’s mine.”
Her mom was behind her, and she put her arm around Avery’s waist. “And Avery’s mine,” she said, leaning close to kiss her cheek.
“Tara Phillips,” she said. Patting her belly, she added, “and this is Landry. The doctor says he’s not due for another week, but I’m hoping for Sunday, since that’s my birthday. I think it would be fun to celebrate together every year.”
Casey went around behind the bar to pull a cider for Colvin’s dad, and Avery chatted with Tara while keeping an eye on Lisbet. Another little girl had joined them, but she was walking steadily, obviously a bit older and taller, which required Avery to keep an eye on the group since no other parent seemed to be watching them.
“Pardon?” Avery said, turning to look at Tara when she felt a hand on her arm.
“I thanked you for the infant seat,” Tara said. “And all of the clothes and toys. I can’t wait to use everything.” She laughed, showing a very fetching grin. “I just need this baby to come out and play.”
“Oh, no need to thank me. Casey borrowed the infant seat from her friend here at work. To be honest, Casey’s bought most of the toys. She’s the middleman in this whole enterprise.”
“Ahh. I should have known. She never wants any credit for the things she does.”
“Oh, that’s Casey,” Avery’s mom said. “Generous to a fault.”
“She’s done so much for me,” Tara said. “I wouldn’t have half of the things I need without her.” She let her gaze travel across the bar and Avery was certain she could see sparks of desire in her pale eyes. “But the things she does don’t come close to the way she’s helped me…” She shrugged. “Emotionally, I guess.” She made eye contact with Avery. “You know what I mean, right? She makes me feel like I’ll be able to do this.”
“You will,” Avery said, grasping her arm and squeezing it. “Women have been giving birth for a very long time. We’ve all learned from each other.”
“We’re here for you, Tara,” Avery’s mom said. “Lisbet’s old enough to be able to entertain herself more now, so I’m determined to give you a break at least once a week. We’ll watch Landry for a few hours so you can get some things done.”
“Oh, Kathy, you don’t have to do that. I’ve got six weeks off, then I’ll be working from home. I’ll be able to work when Landry’s sleeping, which they say will be up to eighteen hours a day.”
Avery met her mom’s gaze and they both bit their tongues. It was too late to tell the woman her plans were nuts. She’d figure that out all on her own on the first day she tried to work an eight-hour shift with a new baby in the house.
***
Avery got down on the blanket and played with Lisbet and Colvin for a while. Eventually, Colvin’s dad joined them, and after a bit he commented that his wife worked in Manhattan. That gave them a conversational toe-hold, since they could chat about some of the things they both used to do when they lived in the city.
Lisbet seemed very taken with Tim, Colvin’s dad, and she wound up on his lap, playing with a book she was very rough with. “Is today Thursday?” Tim asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“I need to make a reminder to buy my lottery tickets,” he said, taking his phone from his pocket to set an alarm.
“Is there a big jackpot?”
“I haven’t checked,” he said, typing a little more. “I buy ten tickets every week. If we won even a million…” He sighed. “Okay, two million, we’d be able to move back to the city.” He lowered his voice slightly. “I know I’m not telling you anything new, but watching a kid all day can be so damn boring!”
Avery chuckled. “It certainly can be,” she admitted. “A writer I love described parenthood as droplets of joy floating in an ocean of tedium.”
“That’s about right. I just didn’t realize how tiny a droplet was,” he said, with his laugh sounding a little bitter. “Don’t you wish you could be sitting at some cool new restaurant with your friends right now?” He got a faraway look in his eye, and kept on going. “You’d go through a couple of bottles of wine, and talk about everything. Politics, culture, the latest books, movies. Damn, I miss movies,” he added, sounding vaguely heartbroken.
“Netflix?”
He gave her a puzzled look. “No, no. Not the same at all. We used to go to Film Forum or the Angelika every week. Hell, I knew the ticket taker at the Walter Reade by name. But Colvin’s ten months old now, and my wife and I haven’t been to a movie together since he was born.” He stared glumly at his son, who was oblivious to his dad’s isolation. “I hired a babysitter a couple of weeks ago and spent the afternoon at Time and Space in Hudson, but it wasn’t the same, since there were only about six people there. I’m used to fighting for a seat at the IFC to see some Romanian thriller that no one can understand. Th
e more confused I am, the better I like it.”
Avery wasn’t sure what to say. The guy was clearly in a glum mood, but she didn’t want to offer some vague platitudes. Instead, she tried for empathy. “I’ve had days, and weeks, for that matter, where I’ve wanted to hop on the train and run away from home. But then Lisbet does something adorable, and it hits me that my life has more meaning now. It’s harder,” she added. “No one can convince me that having a child is easy. But…” She made a gesture to show how helpless she was to resist her child’s allure. “Having Lisbet and living close to my family was the right choice for me.”
“But don’t you miss the city?”
He looked like he was about to cry, and she definitely could share his longing. But it was a more distant longing now, kind of like dreaming about vacationing somewhere warm and sunny on a cold, grey day. More of a fleeting wish than a void. She found herself saying, “Not a lot, and not very often. Oh, I’ll see that there’s a concert or a play that I’d love to catch, then realize it would take a bigger effort than I’m willing to exert to see it, but that’s about it. Now,” she added, making it clear that hadn’t always been the case. “I didn’t think I’d get here, but I’m happy. This is my home.”
“Mmm. We’ve got a great house that we spent two years renovating, and all of our friends from the city are jealous of our lives, but I’d trade in a minute.”
“How about your wife? Is she happy here?”
“Blissfully,” he said, looking even grumpier. “She gets to entertain clients one or two nights a week in the city. She enjoys all of the best restaurants and concerts, then comes home to her rural refuge.”
“But not you, huh?”
“I’m supposed to be finishing a play I started before the baby was born, but the house feels like a prison. If we could just afford a three-bedroom two bath in a neighborhood with a good grade school, we could use our house on the weekends. Then we’d both be happy.”
She patted him on the shoulder as she stood. “You’d better double-down on those lottery tickets, Tim. You’re going to need a few million, after taxes, to realize that dream.”
***
Avery went out of her way to talk to all of the other parents, really pleased to see that most of them seemed fond of her sweet pea. By five, almost everyone had taken off, and she watched Casey practically carry Tara out to her car. She was like a nervous father, helping her get the seat belt around herself, then walking alongside the car as it bumped down the rutted path, calling out instructions and tips until she couldn’t keep up.
Avery went back into the Pub, and took Lisbet into the back room to give her a snack. She sat her on her lap and tried to get her to have a few of the pitted and quartered cherries she’d recently fallen in love with. But the baby was keyed up from all of the activity, and couldn’t concentrate. She reached for everything that wasn’t food, finally wrenching Avery’s glasses right off her face to throw them across the room.
“Hey! I know I normally wear contacts, but those aren’t a toy. Unless you’ve got some cash on you to replace them, knock it off.”
Lisbet pulled away and craned her neck to look at her, giving her one of those brief moments of intense connection that she’d been talking about with Tim. Then the baby batted her big blue eyes and settled back against Avery’s arm to put both hands on a breast and pull it close.
“You want to nurse, honey?”
She stared at Avery for a second, looking like she was thinking of something important. Then she spoke, as if forming a clear word was her norm. “Mama,” she said, then smiled as she began to nuzzle again.
“You called me mama,” Avery whispered, tears coming to her eyes. She wanted to call for her mom, but was afraid she’d yell out the call in a way that would alert everyone still in the building. Then, realizing she didn’t want an audience, she pulled her shirt up, and unhooked her bra, then snuggled Lisbet tightly against her body, once again feeling that nearly indescribable connection that she’d never felt with another living soul. It was stunning, really, and she let her mind wander to all sorts of happy places.
One word would lead to many, and soon she and Lisbet would be able to converse. After that, it was just a short hop to reading aloud together. She sighed with pleasure. Would anything beat the thrill of sharing the stories you’d loved with your baby?
She cried out sharply when it hit her. Lisbet wasn’t going to be a baby for long. Technically, she’d already passed that point, but the fact she hadn’t spoken yet had let Avery continue to believe she was just a tall, mobile infant. But she wasn’t. She was a toddler, and in just a year and a half she’d be in pre-school, then kindergarten, then grade school, then college, then…
Grasping the baby tightly, she wanted nothing less than to keep her just as she was. That was a crazy, ridiculous wish, and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling that way. She wanted her baby to stay a baby. Forever. Actually, she wanted time to stop right where it was. No matter what happened in the future, nothing could be better than having a healthy, happy, baby. She sniffed her hair, then kissed her again and again as she let the tears flow. None of this made sense, and she knew her feelings were ephemeral, but they were very real at that moment. Lisbet had taken a massive step today, but instead of celebrating, Avery was feeling the loss that came with her child’s maturation. She was embarrassed by her feelings, since she knew they were so selfish. Every good mother should focus on the ultimate goal—of raising a kind, thoughtful, emotionally-connected adult. But she just wanted to mourn the loss of her infant, the sweetest little pea in the world.
***
Casey had been busy shutting down the bar, and when she’d finished carting everything back to the brewery she found only Kathy in the Pub, sitting on a stool looking at her phone, and Lisbet, spread out on the floor atop a blanket, sound asleep.
“Well, this is a nice picture of parental neglect,” she teased. “Mother missing in action, grandmother’s attention locked onto her phone, and a baby asleep on the dirty floor.”
“Don’t forget we’re in a bar,” Kathy said, smiling at her.
“We are, but Avery didn’t have anything to drink, so I know she’s not passed out somewhere.”
“Actually, she went out for a walk ages ago,” Kathy said, shutting her phone off and putting it away. “But I’ve got to get home and start dinner.”
“Want me to go find her?”
“No need.” She stood and pulled her purse close. “I’ll take Lisbet home with me. Why don’t you two go out for a meal? Avery never gets an uninterrupted dinner, and I think she could use one.”
Casey stopped and gave her a curious look. “Um, okay. I guess we could. Is…everything okay?”
“I’m fine and Lisbet’s fine, but something’s up with my girl. She wouldn’t say what, but she was upset when she left. If you two have a little time alone, she might open up.”
“I’m guess I’m up to the challenge. Do you have milk at your house?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I might have to pour a large quantity of liquor down Avery’s throat to get her to talk.”
“We have plenty. She can have a couple of cocktails if you drive.”
“Oh, great,” Casey said, trying to sound dramatic. “I have to pull a cranky woman out of a bad mood while staying sober as a judge?”
Kathy patted her on the back, then squatted down to pick up the completely limp baby. “’Fraid so. Unless you’re not in the mood, that is. If you’d rather, I can go find her and drag her home with me.”
“I’m happy to spend the evening with Avery. Having a meal she can actually concentrate on, along with a glass of wine or two, might pull her out of whatever kind of bad mood she’s in.”
***
The fields were a beautiful shade of yellowish green, with short stalks of wheat and barley swaying softly in the breeze. As Avery walked, she approached the hops, which were vibrant and healthy and a much more vivid green than the other plants.
They grew on sturdy wires supported by telephone poles that kept the wires stretched taut. Now the plants were barely as tall as she was, but by the end of the summer they’d be two or three times as high.
It felt fantastic to walk among the plants, with their smell so herbal and fresh. But she couldn’t shake the melancholy that had settled upon her shoulders. It was time to fetch Lisbet and head home, but she didn’t want to talk yet, and knew her mother would never allow her to go home if she didn’t. That was the only downside of having a very close relationship with your mom. Hiding your feelings wasn’t easy.
She felt, then saw Casey striding down the row, hands shoved into her back pockets, elbows out. She’d put her boots on again, which only made her look cuter, damn it. When she got close, she said, “Lisbet was out cold, so your mom took her home. How about having dinner with me?” She revealed a sweet smile. “You don’t get many weeknights off.”
“I…um…” Avery couldn’t think of a polite way to refuse, but she truly didn’t feel like talking.
“No pressure. I just thought you might like to go out.” She brushed the legs of her shorts, sending dust into the still air. “I’d run home and shower first. Promise.”
“I do want to go out. I mean, I would, but I’m…” She shrugged, unable to put words to her state of mind. “I don’t think I’d be very good company.”
“All right.” She pulled her hands from her back pockets, only to slip them into the ones in front. “I’m going to walk around and check on things. Come with me.”
Now she was really stuck. Instead of trying to think of an excuse, Avery tagged along, hoping Casey wasn’t feeling very chatty, either.
They’d walked about halfway down a row, with Casey leaning over to inspect the plants every few feet. Avery wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she seemed very focused. “We’ve had a good spring so far,” she said quietly. “Now we just need some sun and a little warmth and we can let the irrigation take care of the rest. These are thirsty little devils, but they’d rather get their water from their feet, rather than their heads. They’re fussier than I’d like.”
Friday Night Flights Page 43