by Rich Bullock
Now Skyy’s mouth was hanging open.
Ember took a huge breath and blew it out, then pulled the Jeep back onto the road and accelerated. “So… What do you say?”
“Grandmother?” She was only twenty-nine years old!
Chapter 29
“So,” Canon said, “would you be grandma, grams, or nana?”
“Stop it!” Skyy said, throwing a dish towel at him, scowling when he caught it easily.
Every few minutes he’d break out with more chuckles or at least a wide grin that bordered on an irritating smirk. He didn’t even try to hide it.
She’d sent Ember, Bailey, and Olivia to The Crab Shack for dinner, then to ViceCream for dessert. She planned some alone time with Canon after he got back from a physical therapy office in Mission Peak. What she hadn’t planned on was him finding her predicament so hilarious.
“Yuck it up, lawman.”
“Sorry,” he said, pretending—and epically failing—to wipe off his grin with the towel. He laughed again while mumbling “sorry.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, brushing past him and moving to the front window by the dining table. It was already dark out. The long days of summer couldn’t arrive soon enough.
“Are you going to start doing your hair in a bun?”
She didn’t take the bait, instead watched the lights from homes across the lake in Shelter Cove. Families there were probably finishing their dinners. Normal families. Well, maybe not normal, but at least more traditional than the conglomeration in this house. She sighed, feeling his approach before noticing his reflection in the darkened glass. It was weird how she could sense his nearness even when he didn’t make a sound.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, joining her in her window stare, “I think you’d make a great mom. You’re kind, giving, and you have good instincts about what’s right and wrong. You’re a great role model.” She was just about to thank him when he leaned close to her ear and whispered, “And you’d be the hottest granny at the lake.”
She stepped away, facing him with crossed arms. “I didn’t tell you the rest. When we came into the house, Ember was sounding out how Delaney worked as her new last name. Bailey and Olivia overheard. Now they want me to adopt them too.”
His lips twitched, but he had the good sense to keep them closed.
“Then Bailey and Olivia argued whether Truax was a cooler last name than Delaney. It took them less than five minutes to have you and me married and adopting all of them. Three kids; you and me; cozy cabin by the lake. Do you think we should get a dog, Daddy?”
She turned back to the window. If only the darkness out there held wisdom that tomorrow’s sunrise would reveal.
A log snapped in the wood stove, showering the glass door with sparks. Besides the hum of the refrigerator, it was the only sound. Canon remained silent, no doubt as stunned as she was by the whole situation.
Serves him right. But it hurt a little he wasn’t immediately rising to her defense.
“Those kids are smart,” he said quietly.
“Excuse me?” She turned to look at him. He’d settled onto one of the dining chairs, but his eyes were on hers.
“I mean, that’s pretty creative. And when you think about it, it’s not a bad idea.”
“Truax, if this is your idea of a marriage proposal, it’s the worst one I’ve ever heard.”
“You’ve had a lot?”
“A few,” she said, then clamped her lips tight. Okay, that was a stretch. But her college drama class play had run for two weekends, and each night the lead actor proposed to her character. So that technically made four marriage proposals. Sort of.
He stared at her for a full minute, all humor gone from his face.
“What are you thinking, Truax?”
He cleared his throat, looked out the window, then back at her.
“Would you say no?”
She sucked in a breath. It wasn’t a proposal exactly, but it was close to the edge. Like a low rock wall at the Grand Canyon, one misstep and you were in for an unstoppable plunge. Probably why her stomach was in free fall.
She concentrated on not hyperventilating while she studied his eyes, his face, his hands clenched so tight his knuckles were white. The cop was nervous?
He hadn’t asked if she would say yes, to which her automatic response would have been no. Instead, he’d asked the opposite: if she would say no. That twisted it all around and required wrestling with the consequences of a negative answer.
A no response was a rejection of the girls’ fantastical scenario, and they might take that as a rejection of them personally. Not true, of course, but still… How would Bailey and Olivia feel if Skyy said yes to adopting Ember, but no to them?
As she studied the man before her, she realized he was waiting to see if she would reject him out of hand too. Or give him a chance.
Did he want a chance with her? Was he seriously considering the girls’ cockamamie idea? Serious enough he would marry a virtual stranger to grant their wish for a family?
“Skyy?”
She put her hands over her face, blocking the sight of him while her body spiraled into an internal tornado.
In Tucson, she had things under control. Two streams of income, a decent car, a place to live. Now she had a would-be daughter, two more wannabes, and a guy sort of asking—even if it was the lamest proposal of the century—if she’d marry him so they could all be one big happy family. How did her life blow off the rails in only a few weeks?
“This isn’t a Disney movie, Truax.”
Chair legs scraped, and Canon’s arm circled her back. She let him pull her into his chest. Though she kept her eyes closed, her arms went around him, and she rested her cheek against his hard muscles. The scent of his body wash soothed her as they swayed to silent music. In only a few days, he’d become a supportive friend, an ally in life. Maybe more.
Is that what she wanted? More with Canon? They’d had little time together, but he was the one she thought of when every question popped up, the one she wanted to talk to, laugh with. Even when she was mad at him and he couldn’t keep that playful smirk off his face, she missed him the second they were apart.
And when he talked about summer at the lake—the festivals, swimming, boating, early morning coffee on Connie’s patio overlooking the water—she saw herself in every frame of that flickering mental movie. The thought of moving somewhere else, of not being with him, getting to know him… That wasn’t part of any future she imagined.
But was it even possible to figure out a relationship with everything else going on? They hadn’t even begun dealing with the girls’ emotional damage that was surely present under the surface. What guy would willingly take that on?
“This isn’t going away, is it?” she said.
“Ember, the girls, or me?”
Any. All.
“Not Ember,” she said. “I haven’t told her yet, but I’m definitely going ahead with the adoption.” Skyy pulled away from him and moved back to the kitchen to make coffee. Not that she wanted it. But ten more seconds of slow dancing and she’d be kissing him. By the fire. In a cabin by the lake.
Not that it would be so bad. He was probably as great at kissing as he was at everything else. The guy seemed as good as those first pictures promised. Ember was convinced. But Skyy’s dependence on others hadn’t worked out well in the past. She needed to be careful not to swoon just because the guy had abs to die for.
Canon took a seat on one of the bar stools, waiting—another thing he was good at. She poured water in the coffee maker, filled the filter with grounds, and pushed start. Only then did she face him, keeping the bar between them.
“I don’t talk about it much, but my growing up life was a mess. Actually, it was normal at first, then my parents detonated our family by getting into drugs.” She waved her hand at the memory. “Or maybe they were always into them and I never knew. I was young, so I don’t remember them as adults, just my parents, you know? They co
uld have been hiding all sorts of things for a long time.”
He nodded. But how could he know? His family, from what she’d gleaned mostly from Ember, was happy right until his parents died.
“But then everything blew up. Mom and Dad were arrested for selling and put in jail. I was eleven, Vance was twelve.” She got two mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter. “We went to live with an aunt and uncle we barely knew. I think I’d met them twice, once when I was a baby.”
She leaned on the counter for support, the memories heavy on her shoulders and heart.
“School was a struggle. I saw everyone having normal families except for me. It wasn’t true, but it felt true.” The few birthday parties she attended were at homes with both a mom and a dad.
“Vance had it rough too. But then he got into drugs at the beginning of his junior year. Life at our new home became like our old one—only worse.” So much worse.
“My uncle kicked Vance out the day he turned eighteen.”
“That must have been tough for you,” Canon said.
She shook her head. “By that time, we were all worn out by his behavior. We knew several of the local police officers by name. So his leaving brought a sense of relief, as perverted as that sounds.” She took a breath, tamping down the angry tears that still threatened.
“What was tough was seeing my brother do exactly the things that destroyed our family in the first place. Nothing I said or did made an impact on him.”
“You weren’t his parent, Skyy,” Canon said. “It wasn’t your job.”
“My job or not, I couldn’t help him.” She poured the finished coffee into the mugs. “My point is this: with Ember, I don’t have to be a real mom to her. On paper, yes, but really I’d be more like an older sister. I can do that. She’s quite independent, if you haven’t noticed.”
He smiled.
“But with Bailey and Olivia… I mean, I…”
“I get it,” he said, accepting the cup she slid across to him. “You don’t think you qualify as a mother.”
“No, it’s not that,” she said, then recognized her defensiveness for what it was. “Well, maybe it is. It’s not like I had a good role model, is it? But I don’t see how I can ever adopt the girls no matter what. It’s all the other stuff. We don’t even know Olivia’s background. She could have parents somewhere searching for her. And surely child services and the courts will place them in better situations than I could ever provide. They aren’t going to turn them over to an Internet DJ whose home is an aluminum can on wheels.”
Canon slid off the bar stool and walked into the living room. At first, she thought he’d grown tired of her whining, but then he returned with three thin books and began paging through them, looking for something. She recognized them as V.M. Narrano books, same as Connie had lying around DC Coffee. The author was a national sensation right now, made even more mysterious because he, or she, remained completely anonymous.
“Ah, here it is,” he said, flattening one book open. “Listen to this. ‘We don’t choose our destiny any more than we design it. Our role is to embrace it when it slaps us in the face.’”
“Destiny? So, I’m just supposed to accept any outlandish thing that comes my way?”
“Life is messy,” he said.
She stared at him. His words made it sound like things could be fixed by running the vacuum cleaner or mopping the floors. “I think this is more like nuclear bomb messy.”
“You’re not alone, Skyy. I’m not going anywhere.”
She turned her back so he wouldn’t see the tears wetting her eyes, know how much she longed for that to be true. But how could she be sure? She’d failed with Loser Boyfriend. If that happened with Canon…
And none of his words addressed the most fundamental problem: she had no experience whatsoever in being a mom or foster mom. And although she knew it wasn’t true, she still felt the sting of not being able to save Vance.
Skyy’s proudest accomplishment was being a survivor. She’d done okay so far. But one minor crisis could bring even that crashing down, whether the disaster was a financial one or a busted relationship with her cop landlord—who had made his way around the bar and was rubbing her back and burying his nose in her hair at the moment. She leaned back into his strength.
“You’re an amazing woman, Skyy Delaney, and I think you can handle anything life slings at you.”
Including a cop she depended on more each day? Not that Canon was pressuring her or anything, but she’d learned a hard lesson when Loser Boyfriend’s desertion had forced her out of her apartment. Canon lived in L.A. What would happen when he went back there?
Sorry, Narrano, but in her opinion, destiny sucked.
She wiped her eyes and stepped away from Canon, instantly missing his solid confidence. Oh, for something like this to be permanent. But just because she wanted something, didn’t mean she could have it. Relationships were a crapshoot—all risk and no guarantees.
“What’s wrong?” he said, reaching toward her.
Skyy held up a palm as she fumbled for an excuse. “It’s eight o’clock, and I haven’t even started to get ready for my show.” It was lame, but the best she had.
He nodded, his face resigned. “Okay.” He looked around the room, then at the black windows. “I think I’ll get some exercise. Go for a walk down to the end of the road.”
“But it’s dark out,” she said, stating the obvious. Had he already grown weary of her moody negativity? She knew she was sending mixed signals, accepting his embrace one moment, then pushing away seconds later. But so much of their conversation was still hanging without decisions.
“I have a flashlight.” He smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. At least that’s the way she interpreted it. “I won’t be gone long. Go ahead and take the truck. The keys are on the hook by the back door.”
A minute later, the door opened and closed, leaving Skyy alone with her problems in a house suddenly too empty and too quiet. She wanted to run after him, hold him. Have him hold her. Instead, there in the silence, his question screamed at her:
Would you say no?
He’d left the book on the bar. On Life, by V.M. Narrano. The thing couldn’t be eighty pages long. Was life so simple it fit on those few pages?
She sighed, tucking the book into her computer bag. Maybe there was something in Narrano’s writings Skyy could use for the show—slap somebody else with his destiny wisdom.
She changed into warmer clothes, grabbed the truck keys off the hook, and headed to the coffee shop where the Wi-Fi worked and she could hang out in the non-messy virtual world.
A few minutes later, Skyy had the key in the lock at DC Coffee, when Ember, Bailey, and Olivia drove up and stopped. The Jeep’s front passenger window whirred down.
“I got Maltese Falcon ice cream,” Olivia yelled from the backseat, thrusting a dripping cone over Bailey’s shoulder so Skyy could see.
“And what did you get, Bailey?” Skyy asked, walking to the passenger window of the idling Jeep.
“Cement Shoes.” She held up a cup that held two grayish rectangles with small black boots imbedded on top. “Kind of like cookies and cream. And Ember got Pretty Boy Floyd. It’s red, like blood.”
“Sounds…yummy,” Skyy said.
“We got some for you and Canon, too,” Ember said, holding up an insulated paper bag. “We’ll take it home and put it in the freezer. Unless you want it now.”
Skyy shook her head. A sugar coma before a show wasn’t a good idea, but she’d have something to look forward to. Maybe she and Canon could eat it later—together. “What flavor did you get us?”
“Sex In The City!” Olivia shouted, pumping her free arm in the air. “Woo-hoo!” Bailey laughed, shushing the younger girl. Clearly someone was already cresting a sugar high.
At Skyy’s raised brow, Ember shrugged. “It’s their newest flavor.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “Guaranteed to please, the man said, so we got you guys triple scoops!�
�� She stepped on the gas.
“Bye!” Olivia shouted as the Jeep sped away. Bailey trailed a hand out the window.
The Cherokee curved by the Swim Beach and then passed Bibs’ Beauty Barn farther up the road. It was the most relaxed Skyy had ever seen Olivia. Like three sisters out for an innocent, fun evening. God knew those girls deserved it. The taillights, a little blurry through her misty eyes, blinked out as the road climbed into the trees toward home.
Skyy remained on the sidewalk for a few moments. Other than muted thumping bass from the bar down the street, the loudest sound was ropes slapping against hollow sailboat masts as small wavelets entered the marina behind the shops. She breathed in the scent of oiled docks, fried fish from The Crab Shack, and pine. Come summer, families would grill hot dogs and hamburgers at the Swim Beach.
It wasn’t hard to envision Ember, Bailey, and Olivia swimming in the roped off area or taking out a rowboat. What would it be like to live so close they could all load up ATVs and ride down to the beach? As a family.
She blinked away the Mayberry image. Scientists called it idealistic distortion. Reality, unfortunately, usually fell far short of dreams. Still, the happy hope persisted like a comforting blanket wrapped around her heart. Maybe Canon’s optimism was warranted and something good could work out for them all.
“Sex in the City. Guaranteed to please.” Skyy shook her head, laughing as she unlocked the door of DC Coffee. There was so much to be thankful for. Ember was such an amazing young woman and, as crazy as it sounded, Skyy was suddenly eager to be her official mom. She’d tell her in the morning.
But first, Skyy might have a talk with ViceCream’s owner about appropriate names for their desserts. Better yet, she could send in her personal Cop Hottie in uniform.
Her phone rang as she locked the door behind her. Sheriff Cabot’s name came up on the display.
Chapter 30