by Freya Barker
Uncle Al walks in behind them and I walk straight into his arms, giving him a big hug.
“I’m so, so sorry about Ginnie.”
“Better for her. Peaceful. Loved that woman something fierce, though,” he says, and I have to swallow hard at the grief carving his face. “Having my girl around to help sort through things was good, although I don’t think your brother was too happy. Helped me, though. That little boy of theirs sure brightens up the darkest of days.” He smiles at a blinking Noah.
“Gimmie, gimmie.” I already have my arms out and pluck my nephew right out of the carrier.
“You could at least grab the whole carrier,” Ben grumbles and Uncle Al chuckles.
“Why would I do that, when all I’m interested in is the baby?” I fire back.
I barely have a chance to get my snuggles in when Henry’s voice booms over the din in the room.
“They’re coming down the driveway. Everyone in the living room and quiet!”
The next few minutes take forever; giving me way too much time to reconsider if this was such a good idea. What if she freaks out? Maybe we shouldn’t have done a surprise party, although most who are here are people she knows, so she’s not walking into a room full of strangers. Besides, she’ll be aware there are people here, from all the cars outside, she just won’t know they’re all here for her.
Pretty sure she’ll be excited when she sees that cake, though.
Then the front door opens and I can hear Mak’s voice chattering, but that’s not what I’m focusing on. It’s the small pale face of the birthday girl, peeking around the corner.
“Surprise!”
I almost slap my hands over my ears, it’s so loud, and apparently it’s too much for baby Noah as well, because he sets up a loud protest in my arms. I immediately hand him off to his mother.
When I turn back, I see uncertainty on Becca’s face. It still hasn’t registered, as Mak more or less shoves her further into the room. Nick follows slowly, a smile on his face until Becca turns and looks up at him in confusion. As if I needed more reason to love the man, he goes down on one knee, and pulls the little girl close, bending his head so he can whisper in her ear.
The next moment is one I don’t think I’ll likely forget; Becca’s face lights up with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on her, as she throws her arms around Nick’s neck and laughs. A fat, juicy belly laugh, such a beautiful unrestricted sound, it brings tears to my eyes.
NICK
That was the longest morning ever.
Don’t get me wrong, it was fun taking the girls fishing, but keeping Mak quiet was a job all its own.
I could handle the elbow jabs and dramatic winking. I could even manage the veiled, yet not so veiled references, which I hurried to deflect. What almost sent me over the edge though, was her incessant asking if it was time yet.
It reminded me of myself as a young kid, sitting in the back of my parents’ car on some trip to visit a relative or, on one of the rare vacations, subjecting Pops and Mom to this nonstop litany of, “Are we there yet?” I’d ignore warnings to zip it until finally my dad’s hand came swinging around from the front seat and cuffed my ear but good.
I don’t believe in corporal punishment, and it was unusual a hand was raised when I was growing up, but I finally understood what could lead my father to lose his cool on those rare occasions. I just focused on breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth to settle the last nerve poor Mak was getting on.
Then when we just drove in and saw all the cars, I had to shake my head sharply at her, because I could see she was about to slip up. By the door, I pulled her back so Becca could enter first, or this whole production would fall in the water.
Mak is like a young pup: all adorable, happy, and excited, prancing through life, while knocking shit down with her wagging tail, and not even realizing it.
Luckily Becca remained clueless right up to the, “Surprise!” which is loud enough to wake the dead—and Noah. She realizes something is up now, but still seems unable to connect it to her own birthday, which about breaks my heart.
I grab her hand and pull her toward me, going down on a knee so I’m at eye level.
“Happy birthday, beautiful Becca.”
I watch as her face morphs from tense confusion to the prettiest unfettered smile, making her eyes behind her glasses shine. She throws her skinny arms around me and laughs; a deep rolling, infectious sound that seems to come all the way from her toes. It doesn’t take long for Mak to join her the moment I stand up, setting Becca on her feet. The next instant, the two girls, as different as they are from each other, are holding onto each other, jumping in circles, laughing, and giggling.
I walk over to Stacie, who looks like she could use a hug, and pull her to me. Over her head I lift my chin at Ben, who is closely observing us.
“Who wants cake?” Pops pipes up, looking like he’s not unaffected by the scene.
“Me!” the girls yell, and for once I can’t tell which one’s which, they’re both deafening. Poor Noah seems to think so too, as he adds to the chaos with his loud, indignant screams.
There are quite a few eyes that don’t stay dry as Becca is suddenly overcome with emotion when we sing, “Happy Birthday,” as Pops carries in the cake, dotted with ten little candles.
The cake is a piece of art and I give Jen a one-armed hug, kissing the side of her head.
“It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
In response, she puts her head on my shoulder and wraps her arms around my waist, as we observe Stacie cut the cake. Mak is helping, handing out slices. When I watch her walk over to Drew with a plate, I notice his eyes are on me, and none too friendly. It’s only a moment and then he looks down at Mak, smiling broadly as he takes the cake from her.
It’s not until later, long after the cake is eaten and the gifts have been opened—which by the way, was another moment where Becca, and therefore Stacie, lost their composure—that I have a chance to ask him about it.
We’re on the porch, the place where all the men apparently gather to drink beer and light a stogie. Well, at least Pops and Uncle Al are lighting up. Those two geezers seem to be hitting it off just fine. Knowing my dad struggled for a while after my mother died, he’d be closest to understanding what Al is going through.
Ben and Neil are discussing something to do with the dark web, with Drew offering an occasional opinion. The whole thing is something that is so alien to me; I tune it out. I lean against the railing and look out in the field, where Maisy is enjoying her first taste of freedom again, after being cooped up for weeks while recovering. She reminds me a little of Stacie in that sense, although for Anastasia it was the emotional injuries that kept her tied up, more so than the physical ones. Even Becca...who is only now starting to come out of hiding.
I’m lost in thought when Drew joins me at the railing.
“Kid called me this morning.”
“Which kid—oh, you mean Becca’s brother? Jason?” Color me surprised.
“One and the same. Good thing you gave me a heads-up, I was able to get him to come in on his own.”
“That’s faster than I expected. Figured he’d probably take a few days to mull it over, and that was best-case scenario. I didn’t really know if he was gonna call at all.”
“Guess the frost we had overnight helped,” Drew explains, chuckling. “Must’ve been colder than a witch’s tit, sleeping out in a car.”
“So where is he now?”
“Catching up on some sleep in a warm holding cell. I’ve got some friends in Cedar Tree, not sure if you’ve met them, they run the diner there?”
“Arlene’s?” The place was recommended to me once or twice, but I haven’t made it out there yet. Something maybe I should rectify soon.
“That’s the place. Arlene and Seb own it. Reason I thought of it, is because Seb is an ex-con. Good man who did a bad thing for a good reason. Anyway,” he continues. “Neither of those two are exactly the
warm and fuzzy kind. They don’t take shit from anyone, but they both have hearts of gold and would be perfect to take on a hard-ass like Jason.”
“Did you talk to them?” I ask, while he takes a drag from his beer.
“I did, briefly, but they were in the middle of Sunday rush. I’ll call them back when I get to the office, but from the sound of Arlene’s reaction, she’s itching to straighten the kid out. If anyone can do it, it’s that woman.”
“Thanks, and once you know for sure, we should let Becca know, it’ll likely be her best birthday present of all.” I clink my bottle against his in a toast, before I ask, “Is that what that look you threw me inside was about?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denies turning his gaze in the distance, but I don’t miss the little side-glance he throws me. Suddenly the fog clears and I clap a hand on his shoulder.
“Doesn’t feel good when the shoe is on the other foot, right?” I tease him.
“Kiss my ass, Flynn,” he grumbles, shoving his empty in my hand and stepping down the porch. “Give my thanks to the delicious, and always stunning, Stacie. I’ve got shit to do.”
This time his provocative reference to Stacie doesn’t invite even the slightest hint of jealousy. This time I know better.
THE HOUSE IS QUIET.
What a great day. Busy, which is not something Pops or I are accustomed to, but man did it feel good to have the house full of people. Stacie beamed, Becca blossomed under the positive attention, and Mak, well, Mak was in her element. That kid kills me. If I didn’t know for a fact she’s Stacie’s daughter, I’d bet my farm she belonged to Ben and Isla. She’s cheeky, tough, and mischievous; the perfect blend of those two.
That became obvious after dinner, once everyone had left for home, and Pops and I retreated back out on the porch. Pops said it was to finish the stogie he’d left out there earlier, but I knew better, which is why I followed him.
I noticed Stacie peeking at us from the window at some point, a smirk on her face. Moments later, Makenna came outside and let one rip that about took the siding off the house, obliterating any attempts Pops and I made to kill the ozone layer. We could hear the laughter from inside, when Mak quickly slipped back into the house, leaving us with the collective fumes lingering under the overhang of the porch. Pops and I had a good chuckle when Stacie banged on the window and stuck out her tongue at us, two giggling girls beside her.
I look over at her now, her blonde hair spread out on the pillow, longer now than when I saw her at her brother’s wedding. Light from the moon slipping between the curtains makes her hair look almost white, ethereal. She’s never been anything but beautiful to me, but especially these past few weeks, I can see her start believing it. It’s not just the healing skin that allows her to feel what I’ve always seen, it’s the way she sees herself reflected in the eyes of all of us who love her.
Rebranding Beauty.
Glancing to the portrait on the wall, I see eyes that years ago captivated my heart and now guide me to my future—our future.
EPILOGUE
Stacie
“Can I top you up?”
I look over to the next table, where the woman who introduced herself as Arlene is pouring coffee for the elderly lady seated there.
Nick, who’s sitting across from me, next to the girls, gives my foot a kick. When I glare at him, he slightly tilts his head at Henry, who is sitting beside me in the booth. I’m still trying to get used to Pops, he’s been calling me on it almost daily for the past month. Pops is staring intently over the girls’ heads, into the next booth. Apparently, he likes what he sees because even when Arlene stops at our table, offering to top up our cups with fresh coffee, his eyes are still fixed next door.
“Mrs. Henderson was just widowed a year and a half ago,” Arlene whispers, leaning over the table to reach Pops’s cup. “Too bad, because that new hip she just had replaced at the time, gave her a whole new lease on life. Sadly she’s got no one to enjoy it with.”
For a moment I’m worried Nick’s father will blow a vessel, his face gets so red. Especially when he catches Nick and I struggling to keep our composure.
“She’s cute,” Nick stage whispers, adding fuel to the fire.
“Bathroom,” Pops grumbles, tossing his napkin on his empty plate and sliding out of the booth.
“What’s wrong with Pops?” Mak wants to know. The girls have picked up on the name much easier than I am. Even Becca easily calls him Pops.
“Too much coffee,” Arlene says, smirking as she cleans away our plates. “Can I send Jay in here with some dessert? Girls?”
I was pleasantly surprised when Nick suggested we come here for breakfast. I’ve been back at work for four weeks now; the first week was part-time, but after that the cases kept coming and I’ve been pretty busy. We’ve all settled into a pretty easy routine since Becca’s birthday, but haven’t really done anything special since then.
It helps that it gives Becca a chance to see her brother, who’s been in Seb and Arlene’s care. Apparently they’re making him finish high school, and have him working in the diner kitchen during the weekends. All in all, they’re keeping a fairly tight leash on him, but as he told us earlier when we first came in, the carrot at the end of the string is the empty apartment upstairs, where he will be allowed to move into, once he’s graduated. The agreement being that he continues to work weekends in the diner and keeps his nose clean.
“Apple pie for you too, or would you prefer peach?” Arlene asks me. Apparently everyone except Pops has placed their order already.
“Peach sounds good.”
“Coming right up. I’ll catch him when he finds his balls,” she says, nudging her head in the direction of the bathrooms. I almost spew my coffee all over Nick, who throws his head back and barks out a laugh.
“WHAT DO YOU SAY?”
I’m sitting on the couch, the girls framing me on either side, as I look at Nick, who’s sitting on his knees surrounded by shredded gift wrap.
It’s Christmas morning and I’m on a high.
I was off the past week, stayed home with the girls who are off for the holidays, and for the first time I feel no guilt. That used to be different in my previous life. We shopped, baked, and decorated more than I ever have in my life. Last weekend we took the girls up the mountain to find the perfect tree, and last night we’d put on the final touches, the star on the top, and baby Jesus in the manger of the nativity set underneath. A tradition when Nick grew up, it’s one I’d love to see continued in our family.
And now this.
I have butterflies in my stomach when Nick first pulls two envelopes from the gift bag he has wedged between his knees, and hands one each to the girls.
“Hold onto those,” he instructs them, before diving back in the bag, and coming out with a small box.
“What do you say,” he repeats, before adding, “to giving a man everything he’s always wanted, but never thought he’d have? I fell probably the first time I saw you, but I had nothing to offer. I was flailing, I was shy, I was fat, and I—”
“You were fat?” Mak pipes up, but Becca immediately shushes her, which makes both Nick and I chuckle.
“Shhh, he’s proposing so you have to be quiet.”
Mak rolls her eyes, pretends to zip her lips, and with dramatic flair, then tosses the imaginary key over her shoulder.
“What I was trying to say,” Nick continues, a glint of humor in his warm brown eyes. “Is that even when I didn’t know it yet, you set a bar for me to measure up to. You challenged me to get my act together, barely having exchanged two words. And when I did, you showed up in my life again like the most amazing reward.”
I can’t help myself; I lean forward, cup his jaw in my hands and kiss him gently on the lips.
“Can you lot get on with it?” Pops gives his two cents, from the club chair beside the tree. “I’ve got a turkey in the oven that needs basting or else we’ll have jerky for dinner.”
“I knew I should’ve done this alone with you,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Your voice is all I hear,” I assure him.
NICK
Every perfectly rehearsed word flies right out of my head when I look in her smiling eyes, her soft hands warm on my face.
“With all my heart; would you be my wife?”
I open the box that holds my mother’s engagement ring, which Pops kept for me. It’s much simpler than I would’ve picked for Stacie all those years ago, but today, sitting in flannel PJs with her hair in a messy bun, not a speck of makeup on her face, in the middle of a chaotic living room, it’s the perfect ring for her.
“Finally,” Pops grumbles behind me, and it’s all I can do not to turn around and toss something at him. “That was Nick’s mom’s, just so you know.”
“Hush from the peanut gallery,” Stacie admonishes, before looking back at me and smiling. “It’s beautiful and with all my heart; I would be honored.”
I barely have a chance to slide the ring on her finger, and kiss her, before the girls start ripping open the envelopes I handed them.
“Easy, ladies,” Pops cautions. “You don’t wanna rip up what’s inside.
A modicum calmer, they each pull out the sheath of papers and look at them, and each other, confused.
“What is this?” Mak pipes up first, while Becca is trying to decipher the words on the documents on her lap.
“It’s a gift to all of us.” I reach inside the bag and grab the last two boxes. Pops helped me pick these out, since I wanted to keep it all a surprise for Stacie, who is quickly clueing in. “Makenna, and Becca,” I call their attention, before adding, “With all my heart; would you be my girls?”
“We’re already your girls, silly,” Mak says, giggling, but Becca looks at me, her eyes filling with tears.