Heart of Glass

by Nicole Jacquelyn

  “Yeah, six is fine,” I replied. “I’ll bring dinner.”

  I laughed and hung up as she started scratchily singing “Wind Beneath My Wings.”

  “I’m keeping Arielle for the night,” I told my parents as I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. “They need to get some sleep.”

  “That’s sweet of you,” my mom said.

  “You’re going to regret that,” my dad said at the same time, laughing.

  “Probably,” I said ruefully. “But it’s one night, and I’m pretty sure Bram couldn’t make it one more day with no sleep.”

  “Ani, either,” my mom said. “I stopped by there yesterday so she could take a little break, and the poor girl had so many energy drinks in her system she was shaking like an addict and couldn’t even nap.”

  “Now, why can she call Ani a girl, and you say nothing?” I asked my dad, just to rile him.

  “Your mother can call her a girl,” he responded, leaning back in his chair. “Because she’s twice as old as Anita and watched her grow up.” He raised one eyebrow. “When you’re our age, you can do the same. But when you’re speaking about a woman who’s the same age as you, you show her the respect she deserves by calling her the correct title.”

  “You’re a feminist,” I replied, still egging him on.

  “If you call respecting women feminism, then I suppose I am,” he said, refusing to take the bait. Usually he went on a long diatribe about how he disliked labels and always had, finally winding around to admitting that he did consider himself a feminist, “whatever that meant.”

  “Why do you poke at him?” my mom asked in amusement, shaking her head. “You know he sees right through it.”

  “Yeah, but usually he gets riled up anyway,” I replied.

  “I’m still sitting right here,” my dad said, leaning down to pick a pinecone off the ground to throw at my head with unsurprising accuracy.

  I barely ducked in time to dodge it.

  “I’m out of here,” I said, climbing to my feet. “I’ll tell Morgan to plan on seeing us Saturday?”

  “Yes,” my mom said, glancing at my dad for confirmation.

  “Are we driving or flying?” I asked, wondering what my bank account looked like. I usually didn’t worry about it, knowing I had plenty. Although I should probably check it after my trip to California earlier in the month.

  “Driving,” my dad said. He hated to fly. “We’ll take our rig.”

  I hesitated for a minute, wondering if I’d need my truck while we were there. I hoped so.

  “Sounds good,” I replied, unable to think of a reason to take two vehicles. “I can help drive.”

  “Good,” my mom said. “That way I can read the whole way down.”

  “Over forty years of marriage and I still have no idea how you can do that,” my dad said as I kissed my mom good-bye.

  “It’s easy,” Mom replied to him as she gave me a quick squeeze around my waist. “You look at the letters. They form words.”

  “Smart-ass,” my dad said as he gave me a little wave good-bye.

  * * *

  “Arielle,” I murmured late that night as I rubbed her back in little circles. “Uncle Trev is tired. Aren’t you tired?”

  We were sitting on the couch watching a documentary on World War II, and she was showing no signs of sleeping. Thankfully, she wasn’t crawling around the house or trying to open every cupboard in the kitchen anymore, but she was still wide awake as she sat on my lap. I’d done everything I could to tire her out, thinking, like an idiot, that I’d be the one to get her to sleep.

  How very wrong I’d been. I’d taken her to the park, to a fast-food place that had a massive play area, and finally on a nature walk to the creek and back. It didn’t seem to faze her. It was like the kid was a robot. If you looked underneath her skin you’d find a metal case with batteries that were still fully charged.

  My phone rang, and I realized instantly that I’d completely forgotten to call Morgan like I’d told her I would.

  “I’m sorry,” I answered, not bothering with a hello. “I’m watching my niece tonight and I completely forgot to call.”

  “No problem,” she replied. “Which niece?”

  “Arielle,” I said, smiling at the pretty little girl as she glanced at me after hearing her name. “She’s Bram and Ani’s. All the others live in San Diego.”

  “Oh, right. You told me that before, I think.”

  “Yeah, probably. It’s hard to keep track, though. There’s a lot of us.”

  “Do you babysit a lot?” she asked curiously.

  “Not really,” I confessed. “Not that I wouldn’t, they just don’t really ask me. Between my mom and aunt they usually have it covered.”

  “Lucky,” she said with a laugh.

  “Oh, yeah. They’re all about the babysitting. I offered to keep Arie tonight, though, so her parents could get some sleep.”

  “Grandmas aren’t willing to do the overnights, huh?” Morgan joked.

  “Actually they are,” I replied, not wanting to give her the wrong impression. I got more comfortable on the couch and got Arielle situated against my chest before continuing. “I think Ani and Bram have been refusing their help because they didn’t want the oldies to have to stay up all night.”

  “All night?”

  “That’s what I hear,” I said, glancing down at Arielle, who was still watching the documentary, even though there was no way she understood anything they were saying. “She’s getting about two hours, give or take a few minutes.”

  “Oh, that sucks,” Morgan said. “How old is she?”

  “Eight months.” I wasn’t sure of that, but I acted like I was. I knew my guess was pretty close.

  “I had to deal with that shit with Etta for only about a week when she was teething, and I honestly thought I might die from sleep deprivation.”

  “Shit, huh?” I asked, surprised at her language.

  “Ugh,” she sighed. “My dad’s a bad influence.”

  “How’s that going?” I asked curiously. She’d seemed really reluctant to move back in with her dad, but she seemed happy to be there. I wondered what he was like. She seemed to put the guy on a pedestal.

  “It’s actually kind of great,” she said ruefully. “There’s always a pot of coffee waiting for me in the morning, and it’s been really nice to spend some time with the old man.”

  “Damn,” I said, taking a deep breath. “The coffee thing sounds nice.”

  “I know, right?” she said, sighing happily. “His coffee is way better than mine, too.”

  “I know what you mean. Coffee always tastes better at my parents’ house, too. Sometimes I go over on the weekends, just for that.”

  “Do you spend a lot of time at your parents’ house?” she asked. I laughed a little at the question. What constituted “a lot” in her mind? I spent a lot more time with my parents than my brothers did, but I’d always lived close. I wasn’t sure what would be considered a normal amount.

  “I live really close to them,” I finally said. “I built a house on our family property.”

  “Oh.”

  “But it’s not next door or anything,” I rushed to clarify. I really didn’t want her to think I was living with my parents. I wasn’t that guy. “We have a lot of property, so when it was time to build or buy a house I decided to do it here. Eventually they’ll get to the point where they’ll need my help getting around and I didn’t want to be too far away.”

  “That’s sweet of you.”

  “Plus, it cut way down on my mortgage,” I confessed.

  “Yeah, I can understand that logic,” she said jokingly. “My dad won’t let me pay anything until I get a job, so I’ve been leaving money around the house in the hopes that he would find it and assume it’s his.”

  I laughed loudly and startled Arielle, making her entire body tense.

  “Sorry, sweet thing,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head. “Is it working?” I asked Morgan.
<
br />   “I’m not sure,” she replied. “But I found a twenty in my jeans yesterday, and I know I didn’t put it there.”

  “He’s giving it back?”

  “Probably,” she grumbled.

  “Your dad sounds like a good guy.”

  “He is,” she said. “The best.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

  “When’s that happening?” she asked. “I told him today that you guys would be visiting pretty soon.”

  “My mom wants to drive down Friday.”

  There was a long pause before she replied. “She’s not wasting any time.”

  “I told you,” I reminded her, trying not to get defensive at her tone. “We’ll get settled and then I was hoping we could see you on Saturday?”

  “Sure, we don’t have anything planned this weekend. Do you know how long you’re staying?” The question sounded a little strained.

  “I didn’t ask, but I’m guessing only a few days. I have to get back to work, so we can’t stay too long.”

  “Work? What’s that?” she teased.

  Even though I’d heard the anxiety in her voice when we discussed the visit, Morgan and I still talked for almost two hours while Arie sat wide awake on my lap. It got later and later, and I knew I should let her get some sleep, but I couldn’t make myself get off the phone. I was learning things about her that I wouldn’t have known if we’d been getting to know each other any other way. Talking with her long distance changed the way we interacted. There were no barriers to the things we shared, no embarrassment. It was as if the distance between us gave us a free pass to actually be ourselves instead of the polished versions we showed the world. The only thing we didn’t discuss—that we never discussed—was Henry.

  I’d been around her in person only for a single day, but as I got off the phone that night, I realized that I missed her.

  Oh, and my voice eventually soothed Arielle to sleep.

  Chapter 10

  Morgan

  Why are you so damn nervous?” my dad asked me on Saturday morning, mimicking me by flapping his arms while he spun in a circle. “They’re the ones who should be nervous. You hold all the power here, kiddo.”

  I knew that. It sure didn’t feel like I had any power, though.

  The night before when Trevor texted that they’d arrived safely, I’d almost called and asked him to come over. Instead, I’d chickened out and called my baby sister so I could listen to her chatter for over an hour. When I’d gone to bed with her positive affirmations in my head, I’d felt calm.

  As soon as I’d woken up in the morning, though, all that calm was gone. I was a jittery mess. Thank God my dad had no idea that most of my nerves came from the fact that I was about to see Trevor again. Trevor, who was built like a tank and had the biggest smile I’d ever seen. Trevor, who’d confessed to me that his mom was his absolute favorite person on the planet even though he was pretty sure that made him a mama’s boy. Trevor, who I knew was off-limits but I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  “Twevo,” Etta said for the hundredth time that morning. “Twevo coming.”

  “Yep,” I answered, glancing around the house to make sure nothing was out of place.

  My dad’s house was small, and old, and it showed. But the man had always taken pride in the place, and that showed, too. He’d bought it as soon as he’d had a down payment, about six months after we’d moved in with him, and he’d worked his fingers to the bone to pay it off. There were manicured flowers in the front yard, and slightly browned but neatly trimmed grass in the back, and even though he was a bachelor and didn’t keep it as clean as I would’ve, the inside was functional and clearly taken care of.

  “Twevo, Mama!” Etta yelled, staring out the front window from where she stood on the couch. “Twevo, here!”

  “Showtime,” my dad teased, laughing when I glared at him.

  I moved slowly to the front door and waited two seconds after the knock to open the door, even though Etta was making an impatient ruckus beside me. There was no need to show my nervousness, after all. I held the power.

  I hung on to that sentiment as I met Ellie Harris’s eyes.

  “Hi,” I said, barely glancing at her husband and Trevor as I reached down and pulled Etta up onto my hip. “Come on in.”

  I held the power. I held the power. I held the power.

  “Hi,” she breathed back, taking a step forward as I moved backward into the house to let them in. She seemed mesmerized for a moment as her eyes landed on Etta, then shook her head with a small laugh and looked back at me. “Thank you so much for having us.”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s nice to see you again after all this time,” she said, shifting her purse on her shoulder. “I remembered exactly who you were as soon as Trevor mentioned you’d lived with us.”

  “It’s nice to see you, too,” I said. “Did Trevor also mention that he didn’t remember me?”

  I chuckled as she threw a look over her shoulder at her son.

  “Oh, come on,” he groaned, grinning. “I was too old to pay attention to the kids that summer.”

  “Your house was the best one I was placed in,” I told Ellie seriously. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll second that,” my dad said, joining the fray. “Thanks for taking care of my girl when I couldn’t.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Ellie said, obviously sizing my pop up, even though she tried to disguise it. “We loved having a house full of kids, right, Mike?”

  Trevor’s dad stepped forward, and I was startled for a moment. I barely remembered him from when I’d lived with them. Even though he’d always made it home for dinner, he’d usually been gone working all day and I hadn’t had much reason to interact with him.

  If I had remembered him, the resemblance between him and his adoptive sons wouldn’t have been so freaking startling.

  It wasn’t their looks. Clearly. Henry had been all blond and lean, and Trevor was dark and built, while Mike was just an ordinary dark-haired white guy, thickening a little around the middle. It was the way they held themselves that was so uncanny. Their straight backs, the way their heads tilted just so, how they moved and stood, the firm set of their mouths, and the little grins they gave that made their eyes crinkle.

  I hadn’t noticed the similarities between Henry and Trevor, but now that I’d seen their dad, it was impossible to miss. The thought made me a little nauseous.

  Mike reached out to shake my dad’s hand. “I remember your daughter, too,” he said, shooting me a smile. “She was a sweetheart.”

  “Still is,” my dad said, almost boastful. “Come on in, no reason to stand here in the entryway.”

  Etta squirmed to be let down, so I set her on her feet. She instantly ran to my dad and grabbed his hand so she could be in the middle of the commotion as the oldies, as Trevor called them, moved more fully into the living room. I had stepped forward to follow them when a light hand on my hip made me freeze.

  “Hey, stranger,” Trevor said quietly into my ear.

  “Hey.” I glanced over my shoulder at him and felt my cheeks heat at the way he was looking at me. We’d been borderline flirting in our texts and phone conversations, even though I kind of assumed that we both knew nothing could come of it. But having him there, in my dad’s house, magnified whatever it was between us to a level that was nearly impossible to ignore. I was in so much trouble.

  “It’s good to see you,” he murmured simply, giving my hip a squeeze.

  Then we were following the parents into the room and finding seats. It all happened in less than five seconds, but I could’ve sworn his mom was looking at us strangely from the moment we sat down.

  “Can I get anyone drinks?” I asked, trying to play hostess, even though I could still feel the press of Trevor’s hand on my hip.

  “Me Henwyetta,” Etta interrupted, climbing off my dad’s lap. He’d tried to contain her but clearly hadn’t succeeded. I tried hard not to laugh. “Me two.
”

  “You’re two?” Ellie asked, leaning forward in her seat so that she was closer to Etta’s height. “Wow.”

  “Me wearin’ bwue pannies.” Etta started pulling on her romper to show them the blue panties she was talking about.

  “Etta,” I scolded, trying and failing to hide my embarrassment. “Remember what we talked about?”

  She looked at me blankly.

  “We don’t show people our panties,” I whispered.

  “What, Mama?”

  “We don’t show people our panties,” I whispered again, wishing the floor would open up and swallow us both.

  “What, Mama?” Etta asked again, making Trevor start to chuckle.

  “We don’t show people our panties,” I finally said at a normal level.

  “Oh,” Etta replied, completely unfazed.

  The room went silent for a moment.

  “Good advice,” Mike finally said, nodding.

  My dad started to guffaw, and I slapped a hand over my face in mortification.

  “Mine are white,” Ellie said, glancing at me with an understanding smile before looking back to Etta. “Boring.” It was almost the exact same thing Trevor had said on the day we’d met him.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Mike murmured about Ellie’s underwear, making my dad laugh even harder.

  “Oh, come on,” Trevor grumbled.

  Then we were all laughing, and the ice had been broken.

  * * *

  “Trevor said you’re searching for a job?” Ellie asked later that day while she helped me make lunch. They’d been at our house for a few hours already and didn’t show any signs of leaving. I was strangely okay with it. Ellie doted on Etta, which hadn’t surprised me. It was Mike who I’d watched curiously all morning. He seemed enthralled with my little drama queen, even though he was less obvious about it than his wife.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “I haven’t had any luck so far.”

  “And you do tattoos?”

  I glanced at her quickly, but she wasn’t looking at me.

  “Actually,” I said, looking back at the fruit I was cutting, “I do piercings.”

  “Really,” she said, drawing out the word like she was intrigued. “Do you pierce anything?”