Bountiful

by Sarina Bowen

  Both houses had three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Tons of space for one prickly woman and her toddler. First we’d toured the white colonial. As advertised, the kitchen was about thirty years out of date. But the Tudor was lovely inside, with cozy family spaces and a big cherry tree with a swing in the backyard. Like a storybook.

  I loved it.

  But I hadn’t said so yet. Because I was still trying to wrap my head around the idea of moving into a house that Dave had purchased. I’d never been the kind of girl who’d clipped photos of her dream house. But somehow I was standing in it, anyway. I’d always been the type who’d clipped pictures of the dream guy, instead.

  He was here, too. But not really. He was offering to mend my bank balance, but not my heart.

  “What do you think?” Dave asked me when Mrs. Godfrey finally stopped talking. “It’s okay if you can’t decide today. I can give the contractor a deposit and send him home. You could take a few days to think it over.”

  Mrs. Godfrey stared at me, waiting for an answer. But I didn’t like the pressure. So I stared her down until she got the message, saying, “I’ll leave you two to chat.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said when she finally walked away. “I was doing all right on my own.”

  He didn’t call me on the lie. He just parked his hip against the doorframe to the dining room and sighed. “I never said you weren’t doing okay. But it’s easy for me to help you like this. I’d feel better knowing you had a plan for the coming year. And, hey, your brothers think this town is a good investment. They said so several times on Sunday.”

  I blinked at him. An investment. It sounded so clinical. Not that I should care.

  But that was the whole problem. I did care. He was standing about four feet away, and I could smell his woodsy scent and see the faded freckles at his hairline.

  He was right there. And it was torture.

  Since the moment he’d reappeared, I’d been trying to figure out what the future held. Would he leave again on August first, and not show his face for another few years? That was completely possible. He wanted to set us up in this house like a sea captain setting off for his next adventure. He could ship out without worrying too much about us. Heck, if only the house had a widow’s walk in the attic, I could stand up there and watch for him, like a freaking loser.

  I’d never wanted to be like my mother, damn it. She’d spent my childhood watching for signs, the way other people watched the weather. If my father brought her flowers, maybe he planned to stick around.

  Dave wanted to buy a house for me to live in. Was that more encouraging than flowers, or less?

  Fuck.

  “I want to pay rent,” I said, swallowing hard. Because he definitely hadn’t thought this through. What if, a year from now, I met someone who really wanted to be with me? It wasn’t completely impossible—at least I liked to think so. Living in Dave’s house rent free would make me beholden to him. I needed nice, clean boundaries.

  Clearly I should have thought about that before we’d gotten naked and had mostly-but-not-always-protected sex.

  “We can work something out,” he said, and I couldn’t help but think it sounded patronizing. “Which house are you leaning towards?”

  “Are the prices the same?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Close enough. One’s cheaper, but needs more work. It’s probably a wash. Do you want to tour the other one again? I could keep Mrs. Chattypants away from you.”

  The nickname made me smile in spite of myself. “I don’t have time, but it doesn’t matter. Both houses are fine, of course. But these brick fireplaces are yelling my name.”

  “They’re pretty cool, right?” He smiled at me, and I felt it everywhere. “I’m going to catch the contractor before he drives away. Meet me outside?”

  “All right.”

  His footsteps echoed in the empty house. After he left, I did another slow tour of the front parlor, with its inlaid wooden flooring. I passed the fireplace that made me want to curl up in front of it with a book. Then I walked slowly up the staircase. It was a bit narrow and steep. I’d need a baby gate for a little while, until Nicole was big enough to handle the stairs.

  There was a big, sunny bedroom I’d give to my little girl, so she’d have a nice place to play with her toys. And the rear bedroom looked out on a big oak tree and a yard with a picket fence around it and lilac bushes along the back.

  I wanted to live here, damn it. But not as Dave’s pity case. I wanted to buy a house with a man who couldn’t wait to fuck me in front of that fireplace while the baby slept upstairs. A guy who’d stand in the kitchen with me on Sunday mornings drinking coffee and making pancakes.

  I might as well wish for a pony and front-row tickets to Pearl Jam.

  And I really did need to get back to work. My brother Damien might have scared all the customers away by now. When I traipsed down the front steps, I was ready to tell Dave that I would like to live in the Tudor if I could make a meaningful contribution to the costs.

  However.

  By the time I got outside, Mrs. Godfrey was adding an “Under Contract” label to the sign in the front yard of the other house. And just like that, bitch mode was reactivated. Dave hadn’t even waited for me to decide? Who does that?

  “Who does what?” Dave asked, turning to watch me storm across the yard. So I must have said it aloud.

  I marched right over to him. No hitting this time. “Are you kidding me?” I squeaked. “You told me to take my time? And five minutes later, you just pick anyway? What the hell?”

  Heads turned, and I knew I was shouting. But seriously! This man and his ego!

  “Beautiful, look.” He actually caught my chin in his big, callused palm and turned it a few degrees. That made me even angrier, because he’d used those bossy, macho moves in bed, and it had driven me crazy. He’d overpower me and then thrust so slowly until I—

  GAH!

  Now I wanted to kick him in the shins and then strip him naked. So irritating! Finally, though, my eyes focused on the other sign—the one in front of the Tudor.

  It too had an “Under Contract” label on it.

  “Wait,” I said stupidly. “Both of them? Why?” I shook off his hand and gave it a shove, while he chuckled as if he could hear my dirty thoughts.

  “Yeah, I’m buying both houses. Your brothers think this town is a good investment, right? I’m getting in on the ground floor. We’ll rent the one you don’t pick. And if you’re hell bent on making a contribution, you can take charge of renting out the spare house and acting as superintendent. That way I won’t have to hire a property manager. And also, you can choose your own neighbor.”

  I looked up at the Tudor, picturing Nicole looking out the front window on an autumn day, as the leaves began to turn red and yellow. Then I swung my chin in the other direction, toward the white Colonial, which could be fixed up and rented out.

  Dave-freaking-Beringer. He was still in charge. And we weren’t even naked.

  He lifted his hand a final time and gently nudged my chin upward, closing my gaping jaw. “Catching flies there, beautiful. Now didn’t you say you needed to go back to work?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Dave

  “When I told you to buy a house for Zara, I meant that you should ask, first.” My sister delivered this bit of advice while we sat on the front porch of the cabin eating waffle cones after a late lunch.

  “The real estate agent had me all spun up. ‘Act now. They could both be gone tomorrow.’”

  Bess rolled her eyes. “It’s good to remember that there’s a reason I negotiate on your behalf.”

  “You weren’t around,” I said, defending myself. “And the houses here just aren’t very expensive. You could buy eight or ten of them for the price of my two-bedroom condo in Brooklyn.”

  “Be that as it may,” my sister complained, “since you went all Tarzan on Zara, she isn’t returning your calls. So I don’t get to see my niece?”r />
  “I don’t remember Tarzan investing in real estate.”

  Bess giggled in spite of herself. “Still. You could have eased her into the house idea. Not everybody shops the way you do. How many apartments did you look at in Brooklyn before you bought your condo?”

  “One.”

  “One other one?”

  “No. Just the one.”

  My sister laughed. “Why can’t you be that decisive about your contract extension?”

  “Why didn’t you get me a better contract extension?” I fired back.

  “It’s better than anyone else could have gotten you.” My sister had never lacked confidence. “Text her again. I want to hold that baby.”

  “Maybe she’s busy,” I pointed out. “Her friend is getting married today. I think it’s today.” I wasn’t going to pester Zara just because Bess was Little Miss Eager. Lately, every time Bess said Nicole’s name, she looked a little possessed.

  “Please?”

  I pulled out my phone and tapped out a message. Hey, Z. Bess is still hoping to see Nicole before tomorrow night. But if you’re busy with the wedding, we’ll understand.

  “I won’t understand,” Bess argued.

  “Bess…”

  My phone rang in my hand. Zara’s number. “Look, pushy,” I said to my sister. “Maybe it’s your lucky day.” Then I answered the phone. “Hello, gorgeous.”

  “Hi,” Zara said, sounding out of breath. “I am sorry I didn’t get back to you and Bess, but I’m having a day.”

  “It’s no problem,” I said, making myself sound as chill as possible. Because maybe I really had behaved like a bulldozer about the house thing. “Isn’t that wedding today?”

  “Yeah. And I’m in a bit of a situation. It is totally fine if you two are busy, but I have a wild little favor to ask.”

  “Name it,” I said. “We’re sitting on the porch doing nothing.”

  “Well, is there any way I could drop Nicole off with you for about ninety minutes?”

  “Sure.” Bess would probably wet herself with excitement. “Are you having a babysitting emergency?”

  “My mother’s friend fainted at the hair salon this morning, and Mom took her to the ER. They’ve already decided it’s not serious, but they waited a long time to see a doctor and they’re not back from Burlington yet…”

  “Come on over,” I told her. “It’s fine. We’ll watch her.”

  Beside me, Bess let out a little shriek of joy. And, hey—if I could make my sister smile and do Zara a favor at the same time, that made two women happy. That’s two more than usual, so I was counting it as a win.

  Twenty minutes later, Zara’s crappy little car pulled up beside my rental. She emerged from the driver’s side, full of apologies. But I missed the first few things she said because I was too busy admiring her in a sleeveless, flowered dress. Not only was she showing some very kissable skin, but her hair was loose and wavy, and she was wearing a little more makeup than usual, so her brown eyes looked enormous.

  I had the same damned reaction to her that I always did—pure, burning lust.

  “Milk doesn’t need to be warmed. It’s a hot day. I don’t care how many of those crackers she eats, either. All my plans are blown to bits today, so just keep her happy. If you can.” Zara cringed. “Once she wakes up and realizes I’m not here, she might howl. I’m sorry.”

  “It will be fine,” Bess clucked. “We can take it. I brought toys.”

  Of course she did.

  “Okay.” Zara let out a deep breath. “I have to get back for the ceremony before Audrey has a coronary. The handoff would have been easier if Nicole hadn’t conked out in the car, but…” She opened the back door, and there was the baby, strapped into her car seat in a checkered dress, rounded limbs flung out in every direction, eyes pressed closed.

  “I’ll pick her up,” I offered, but Bess beat me to it. She carefully unclipped the harness and fit her hands under the sleeping child. Supporting her head, she lifted the baby out of the car.

  “Hey, listen,” I said to Zara, realizing something. “If you need me to bring her to you at the Shipleys’ farm, I’m going to need the car seat.”

  “Oh, jeez!” Zara slapped a hand across her forehead. “You’re right. There goes another ten minutes. I have to show you how to secure it…”

  I pulled out the keys to my rental and offered them to her. “Let’s just switch.”

  She hesitated less than half a second. “I owe you big, hockey man.”

  “Hockey man?”

  She shrugged, handing me her set of car keys. “I’ll text you the address as soon as the ceremony is over. I really appreciate this!” She jogged around the car, heading for mine.

  “Take a breath, babe. Everything is fine.”

  That’s when Nicole let out a wail.

  “Uh-oh,” Zara said, hesitating, her hand on the door.

  Go, Bess mouthed, rubbing the baby’s back.

  Zara bit her lip. Then she jumped in my car and drove away.

  * * *

  Unfortunately, Nicole was quite determined not to join the list of females I’d made happy today.

  Woken from her nap to find herself with strangers, she would not be soothed. If anything, the wailing got louder.

  Bess tried everything. She offered the kid a bottle of milk and a handful of crackers. She fetched a toy she’d brought from a specialty shop in Michigan.

  Nope, nope, and nope. Nicole’s face had turned bright red, and I didn’t know how one small person could make so many tears.

  There was nothing wrong with my child’s lungs, that was for sure.

  Poor Bess paced the house with the baby in her arms. “Shhh, honey,” she said. She tried singing a couple rounds of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” But nothing worked.

  I didn’t know I’d have to step in until my sister began to look tearful herself. “I know I shouldn’t be offended,” she said. “She only wants her mother.”

  Uh-oh. Sad sister. It was time for an intervention.

  “I’ll take a turn getting yelled at,” I told her, scooping Nicole out of her arms. “You relax for a minute.” Maybe find some ear plugs.

  Nicole howled at me when I took her. She opened her mouth so wide I could see her tonsils rattling as she cried. Like the baby on The Simpsons, except cuter.

  “I know, girl,” I said, just in case she was listening. “You want your mama. We’re going to see her in a while. She’s pretty great. I understand how you feel.”

  The crying really seemed to bounce off the walls of the cabin, so I pushed open the screen door and went outside. The breeze had kicked up, tossing all the leaves on the branches. The baby’s cries became a little distracted as she followed the movement with her big brown eyes.

  “How do you feel about hammocks?” I asked her. Did other people ramble on to babies like this? Probably. It would be rude not to ask her opinion. “This hammock is my favorite thing about the cabin,” I told her, sitting carefully down in the center of it. I rocked for a moment. And when the crying didn’t get worse, I tilted until I was lying down in the hammock, one foot anchored on the ground for stability.

  Nicole turned her body, struggling a little until she was lying in the crook of my arm. That took some effort, so she had to stop crying to do it. She began making little snuffling sounds, her back hitching with each shuddery inhale. Then she let out a big, resigned sigh.

  “Sorry you’re stuck with me,” I whispered, and she listened. I nudged the ground with my foot, and we swung gently.

  One little hand suddenly gripped my thumb, but she didn’t complain.

  “It’s nice here,” I pointed out. “Not too hot, not too cold. If you want to finish that nap you started, now might be a good time. Just sayin’.”

  Small fingers sifted through the hair at my wrist, and I rocked the hammock gently again. We had a view of the treetops, where the breeze whispered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bess’s face appear in the window of the cabin. S
he was probably wondering what I’d done to stop the crying. But she was smart enough not to come outside and ask.

  The baby was a warm weight against my ribcage. The breeze was sweet on my face. The July day held its breath for me, and the baby didn’t start crying again.

  I must have dozed off. The next sound I registered was the faux-shutter noise of a phone snapping pictures. I opened my eyes to see Castro standing over me, grinning away, tapping the screen repeatedly. I gave him a glare. Don’t wake up this baby or I will end you. Nicole was passed out, her little face turned into my chest, her eyes screwed shut.

  Grinning, Castro backed away, then handed the phone to Bess who was lurking nearby. They fled when I gave them another glare.

  I lay there a while longer. Parts of my body were numb, and my healing shoulder was stiff. But a twenty-million-dollar signing bonus wouldn’t have been enough to make me move.

  Who would even recognize me right now? Two weeks ago I’d driven to Vermont with very different ideas about how my vacation—and my life—were supposed to go. Whatever Castro had captured on that camera was a shot I’d never expected to pose for. It was madness. I knew this.

  Weirdly enough, I didn’t mind all that much just now.

  * * *

  Eventually Nicole woke up from her nap, this time in a better mood.

  Bess spread a blanket on the lawn, and the baby deigned to sit on her lap, snacking on strawberries, while I did some stretches on the grass and watched my sister. She’d brought Nicole a wooden school bus with little painted peg people that fit inside the top. The bus rolled on its perfect wooden wheels, but the baby seemed to like taking the people out and then putting them in again, one at a time.

  The toy looked handmade, and I wondered where Bess had gotten it, and what she saw when she looked at it. Bess and I never had anything that nice to play with, ever. I remembered loving the Head Start program my mother had dumped me in when I was four because they had toys there, and I could touch them whenever I wanted to.