The Fix (Carolina Connections #1)

by Sylvie Stewart

  And he does love his son – I know this. But I don’t know if he’ll ever love anyone more than he loves his music and that’s not what I want for Rocco in a full-time dad.

  Now Dominic flies out to take Rocco for a few weeks every year between breaks in his busy touring schedule. And we all forge ahead. But at night when I lie in bed and rehash all of the parenting decisions I could have handled differently that day – not to mention all the calories I shouldn’t have eaten and all the chores I should have completed – I often wish to the bottom of my soul that our story of mother and son had begun differently. That instead of a duo we were, instead, some incredible kick-ass trio.

  I set the oven to preheat and attempted to ease into a group discussion so I could covertly interrogate Gavin about his job. I began with Rocco. “So Rock, did you and your new friends do anything fun at school today?”

  “Nah.”

  “What do you mean, ‘nah’? You were there all day.”

  Another change since we’d branched out on our own, Rocco was attending a new school – otherwise known as daycare – for the full day, instead of the half day of preschool we’d done while living with my parents. Once I’d pushed past the guilt, I could appreciate that this was actually a positive change for him. He’d spent the majority of his time around adults before and it was high time he made some friends his own age.

  I moved to the half wall between the kitchen and the living room to find Rocco mimicking his uncle as he lay on my favorite cushy armchair, hand to his gut and head thrown back.

  “I dunno,” was his complete response.

  “Well, what did you do all day?”

  “Don’t ‘member.” He shrugged and twitched his nose.

  Well, how do you respond to that? I guessed it was time to move on to the next topic.

  “Okay. How about you, Uncle Gavin? Did you do anything fun with your new friends today?”

  Gavin’s head came off the couch to fix me with narrowed eyes. “Am I allowed to say I don’t remember either?” Taking in my look he said, “Yeah, I thought not. It was okay, I guess. They all treated me like the newbie, as expected. Most of the guys were okay, some of them were dicks– I mean, jerks.” He glanced Rocco’s way but the little guy was un-phased. “It was mostly a lot of lifting things and holding this or that while somebody secured it.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” I commented. “Where were you working?”

  “I was at some apartment complex off New Garden but the boss said they might move me to the grocery store on Friendly or maybe even the commercial building going in at the end of our street. I told him I lived here so I think he might try to put me on that one which would be cool.”

  “What commercial building?” I asked, unfamiliar with anything being built by our neighborhood.

  “I don’t know, some building they’re putting up with rental spaces – right at the entrance.”

  That was odd. “There are houses on either side.”

  “Don’t ask me – it’s my first day. Nate said the houses were in foreclosure so they got the properties at a really good price. They’re gonna tear them down and put something else up.”

  Apprehension speared my gut, but I pushed it aside. “So it sounds like you met a lot of people for your first day. That’s good,” I led.

  “I guess.”

  What was it with guys? Would it kill them to share a little?

  “Well, since Mom and Dad aren’t here, someone has to say it. I’m proud of you, Gav,” I told him. “I know this isn’t your dream job but I’m glad you’re moving on.”

  His sudden frown had me regretting my last statement. Stupid!

  He inhaled and then sighed. “It’s no major league game, but whatever. It is what it is.”

  “What’s a commercial building? Is it a store to buy toys from TV?” asked Rocco as the oven dinged – time to put in the pizzas.

  “Uncle Gavin will explain.” I turned back to the kitchen to make dinner for my guys. Baby steps, Laney, baby steps.

  ***

  My phone rang an hour later. Gavin was busy holding a giggling Rocco upside-down in the living room and shaking him to get the pizza to reappear. I was adding the dishes to the growing pile in the sink telling myself I’d get to them later. The number on the caller ID was unfamiliar, but I pressed Accept.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh hi. Is this Laney Monroe?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Mellie Jordan from Cornerstone Daycare. How are you?”

  Rocco’s daycare director.

  “Oh hi, Mellie! I’m good – how about you?” We exchanged pleasantries.

  “I’m just fine, Laney. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you at home. I was hoping to catch you when you picked Rocco up this afternoon but I think I just missed you. I wanted to touch base on a couple things – nothing’s wrong, so don’t worry,” she reassured me.

  “Okay, what’s up?” I asked.

  “Well, first of all, I wanted to tell you that we all love Rocco here. He is just such a sweet little guy.”

  My chest wanted to swell at this, but my motherly instincts were sensing a “but sandwich” on the horizon – your kid is great, but he’s pantsing all the other kids on the playground and we’ll have to expel him, but did I tell you we really think he’s great?

  “But,” Mellie continued.

  Here it comes.

  “I’m just the teensiest bit concerned about him, socially speaking,” Mellie said.

  My hand that wasn’t holding the phone went to my cheek and the rubbing began.

  “He seems to spend most of his time playing by himself and when we try to encourage him to join in with some of the other kids he says he doesn’t want to,” she continued.

  Rub.

  “I wouldn’t mention it since he’s new to the school and I know kids can be shy, but we just haven’t seen any improvement yet – I catch him looking at what other kids are doing so I think he’s probably interested, but he won’t go that next step. Sometimes one of us teachers will play with him to get the ball rolling and he’ll talk to us just fine. But not with the other kids.”

  Rub rub.

  “I’m not trying to scare you or anything because this is probably something we’ll look back on later and laugh about, but at his age he really should be engaging in interactive play with other kids instead of parallel play we see with the younger ones. I wanted to ask, does he have friends in the neighborhood or from his old school he interacts with regularly? Am I just bothering you for nothing?” She laughed lightly.

  Rub rub rub rub – oh, Jesus Christ, somebody just bring me a loofah!

  “Um, hmm. Well, you see, Mellie, we just moved to a new neighborhood as well as the new school and we really haven’t gotten a chance to meet too many people…” I trailed off.

  “Oh, you poor thing – that is a lot of change all at once. Rocco probably just needs a few more weeks to get in the swing of things, then. Is he getting a chance to see any of his old friends?”

  Crap. How did one explain this? Of course my five-year-old has friends! There’s his uncle who is great fun and is always offering to share his Playboy collection. Sure, his brain could probably be traded with an orangutan and nobody would notice, but who doesn’t like monkeys, right? And then there are Rocco’s grandparents! His grandma lets him help grade exams and tells him all sorts of interesting tidbits about late twentieth century American history – what kid doesn’t love to chat about Vietnam?! Let’s not forget Grandpa either – he takes Rocco to the Farm and Fleet to talk to the three fingered manager about riding mowers, because that guy is the one to ask about machines with sharp blades. And, sure, a couple of these besties just moved four hours away, but there’s always Skype and everyone knows that is interactive as hell – nothing parallel in sight!

  Rub.

  Yeah, that wasn’t going to go over well. Time to fess up.

  “The truth is, Mellie, what you’re talking about has pretty much alway
s been the case. He’s not really been into kids his own age. He’s an only child and has always seemed content to hang out with adults. I’ve tried not to worry about it before. I guess I just hoped it would resolve on its own.” How could I have missed this apparently huge red flag?

  “I understand. And, again, I don’t want you to worry. But maybe we could try to help things along a little more. Why don’t you ask him if there is a child in the class he would want to have a play date with? Then you could arrange it at your house so Rocco would be more comfortable and see what happens from there,” she suggested.

  “That’s a really good idea. I will definitely talk to him about it.” I switched hands so the other cheek could get in on the action.

  “Okay, good.”

  “And thank you for calling about this, Mellie. It’s reassuring to know that you guys are looking out for the kids so carefully.” I truly did appreciate it even if this particular phone call added one more turd on the shit sandwich that was my motherhood resumé.

  “Of course. You have a great night, Laney, and we’ll see you and Rocco tomorrow!” she finished brightly, proving once again that people who work in daycare are born with a different set of genes than the rest of us.

  Chapter Four

  Keep Calm and Go Irish

  Nate

  “Lookin’ good, old man!” I said to my father whom I’d just found sitting in his favorite black leather recliner. It was the first time I’d seen him in regular clothes instead of pajamas since the heart attack and he seemed to have a bit more color, I was relieved to see. It had been two weeks since I’d gotten back to town and almost a week since I’d been back to my folks’ house. Work was a shit storm and I’d been doing my best not to bother my dad any more than necessary, but it had been nearly impossible to decipher whatever organizational puzzle he worked by, and Bailey and I had been having a hell of a time keeping our heads above water. Not that we would ever tell him that.

  Remote in hand, he paused the football game we were going to watch together and turned to me with a hopeful expression. “For the love of God, please tell me you brought something to eat that doesn’t taste like cardboard,” he pleaded. It was no secret that my mom’s cooking wasn’t stellar on a good day, so I could only imagine what it tasted like with all the salt removed.

  “Sorry,” I held my hands up to show they were empty. “Mom only let me visit on the condition that I brought nothing into the house that you might find even remotely edible. I got a TSA pat-down from her in the foyer.”

  “Eh, I figured as much,” he responded. “Distract me, then. Tell me what’s going on at work. Did Mark get that permit squared away? I’ve got the number of that guy at the–”

  “All taken care of,” I interrupted.

  “Yeah, but we’ll be in deep shit if every ‘i’ isn’t dotted on that one,” he insisted.

  “I know. Mark and Doug have both been a big help and Bailey knows a lot more than she led us to believe so we’re handling it. I promise we’ll keep you in the loop and let you know if we need help. I’ve already called you a dozen times with questions and I may be permanently banned from the house if Mom catches us talking shop,” I warned. “That was another condition for my visit. She should consider a stint with the Secret Service if this whole retirement thing doesn’t work out. Was she such a ball-buster with her students? If so, I’m starting to worry about what may have actually been in all those homemade cookies they used to send home with her.” That got a smile out of him.

  “Your mother’s a saint.” He un-paused the game.

  “Yeah, I know. What’s the score? Are we winning yet?”

  He gave me a disgusted look. “Of course we’re winning. We’re the Irish.”

  At halftime I went in search of my mom and some doctor-approved refreshments. I spotted her at the kitchen table swiping at her iPad.

  “Hey Mom.”

  She held up her hand as if to stop me while her eyes stayed on the tablet. “Nathan, don’t even think about asking for a beer. Your dad cannot have alcohol no matter what kind of pathetic faces he tries to make.”

  I grinned and went over to kiss the top of her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I reassured. “What are you reading?”

  “Oh, just looking for some healthy recipe ideas. Nothing I’ve made so far has been a hit and I never realized how much sodium is in pre-packaged food. It’s ridiculous!”

  She removed her reading glasses and shifted her attention my way. “Sorry – enough of that. I want to hear about you. How are you, Nate? Are you and Bailey hanging in there?”

  “By our fingernails, but yeah, we’re doing fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” She tilted her blond head.

  “Sure. You can get one of those stupid ‘Hang in There’ cat posters and give it to Bay – it’ll be hilarious to watch her try to be polite when she opens it.” I smiled.

  She slapped the back of my hand and scoffed, “Don’t torture your sister.”

  “I’ll consider it. I suppose it would free up some time in my schedule.”

  Her hand went to my arm more gently this time. “I know your dad can’t say it yet, but you need to know that we both appreciate so much that you came home to take over.” Okay, I guess it was time for the serious portion of the visit. “It’s no secret that this wasn’t your plan, at least not yet, so I wanted to say thank you again. I don’t know what we would do without you.” She started to tear up.

  “Whoa, whoa – no need to get all mushy. You know I’m happy to do it. And besides, I’m not really taking over. Dad will be back when he’s feeling better.” She scowled at me so I hurried on, “I mean, I know it won’t be full time like before, but still.”

  My mother shifted in her chair. “I know. There is no way he’ll give up the business completely but you know your dad doesn’t do things by half measure. I’m just afraid he’ll gradually ramp things up until we’re right back where we started and we may not be so lucky next time.” She had a point. “So that’s why we need to use this recovery time to find him some hobbies.”

  Say what?

  “The doctor said there are plenty of activities he can do that are great for keeping blood pressure down and can be quite engaging. I’m hoping if he becomes interested in something else he might not be so eager to dive back into the deep end.”

  “Like what?” I asked, picturing my dad playing croquet or painting tiny military figurines with a little brush and a monocle. Inside my head I chuckled – outside I was the picture of serious reflection.

  “Oh, you know, putting together jigsaw puzzles or collecting coins or stamps. Or painting landscapes! There are all sorts of things.” Her excitement was palpable.

  Oh wow. This was going to be fun.

  ***

  “I’ve got one,” Bailey howled. “We can get him some gardening clogs and a subscription to Home and Garden.” Bailey and I were swapping new hobby ideas for Dad between fits of hilarity, picturing the ultra-masculine force of nature we knew as our father in an array of awkward scenarios. All of them included our mom cheering on the sidelines. So far the best one involved the Westminster Kennel Club and some dog trimming shears.

  “You cannot tell Mom about this conversation,” I reiterated, sitting across from her desk trying to school my features.

  “Duh, you shit-head,” came her clever response.

  It was Monday morning and we were supposed to be going over some bid paperwork for an upcoming meeting with a potential client, but I could not resist sharing with her our mom’s plan from the weekend.

  “Oh,” Bailey started, finally getting us back to business, “I forgot to tell you. Doug called with some potentially troublesome news about the foreclosure properties on Old Oak Ridge. It seems the neighbors are not taking too kindly to having a commercial property in their midst. In his words, ‘Trouble is a-brewin’.’”

  I waved her off. “Tell them to take it up with the zoning office. Everything is in o
rder on our end. If they don’t like it, tough. Tell them to move.”

  “No, dear brother of mine, you get to tell them all of that. Why do you think I’m telling you? You’re going to be there anyway when the crew starts the tear down on Thursday so there’s no need for little old me to butt in.” she smiled sweetly.

  “Thanks.” I smiled back, a tad less sweetly.

  ***

  Meetings concluded for the day and all phone calls and e-mails returned, I finally walked in the door of my apartment just after eight o’clock. I had done a grocery run the night before so at least I knew there would be something to eat in the fridge. And beer, thank Christ. As anticipated, I had yet to get my hands dirty since I’d been back in town and it was making me irritable. I just needed a night to sit on the couch, watch some TV and drink a beer.

  Thankfully, I now had a couch, which hadn’t been the case last week. I had decided to temporarily rent a place until I had time to find a house or condo and settle in more permanently. My mother, of course, had offered my old room. Yeah, not gonna happen. And I would have considered staying temporarily with Bailey but then I remembered that she was Bailey and I concluded that my own place would be just fine.

  Most of my furnishings and belongings were in storage back in Austin where I’d been living for the last two years. When I’d gotten the tearful call from my mom about my dad I had just dropped everything and gotten on a plane. Luckily, a job I’d been working was just wrapping up so I wasn’t leaving a bunch of loose ends, but I still had two years’ worth of my life I just left hanging when I came back to North Carolina.

  Some of my buddies back there kindly offered to move my stuff into storage for me and I had to break my lease, but the landlord liked me and was a big-time family man himself so he hadn’t penalized me like he could have. I’d helped him put a deck on his house last summer and his wife was always giving me cookies and stuff so we had a good relationship. I had several good relationships and a pretty good life back in Austin. Truthfully, I was sad to leave.