by Kathy Altman
“I’m not cut out to be a teacher.”
“How can you say that? You are a teacher. All that online mentoring you do? All that time you spend with Dylan? All the people you teach downstairs to use tools and finish projects?”
He looked away, shaking his head.
Dread, heavy and frigid, expanded in her chest, making it hard to breathe. “This is about the baby, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“Let’s just say it’s not the best time to consider changing careers.”
“Oh, Gil. You thought about it, didn’t you?” That’s what he’d meant, that time he’d spoken about setting dreams aside.
He didn’t say anything, but she had her answer.
“How do you not hate me?”
“How could I hate you for making the same choice I made? Besides, you’re having my baby. You said something once, about unconditional love. That’s what I want, too.”
“But it’s costing you your dreams.”
“That’s what parents do, right? They sacrifice.” He jolted back into movement, skirting the dustpan and the rest of the mess on the floor as he walked toward her. “They also teach their children to stand up for themselves.”
She folded her arms over her waist. “Why do I get the feeling that’s a slam?”
“Yesterday, out on the loading dock, you said you were going to talk to your father about moving in with him. You haven’t done that yet, have you? Which makes me wonder whether you came to Castle Creek to make amends or to distance yourself from what you did in North Carolina.”
He was deflecting. But these were things that needed to be said, so she let him get away with it.
“Mostly the first, some of the second.” She fought to keep her lips from quivering. “I actually convinced myself I was earning your respect. Satisfying you that I’d changed. But that’s not the case at all. You’ve been easing up on me because of the baby.”
“If we’re going to raise a child together, we might as well get along.”
“I’m thinking your definition of ‘getting along’ includes having sex, but that’s not going to happen. And no, it’s not about payback. It’s about self-preservation. I’m half in love with you already.”
His eyes went wide, then he slid his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and curved his shoulders inward. “How am I supposed to trust that’s not just you taking the easy way out again?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It would be convenient, wouldn’t it, if you and I ended up together? Then your housing problem is solved—”
“I don’t have a housing problem.”
“—and we don’t have to hash out custody—”
“Wait.” Her hand went to her throat and she felt the blood leave her face like islanders fleeing a volcano. “Custody? Are you planning to take me to court?”
An ugly sense of betrayal clawed at her heart. Dear God, no. Yes, she was the baby’s mother and she was intent on getting her life together, but she was also a broke ex-felon surviving solely through the kindness of others. Her own father didn’t even want anything to do with her.
She stumbled back a step. If Gil took her to court, she couldn’t count on her dad to testify on her behalf. And the rest of her life would speak for itself.
“Kerry, no. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.” Gil was suddenly standing in front of her, hands fumbling for hers. “Look at me. Please.”
Strong fingers gripped her wrists. She looked up, but couldn’t focus on his face. Tears, she realized. She could taste them.
Lightly he shook her arms. “I’m sorry I said that. I would never take the baby away. We’ll figure something out. We’ll do it together. Okay?”
Panic resonated in his voice. He was just as scared that she’d keep the baby from him. Two days ago, they’d been dreading the positive test result. How had they gotten here so fast?
She drew in a shuddering breath, and nodded. “Okay,” she managed. “Okay. I have to go.”
He was right. It was way past time to talk to her father.
She let Gil pull her into a brief hug, agreed she’d see him in the morning and let herself out of his apartment. All the while she could barely breathe, as if her lungs had been ironed flat.
That Gil could hurt her so deeply made one thing clear. She wasn’t just halfway in love with him. She was gone, baby, gone. Meanwhile, he might have given her access to his cash register, but he still didn’t trust her with what really mattered.
* * *
IT WAS AFTER eight when Kerry stepped up onto her father’s front porch. The outside lights were on, but she didn’t hear the TV inside. Fingers crossed she wasn’t about to drag the old man out of bed or he’d probably egg his own porch just to get her off it.
She bounced on her toes a few times and shoved her hair behind her ears. After pulling in a deep breath, she raised her hand to knock lightly on the door, thought better of it and leaned on the doorbell. She wasn’t going anywhere until she had a chance to talk with him, so she might as well make some noise.
He took so long to answer, she wondered if he’d peeked through the blinds, seen her standing there and gone to arm himself with some eggs, after all. Then the door swung open, his hands were empty, and the overpowering scent of just-applied aftershave told her he’d hoped to find Eugenia on the other side.
She prayed she managed to keep the pity from her face.
He didn’t quite manage to keep the disappointment from his. But she’d take disappointment over outrage any day.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m sorry for coming by so late.”
He hesitated, then stepped back and waved her inside. “Guess Gil told you I called.”
“What? No.” She glanced around, caught a quick impression of browns and plaids and dirty dishes on the coffee table before turning back to face her father. “You spoke to Gil?”
“This mornin’. Liz told me you were sick and I wanted to see how you were.”
Wait, had she just stepped into an alternate universe? Who was this man and what had he done with her father? “He didn’t tell me,” she said. “But that was nice of you. Thank you.”
“How are you feelin’?”
“Much better. I should. I slept all day.”
He gestured at the couch, and once she’d dropped down onto the plaid, he settled in the recliner. “I remember you gettin’ those headaches. I’m sorry you’re still dealing with them.”
“I don’t get them as often as I used to.” Holy Hannah, this was awkward.
He must have thought so, too. He rubbed his palm over his head and tipped forward in his chair. “If you didn’t know I called, then why are you here?”
“Because I need something.”
He squinted at her. “What do you need?”
“Advice.” She gazed at him steadily. “Maybe even a place to live.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong with Genie’s place?”
“Not a thing. It’s perfect. But I haven’t asked her if it’s okay to have the baby there. And being there at all...” She looked down at her hands. “I feel like this is driving a perpetual wedge between you two. I didn’t bother to ask you if it was okay.” She raised her head. “I haven’t bothered to include you in any major decisions I’ve made in the past ten years.”
His cheeks were reddening and she braced herself. But when he spoke, his voice remained level. Gruff, but level.
“The only one drivin’ a wedge between us is me. She let me have it and she let me have it good after I stormed away the morning you told us about the baby. She wasn’t too happy about the tulips I ran over, either. You didn’t ask me about livin’ here for the very same reason. You knew I’d blow my top.”
Bull’s-eye. “The rest of it was about being
ashamed of the decisions I made. It was about punishing you, too.”
“If you’re ashamed of that, then you know how I feel, ’cause I’ve been punishin’ you.”
Kerry stood and clasped her hands behind her back. “I’m sorry about your heart condition,” she said thickly. “Sorry you’re having to deal with something like that, and sorry I haven’t been around to help.”
Harris’s shoulders went rigid. Slowly he rocked forward, and pushed to his feet. He didn’t look at her, and he didn’t speak.
Kerry gulped, the sound obscenely loud in the strained silence. “I know I haven’t been a part of your life for a long while, but I’d like to change that. Just...please tell me what I have to do to earn your forgiveness. Because, Dad—” her voice broke “—I don’t think I could stand it if you died without forgiving me.”
He reached out, and when she stepped forward he patted her into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Kerry girl,” he choked out. “I’ve been makin’ you wait for forgiveness I gave a long time ago.”
Kerry lifted her head from his shoulder and swiped her palms across her cheeks. “You forgave me?”
“Course I did.” He wiped his face on his shirtsleeve. “You’re my daughter.”
“Not much of one.”
“You’ve been more a daughter than I’ve been a father. I admit I’ve been pushin’ you away. I knew you weren’t stayin’ long and I didn’t want to care so much when you left.” He gave the back of his neck a good, long rub. “Then you said you were pregnant, and—” He began to sob, big, coughing gulps of air scraping in and out of his throat. His blue flannel shirt trembled around his body.
Kerry realized with a shock that he’d lost weight since the last time she’d seen him. Fresh tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her arms around him. They both held on tight, until the emotion faded to self-conscious sniffles.
“I’m ashamed of myself,” her father said.
She handed him a clean napkin she’d unearthed from the clutter on the coffee table. “I hope you don’t mean for crying.”
“For making you believe I don’t care.”
Crumpling her own now-soggy napkin, she shook her head. “You were just returning the favor.”
He finished wiping his face and tossed the napkin on the table. Sheepishly he pulled a pack of gum from his shirt pocket and offered it to Kerry.
With a strangled laugh, she accepted a stick. “Most people think of tea as the cure-all. You always did believe in the power of cinnamon gum.”
“It helps me think.” He patted her on the shoulder and dropped back into his recliner. “Cryin’s hard work. I’m exhausted.”
She eyed him closely. “You okay?”
“Fine, except for bein’ a jackass. Genie calls me that for a reason, you know.” He exhaled. “You said you were looking for advice. If it’s the romantic kind—”
“It’s not.”
He heaved a sigh. “Good, ’cause you don’t go wishin’ on a clover you ain’t found yet. Especially when you’re searchin’ in the dark.”
She perched on the arm of the sofa. “I have no idea what that means.”
“It means despite my asinine tantrum, I’m pleased as punch I’m goin’ to be a grandpa.”
“You are?”
“After the way I acted, I was afraid you’d leave town and I’d never see you or the baby. I promise you this. I’ll be a better grandfather than I was a father.”
She leaned forward and patted his knee. “I promise you this. You won’t have to try so hard.”
He hesitated. “You and Gil...”
“It was a one-time thing. We were both lonely and reckless and...” She shrugged. “We took precautions, but obviously something didn’t work the way it was supposed to.”
“So you won’t be raising the child together?”
“We won’t be living together, if that’s what you mean. But we’ll both be involved in the baby’s life. We just haven’t worked out the details yet.” Her mind shied away from the word custody.
He turned his attention to the small table beside his recliner, and poked at a stack of catsup-and mustard-smeared plates. Kerry winced. Looked like he’d been eating a lot of hot dogs.
“You’re welcome to move in here, if you’d like,” he said, too casually.
“I appreciate that. Very much. But what about the baby?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you’d be bringin’ the baby with you.”
She couldn’t help a laugh. “No, I mean, are you sure you’re up for middle-of-the-night squalling and mashed peas in the carpet and the lingering aroma of dirty diapers?”
“You talkin’ about you, or the baby?”
“Very funny, Dad.” Though she could definitely picture herself indulging in the midnight squalling bit. She wrenched her mind away from thoughts of Gil and stood.
“I’ll let you know, okay?” If she didn’t move in, at the very least she could start bringing him some healthy meals. “I never wanted to ask your help again. I wanted to make you glad I showed up.”
He squinted up at her. “I am. I love you.”
Her breath snagged wetly in her throat. “I love you, too, Dad. I want you to know that I know I have a lot to make up for.”
“You came, and despite all the baloney I’ve put you through, you stayed. You’ve already made up for it all.” His expression turned sly. “Course, you are just as stubborn as your old man, so I’m bettin’ you’ll insist.”
She hid a smile. “I do insist.”
“In that case—” he leaned around her and stared pointedly at the dishes scattered across the coffee table “—I do have a plate or two that could use a little scrubbin’.”
* * *
BUSINESS WAS DEAD.
Like, call-the-coroner dead.
Kerry stood in the doorway to the supply room, a package of cocktail napkins cradled to her chest as she surveyed the nearly empty bar. No one leaned over the pool table or squinted up at the TV. No one stood vigil by Mitzi’s pen, eager for an eye to eye with the Burmese. No one spilled their drink and yelled “My bad!” or crowded the bar asking when the fresh popcorn would be ready.
A few more shifts like this would suck up all the profits from Ladies’ Night.
With a sigh, Kerry ripped open the package of napkins and rounded the end of the bar.
Luckily it had been a different story at the hardware store that morning. They’d been so busy that beyond their initial awkward greeting, she and Gil had barely had a chance to talk. They’d had customers waiting outside the door at nine, and Gil had run a router demo at ten.
Kerry knew they had things to discuss. At the very least she needed to let him know she’d finally talked with her father. Reconciled with her father. But she was still smarting over that custody threat.
She was bent down, sliding fresh stacks of cocktail napkins into place, when someone slapped the bar top.
“You stood me up.”
Slowly Kerry straightened. Hand on hip, Liz Watts faced her across the bar.
“We need to talk,” she said brusquely.
Okay, then. If Liz was going to let her have it, at least she’d picked a slow night to do it.
“I know,” Kerry said. “I apologize for not getting back to you. To make up for it, when we do get together for coffee, I’ll bring you a box of those cinnamon rolls everyone’s raving about.” When Liz perked up, Kerry smiled. She never had gotten around to trying one, though both Eugenia and Gil had set her up. She really had to remedy that.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me yesterday,” she continued. “You and Ruthie rocked it. The place was spick-and-span when I got in this morning, with all the receipts and records in perfect order.”
Liz bristled. “I work
ed here for years. Of course everything was in order.”
“I wasn’t worried about the bar,” Kerry said gently. “Just what Snoozy would think of me for ditching work.”
“I spoke to Gil. He said you were really sick. That’s not ditching.” Liz gathered her crinkly hair up off her neck, then let it go again. “Look, my gripe is the assumption that you and I would get along simply because my husband, Marcus, spent time in prison. No one said it outright, but I know Snoozy and Eugenia were thinking it.” Her eyebrows drew together. “Marcus and I don’t like to be reminded of that.”
Kerry gave the ice in the bin a few stirs with the scoop. “I get it,” she said, and left it at that, since Liz seemed to want to talk.
Liz slid onto a stool, and ran a palm across the smooth surface of the bar top. The wistfulness in her expression finally got through to Kerry.
“This is about the bar,” Kerry said. “You wanted to be the one to run it while Snoozy was away.”
Liz’s shrug was casual. Too casual. “I do miss my job here. I had fun yesterday.”
“What do you do for Parker?”
“A lot of different things. I prep the soil, spray and harvest the plants, pot and label the seedlings, and keep the digital records. But since we mostly sell in bulk, there’s not a lot of customer interaction.”
“And that’s what you miss?”
“That’s one of the things.”
“But working here means being inside all day.”
“It also means spending a lot less money on sun block.”
Kerry eyed Liz’s fair skin and nodded in understanding. “Why don’t you come back?” It was a natural suggestion, but Kerry found it tough to make.
“It’s not as easy as it sounds. I made a commitment to Parker and Harris and the greenhouses. Ruthie has my old job here and even if Snoozy would let me take it away from her, I wouldn’t. I make more money working for Parker and besides, working evenings isn’t optimal when you have a small child.”
“Maybe you could split your time between the two.” Kerry poured her a diet soda and added a slice of lime, since Liz didn’t seem to care for cherries. When she held it out, she received a genuine smile in return and the entire bar seemed to brighten. “You know, work mornings at the greenhouse and afternoons here.”