by Hollis Wynn
“Fine. I was laughing, but don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll be in the same position before long. I’m just fortunate in not having had it yet.”
Penn shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. Walking to the door, he turns and stops. “I know this is your home away from home, but if you need anything—I mean anything—please don’t hesitate to ask.”
I nod at him and smile. “Thank you, Penn. The same goes for you.”
I spend the afternoon getting us settled in. Doing laundry, planning a menu, and making a list of all the things I need to shop for. Thankfully, we have a big box store in town, so it’s one-stop shopping.
A couple hours later, Ainsley and I finish our shopping in town and head home for a night of snuggling and movies.
Babies should come with instruction manuals. Giving a bath in the kitchen sink is much harder with only one person. By the time she’s clean and dressed, there is water all over the place. I’m wetter than she ever was and the floor is a mess, but she’s clean and happy. One more bottle and we’re going to crash.
Before I do that, I grab my phone and text Lake.
Me: Hey, can I give her more than 2 ounces? She is starving when she wakes up and we’re barely getting 2 hours.
Laken: Absolutely. Try 3-4 and see what she drinks. It may make her sleep longer.
Me: Score. Thank you.
Laken: Is everything else going okay?
Me: Yeah.
My heart cracks a little when I say that. It’s so different not having Owen here. He may not be my father or grandfather, but he’s the closest thing to family I’ve had since my parents died.
Me: Owen died and his grandson owns the place now. He’s trying to make it look a little better around the outside.
Laken: Oh, Bella. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was sick.
Me: Neither did I. But at least Penn is nice.
Laken: Penn, is it? Tell me about him. ;)
Me: There isn’t much to tell. He owns the property now, with the condition that he takes care of my place as well.
Laken: Girl, you’re lying to me.
Me: Whatever.
I roll my eyes as we text back and forth. She isn’t wrong. My feelings are all over the place, and his smile makes me swoon. But I don’t have time for anything other than trying to figure out what to do next for this baby.
Me: Gotta go. It’s bottle time and I need some sleep too.
Laken: Sleep well and we will talk about this next time.
Me: Night
I fix a four-ounce bottle and settle in for some snuggles while she eats. It doesn’t take long for her to down the whole thing. I guess she was hungrier than I thought. Moving her to my shoulder, I pat her diaper clad booty and she burps loudly.
“Good girl,” I say to Ainsley.
Wrapping her in the blanket like Laken taught me, I place her in the portable crib and turn off the lights in the room. Gently closing the door, I head into the living room and grab a book off the shelf that holds all the movies and books that we kept here. I end up falling fast asleep on the couch reading Something Wonderful by Judith McNaught. The spine is broken, the pages dog-eared. Every summer I read this book at least once and it’s well loved, so I embrace the folds and bends, and the smears of peanut butter and jelly from the years when I couldn’t put the book down to make the sandwich.
Mom loved this book too. Looking at the bookshelf, her copy is there as well. Some years, we would read it together, her on one couch and me on the other with our respective copies.
Who knows how long has passed when I wake up falling off the couch to a screaming baby. Glancing over at the clock as I pull myself up, I realize she slept for almost five hours.
Hell yeah. Why didn’t I think of increasing her formula quantity before?
We go through our routine of a diaper change, bottle feeding, and burping before she is back to sleep. When I crawl under the covers in the bedroom, I pray for another five hours for the both of us.
“Are you packed?” Mom asks me from the doorway where she stands with a box in her hands.
“Almost. Just a couple things left.” I point to my bed that’s covered with clothes. “I don’t know why you insist I take everything with me this time.”
Her eyes are watchful and a bit sad as I continue rolling my clothes, placing each item one by one in the suitcase.
“Darling, you’re welcome here anytime, but I don’t want you to miss out on something before you need to come home to get whatever it is. Besides, it’s always better to be more prepared than not.”
I nod my response. My emotions all over the place. On one the hand, I’m over the moon to be moving to an apartment with Laken, but on the other hand, I don’t want to leave home—especially this one. When you’ve lived in the same place your whole life, it is hard to leave.
“Oh, baby,” my mom says. It’s as if she knows I’m about to burst into tears. “Don’t cry. You’re always welcome here. This will forever be your home.”
She places the box down on the bed and sits down beside me on the floor. I lay my head on her shoulder. “I’m excited to go, really I am. I’m just going to miss you and Daddy so much.”
They’ve always encouraged me to accept my emotions and let them out when I need to, and this is one of those times.
Picking up my head, I wipe the tears away before looking at the box on the bed. “What’s that?”
She moves to her knees and picks the box up, placing it into my lap. “I think it’s time we had a talk.”
Oh, shit. This sounds serious.
“As a parent, it’s imperative that we teach our children to be ready for anything that life may throw at them. This is one of those times. I don’t want you to be frightened as I tell you this, okay.”
Our eyes lock and I slightly nod while I panic at what she’s going to tell me.
“Do you remember that time in fifth grade when you were sick and lost bunny under our bed? You crawled under there and tried to get her out yourself. I came to check on you after a phone call and noticed you were digging in a bag that was under the bed.”
I think to myself, but don’t remember what she’s talking about.
She smiles before continuing. “I’ll never forget you sitting on the floor with the contents of my go bag spread out all around you, and I prayed hard that day. I prayed you would never need to have a go bag at the ready in case you need to run. But now that you’re going to be on your own, you must be prepared.”
She opens the box and pulls out a large black backpack with pockets all over it. I watch her open it and pull out a smaller bag from inside.
“There is some money and a couple of cell phones in here for you. You’ll need to add a small bag of toiletries, some sneakers, and a comfortable outfit. Make sure to add a refillable water bottle and a phone charger too.”
I look at the backpack as if it’s an alien and I’m scared to touch it. “But why? I don’t understand.”
“Well, there are bad people in this world and sometimes you need to protect yourself.”
I glance over at her face and see her heart breaking as she tells me this. “Mom. I’m not five. I’m eighteen and will be taking care of myself. Just tell me.”
“I know you’re not five, Bella, but in your life you will meet people who aren’t what they claim to be. If you are ever scared or feel threatened, grab this backpack and run. Head to a place that you feel safe and call us from one of the phones. We will come get you from wherever you’re at.”
I don’t take the time to really consider what this means, but now I’m petrified.
“You can do this, my darling. But always remember what Daddy says about paying attention to your surroundings.”
A loud noise wakes me from the dream, and I’m soaked with sweat. Glancing over at the backpack sitting by the closet, I’m not shocked that I dreamed about my mother tonight. When things get stressful, I have always dreamed of my parents and considering I left home in the mid
dle of the night with someone else’s child, there was no way I was leaving that backpack behind. Looking over at the clock, it’s after eight and time to start another day. Ainsley hasn’t moved and is sleeping soundly, so I head to the kitchen for some tea.
Chapter Five—BellaRose
It’s been a week since we arrived at Lake Rosemary, and we finally have a rhythm that works for us. Ainsley eats and sleeps. In between taking care of Ainsley, I watch television, cook, and read. We walk up and down the lane to get some fresh air every day and have even found the perfect tree down by the water to nap under. Well, she naps and I read or watch the boats meandering along.
Penn has done a ton of work around the outside of both our houses, and my house looks less abandoned than when I arrived. Finally, I’m seeing the place from my memories. The outside still needs a coat of paint and the porch needs to be updated along with some boards replaced, but it feels like home. It’s the place I come to heal my body after a long year of teaching. A place where I’m more in touch with my parents and the simple things.
The kettle whistles, and I pour the boiling water over the tea bags. The steam floats through the air and I bend my head over, taking a long breath. The smell of steeping tea settles my nerves like nothing else.
It’s ironic how much I have enjoyed the last couple of days. My anxiety is off the charts, but my heart feels at peace. Each day is a battle of mind and body—practicing being present and accepting that it’s okay to be anxious right now. Anyone who is in this predicament would be uneasy.
I look up from my tea cup and catch a glimpse of Kaiser on the news, so I run over to turn up the volume up on the TV. The anchor speaks with no emotion as she stares into the camera. “Kaiser Sharpe is offering a reward of twenty-five thousand dollars for the return of his granddaughter, who was taken after his son Ranger and the baby’s mother Anna Smith were murdered last week. Initially the police thought it was a murder suicide but after more investigation, they determined both people were murdered and the baby stolen.”
“Shit,” I mumble to myself. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into.”
Walking back into the kitchen, I remove the tea bag from the mug, dropping it into the trashcan and stare out the window at Penn.
Penn has been going through the boxes that line Owen’s garage. I’ve always wondered what was in them, but when I asked Owen’s response was always the same. “Girly, don’t you worry about those boxes. That’s my past locked up and this, this is my present.” I laughed at him because he was correct. In order to live our best life, we have to put the past on the shelf, and move on to make new memories.
I watch Penn open the lids on the boxes, close them back up, and randomly pull some off the racks, placing them in a stack. I assume he’s going to take them inside, but who knows. They could be trash for all I know. I watch him and his muscles contract and release as he moves around the garage in nothing but a pair of low-slung shorts and sneakers.
Considering it’s going to be almost a hundred today, I wouldn’t be wearing much either if I were working in the garage going through someone else’s things.
Penn turns and catches me staring as he places another box on his stack. My cheeks blush and he winks at me before continuing what he was doing. I step away from the window and go check on Ainsley.
She’s wiggling around but isn’t really awake yet, so I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her. I’ve always heard a woman’s life changes after she has children, but I don’t think I really understood it until now. Granted, Ainsley isn’t mine and I didn’t give birth to her, but I will treat her as mine and do everything I can to help her thrive. I stare at her and realize how much my life is no longer my own. My days will revolve around her, and I’m absolutely thrilled with the thought of it.
I decide that I’m not being lazy Bella today. My clothes are stashed in the makeshift closet in this room. I was about ten when I played carpenter assistant to my father, helping him cut the wood and even hammer in some nails. Once we got it built, Mom let me help her paint. Dad refused to and I was more than happy to help, so we bought a couple cans of dark blue paint and painted the entire room.
Nothing about this house is fancy—in fact, it’s the exact opposite of everything that my home is in Wood Land Hills. There everything is light and airy with shades of the sea. Weathered furniture that I’ve spent hours painstakingly refinishing takes center stage.
Here it doesn’t matter whether my feet are muddy or I make a mess. The flooring is industrial carpet, the cabinets are varnished, and each room has a wacky color. Once Mom realized I was good at painting, every summer we would spend a couple days painting one room.
Shaking the memories from my mind, I dig out my clothes. A pair of shorts, a flowing shirt and my favorite sandals will be perfect for a quick trip to town. When shopping the other day, I noticed a small cafe on Main Street called The Chicken or the Egg Cafe that looked cute. It will be nice to get out for a bit and I’m sure Ainsley would like a change of scenery too.
Quickly, I change my clothes and pack a couple of bottles in the oversized tote that I use as a makeshift diaper bag. I grab my wallet out of my purse and toss it in so I don’t have to carry one more thing. Taking a baby out requires so much stuff.
I make haste, loading us up in the car and backing out of the garage. Spinning the wheel sharply, I turn to drive by the garage.
Penn steps out from under the cover of the metal building and guzzles a bottle of water, pouring another one on his head.
Holy shit! He’s freaking gorgeous.
His blond strands look more like spun gold in the sunlight. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to run my hands through them. “Yum,” I mumble to myself.
I roll down the window on the passenger side and wave at him. He strides over to my car, slightly peeking in. I stare at him as he looks in the backseat at Ainsley and smiles, then our eyes meet.
“Where are you beautiful ladies off to today?”
“I needed to get out of the house, so we’re going to have brunch at the cafe in Miller Creek.” I barely have the words out before reaching over to turn the air conditioner up, because I’m perspiring from the electricity I feel when he is near.
“That sounds like a great day. Miss Ainsley, you be good for your mama.”
“I’m sure she will. What are you doing other than cleaning out that monstrosity filled with old boxes?”
He chuckles and the deep reverb from his throat hit me right in the solar plexus.
Geez, a few days with this man and I’m already losing it.
“I’m planning to dig out the old barbecue pit and cook some steaks tonight. Would you like to join me?”
“Sure. Can I bring anything?”
For the first time in a long time, when it comes to interactions with the opposite sex, I’m not going to over think this. It’s just a neighborly invite for dinner. Plus, it will allow me to really feel him out about whether or not I can trust him. Trust him with the knowledge that I am not Ainsley’s mama. No matter how much I wish I were.
“You’re welcome to bring a bottle of wine, or whatever you’d like to drink. It won’t be fancy. Just steaks and potatoes.”
Ainsley wiggles around in her seat and that’s my cue to get out of here. I learned quickly on our trip here that she’s fine in the car as long as we’re moving. Once we stop, it becomes a race to get her out of her seat before she screams.
“Does seven work for you?” I ask before pulling away.
He nods and pushes himself off the edge of the car where he was leaning. “Sounds good. See you ladies then.”
Penn steps back and waves as we pull out for our adventure into town.
Chapter Six—BellaRose
Miller Creek has grown by leaps and bounds since I began coming here with my parents almost twenty years ago. I remember there was a small food store and a gas station in town. The cinnamon rolls were as big as a plate and so soft and pillowy.
That sounds like a crazy way to describe a cinnamon roll, but the dough was so light and fluffy. Combined with the cinnamon filling and icing drizzled all over it, Dad and I could never hide it from Mom. Hello hyper child? It was obvious what we had been doing.
Ainsley and I walk through town, taking in all the new things on the way to the cafe and I notice a bakery on the corner called Sweet Buns. There is a bit of a hop in my step as we stroll over to see what they have to offer.
Maneuvering my way in the door, I’m hit with the sweet smell of cinnamon and dough. My mouth waters and I push Ainsley to the counter taking in the smells and sounds of the bakery. It doesn’t take me long to spy the giant rolls in the case.
Forget eggs, I’m treating myself to all the cinnamon-sugar goodness that permeates my senses.
“I’ll have a cinnamon roll, please,” I say to the man behind the counter. He has a smile on his face, but that doesn’t hide the exhaustion I see. It’s easy to recognize when I feel the same way.
“Sure, anything else?” he asks.
“Do you have any pies or cakes?” I look around and the case is full of breads and other treats.
“I think they’re icing one in the back right now. Is it for a special occasion?” He constantly glances around the room, and I can tell he’s making sure that no one needs help.
“Nope. I’ll take whatever color and flavor you have. But I’d like to eat the cinnamon roll here.”
“Absolutely. I’ll ring you up and then I’ll have it ready when you finish your sweet bun.”
My face lights up and the light bulb finally goes off. “Sweet Buns? I love it.”
“Enjoy, miss . . .”
“Bella. And thank you for this. These smell just like the ones I used to get from the gas station when I was a child.”
“You’re welcome. I hope these live up to the memories, considering the recipe hasn’t changed in almost fifty years.”