Unexpected Daddies

by Lively, R. S.

  "Really?" I ask. "Why do you say that?"

  "I think she's doing it all for the attention. I mean, how many people leave a rehab center and go to a retirement community to hang out with their friends? And now that I mention it, how many people are sped away to a rehab center in an ambulance?"

  My lips tingle and twitch as I struggle to hold back a laugh. I start the car and head out of the parking lot. Now I know for certain I can't keep it up anymore. I didn't really expect Grammie to keep Fiona dangling along for this long, and it's just too much.

  "You just thought of that, huh?" I ask.

  Beside me, Fiona's eyes widen, and her mouth opens in a drawn-out gasp. Suddenly, she swats at my arm.

  "You knew!" she exclaims. "You jerk! She hasn't been hurt this whole time, and you knew it."

  I finally laugh.

  "Not the whole time," I say. "Most of the time. But not the whole time."

  She swipes at me again.

  "You asshole," she says, but she's laughing even as she says it. "You let her run me all over the place knowing she was just fine."

  "Well, no," I say. "In her defense, she actually did hurt herself. Not how she told you it happened, but she was hurt. It just ended up not being nearly as bad as she thought it was. Grammie wanted to spend time with you, and you had told her were going through a hard time, so she thought having you home would help. And I didn't know for the first few days. I actually think that's why the ambulance came to pick her up."

  "What do you mean?" she asks

  "I told her she needed to take it easier on you," I explain.

  "So, she called an ambulance?"

  "No, the ambulance was Dr. Barnes' idea. He took it from the rehab center. He apparently also gave her the boot to help with the story," I tell her.

  "Is Dr. Barnes Arthur?"

  "No. I still don't know who Arthur is."

  Fiona rests her head back against her seat and shakes it.

  "I can't believe her. Actually, yes. I absolutely can. She's ridiculous. But it's nice to know she was thinking about me... I think."

  I laugh.

  "I think you should just take it as a positive thing and move on."

  I look at her briefly, pausing at a stop light.

  "Do you have a little more time?" I ask.

  She looks at me questioningly.

  "Unless I have another grandmother I don't know about who is planning on throwing herself down the stairs to manipulate me into taking care of her under the guise of being supportive, I'm wide open."

  "I'm going to go ahead and take that little parade of snark as a yes."

  "Why do you ask?"

  "I want to show you something."

  Fiona

  Part of me recognizes the field we pull up to, but it's a distant connection, like I've only seen the place once or twice many years ago. I look over at Cade and see him staring through the window, his eyes locked on one corner of the space. After a few seconds, he seems to snap out of the thoughts holding him captive and looks over at me. A hint of a smile, one that seems almost forced, touches his lips.

  "Ready?" he asks.

  "I'm not sure," I say. "Where are we?"

  "This is another project I'm working on. Remember I was talking about the permits that didn't go through, and all the hassle?"

  "The catastrophe that sent Franklin into a tizzy, yes, I remember."

  "I think that is the best way to describe it. Well, this is the source of that tizzy."

  I look out at the field again.

  "This?" I ask. "What is it?"

  "Come with me," he says. "I wanted to show it to you while it still looks like this and isn't swarmed with crews."

  He heads out of the car, coming around to take my hand and lead me toward a short set of cement steps I hadn't even noticed. The grass and weeds are doing their best to reclaim the steps, and I feel my foot slip on the slickness left over from the rain. Cade's hand tightens on mine, and he holds me close as we make our way up the short hill that leads up to the field. It takes me a few seconds of looking around before I fully understand where we are. I notice old, crumbling sidewalks nearly invisible in the grass, each of them leading to another short set of steps. The longer I look at them, the clearer the memory becomes in my mind.

  "I've been here," I say, glancing up at him. "At least," I look back over the open space, "I think I have."

  "It used to be an apartment complex," he says.

  I nod, and we start walking across the space, our feet finding one of the sidewalks and following it toward the back section of the field where he had been staring when we pulled in.

  "I remember," I say. "Kind of. I mean, I do remember. I remember seeing this place once. I was in the car with Gramps, and we were driving around. He was going really slow. Not the road where we parked, but that one," I point to the road in the distance that curves around beyond the back of the field. "I remember it was so dark. That's what I remember most about it. It was so dark."

  "It always was," Cade says. "Even when the streetlights were on, that back corner was always so dark. That's why the porch lights came on as soon as the sun started going down."

  As soon as he says it, I experience a flash of recognition.

  "You," I say. "We were looking for you. No one knew where you were. That's why we were here. What the hell happened that night?"

  Cade shakes his head.

  "Honestly, I don't remember. There's a lot of my teenage years I try not to think about very much. Except for you. I always want to think about you."

  He leans down and kisses me as my heart trembles in my chest.

  "What was here, Cade?" I ask.

  "I used to live with my parents in the building here," he says.

  "Did you grow up here?" I ask.

  Cade shakes his head, still looking at the blank space that once held one of the apartment buildings like he can still see it in his mind’s eye.

  "No," he explains. "We never stayed in one place for very long. Usually, we found somewhere willing to accept whatever money my parents could scrape together for the down payment, and just hung on until whatever job they had at the time dried up, we ran out of money, and had to move on. I don't know how we got from place to place, or even how many we lived in before I left for good. But I remember this one the most. When we lived here, things were almost good. At least, they were as close to being good as I can ever remember them being. Compared to what it was like at other times growing up, living here felt almost secure and peaceful. That's not saying much."

  "Why would Gramps think you came back here?"

  "Things weren't easy for me, Fiona. I made a lot of choices I'm not proud of and did things I know I shouldn't have. I can't blame them all on my parents or how they raised me. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would argue that everything I did was in reaction to them, but there's a point when personal responsibility comes in, and you have to be able to step up and own the decisions you make."

  It's not an answer. I’m not surprised. I know there are things about Cade he will never tell me, and that's probably for the best. The ache in my heart feels fresh and new again just thinking about sitting in that truck wondering where he could be. I can only imagine how magnified that pain and worry would be if I knew all the details of his life before Gramps and Grammie were a part of it. I don't mind leaving some of his secrets untold. I don't care what happened in his past. Cade is who he is, and that's all that matters to me. Those secrets are his, and it's not up to me to try to force him to relive them, especially if he isn't ready.

  "This is where the building I lived in was," he says, pointing to a shape in the grass in front of us.

  I look at the space, evaluating the dimensions.

  "It looks so small," I say.

  "It is," he says. "Each building had two apartments. One on the bottom, one on top. Both doors were on the front of the building. The door to the bottom apartment was on the right, the top on the left. The people who lived on
the top floor walked through the door, and immediately turned to go up a flight of stairs right into their living room. The bottom apartment didn't have the stairs. The door just went into a little entry space, then into the living room."

  "Which one was yours?" I ask.

  Cade walks up the steps and pauses in front of a broken, worn piece I assume was once a threshold.

  "Here," he says. "The bottom."

  He glances back over his shoulder at me.

  "Would you like to come inside?" he asks.

  I smile and step up beside him. He steps down into the gap that was once the foundation of the building, and I follow him.

  "I love what you've done with the place," I say.

  He laughs and gestures around us.

  "This is the living room," he says. "Sliding doors on that side led out onto a patio. There was a charcoal grill."

  "Ooooh. How fancy."

  "Not at all." He takes a few steps and points to the left. "This is the dining room." He goes a few more steps. "If you join me down the hallway here, I can show you the rest." I follow him, and he gestures to one side. "The bathroom. Complete with bathtub."

  "Only the best amenities."

  "Of course. Here is my parent's bedroom." We're almost to the back of the shape when he pauses and opens his arms out to his sides. "And this is my room."

  "Oh, really?" I ask, stepping up beside him. "I don't know if it's really appropriate for me to be in your bedroom."

  Cade wraps his arms around me and pulls me up against his body, capturing my mouth with his.

  "You have no idea how many times I thought about that."

  "Kissing me here?"

  "Not here exactly. In my bedroom at my parent's house. This will do, though."

  I loop my arms around his neck and pull him in for another kiss.

  "You didn't live here when you started spending time at the house?"

  "No," he says. "We'd already left here before that."

  "What happened to it?"

  "They tore the entire complex down years ago."

  "Why?" I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  "The apartments were emptying out. People were moving on or dying. Families weren't moving in anymore. There weren't enough people who wanted to stay here to overpower the developer who wanted to sell it."

  "But what happened to it then?"

  "Nothing," Cade says with a sigh. "The buildings all came down, then nothing happened. It just sat and started crumbling. It's like everyone forgot about it. That's why I bought it."

  "What are you going to do with it?"

  "I'm turning it into community-use property," he says, his voice suddenly sounding stronger, like the thought of the changes he's made as an adult are pulling him out from under the memories weighing him down. "I want to remove all of the remnants of the buildings, replace them with a community center and a playground. I'm thinking about a pool. I want to make it into a space for people to enjoy, and that will give kids and families a place to spend time together."

  "That's amazing," I say.

  I lean back to look at him, letting out a breath as I stare into his face.

  "What?" he asks.

  "You," I say. "Just you. I can't believe all you're doing for other people."

  "Don't forget I'm doing it anonymously, so don't tell Grammie. If you do, ten seconds later, there will be a parade and a dedication ceremony."

  I laugh.

  "What's sad is you're not exaggerating."

  I rest my head on his chest for a few seconds to listen to the beating of his heart. Cade's face is different now, stronger and sharper, and there's an edge to him that wasn't there before. But here, in the rhythm of his heart, he's the same as the teenaged boy I once knew.

  "Are you ready to go?" he asks.

  I nod and take his hand so we can make our way back toward the car.

  "Where were you living when you started coming around to Grammie and Gramps's house?" I ask.

  "We bounced around a lot," he says. "I can't even really count how many times we moved. By the time I met Gramps, and he introduced me to Grammie, I was going back and forth between living with my parents and living on my own."

  "You were thirteen!"

  "I know. That's where Gramps comes in. They decided I'd spend time with them so I wouldn't be alone. The more time I spent with them, though, the less my parents felt like they needed to be responsible for me. They didn't really feel much parental instinct to begin with, so things weren't great. They were around less, and I was with Gramps and Grammie more. Then the trouble started."

  "Trouble?"

  "Yeah." Another secret he'll keep to himself for now. "Eventually, I ended up in a group home, then went back to my parents, then back to the group home, then I tried to strike out on my own. I got forced back to the house with my parents. Things got worse. There were fights. I went back to the group home, tried to leave again…"

  "And eventually Gramps and Grammie's house became home."

  "It was always home," he says. "You were always home."

  "Can I ask you something with the understanding you don't have to tell me anything else if you don't want to?"

  "Of course."

  "Do you still talk to your parents?"

  "Yes," he answers without hesitation. "Sometimes. Mostly, I pay for their house and keep up their bills for them."

  "Why?" I ask almost explosively. Cade looks at me, and I flinch. "I'm sorry. That came out a lot more…"

  "Judgy?"

  "Yeah. A lot more judgy than I intended. That's a terrible word, but I'm going with it. I didn't mean for it to sound like that."

  "It's fine. I'd probably ask the same question if I was you."

  "So, why do you do that for them? You won't even tell Grammie how wealthy you actually are, but you'll tell them? Don't you think they're going to take advantage of you?"

  "I haven't told them, either," he says. "They know I have enough to help them out, but that's it. That's part of the reason I do it. I decide how much I give them, so I stay in control. They don't decide. But I think the main reason I do it is, because, in a lot of ways, I’m grateful to them."

  "Grateful?" I ask incredulously.

  "It's not like they were always horrible. There were some good moments, and I believe they do love me in whatever way they’re capable of. Them being selfish, self-centered, and fucking shitty parents sucks, but in the end, it's what brought me to your grandparents. In all honesty, if things were always OK with my parents, I never would have met Gramps or Grammie. I would have ended up on some dead-end path, in jail, or dead. Instead, they managed to be just bad enough, for just long enough, that I found my way to your family. In a twisted way, everything I have is because of my parents, but not in the way most parents want to be responsible for their child's success. That's what keeps me from really being a part of their lives. I don't wish anything bad on them. I don't want them to be miserable, or to end up in an unpleasant situation because they don't have the help they need. I don't want them to think they were right when they told me I was going to end up exactly like them because I had no other choice, but I also don't want them to think they deserve the credit for who I am today."

  "As much as I hate what they put you through, you're right that there is some good to it. If they hadn't sorta been pieces of shit, I never would have met you."

  Cade shakes his head, drawing me closer to him.

  "No," he says. "That's not enough to stop us from meeting. I don't know how, but I think we still would have found each other."

  The comment makes my heart flutter and tears spring to my eyes, but I can hear the sadness in his voice. I think about the summer he spent away from the house after his stint in jail and wonder how much of what I just learned had to do with those weeks he disappeared from my life, only to return with no explanation.

  "You know what?" I say, pulling his hand to stop him and turn him toward me.

  "What?" Cade asks.


  "Now that I know you're not just a little fledgling business owner, I think you owe me a better break than that camping trip."

  I grin at him, and he smiles back, the boy I fell in love with so many years ago shining through.

  "Deal," he says. "I'll make some arrangements, and we'll go tomorrow."

  "Where?" I ask.

  Cade raises an eyebrow at me.

  "Do you really think I’m going to spoil the surprise?"

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cade

  The next day…

  "Are you going to react this way every time I take you on a trip?" I ask.

  "Not if you keep bringing me fucking camping!" Fiona exclaims angrily from where she sits in the front seat, her arms crossed tightly over her body.

  I laugh as I get out of the truck and walk around to her door. She refuses to look at me as I open the door and lean over to release her seat belt.

  "Come on," I say.

  "No."

  "You said you wanted me to bring you on another trip," I say. "Our first camping trip had a few hiccups."

  "So, you thought it would be clever to bring me camping again? That is fantastic planning."

  "Are you getting out of the truck?" I ask.

  Fiona seems to wriggle deeper into the seat like she's staking her ground, her eyes still locked in front of her at the rough-hewn wood sign indicating the trailhead to the campground deep in the woods.

  "No."

  "Then I guess I'm just going to have to do it for you," I say.

  Tucking my shoulder into her stomach and grabbing hold of her wrist, I flip Fiona over my back in a fireman's carry, and pull her, squealing with protest, out of the truck. She continues to shriek as I kick the door closed and carry her to the back to get our bags.

  "Cade! What the fuck!”

  "You needed to get out of the truck. I'm going to put you down now. Are you going to behave yourself?"

  "No."

  I smack Fiona on the ass, and she lets out another little squeal. This one sounds distinctly more amused than the first.

  "I'll try that again. Are you going to behave yourself?"