by Thea Dawson
The graveyard was a couple of miles outside of town. It was on a hill with a view of the mountains. In college, Celia had often gone running there, enjoying the solitude and the view, but she had not been back since Brad’s funeral.
It was a blustery, unpredictable day, sunny one moment and overcast the next. Celia had allowed Lily and Rosie to choose bouquets of flowers from the supermarket. She herself brought a large bouquet of pink roses. They reminded her of when she and Brad had first been dating, when he inundated her with flowers and gifts, back when things had been good between them.
She and the children placed the bunches of flowers carefully in front of the gravestone. Together, they stood around it, Rowan holding on to Celia’s hand and wobbling slightly. Celia stared at the flat marble marker.
Bradley S. Jackson
Beloved husband and father
“Do either of you have anything you want to say?” she asked the girls, who stood on either side of her.
“I miss Daddy,” Rosie said, pouting, her forehead scrunched in a little frown.
On the other side of her, Lily huffed impatiently, but to Celia’s relief, she didn’t say anything.
“Well, I’d like to say something.” Celia cleared her throat. “Your dad really loved you guys, and I think he’s up in heaven now, watching over you and thinking how proud he is of each of you.” The words felt disingenuous, but she forced herself to think back to when Lily was still a baby, before alcohol had taken over the better part of Brad’s personality. He had been a good father then, had loved Lily, played with her, bragged about her, taken so many pictures that Celia had been exasperated. By the time Rosie was born, Celia had begun to realize that he was an alcoholic, but he’d sobered up for a couple of months after she was born, and she’d seen signs of the dad he’d been to Lily.
With Rowan, though … Tears pricked her eyes, and she forced herself away from those memories. They were here to remember the best parts, not the worst. She closed her eyes.
Brad, I know things probably wouldn’t have worked out even if you’d lived, but we had some wonderful times together, and we made three amazing children. I’m sorry that we left on bad terms, and I’m sorry if I didn’t do enough to help you get the help you needed … but I don’t regret that I met you or married you or that we had kids. I just wish you were still around so you could see how amazing they are. I forgive you for everything you put me through … and I hope you forgive me, too.
She sniffed and blinked and cleared her throat. “Lily, would you like to have a few minutes alone here?”
Lily was still for a moment, then nodded.
“Okay. I’m going to take these two back to the car. Come back whenever you’re ready.”
Lily said nothing and Celia lifted Rowan and tugged gently on Rosie’s hand.
Lily stood by the grave until Celia had installed Rosie and Rowan in their car seats. If she was saying anything, she was too far away for Celia to hear. Eventually, she turned and trudged slowly back to the car. She didn’t talk, but when Celia put an arm around her, she didn’t pull away.
The following Monday, Richard asked if she would be able to keep working for him a little longer. “I’ve posted on the student job boards at the university,” he explained with a helpless shrug, “but I just haven’t gotten any interest. I think it’s kind of an awkward time of year, with the semester already half way through.”
“Yeah, of course,” Celia nodded, half disappointed and half relieved.
At the end of that week, she asked if he’d had any luck finding someone. He shook his head sheepishly.
“Ah, no. I’m really sorry. Had a couple of inquiries but not good fits. It’s ... we got so lucky with you and Angel. It’s hard to replace you. I hope this isn’t putting too much pressure on you.”
Was it her imagination or was there something … kinder than usual in his expression? Imagination, she told herself firmly.
“It’s fine,” she said. She’d been going back and forth with Merilee about the logo and ads. Merilee had introduced her to her ice cream vendor, who needed a logo, but Celia hadn’t yet heard back from Susan and wasn’t exactly overworked. Certainly not enough to overlook an extra $200 a week. “See you on Monday.”
And another week slipped by.
Although she would have given almost anything to know what was going through his head, she had no desire to broach the subject with him. She still avoided him as much as possible, but gradually, she started to feel less uncomfortable around him, and he seemed more relaxed around her as well.
By the end of the week, Richard had warmed up enough to ask Lily if she was doing anything interesting that weekend.
“It’s my mother’s birthday tomorrow, and I’m going to bake a cake!” Lily announced.
“It’s your birthday?” Peyton said with that anxious look that always tugged at Celia’s heart. “I wish I’d known. I would have gotten you a present.”
Celia looked at her fondly. “That’s okay, sweetheart.”
“Happy birthday,” Richard said with a smile that was slightly less stiff than usual. “You’re going to have a party?”
“Oh, we’ll probably just go out to dinner or something.” Celia smiled, thinking how nice it was that she could afford a family dinner out now.
“But I get to bake the cake,” Lily said possessively.
“Of course you do.” Celia gave her a quick kiss on the head. “But now we’ve really got to be off. Have a nice weekend, you guys.”
“Wait, let me give you a birthday hug,” Peyton insisted. Celia knelt down and Peyton wrapped her arms around Celia’s neck, squeezing her tightly. She finished the embrace with a big kiss on Celia’s cheek. “Happy birthday,” she said in a stage whisper. “I’ll make you a card.”
Celia looked at her fondly. “Thank you, Peyton. I’d love that.”
She untangled herself gently from Peyton’s embrace and stood. She caught a quick glance of Richard staring intensely at her. She couldn’t make out his expression. Was he annoyed? Maybe he was just touched by Peyton’s enthusiasm. She gathered her things and left.
15
She was cleaning the living room the next morning when she heard the sound of the doorbell over the roar of the vacuum. When she answered the door, she was stunned to see Richard and Peyton standing on the sunny porch. Peyton was wearing her soccer uniform and grinning from ear to ear. She held an enormous bouquet of flowers and a card. Richard stood beside her, looking almost comically self-conscious.
“Surprise!” yelled Peyton. “Happy birthday!”
Celia focused on smiling at Peyton so that she didn’t have to look at Richard. “Oh, my goodness! Are these for me?”
Peyton handed them to her, looking extremely pleased with herself. “And I made you a card too, just like I said I would.”
“Thank you so much! Let me see ...” The card was decorated front and back with hearts and flowers and swirly designs. Peyton must have used every single one of her markers, thought Celia. Inside it read,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
I LOVE YOU!!!
Love,
Peyton Hawkes
“It’s gorgeous! Thank you so much. You’re such a good artist, and it was really kind of you to think of me,” Celia said with genuine feeling. She forced herself to look up at Richard. “Thank you,” she said again, nodding at the flowers. “They’re lovely.”
He made an awkward shrugging gesture but managed a smile. “Happy birthday,” he said stiffly.
“Is Lily here?” asked Peyton.
Celia hesitated. “Uh, yes ... do you want to come—?”
“Sorry, we really can’t stay,” Richard cut her off. “Peyton has a soccer game at ten-thirty. Oh, before I forget, I brought your check as well.” He fished an envelope out of the pocket of his shorts and handed it to her. “I included a some extra for spending the night with me.”
She froze, staring at him. For a moment, she imagined tearing up the envelope in front of him, but Lily’s r
iding lessons were in it. And she couldn’t make a scene in front of Peyton.
A split second later, his words seemed to catch up with him, and he looked at her in horror. “I mean, for me. For spending the night. For the time. For the extra time. That’s all I meant.” His face grew redder with each word.
It was the first time she had seen him genuinely flustered. If she hadn’t seen it herself, she wouldn’t have believed that he could blush at all, let alone go as lobster red as he just had. Fortunately, Peyton didn’t seem to have caught anything unusual in what he’d said.
Celia laughed.
He looked even more uncomfortable.
“It’s okay,” she said with sincerity. “I know what you meant.”
He still looked embarrassed, but the ice between them seemed to melt a bit, and he met her eyes with what looked like a glint of sheepish humor.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in for just a moment?” she asked. “Lily’s making my cake right now, but she’d love to see Peyton.”
“Pleeeease?” asked Peyton.
He shook his head. “We really do have to get to the game,” he said. Peyton pouted. Richard looked at her, hesitated for a moment, then said, “But how about this: Celia, since it’s your birthday, maybe I could take us all out to dinner? Would that ... would that work for you?”
She looked down at the bouquet in her arms, pretending to admire it while she absorbed his suggestion. She refused to let herself believe that he had changed his mind about their relationship. Was he offering out of guilt? Obligation? But the slight hesitancy in his voice made her wonder if this was a genuine attempt to mend fences.
“Okay,” she said. “That would be really nice.”
“Yay!” Peyton yelled.
Richard seemed to relax a bit more. He smiled at her. “Great. I’d offer to pick you up, but I don’t think I can get all of you in my car. Why don’t we meet at The Stovepipe at seven? I’ll make a reservation.”
Celia smiled again. “Thank you,” she said again, trying to put as much warmth as she could into her voice. “That sounds really lovely.”
“Okay, then.” He nodded again. “Well, we’d better get going. We’ll see you tonight.”
“All right. And thank you for the flowers and the card. It’s all really beautiful.”
“You’re welcome!” chimed Peyton, satisfied now. She grabbed her dad’s hand and they turned to walk back to their car but not before Richard glanced back over his shoulder at her.
Celia closed the door behind her, feeling a strange combination of happiness, anxiety and confusion. She cautioned herself not to read too much into it. Richard was apologizing, that was clear, but dinner with four children, even at a relatively expensive restaurant like The Stovepipe, was hardly a date. It was ... friendly. Maybe it was his elaborate, inarticulate version of the “Let’s just be friends” speech.
Shortly before seven, she polished the kids up and drove to the Stovepipe. Richard and Peyton were waiting for them in the lobby. It was one of the nicest restaurants in town and it was several steps up from the chains where the kids had eaten before. Fortunately, everyone was well behaved. Rowan sat in a high chair, drooling on the crayons that a server brought, while Rosie tried to fold her napkin back into the crown shape it had been when they sat down.
Celia was surprised to see Richard lean over and whisper, “Let me show you, sweetheart.”
He took the large piece of fabric and deftly folded it into a standing ornament.
“Again!” Rosie demanded.
Richard unfolded it and demonstrated step by step. Rosie took it apart again and began slowly folding it again.
“Where did you learn that?” Celia asked with a smile.
“When I was in undergrad, I worked nights at a fancy restaurant. It was decent money for a part-time job and an excellent training ground for napkin origami.”
She laughed lightly. “So you were a waiter?”
“I started off as a busboy. Worst job in the world. Then I got promoted to waiter, which was the second-worst job in the world.”
“I waited tables when I was in college. Well, in the summers. I actually kind of liked it,” Celia told him.
“You were probably good at it. You’re good with people.” He gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry to say, I was a terrible snob. I thought waiting tables was beneath me. My parents had been pretty well off but then my dad lost a lot of money when the stock market crashed. Suddenly there wasn’t enough money to send me to college. I got a decent scholarship and a loan, but they didn’t cover most of my personal expenses, so I had to find part-time work.”
She smiled a little, trying to cover her surprise. How funny to think that he’d ever been poor. “Well, you’ve made up for it since then, I guess!” she said brightly.
He smiled a little ruefully. “My parents are doing okay now, but after I saw what happened to them, I was very motivated to make a lot of money. I wanted to be successful enough that my kids wouldn’t have to worry about anything, to protect them from any curve balls.”
Their eyes met in a moment of understanding. “But life has a way of throwing curveballs at you no matter what you do, doesn’t it?” she said.
He nodded. “It does indeed.”
“What are you guys talking about?” demanded Lily.
Richard smiled at her. “Boring grownup stuff. Do you kids know what you want to order?”
Lily and Peyton had already decided. Rosie took a little longer, but eventually orders were established.
Richard looked back to Celia. “Will you split a bottle of wine with me?”
She dropped her gaze to the menu, feeling her face get warmer as she thought of what had happened the last time they’d split a bottle of wine. “Ahhh ... I think just a glass would be would be lovely.”
A brief look of something—embarrassment?— flashed over his face, then he recovered himself. “They have an excellent Pinot Gris from one of the local vineyards.”
“Sounds good,” she replied. “I’ll try it.”
An hour later as the plates were being cleared away, Peyton suddenly asked, “Daddy, can we go to Lily’s house for dessert? They have cake.”
Richard paused for a moment. Celia paused too, not sure if she really wanted to host Richard in her house then she suddenly decided to jump in before it could get awkward. “Yes, why don’t you two come to our house for dessert? There’s ice cream, too. And Lily made the cake herself. It’s really pretty.”
She could see him analyzing the offer for just a moment before he nodded. “Thank you. That would be nice.”
They made their way back to Celia’s house in their separate cars. Celia felt a little self-conscious as she opened the door for Richard and Peyton. Her house felt very small, and she was suddenly aware of every dent, nick and scratch borne by the floor, the walls, and the furniture. Peyton and Lily disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the cake, Rosie trotting behind them. Richard took a seat on the couch as Celia sat on the armchair across from him. Rowan struggled off her lap. Celia was reluctant to let him get down; she felt even more self-conscious with nothing to distract her, but Rowan was determined. He scrambled down and began taking awkward steps.
“He’s really getting big, isn’t he?” Richard said.
“He’s into everything now,” Celia said. “I accused Lily the other day of sneaking some cookies I’d left on the kitchen table, then I saw Rowan get into them. It was a stretch for him, but it turns out he was the cookie thief. Weren’t you, you monkey?” She leaned over to tickle him. He giggled and squirmed out of her way.
Richard laughed and she smiled. Things were feeling more relaxed between them now and she was grateful.
“We’re ready!” came Lily’s voice from the kitchen.
Celia scooped up Rowan and went with Richard into the kitchen. They sat at the table which had been set with small paper plates and plastic forks, and Lily and Peyton began to sing. Richard joined in with a strong baritone. Celi
a blushed a little again as Lily placed the cake in front of her, Peyton hovering by her side.
She blew out the candles—Lily had put a cluster of three on one side and a cluster of five on the other—and everyone clapped.
“This is a beautiful cake, Lily,” Richard said.
“Thank you,” said Lily proudly. “I made it from scratch!”
“Wow, you said you liked to bake, but I didn’t realize you were so good at decorating cakes, too. Did you really do that all by yourself?”
Lily grinned and Celia smiled. Richard had hit on Lily’s pride.
“My grandmother gave me a cake decorating set for Christmas, and I learned how from the Internet.”
“We’ve eaten a lot of cake since Christmas,” Celia said.
“And I helped!” said Peyton, anxious not to be overlooked. “I set the table and helped put the candles on the cake!”
“You did a beautiful job.” Richard paused and stared critically at the cake. “Wait a moment—is Celia really eight years old?” he said with exaggerated suspicion.
Lily and Peyton laughed. “No,” said Peyton with a superior air. “She’s thirty-five. That’s three and that’s five.”
“Ah!” said Richard, glancing at Celia. “Now I know how old you are. You look much younger,” he added graciously.
“Thank you,” Celia said, her face warming again.
Lily produced a knife and Celia served the cake and ice cream. The cake was pronounced delicious. When the plates were clean, Lily and Peyton tumbled outside, Rosie at their heels. Celia started to collect the plates, but Richard stopped her.
“You shouldn’t have to clean up,” he said, gathering them up himself. “It’s your birthday.”
She stared at him, a little nonplussed by his sudden thoughtfulness.
“Besides, these are just going in the garbage, right?” he said with a grin.
“Yeah, you’re not actually committing yourself to any hard work,” she said with a laugh. “The garbage is under the sink.”
He tossed the plates and came back to the table. Celia concentrated on bouncing Rowan gently on her lap and avoided looking at him.