Martinis & Moonlight (A Country Road Novel - Book 3)

by Andrea Johnston

  Scurrying from the car as soon as I allow her enough room, Arizona takes off running around the small yard of the little bungalow that is her new home and where I’ll be living for the foreseeable future. The house is a traditional craftsman style home with three bedrooms and two baths. The owners have kept the integrity of the style of the home but added modern pieces to make it the perfect fit for us. When Dakota spotted this house weeks ago, I didn’t expect to be moving in here so soon. But, as luck would have it, the house was not only for sale but vacant and the homeowners were thrilled with the idea of a quick sale.

  I allow myself just a few moments while I watch Ari run carefree around the yard, as she should. Turning my back to Ari, I reach in to unlatch Cali’s harness.

  “Hello, my love bug. How was your nap?” Cali rewards my questions with a toothy grin and little baby hands to my face. Hands I place a kiss to the palm of. Once I’ve removed Cali from her seat, I pull my keys from my purse on the front seat and call for Ari to join me on the porch. As I’m about to place the key into the lock, Ari comes to stand next to me with her little hand on my thigh.

  “I think Papa and Uncle Linc left you a surprise. Should we go see?” My gaze catches hers as I see a little twinkle in them at the idea of a surprise just for her.

  “I like presents though.” Her lower lip begins to pout, but it’s as if she has a new idea and her expression changes. “Wait! Is the surprise a present?” Her excitement is contagious and suddenly I’m excited to see how the surprise turned out.

  “Yes, baby, it’s a present. How about we find out what it is?”

  “Yes!”

  Arizona’s little eyes are wide and full of promise and hope but the loss of her daddy and now her mommy are evident just around the edges. In her four years, this little girl has been through more than most adults and far more than a child should. I smile down to her and she looks up at me with bright eyes full of hope and I remind myself that all the sacrifices I’ve made are worth it.

  The key sticks a little in the lock, causing me to put a little effort into turning it. I’ll need to remember to have that looked at. Finally, the lock clicks and I push open the door, allowing Arizona to lead me into the house. Stopping to set my keys on the small table in the foyer, I turn to close the front door. I quickly glance to my left to confirm the living room is set up as I hoped. Last weekend, my dad and brother brought all of Dakota’s furniture, plus what little furniture I had, and set everything up for me. I won’t say my Type A personality was in full force but I may have sent them with sketches of furniture placement.

  Arizona kicks off her little sandals and her bare feet on the newly installed laminate flooring echo through the house. The house is designed in a horseshoe with the rooms stacked on each side of a small hallway. Dakota and I searched for a more open-concept house but there just weren’t any, and once she saw the large porch and beautiful backyard she was okay with the less-than-ideal floorplan.

  I’m still not used to carrying Cali around so I must shift her to my other hip as I walk toward the kitchen. The kitchen is a large U with a breakfast bar that separates a breakfast nook area where my dad has placed a small table I don’t recall either Dakota or myself owning. Sneaky, sneaky. Further investigation confirms that instead of my mom placing a bottle of my favorite white wine in the refrigerator, she has instead stocked the small wine cooler. I must remember to thank her for that. Although, it will probably take me months to get through the six bottles she’s placed there, the gesture is appreciated.

  I peek into the laundry room that sits between the kitchen and back deck just as a high-pitched squeal of excitement comes from the back of the house. I know Arizona has found her room. Excited to see her face as she takes it all in, I shift Cali from one hip to the other and head toward her shouts of joy.

  “What in the world is happening that has you yelling so much, Arizona?”

  “Auntie, Auntie! Did you see? Did you see my room?” Her voice is ten decibels higher than normal, joy oozing out of every pore of her little body. Pure joy exudes her as she jumps on her knees in excitement while pointing at the castle-like accessory my dad and brother installed. “It’s a CASTLE! A castle! I’m really a princess!”

  I set Cali on the floor before walking over to the bunk beds my parents purchased for the girls. A set of bunk beds painted white, the top bunk has an attachment that makes it look like a castle. It’s a removable piece that I’m sure will come down over the next few years as she grows up, but for now, it’s perfect for her sweet four-year-old self.

  “I see,” I say while climbing up to her level, a huge smile on my face. “It’s very cool. Papa did a great job!” Her excitement is contagious and I’ve never been more grateful for my dad and brother as I am now watching Arizona. “Being a princess is pretty cool. Do you think you can handle it?” She nods excitedly. “Do you remember why princesses are special?”

  Ari begins tapping her chin and looking off into the distance in thought. I glance back to make sure Cali isn’t into anything she shouldn’t be and find that she’s managed to crawl over to a pile of her toys and is playing. I return my attention to Arizona as she finishes what is obviously a very serious thought process.

  “You said that princesses are kind and my Nana said that princesses are ‘sponsible,” she declares confidently with a nod.

  “That’s right, princesses are kind and responsible.” I reach up to Ari’s head and pull her close to me, placing a gentle kiss to the top of her head, allowing myself to appreciate the sweet smell of her shampoo and the lingering scent of … peanut butter. Great. “I’m going to look at the rest of the house, do you think you can stay here and play with your sister?”

  Without a word, Arizona climbs down from the top bunk and waves me off as she lays down on the floor with Cali and helps her stack blocks. Ari is really a sweet girl and so very patient with her baby sister. She’s taken the last few months hard but she’s resilient and I’m in awe of her every single day.

  Next to the girls’ room is a second bedroom with a queen-size bed, end table with lamp, and chest of drawers. This will be where I stay after Dakota returns from rehab. I don’t plan on living here, but I will stay for as long as she needs me. At the end of the hall is the main bathroom. I peek behind the shower curtain and confirm the girls’ bath toys are already in the tub. I suddenly realize that probably isn’t normal. But, I wanted today to be as easy on not only Ari and Cali but myself.

  The master bedroom sits at the end of the hall, and as I step through the doors, I am pleased to see the new furniture I purchased for Dakota. A few months ago, she stopped sleeping in her bedroom because she realized the memories were too much. I think this is when her problems started to escalate, but I can’t be sure. I know that is when her pain increased. Sleeping on a couch night after night is hard on anyone, but when you’re recovering from multiple broken bones, it’s significantly worse.

  The master bath is my favorite part of this house. Not only is there a modern shower with a glass door but beneath the large window and overlooking the backyard is an actual claw-foot tub. The books I plan to read in there, well it’s a long list.

  I can hear Arizona lecturing Cali and look at my watch. It’s past their lunchtime and close to time for Ari to lay down for a nap. I toss an unspoken promise to the claw-foot tub that we will have time together before heading toward a demanding four-year-old who is trying to explain responsibility to a nine-month old.

  “I promise they’re fine, Mom.”

  My mother called me about twenty minutes after Ari finally fell asleep for her nap. I was bringing in our suitcases when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I considered ignoring the call, but then I realized we’re a team now and there will be no more avoiding my parents’ calls.

  “You keep saying that, Minnesota, but I’m not sure I believe you.”

  “Of course, you don’t. Look, I’m perfectly capable of caring for these girls and you know it. I love them too,
Mom.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I just feel so helpless.” I hear her sniffle and regret my tone. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just move in with us so we could do this together.”

  While it would have been easier to move in with my parents and have their help full-time, that wasn’t what Dakota wanted. Besides, there is no way on this green earth I was going to move back home. I love my parents and we’re a close family, but I’m twenty-six years old and, while nothing else is going as planned, that is so off my potential life moments list that I adamantly refused and used Dakota’s wishes as my excuse.

  Of course, none of us planned for this scenario. When I told Dakota the girls would move in with Kent and me, it seemed like the most logical step. I was never more wrong. I had assumed, and you know what they say when you assume? Something about being an ass and all that. Yeah well, I wasn’t the ass in this scenario but I was on the receiving end of the asshole behavior.

  To my surprise, Kent informed me that he is more interested in being the kind of uncle who sees his nieces on holidays and maybe a few hours on the weekend. Stepping up to be a full-time father figure when they needed him most wasn’t in his “life plan.”

  I took a hard look at not only my relationship with Kent but at my life. I knew then I needed to end my relationship. But, I also realized none of the life I was leading was who I was deep down and was not who I wanted to be.

  Then, Dakota told me that while she was financially secure, thanks to Jeff’s financial planning and life insurance, she was still going to sell her house. The extra money she would secure from the sale of the home would allow Dakota to enter a private, and expensive, treatment facility. Plus, regardless of what the doctors and therapists said, Dakota insisted a fresh start was going to be necessary for her and the girls.

  I don’t believe in signs, per se, but even I was willing to admit this opportunity was a flashing neon sign telling me to step up and do this on my own. To help my sister, care for my nieces, and evaluate exactly what I was going to do with the rest of my life.

  Leaving my job should have been a consideration, but it wasn’t. Kent and I work at the same company and the idea of having to interact with him after moving out was less than desirable. In a week’s time, my sister came to me in her second darkest hour, my nieces needed me, my three-year relationship ended, and I walked away from my job of four years.

  My parents, more my mom than my dad, tried to convince Dakota to save her money or buy closer to them. I think Mom was worried she wouldn’t be part of the girls’ lives, that she couldn’t see them all the time, or have her Nana time. Once she realized we’re only about two hours away, she calmed down. Well, as much as my mother can calm down anyway.

  This house is smaller than the home Dakota sold, and moving to a smaller town allowed for her to purchase the home in cash. I thought my mom may feign a heart attack at the thought of her granddaughters not being closer, but she knows that Dakota has a post-release plan. A fresh start and not returning to her old life and memories is priority number one.

  She’ll never forget, and honestly, I’m not sure she’ll ever move on, but I understand the need to start fresh. Turns out we’ll both be starting over and doing it together isn’t a bad thing.

  I can do this. It’s a job interview. I need the job. I want the job.

  I have enough in savings that I don’t have to work, but I seriously think if I stay home and watch that cartoon about a British pig one more day, I may lose my shit. Besides, the girls and I need this; they need me to feel like myself. And, until I slipped my feet back in my favorite black heels and zipped up my pencil skirt this morning, myself had been lacking these last few weeks.

  I feel like I’m constantly reassuring myself that it’s perfectly fine to love and adore my nieces while simultaneously wanting to cry and beg for any adult to speak to me. I found myself fantasizing about adult communication last week. It’s only been a few weeks and it’s like I’m living on some island in the middle of Toddlernation.

  How did Dakota do this? Maybe it’s different when you carry and birth the children, but sweet baby Jesus in a manger I need to get back to work. Or nap for the rest of my life. Maybe that. Maybe a lifelong nap is what I really need.

  And sex. Yep, that would be nice, too. Oh, sex with a long nap and a shower long enough to shave my legs. Yes! How do I get that day? Who am I kidding, even before I offered to care for the girls I didn’t have those days. To say Kent was less than romantic would be an understatement.

  Romance isn’t even what I needed; okay, need. Sometimes a girl just wants to be ravished. To have her panties pulled to the side and taken. Surely, good wall sex isn’t just something you read about or watch in a movie. There must be a guy who is willing to take the risk and break a few pictures.

  Right?

  God, I sound pathetic. I’m not. Just really fucking lonely. And by the way my mind is spinning, horny as a fourteen-year-old boy.

  The British-sounding woman on my GPS draws me from my thoughts, my soft porn thoughts, and alerts me of my upcoming left turn. I’d like to point out that I always thought of the British as being kind and Mary Poppins like. This GPS woman doesn’t sound kind or like she has a spoonful of sugar. She sounds snooty and like she’s slightly judging my driving skills each time I miss a damn turn.

  Focusing on the judgment of the GPS lady helps distract me from this pit in my stomach. I feel as if my life depends on what happens in the next thirty minutes. This feels like a “make it or break it” situation. The tension in my neck and shoulders isn’t a result of the interview itself. No, the job advertised doesn’t sound overly complicated, not like the high-stress job I left behind, and that sounds perfect.

  As I make the right turn into the Strauss Construction parking lot, I take deep, cleansing, and calming breaths. A four-count in and four-count out, I feel the tension leaving my shoulders. Pulling into a parking space next to a very large and obnoxious truck, I allow myself a few minutes to take in my surroundings.

  The office is a modular structure that sits in the center of a large gravel lot. A more permanent building sits at the furthest end of the lot with a few cars parked beside it. I don’t see anyone else around and glance to the clock. It’s still early by most standards, but I understand that in the construction business, most crews are on the job sites earlier than normal business hours. I guess with Cali’s early-morning wakeup calls, this may just be the perfect job for me right now.

  Turning my car off, I grab my phone from where it sits on the charger and scroll to my mom’s name on my contacts list. When I set up this interview, she agreed to come stay a few days to help me with the girls and get the house a little more unpacked and set up. When I left this morning, she was rearranging the kitchen cabinets. Normally, my Type A personality would kick in and I’d have said something to her about moving my glasses around. But, honestly, I was just happy to have the help that I didn’t even bother.

  I tap the call icon on my phone and wait for her to answer. As I’m about to give up and hang up the phone, I hear my mother’s voice through the speaker, no hello and no hesitation in greeting.

  “You can’t possibly be finished with your interview, Minnesota.”

  Oh, Mother. That’s what I’d like to say, but my mom hates when I call her mother. But, then again, I hate when she calls me by my full name so it would serve her right to get a little payback. I don’t have time for the volley back and forth with name preferences.

  “Mom, you know I hate when you use my full name.”

  “Yes, dear, but it is your name. You really get your panties in a bunch when I call you Minnesota Eleanor so be grateful I didn’t do that.” Humor laces her response and I smile. My mom teasing me is normal and I’m grateful for that.

  “Just stop, please. I need to get this job and I don’t want to go in there greeting Mr. Strauss with a negative attitude.”

  “You don’t need this job, honey; this is your stubbornness at its fu
llest.” Here we go again. It’s not stubbornness, it’s a necessity. “Dad and I told you that we’re happy to help you with everything, a team if you will. I don’t know why you insist on being so damn independent.”

  “I’m not having this conversation with you again. Can we stay focused? How are the girls?”

  “They’re fine, dear. You’ve been gone all of fifteen minutes. Arizona just finished her breakfast and Cali is happily playing with a wooden spoon and pan.”

  “Why does Cali have a spoon? She has a tub of toys, give her one of those.”

  “A wooden spoon and pan was good enough for you kids. I don’t see why my grandchildren can’t play the same way.”

  “Whatever. I thought about what you said last night, and I think we should start planning for you and Dad to have the girls a few times a month. They need some Nana and Papa time and I think I need a night with a book, a few glasses of wine, and a bubble bath.”

  “I told you anytime you want. Why don’t I pack them up and take them tonight?”

  I contemplate her offer for a split second before responding. “No, let’s plan to start in a few weeks. The girls and I need to start a routine and get comfortable here.” I know by her hesitation, I may have unintentionally offended her. “Besides, you’ll probably need a nap after this morning. Dakota failed to tell me sleep is actually like a new life battery for those two.” Crisis averted and we both laugh at that. It’s true, I can sleep eight hours and not feel completely rested but these little girls get a two-hour nap in and it’s like putting a new battery pack in them. “Look, Mom, I should go. I don’t want to be late.”

  “I understand. Kick some ass, Minnesota. The girls and I are going to take a walk. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  Pushing the disconnect button, I drop my phone in my purse before pulling down the sun visor to check my reflection in the mirror. My makeup is minimal but enough to cover the circles under my eyes. My lips are painted pink, which draws the undertones of my skin out and helps me look far less exhausted than I really am.