by R. R. Banks
I looked over at Roman, expecting to see anger in his eyes. Instead, I saw a calm, controlled expression. He was obviously struggling to keep his composure and I was impressed by his effort.
After the tension filled meal, I stood from the table and lifted Lorelei from her highchair. She was already starting to fade and I knew it was time to put her to bed.
“I’m going to put Lorelei to bed,” I said to Granddaddy. “Then Roman and I are going to take a walk and talk for a bit. We have some things we need to figure out.”
“I should say so.”
I started down the hallway toward the stairs and heard Roman fall into step behind me. We climbed the stairs together and he hovered at the doorway to the nursery as I went through Lorelei’s nighttime ritual with her. When she was resting in her crib, Roman and I walked out of the house and started to stroll aimlessly toward the pumpkin patches.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “He’s just very protective of us.”
“I understand,” Roman said. “I can only imagine that my grandfather would be the same way.”
“If you came home pregnant by a 90-year-old?”
We looked at each other and I felt laughter building in my chest. He laughed first and the tension between us dissolved a little. We walked a few more yards in silence before he spoke again.
“So, how old is she?”
It was a slightly awkward question, but I could understand why he asked it.
“She’ll be a year old in two weeks,” I told him.
“Wow,” he murmured under his breath.
I smiled.
A genuine wow.
We continued on for the next hour, weaving our way through the patches, edging the cornfield, and making our way up the drive as we talked, trying to fit a lifetime of knowing each other into the short time that we had. I told him about growing up in the Hollow, giving him the brief version of why I lived with my grandfather. He told me about his family and the business that he walked away from in order to follow his own ambitions. I no longer felt like we were strangers and a connection was building between us, creating a link that I hoped would allow us to raise Lorelei together.
Suddenly Roman stopped and turned to me, taking both of my hands in his.
“Can’t you feel this?” he asked. “Don’t you think that this is worth giving us a chance?”
I felt my face fall and I stepped back from him, our hands dropping.
“No,” I said. “Roman, you have to stop. I’m willing to let you stay around to get to know the baby, but it will have to stay as just that. Goodnight.”
I walked around Roman and headed for the house, not allowing myself to glance back over my shoulder at him.
Chapter Fifteen
Roman
I was disappointed when I got back to the motel. That certainly wasn’t how this night was supposed to go. The fury that Benson felt was palpable and I wondered if the way that he felt about me was going to be a barrier in me getting closer to Bitsy.
More of a barrier than she already is, of course.
I couldn’t let any of it discourage me, though. If Bitsy would only agree to having me around to get to know Lorelei, I would take that, but it wouldn’t stop me from trying to get to know Bitsy better as well. I went to bed that night determined that I was going to wake up early and start my day with her, showing her that I could fit in with her life.
It turns out that early in the Hollow is a hell of a lot earlier than I thought early was, because by the time that I managed to get to her house, she was already up, dressed, and looking like she was well beyond breakfast. I had left the motel without my now-customary breakfast and was dying for some coffee, but the faintness of the smell in the air told me that any she had made had been brewed long before and was no longer available.
“Do you mind if I have a cup of coffee?” I asked.
Bitsy looked at me strangely and led me to the kitchen.
“Sure,” she said. “Go ahead.”
She gestured toward the counter and I saw a coffeemaker sitting on the corner. It was a relic from another time, reminding me of the one that my mother used when I was young. I looked back at her.
“Are you serious?”
“What?” she said. “It makes the best coffee in the world. The grounds are up in the cupboard.”
I stared at her again and she got an exasperated look on her face.
“You don’t know how to make your own coffee?”
“Not in that thing.”
She sighed and stalked past me to the cupboard. I watched intently as she showed me what looked like 90 steps to go from filling the little white paper with grounds to the coffeemaker finally sputtering and spitting its way through filling my mug. By the time it was finished and I had cautiously approached to fill my cup, I felt like I had made another enemy.
“I’m going to have to buy you another coffeemaker,” I said as I took the first sip.
“Why? I don’t need one. That one is perfect.”
I took another sip. She was right. It did make amazing coffee. That just meant that I was going to have to add the coffeemaker to my list of things that I needed to conquer.
“How are you doing this morning?” I asked.
Bitsy looked at me quizzically.
“I’m fine,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I just thought I would see if there is anything I could do to help you.”
Bitsy made a valiant effort to conceal her laugh, but it still came out as a derisive snort.
“You want to help me with my chores around the farm?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, feeling slightly defensive. “Why not?”
She grabbed another coffee mug and filled it, taking a sip as she surveyed what I was wearing.
“I’ve just never seen tailored designer clothes and imported shoes in a pumpkin patch or cornfield.”
I looked down at my clothes and shrugged.
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “I can replace them.”
She gave me a sarcastic look.
“I’m sure you can.” She swallowed the last of her coffee. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”
By the middle of the afternoon I had a new appreciation for Bitsy and every other farm owner who lived in the Hollow. I never could have imagined that so much work would go into raising the rows of pumpkins that had always seemed too perfect and almost carefree when I visited patches as a child. Now as I wrestled weeds from around vines and tromped through the rows spraying soapy water on the plants to ward off squash bugs that Bitsy had seen starting to make their appearance, I realized that each of the gourds was its own achievement. I suddenly felt like the next time that I ate a pumpkin pie I was going to need to say a special thank you to the pumpkins for their sacrifice and then go hug a farmer.
I glanced across the rows toward Bitsy.
I knew exactly which one I wanted to volunteer.
“There’s a cluster!” she suddenly gasped, pointing toward a sprout a few yards down from me.
I grasped my spray bottle and dropped down to the ground, rolling dramatically toward the plants and spraying them aggressively. Bitsy laughed, that playful sound making every bit of dirt now in my hair and streaked across my clothes worth it.
“I think I got them,” I said.
“I hope so,” Bitsy said. “And at least if you didn’t, maybe if they saw you do that they’ll decide that eating through my plants just isn’t worth it.”
“Anything I can do,” I said.
She laughed again and I felt my heart swell a little more. It was obvious that the attraction was still there between us and the powerful draw that I felt toward her was only getting stronger. Though in the darkness of my hotel room I still saw her in her costume from Halloween, seeing her like she was now, dressed in tight jeans and a plaid shirt, her hair tossed back in a ponytail, and without a drop of makeup on her sweat streaked face, only made me feel more pulled toward her. It proved that the concern
s I had had about the validity of our attraction were unfounded. That night wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t one explosive encounter. It was only the beginning.
“So, have we earned our dinner yet?” I asked.
Bitsy laughed and nodded.
“Yes. Lorelei should be eager to see me by now, too.”
“That must be nice,” I said. “I hope one day she’ll be eager to see me, too.”
She smiled at me softly as we started our walk toward the house. Though she didn’t say it, I hoped that in that smile she was saying that she thought that day would come.
We were nearly to the house when I heard my phone ring in my pocket.
“See, it is possible to keep track of a phone in a pumpkin patch,” I said. “Myth debunked.”
She shot me a glare, but smiled and climbed the steps to the house.
“Hello?” I said without bothering to look at the name of the caller.
The smile melted from my face when I heard the frantic voice on the other end of the line. I tried to quiet it, to get a word in, but I couldn’t. Finally, it stopped and I let out a long breath.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and entered the house reluctantly. Bitsy smiled at me when I stepped into the living room, but her expression faltered when she looked into my face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.”
Bitsy got up and we walked into the foyer.
“I have to go,” I said.
“Oh. OK. Well, thank you for your help. Maybe I’ll see you again tomorrow?”
I shook my head.
“No. I have to go back home. There are problems with one of the hotels I’m building and I have to go clean up a couple of messes. Then I’ll be back.”
Her expression dropped even further and I could see the dark disappointment forming in her eyes.
“Alright,” she said.
“Bitsy, I’ll be back,” I reassured her. “It’s just going to take me a couple of weeks and then I’ll be back. I’ll take the time I’m there to pack for staying here longer.”
She nodded.
“Alright,” she said again.
I could see that she thought it was an excuse, that I was trying to get away from her and the baby. The thought ached in my chest, but there was nothing that I could do. I reassured her again that I would be back and left the house, wishing I could stay but no longer feeling that she welcomed me there.
The door closed behind me before I could even get to the top step and I let out a breath. That sound seemed to make a change between us. What connection and tenuous link we had built had broken and were back right where we had started. I walked down the steps reaching for my phone again so I could make the arrangements to get back to the office, determined to finish what needed to be done as quickly as possible so I could get back here and be here for Bitsy in whatever way I could.
Chapter Sixteen
The Holler Holler
June Volume Three
Fourth of July Celebrations
As the Independence Day holiday approaches, residents are asked to please remember our brave men and women of the firefighting forces when participating in festivities around your homes. Take care with your sparklers and your fireworks and your grills. The firefighters are likely to be just as drunk as you are, and you don’t want that showing up to try to fight your fire. Keep water nearby and follow this year’s Fourth of July Jubilee theme:
When In Doubt, Douse It Out
Jeb Montaigne and company have announced that their recent drive to South Carolina was successful and they weren’t stopped by Troopers on the way home, so there will be a fireworks demonstration in the big field starting right around sundown. If you are going to be setting off your own fireworks, please do so before or after the show so that yours do not interfere with their musical accompaniment.
Due to recent events, the Annual Belly Flop and Freestyle Water Ballet Competition will not be held at Finnegan’s pond. We wish him the best of luck at finding the rest of his tractor.
Join us for the Annual Second of July Picnic, formerly the Fourth of July Picnic. Thank you, Nora-Jean Webster, for ensuring the historical accuracy of our picnicking. Please bring a covered dish to share. No pies. All pie spots are filled.
Chapter Seventeen
Bitsy
I sat on the living room floor, my fingers absently running through the coiled pink ribbons now strewn across the carpet. I felt tired, emotionally drained in a way that I didn’t think I could bring myself to explain. I had been thinking about Lorelei’s first birthday for months, excited to celebrate the precious little one who had changed my life so much. But as the little party I had planned grew closer, I found myself starting to feel sad, my thoughts turning to my mother and wishing that she could be there with us. It felt so strange to even be thinking about her. I had rarely thought of her since she had disappeared, but suddenly now that I was a mother she was on my mind more often. I wondered what it would be like if she had never gone, if whatever happened to her had never happened and she had been there with me through everything that I had faced. Would I still have chased Gregory? Would I have let him shatter me the way that I did?
Like I had done so many times before, I walked over to Lorelei and kissed her, whispering promises into the softness of her hair that I would never leave her the way that my mother had left me, and that I would do anything and everything for her. She looked up at me and smiled. I knew that she had no idea what I was saying to her, but I hoped that somehow the words would find their way into her heart where they would wait until my daughter needed them the most, and then come back to her memory.
I looked down and saw that one of the baby’s hands was wrapped tightly around the ear of the pink teddy bear that Roman had brought for her. In the days leading up to her party I had started to lose hope that he was going to make it back, and I was having difficulty processing that level of worry. After all, I hadn’t wanted him around in the first place. I had tried to push him away that first night, telling him that I didn’t need him, that neither of us did, but now that he had actually gone back home, even with the promises that he would soon be back, I felt an emptiness and a hope that he would soon get back. I realized that I didn’t want him to miss Lorelei’s first birthday. For him, for her, and for me. I had gone through my pregnancy and the first almost year of her life without him, and having him there to experience these things was valuable, even though I knew that it could never be anything more than just sharing in the wonder that was parenting a child and watching that baby grow.
The party had been almost better than I had hoped for. Lorelei seemed thrilled with everything from the balloons to the gifts and I had felt a connection with Roman that was powerful and real. Even as it started to chip away at the wall that I was building up between us, I couldn’t get past the thoughts that constantly tormented me and that wouldn’t allow me to open up to him. He had said that he wanted to try being a family, but I couldn’t imagine a family beginning in the way that we had come together. After all, it had been completely anonymous. If it hadn’t been me that night, Roman would have had sex with some other girl. Would he have the same feelings for that girl if this situation had unfolded for them?
How could he really think that we had any sort of chance when our family started because we had tumbled not into love, but into bed?
That was the thought that brought the party to an end and that kept repeating through my mind now. The baby looked exhausted and I swept her up off of the floor, bringing her new bear with her so that she could sleep with it that night. Once she was asleep, I changed my clothes, said goodnight to Granddaddy, and headed out. I felt like I needed some fresh air, some time to myself away from the house and all of the worries that were hanging in the air there.
I found myself at Bubba Ray Ramirez’s restaurant and as soon as I steppe
d in I wondered if I had been drawn there. Roman already sat at the bar, his hands wrapped around what looked like a plastic cup molded to look like a waving American flag. I slid onto the stool beside him and he glanced at me, and then at the drink in his hand.
“Apparently, he had quite a few of these left over from the Fourth,” he told me.
“Ah,” I said in acknowledgement.
“Have you ever tried to drink a beer out of a plastic American flag?” he asked.
“I can’t say I’ve had the occasion. I’ve only been able to drink legally for less than two years and I haven’t really been hopping the bars very much, what with the pregnancy and the breastfeeding and the childrearing and all.”
Roman nodded.
“It is not easy.” I nodded again and he leaned forward to get a better look at me. “Is there something bothering you?”
I realized then that I hadn’t told him the full story of what had brought me back to Whiskey Hollow. I had told him that I came back to help Granddaddy on the farm, but I hadn’t explained why. I plunged into the story, explaining everything that had happened and what I was trying to do to fix it. My story brought me to the day before when I found notes that Granddaddy had taken about the farm and realized that they were information that he was gathering for the prospective buyer, and felt my heart starting to break. Even after everything that I had put into the farm, all of the work that I had poured into each day, all of the hours that I had spent away from my baby, he was still planning to go ahead with the sale. I was discouraged, losing the drive that I had felt to push through.
Suddenly the door to the bar crashed open and Jeb Montaigne rushed in.
“Bubba Ray, I need your help,” he said.
I turned toward Jeb and saw him looking frantically at Bubba Ray, not seeming to notice anyone else in the room.
“Alright now, Jeb. Calm down. What is it?”