Second Chance Spring

by Delancey Stewart

  “I could teach Taylor to give you those shots. It doesn’t take a medical degree.” She smiled at me, those gray-blue eyes dancing.

  “Please don’t,” I said, thinking of my intense seven-year-old wielding a needle.

  I leaned back in my chair, savoring the last bits of lemon cake, and trying hard to keep my focus on friendship. Everything about being with Paige felt so natural and easy—it had been almost too simple to fall into this rhythm, this easy after-work chat, this co-parenting afternoon time together. Only we weren’t co-parenting. I needed to remember that, no matter how it felt.

  “How about for you?” Paige asked. “Have you been able to straighten out the accounts of that new client you were talking about yesterday?”

  “Ha. No. It seems the taxidermists weave a very tangled web when it comes to their finances.” I’d taken on a new client a few weeks earlier—a taxidermist in Virginia that had a surprisingly large business and shockingly bad accounting habits. “Today I spoke to them for an hour trying to understand the withdrawals made from one of the accounts, and was given so many different answers I can’t figure out which one is least ridiculous—but I’m starting wonder if they aren’t doing something a little shady.”

  “Shady taxidermy?”

  “There were several payments made overseas,” I continued, hoping I wasn’t violating any client/accountant taxidermy laws.

  “Does overseas mean shady, necessarily?”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “But they’re very evasive about these transactions, and the two partners have different answers about how they want me to categorize them.”

  “It’s a taxidermic mystery,” Paige said, trying to suppress a smile.

  “Well, it’s not as sexy as giving someone allergy shots.”

  “Right. That’s pretty sexy. Hard to compete.” Paige sipped her wine, her eyes sparkling.

  The girls took a break from throwing balls for the dogs and came to the table, no doubt drawn by the cookies waiting for them.

  “I got Yuke!” Maddie announced with glee as she held up a cookie that did look a lot like our dog.

  “I tried to make him look like Luke,” Paige said, smiling.

  “So this is supposed to be Bobo?” Taylor asked, holding up another cookie that was pretty clearly a French poodle. I hadn’t figured out what kind of dog Bobo was, but he was definitely not a poodle. Taylor’s voice was sharp. She still hadn’t really warmed up to Paige, and it made me a little sad for some reason.

  “No,” Paige said, taking the scorn in Taylor’s voice in stride. “It’s just a dog. I have a whole bunch of different dog cutters, but I don’t have any shaped quite like Bobo.”

  Taylor’s eyes softened as she looked down at Paige’s grinning dog. “He’s unique,” she said quietly, reaching down to pat his head.

  “He is,” Paige agreed. “So what are you guys up to tonight?” She asked me when the girls finished their snacks.

  “Well, when you’re four and seven, Friday night plans get pretty exciting,” I told her. I let my mind roll forward, taking me back across the street to the empty house, to another long evening between its quiet walls as the girls slept. “Not a thing,” I said, wishing my voice didn’t sound so empty.

  “Want to order a pizza and put on a movie here?” Paige asked, and there was a note of hope in her voice that made me really look at her.

  Yes, I wanted to stay here. Yes, I wanted to spend my free time with Paige, let the girls stay with their furry best friend and let me continue talking to the woman I feared was becoming too important to me to let go easily. But was it just going to be that much harder when she left if I kept giving in to what felt good, what felt easy.

  I sighed, wishing I was stronger. “That sounds really good,” I said. “You sure?”

  “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

  “Thanks,” I said, letting my eyes meet hers for a long charged moment, feeling the jolt of recognition I sensed every time I locked gazes with her. Was it two lonely people identifying each other as bound by that same isolation? Or was it something more?

  It didn’t matter, and I forced my eyes down, forced my body to still, to stop envisioning moving closer to her—getting closer to her.

  I pulled out my phone. “I’ll order the pizza,” I said. “What kind do you like?”

  An hour later, we were sitting on the couch facing the television, the girls snuggled into blankets on the floor with the dogs and an empty pizza box in front of us on the coffee table as Aladdin began.

  The room was darkened, and the girls were completely immersed, despite having seen the movie at least fifteen times. The element of surprise, it turned out, was less important to small girls than comforting familiarity.

  I’d taken allergy medicine before coming over, and either Paige had done a bang-up job ridding her house of pet fur and dander, or it was actually working for a change, and as I sat next to my neighbor on her soft couch, I almost wished for the distraction that sneezing and sniffling would bring.

  As it was, all I could think about in the dim room on the soft couch, was how nice it was to be here, to have a beautiful woman at my side and my girls happy and quiet.

  Okay, really? That wasn’t all I was thinking about. I was thinking of the way Paige’s profile looked in the glow from the big television, about the hearty roll of her unselfconscious laugh, and about how much I wished I had the courage to move closer to her.

  “Tea?” Paige whispered after a little while, and when I agreed, she got up and went to make it. When she returned, setting the steaming mugs on the table in front of us, she settled in again. Closer to my side than she’d been before. As we let the mugs cool, Paige leaned back and bumped my shoulder.

  “Oops, sorry,” she whispered, and she began to lean forward again to scoot away.

  Without thinking, my hand dropped to her shoulder from where it had been on the back of the couch, and I pulled her gently in to my side. She glanced up at me, and our eyes met in the darkness for a brief second, and then she relaxed.

  I wanted to close my eyes, to try to memorize the feeling of her warmth pressed against me, her shoulder beneath my hand as my arm lay across her back, the scent of her—oranges and sugar—filling my head. Instead, I sat almost frozen, afraid if I moved, she’d shift away and the moment would end.

  After a little while, she leaned forward and my heart sank, but she handed me my mug and then tugged a throw blanket up over our legs, and drank her own tea, still snuggled against me. And when she leaned forward to put her mug down on the table, she pulled the blanket up higher around herself and snuggled in deeper. Warm contentment flooded me, along with a high note of desire which I tried to ignore.

  I finished my tea and put down the mug, listening as the girls’ soft breathing told me they were both asleep, though the movie hadn’t finished. My hand still rested on Paige’s shoulder, and I let it move slightly, sliding over the fabric of her sweater, tracing lightly up and down the firm muscle I felt beneath.

  Paige moved gently under the blanket, and her hand landed on my thigh, carefully, tentatively.

  I inhaled steadily as every nerve in my body attuned to the spot where her warm hand pressed against my leg, electrified by the soft gentle movements of her fingers against the fabric of my pants.

  What’s More Romantic than Aladdin?

  Paige

  I knew it was probably the wrong thing to do, snuggling with Cormac on my couch as his adorable children slept feet away. But when his hand had landed on my shoulder and I’d let myself sink into the warm solidity of his side, I hadn’t been able to stop myself. It had been so long since anyone had touched me, had held me.

  Just for a little while, I told myself. It was an indulgence. Like a chocolate truffle. A little bit now and then wasn’t wrong, was it?

  But when I shifted nearer and let my hand trace down the bulked muscle of his thigh, all chocolate truffle similarities flew from my head. I didn’t want just a litt
le bit. I wanted the whole damn box of truffles. I wanted him.

  His grip on my shoulder became firmer, and the scent of him engulfed me as I leaned into his warm chest—clean, masculine, just a hint of soap. Even his scent was reassuringly uncomplicated.

  We had agreed to friendship. And all week, that had worked perfectly. The girls had seen Luke every day, and Cormac and I had talked. Not about anything important, really, but just shared our days over a glass of lemonade or a beer and eaten cake.

  But tonight, in the darkened comfort of my living room, with children and the dogs nestled on the floor at our feet, it was hard not to wish for something more. It would be easy to believe this was my life—this man, these children, this easy togetherness. Yet I knew it was just an illusion. A temporary dog-based arrangement that would come to an end when I packed up my belongings and moved.

  The movie was still playing, but it was safe to say that no one in the room was paying any attention to it. My attention was focused entirely on the man beside me, on the hand gently caressing my shoulder, the muscle beneath my fingers. The girls were asleep, and so were the dogs. I took a deep steadying breath and turned my head to find Cormac’s hypnotizing eyes watching me.

  For a moment—one of those soft pliable moments that make you wonder if time really does change depending on what you’re doing—we simply looked at one another. Then I tilted my chin up, just the tiniest bit, and heard Cormac’s sharp intake of breath. The hand on my shoulder became firmer, and the caresses turned to a gentle pull, bringing me closer.

  He angled his head down and I let my eyes slip shut, anticipating the delicious release of his lips on mine. I could feel the warmth of him on my cheeks, the nearness of his mouth. Just as his lips brushed mine, one of the girls cried out in distress, and we leapt apart to opposite ends of the couch, as I tried to still my spinning mind and push away the enormous disappointment inside me.

  But the room had fallen silent again, and the cry, it seemed, had been part of a dream, and the dreamer remained asleep.

  “We should go,” Cormac whispered, his voice heavy and thick. He wouldn’t meet my eyes now.

  My entire body vibrated with wanting him, with wishing things were different, wishing I’d met him before I’d begun looking for jobs. But now … it was probably too late. And changing life plans based on a desire to kiss one’s neighbor was not something intelligent people did.

  “Sure,” I said. I picked up the pizza box and our mugs and carried them back to the kitchen, sliding the dimmer up gently on the living room lights when I returned.

  The increased light alone had Taylor sitting up and rubbing her eyes, but Maddie continued to snore softly, a little ball huddled beneath the blankets on the floor with the dogs.

  “Can we go home?” Taylor asked her dad.

  “Yep,” he said. “Getting our stuff together right now. Can you find your shoes please?”

  Taylor obediently stood and went to the glass door where her shoes had been left after playing in the yard. She moved around me and didn’t look at me. I wasn’t sure if it was a purposeful avoidance or if there was just nothing we needed to say at that moment. It felt cold, and I kicked myself for seeking a little girl’s approval so desperately.

  Cormac was lifting Maddie from the ground, her pliant little form wrapping itself easily around his body as he hoisted her into his arms. I picked up her shoes to hand to Cormac, but Taylor pulled them from my hands without a word. Then she went to where Luke still lay with Bobo and knelt beside him.

  “Good night Luke. We’ll see you tomorrow. Remember, this is only for a little while. We’ll bring you back home soon and you won’t have to live here anymore. Be a big doggy, and be strong.”

  A little trickle of shock pulsed in my chest. Did Luke need to be strong to weather being with me?

  She’s just a kid. Don’t take it personally.

  Cormac and I moved to the front door, his arms full and Taylor at his side. “Thanks so much,” he said. “For … everything.” And then he leaned in and kissed my cheek, his eyes holding mine a long second before the little family was gone. I watched them cross the street in the darkness, taking all the warmth and love that had filled my house for a few hours with them.

  * * *

  It was still fairly early, and I checked my messages, since I’d seen a few texts from my sister while we’d been watching the movie.

  Amber: What are you doing?

  Amber: What are you doing?

  Amber: Paige

  Amber: Paige

  Amber: gif of screaming girl with the words “Stop ignoring me!” at the bottom.

  The thing about having no life of my own for so long was that my family really did seem surprised if I ever had anything that kept me from answering them immediately.

  Me: OMG. What?

  Amber: You’re coming to the picnic tomorrow, right?

  Me: Crap. I forgot.

  Amber: Mom will expect you. And if you’re really leaving soon, you better spend all the time you can.

  I sighed. Every year the town had a movie on the square in the weeks before the Cherry Blossom Festival. Only it wasn’t really on the Square. It was in a big field one street over from the square, and the movie was projected on the back of a building that faced the Square, where people could access the roof to hang a huge white tarp over it.

  Me: I guess I’ll be there.

  Amber: Meet at Mom’s?

  Me: I’ll just meet you at the movie.

  Amber: *sad face emoji* *confused face emoji*

  I ignored her text as I let an idea I knew was not a good one build in my mind. I’d mention the movie to Cormac. Maybe we could go together.

  My brain was still suffused in the warmth I’d felt with his arm around me, and that was more powerful than the flash of Taylor’s distrustful eyes that appeared when I thought too hard about the little family across the street.

  I’d just mention the movie to him. There was no harm in that, right?

  Bribed with Taxidermy

  Cormac

  I told myself not to think about what had almost happened on the couch at Paige’s house. But it turned out I didn’t really listen to much of what I told myself, since I’d also told myself we were strictly friends and neighbors, that I was not going to think about her as anything more and that I was definitely not going to snuggle with her on the couch under a blanket and let my mind begin the slow delicious process of stripping her. And then I did all of those things. That was not very neighborly at all.

  Before I could drag myself through the now-familiar streets of self-loathing and reassertion of all my strong intentions to keep things just friends as we’d agreed, I went to bed.

  Where all I could think about was Paige.

  Followed by guilty thoughts about the fact I was thinking about Paige in a bed I’d shared with Linda.

  And then I’d think about Paige some more as the night closed in, dark and long, around me.

  Eventually I was so wound up I couldn’t sleep, and I gave in, taking myself in hand and working myself angrily in my fist until some of the tension building inside me had been relieved.

  But the guilt and anxiety persisted, and my sleep was rough and fitful, my mind twirling like an acrobat over all the warring emotions inside me—Linda’s beautiful face always lingering there in the corners.

  “Do you want me to mourn forever?” I asked her, my voice raspy in the eternal darkness of our bedroom. “Do you want me to always be alone?” My guilt and remorse were like a shrine I’d built for her, candles flickering low forever inside me. I didn’t know how much longer I could sustain it.

  Linda, naturally, didn’t answer me. The silent treatment was one of her most effective weapons.

  The morning light pressed into the room, waking me what felt like short moments after I’d finally found sleep, and I knew there was no point rolling over and trying to snooze. The girls would leap from their beds soon, expecting a father who could lead them through a f
un-filled weekend—not one who spent the night alternately beating himself up and beating himself off, trying to get his mind on track.

  I sighed and rose, shuffling to the kitchen to make coffee.

  The morning progressed as weekend mornings generally did, full of little girls in soft PJs glued to the television for an hour or so, and then me searching aimlessly for something to entertain them for the better part of a day. I was just scanning the Singletree community website for an idea when my phone rang and my brother’s name appeared. Relief washed through me—an invitation, maybe? I’d thought of calling him, but hadn’t wanted to bother them. He and April didn’t seem to be at a loss for ways to pass time.

  “What are you doing, loser?”

  “Morning Cal, lovely to hear from you. I see April hasn’t improved your manners at all.”

  “She tries,” he said, and I could hear the self-satisfied smile on his face. My brother was happy. Generally, I was happy for him. It was just a little hard to stomach after the night I’d had.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “What are you doing today?”

  “Surviving. Trying, at least.”

  “Always a fount of optimism,” he quipped. “Listen, April’s making us go to some movie thing on the square. I guess there’s a big picnic first or something, jumpy houses and cotton candy and stuff like that.”

  “Right up your alley, huh?”

  “Shut up asswad. I was thinking it would be fun for the girls.”

  “You volunteering to take them?” Was it wrong that the idea of packing them off with my brother felt like a relief?

  “I thought we might all go,” he said, his tone reprimand enough.

  “Oh. Yeah. Family time.” Right. “Sure, what time? What do we bring?”

  “I have no idea. Talk to April. She’s the planner.”

  They shuffled the phone, and then April’s voice came on.

  “How are you, Mac?” The actual concern and interest I heard in her light feminine voice nearly brought tears to my eyes. Shit, I was a disaster. Sexual frustration and sleeplessness were not pretty on me.