by Jody Kaye
“He was different than most men, and I wasn’t sure how I could stand up for him. I was ashamed to have those thoughts. Then everything changed. It was a literal slap in the face when I realized he was a man I was ready to fall in love with, and it was too late.”
She gathers her hands to her chest to wring them, but I catch one before they’re clasped. She stares at how easily our fingers lace together.
“While we’re being honest.” I clear my throat and Cees lifts her gaze to me. “I was sure the last woman I was with was a piece of work when I broke it off. I was mad for her… Completely insane since I already knew I loved her. But I was loving the person I wanted her to be and not the person she kept trying to remind me she was. I pushed her too quick. My accident changed my perspective. I don’t take things for granted. Time is finite. But everyone has their own timeline, right? You can’t rush people into things they’re not ready for. Had I taken a better opportunity to get to know her, she’d have helped me understand I needed to be as patient with her as she is with me.”
Cece brushes a fat tear trailing down her cheeks. I cup one side of her face, wanting to kiss it away. We both know it’s too soon. We settle for the way she nuzzles toward my palm and the way it whispers how much we’ve missed one another.
“So pediatrics… Are you a nurse?” I go back to pretending this woman is new to me because so many parts of her are.
“Physician’s assistant.”
“Like kids? I have a daughter. We’re looking for things to do now that the snow’s gone in the mountains.”
“Has she ever been to Pullen Park? There’s a lot to do there. The Carousel is beautiful.”
“Yeah, Sylvie likes the dobby horses and the paddle boats.”
“My brother is all about the train.” She tests the waters with a grimace.
“He ride it a lot?”
“Not as a kid. All the time with his girlfriend’s brother.” Cece laughs, giving me something to rib Morgan about. But I’d just assume ask Morgan if he wants to tag along with Owen and ride next to me and Sylvie.
“Interested in going sometime?”
“I’m free this weekend?” she replies hesitantly.
“Cees,” I pull her lip away from her tooth. “Can’t do this slow if you’re going to maul your face and make me want to kiss you.”
Her mouth makes a pretty little ‘o’. “How slow?”
“Only as fast as it takes to fall in love.”
“For someone who says they have trouble speaking you know the right thing to say.”
“Are you ready?” The waitress is back, intent Cece’s the one placing my order.
I haven’t taken my eyes off of my girl’s smile and she won’t look up at the waitress, forcing the other woman’s attention to my side of the booth.
“Dust,” Cees squeezes my hand and says loud enough for me to hear, “I’m ready if you are?”
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
The streetlights have been on for hours and the late crowd is descending on the Wafflehaus when I walk Cece outside the restaurant. We stand in the now vacant parking spot separating our vehicles. There was a van blocking my view of her car before. I’d like to fill the owner’s tank. If I’d seen it there, I would have driven by and spent the night alone brooding instead of enjoying it with this woman.
“I had fun. Thank you, Dusty.”
“Glad they had ice cream once all that dinner digested. And chocolate sauce on yours? Impressive headway.”
“I aim to turn your worst impressions of me around.” She lets out a self-deprecating laugh, making me grin.
It’s been amazing to be with her again the way we had been up in Boone. We’ve gone back-and-forth pretending to know and not know one another all night. Honestly, I can’t wait for a repeat, but I need to take it slow for Cece’s sake if this relationship is going anywhere.
“Listen, I um…” Rubbing my neck, I see Cece’s line of vision dart to my biceps and opt to stretch out the kinks from sitting so long. She’s always had a thing for the muscles in my arms and, if she’s teasing me with those lip bites, then I’m doing the same. “I meant what I said about a picnic in the park this weekend. It can just be us—”
“Sylvie is welcome. I’m glad to hear she’s feeling better, and I’d like to spend some time with her.”
“You would? There’s no rush.”
“I don’t feel pushed, Dusty.” She places a palm over my heart and I draw her into my arms, nestling my nose to the spot behind her ear. She sighs and I’m back to being certain Cece is where she belongs.
When I pull away, she’s got a come hither look. “Follow me home?”
“What do you take me for,” I taunt, “some jerk who buys a girl a fancy dinner and fucks her in a parking lot in the front seat of his truck?” Her chest shakes as I press my lips to her forehead, whispering how sorry I was for being that guy.
“I miss you so much when you’re not around,” she confesses.
“Miss you too, Cees. But if this is a do-over, we’re doing it right. Sex is a second date sort of thing, and we’ve only met.” I wink.
“Are you implying I’m being impatient?”
“Nope, reminding myself great orgasms come to those who wait.”
“That was awful!” She covers her nose as she snorts.
“It was… But us, Cees? We’re perfect for one another. Wait and see.”
“I wanna go tooo.” Sylvie drops dramatically to the ground. Her play medical bag stethoscope unwinds from her neck.
“Crocodile tears,” Renata mutters. “You’re going to give me a complex.”
My chest rumbles as I pick my daughter’s limp body up off the living room carpet. Her limbs hang like a rag doll’s, but she’s quick to snag the pink and blue stethoscope from the floor.
“What’s that?” She clings to me to get her way. I can’t say I blame her.
“It means you’re breaking my heart, making me feel like you love Miss Celine more than me. And I’m your grandma!” Renata throws her arms in the air, using as much flair to toss a dish towel over her shoulder.
“I love you both!” Sylvie’s lip wobbles. She doesn’t realize Renata’s pulling her leg.
“Of course you do.” Renata makes gimme hands and Sylvie launches herself from my arms to her grandma’s like a monkey jumping from a tree. Renata winks at me. She’s got this down pat and I can’t help grinning back.
“I still wanna see Cece.” She puts the earpieces in. Hero worship much, kid?
“Tomorrow, Peanut.” I lift the bell and talk into it. “Cece misses you too.”
She places the bell over my heart and I notice she’s wearing the plastic bandage like a bracelet.
“Am I sick?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then, I shouldn’t be late. Cece will know what to do.”
“Daadddeee.”
I worried a lot about how Cees and me trying again would affect my daughter. We went out on a few dates to ensure the spark wasn’t our imagination. About six weeks ago we took Sylvie to Pullen Park on a gorgeous spring day. I’m getting to the point that life without the two of them seems so far in the rearview we’d have trouble finding the road back. Not a huge problem for me.
“I can’t even wait that long.” Sylvie slumps.
“You can. Now stop. Miss Celine doesn’t act like this when it’s your daddy/daughter date night.”
Sylvie’s spine straightens. She cups Renata’s cheeks and looks her dead in the eyes as if what her grandmother has said is an epiphany. Scrambling down, Sylvie yells for me not to leave until she’s back with the card she drew for Cece this afternoon. It’s decorated in princess stickers, and animal stickers, and shimmy star stickers, even the stickers that come off the bananas from the grocery store. Don’t ask me what the sticker bond is between the two of them. It’s their thing. Tomorrow is sticker day. Renata’s got plans and I have to work for a few hours to finish up a project for a client. Cees offered
to watch Sylvie. It’s not the first time I’ve left them together, and the way Sylvie reacted when she found out, I have no doubt it won’t be the last.
Sylvie’s literally got her palms on my backside, pushing me out the front door. I have the impression she thinks the sooner date night is over, the quicker she gets her alone time with Cees.
Renata asks me to stop to get the mail before I take off. I nod. We’ve been waiting on some official paperwork. I pull the wide envelope with the state seal on it out of the box. Tapping it on the leaflets and magazines, my heart swells. I hold it up for Renata to see and confirm it arrived. She blows me a motherly kiss and waves goodbye, dropping the curtain.
Given our circumstances, Renata and I have gone out of our way to make Sylvie’s life as normal as possible. It wasn’t until Cece opened up about her childhood that I began to give any thought to how little control Sylvie felt she had over the way we lived. I hesitated changing her last name. For me, Ben and Beth are a huge part of her. I’m grateful every day for my daughter, but even Renata reminds me the memories she has of them are the stories we keep alive, not experiences Sylvie remembers. She wants to be an Alston because in her mind it unites us. Renata and I struck a deal to tell Sylvie her last name is Alston on her birthday, which is coming up soon. Now that I understand my little girl’s perspective, it’s hard to squelch the secret that I really am her daddy and no one can separate us.
There’s only one woman I want to show the envelope to more than my daughter, but my cell rings, interrupting the thought. Instead of letting it go to voicemail, I take the call. Last month, I hung a shingle as a skilled handyman. Business took off like a shot. It’s why I have to work in the morning.
This person’s looking for an estimate, and I set up an appointment for next week. Before ending the call, I ask where they got my contact information. The fact that almost everyone’s referral is from the same source means I need to put a stop to it. I shoot off a text to Cece saying I’m running late, but am on my way.
I swing by the mill on my way through Brighton. It’s early evening and the factory’s front entrance is still open. I loop through the lobby, and down the hall, rapping on Carver’s door. It’s ajar, so I have a feeling he’s expecting someone.
“Come in.”
“This has gotta stop.”
Carver looks at me blankly.
“The direct deposit. The referrals. I don’t want them.” It seems in addition to keeping me on payroll, Carver had been dropping my name around Brighton to help build my list of clients.
He leans back in his plush leather chair. “The banking matter is something you’ll need to discuss with Skye. The money is profit from your investment. Since you’d refused to speak to me, Skye decided to pay it out piecemeal. His intent was to make it look like earned income to the taxman until you’d calmed enough and were ready to talk turkey. It’s damn hard to hide that kind of money otherwise, but obviously Skye manages.”
“What the hell is he investing in?” I scrub my face. “No, don’t tell me.” I’d tried to keep my nose clean around here.
“I won’t then. You can ask Skye the questions you want. I only okayed it after he reassured me that the tax rate was lower parsing it out to you in small increments. The rest of your gains are—”
“Offshore.”
“You said that, I didn’t. All I will mention is reinvested or not, it will take effort to spend down the profits given the current rate of return.”
“I didn’t ask you for this.”
Carver’s jaw squares. “If you want clean hands, Skye will figure out the logistics. As for the recommendations, I was hoping to right a few wrongs. I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries and made you uncomfortable or to think there were any strings attached. The way everything went down was unfair. I have a great deal of respect for you, Dusty. You’re one of us and we wanted you to be successful.”
I sit in a chair across from the man I’ve known since we were kids. Carver was never one of the people asking why I wanted to be an engineer. He was the one who listened to how I planned to become one.
Leaning in on my elbows, I lay it on the line. “I’m busy tomorrow finishing a build for a new customer.”
“Great.”
“No, man. All I want is enough work to stay busy while Sylvie is at school. Cece is at work. Now they’re doing some crazy sticker book madness. Meanwhile, I’m busting my ass while they’re having fun. Not taking on employees. Already can’t keep up with new jobs. You’re killing both our reputations. For what?” I point towards Skye’s cave where he makes all the number magic happen. “You told me my finances are solid. Damn it, if I gotta spend the next twenty years looking over my shoulder… Wor-rying Uncle Sam’s possibly coming after me for tax evasion… At least give me a chance to enjoy the money I earned. Can’t even get up to Boone to work on my own house at this rate.”
“I hadn’t realized you were gunning to spend more time at home. You sort of left without telling us what you were going to do. If you’re only looking to keep busy, I have an opening for a handyman.”
“Not coming back, Carver.” I’m upfront. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but it’s time to move on.”
“Funny, Cece said something similar.” We stand and clasp hands. “Talk to Skye. And don’t be a stranger.” Carver looks down at his desktop, then back at me. “You were a friend long before this, Dusty.”
“We still are.” I doubt I won’t spend the next decade in his company. I just don’t want to work for it. I also won’t ask the woman I love to give up her network of friends. She’s close to the women who are connected to every one of the men here.
On my way out, Morgan is hustling down the staircase, twirling his keyring around a finger. My discussion with Carver hadn’t lasted long, but I’m surprised to see Cece’s brother still here.
He comes to a standstill when his shoes hit the lobby floor.
“Cece called to say you were running late. I’m on my way to get Aidy.”
I acknowledge his words with a grunt and chin lift. We’re testing the waters, trying the double-date thing tonight. Cece and Aidy planned the evening. They want to eat at the Mongolian restaurant. Morgan and I are along for the ride.
“So, uh.” Morgan rubs his scalp and motions to the door uncomfortably.
“Should have told you how I felt about Cece.” It’s better for Morgan and I to have it out now than the possibility either of us cause a scene later.
“I did a bad job of keeping my own insecurities out of it.” Morgan acknowledges my apology. “Dust, bad shit went down before Celine hooked me up with Carver. The kind of bad shit that’s all over the news about the Pinewood College rape cases…” Morgan looks defeated. “Aidy and me, we’re talking to a counselor. But sometimes it gets the best of me that I can’t stop those things from happening. Cece was all alone while I was in jail. She had no one.”
“She had her mill girls.” I disagree, but add, “That’s why you walked her home,” when the reality of Morgan’s over protectiveness hits me.
Another reason Morgan brandishing the gun bugged me so damned much was, for all the illegal crap the factory walls hide, it’s not Carver’s way. You’d be a fool to walk into this building and not notice how much money is here, or maybe how much money isn’t in a posh place like this. Mill business hides white collar crime. These men may have a side piece, but they’re not running illegal firearms or drugs and I’m ninety percent certain that’s a conscientious choice since mill girls hooking is frowned upon. I mean, combine Sweet Caroline’s with the factory’s dormitory-style bedrooms and this place could be the Best Little Whorehouse in Brighton. And it’s not.
“I projected the fear that my sister wasn’t safe on you. It took over. So every incident ramped my suspicion.”
I hold up a hand to stop Morgan. He doesn’t need to explain any further. I can picture myself overreacting when it comes to the women in my life. Hell, I’d held my breath driving under ove
rpasses after losing Beth. Experiences like those change you. “We’re good. Except one thing.”
“What’s that?”
I lay out our truth for Celine’s brother. “Someday—when she’s ready—I’m marrying her.”
“Do I get an invite to the wedding?”
“Man, you’re walking her down the aisle,” I say because it’s obvious that’s what Cees would want.
“Nobody I’d trust more to give my sister to and keep her safe.” Morgan claps me on the back.
“Faster!” Sylvie shrieks. “They’re beating us!”
We’re neck and neck with Holly. She and her son skid down the next lane over from ours. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve raced. Still, we’re both hooting and whooping with glee.
It’s late in the season on a gorgeous sunny day in the mountains. This afternoon has been the kind where you almost feel ridiculous for wearing snow pants. My jacket is unzipped and the wind whips past my face, cooling me off as we whizz down the hill.
Sylvie, decked out in pink and purple snow gear, is in the front of the two-person tube. The honey-colored braids I put in her hair this morning flap back toward me, slapping at her shoulders as the heavy skid plates slow our speed when we reach the end of the ride.
Both she and Bhodi jump from their spots and clamor toward the poor teenager who keeps watch on the tuber’s safety at the bottom of the run.
“Who came in first?”
He shrugs as if he’s used to this kind of kid’s competition and smartly tells them it was a tie.
“Once more?” They beg, exhilarated and exhausted. Sweat drips down their foreheads.
“This was the once more!” Holly reminds them with as much exuberance. “Everyone else already left. They’re waiting on us. Dinner isn’t cooking itself.”
I bite my tongue before blowing it and saying the opposite is true. The smokers and crockpots have been on all day. It’s why making the kids happy by staying behind for a bit longer was an easy choice to make.
Holly and I stow the tubes. On the trek toward the parking lot, our kids whine for the first fifty feet before they’re colluding. They conclude leaving doesn’t mean the party is over. They’re switching to their swimsuits to use the hot tub once we are back at the house.