by Jen Atkinson
“Geez Louise,” I moaned, dropping my head. Crap, the time. “Dakota!” I called, straightening my neck. She came running—keeping to Virgie’s path. “Give me a kiss, sweetie, I have to go.”
Her little arms wrapped around my neck and she kissed my cheek. “Bye, Mama.” She blinked in the bright sunshine past me. “Carter!”
“Keith’s chained up out back. He’s waiting for you.”
He nodded and held out his hand for Dakota. She gave him a high five, but he kept hold of her hand and twirled her in a quick circle. “I’ve got a surprise coming for you tonight.”
Kotes giggled. She dropped his hand and wobbled on her feet in a dizzy circle.
I really needed to go now. I stopped on my way to the car, my arm brushing Carter’s. “A surprise?” I whispered—had he learned nothing? He hadn’t told me about any surprise. I would not allow another drooling Keith fiasco.
He peered down at me—so close that had we been alone I would have hit him. “I promise it isn’t alive.” He smelled like honey and cool mint aftershave. The scent invaded my nostrils like a potion.
I took another step. “I guess you value your life then.”
He laughed, like I’d told a joke, and I guess I kind of had.
Emma
Was it terrible that I wondered what was for dinner? Carter had showed up to my house every night. He’d cook and then with one of Taggart’s off remarks he’d offer to stay. I couldn’t explain the bizarreness of it. I almost felt as if I were under constant surveillance, only I didn’t mind so much. Maybe I had gotten used to him. He even came on the weekend. He said he’d come to take Keith for a walk and then stayed. He ate frozen pizza with us that night, and the next night he’d smiled when Dakota had asked him which cereal he preferred to have for dinner.
I didn’t bother waiting for Virgie to answer the bell—Kotes wasn’t there. I left the six-pack on her doorstep and rang the bell. Carter’s “surprise” had me a little on edge and I just needed to get home—certain my daughter, her dog, and our nosey deputy were all there. No mouthwatering aroma filled the house when I entered, though. I could hear Dakota reading aloud from her room, so Carter must have been listening to her. I turned the stove to four hundred and pulled the frozen lasagna from the freezer. I didn’t have the stomach for sugary cereal.
“Hello? Kotes?”
“In here, Mama,” her voice called from the hall of bedrooms. “Come and see! Come and see!”
My mind reeled with ridiculous things Carter could surprise her with. I honestly didn’t know what that meant. Why would he buy us anything?
Dakota bounced her bottom on what seemed like an enormous plastic covered mattress lying on the ground—it could only have been a twin size, but it looked so huge in her little room, especially with the crib mattress propped against the wall right next to it.
Carter sat on the floor, half a dozen white strips of wood around him, a screw gun in his hand, and sweat pooling over his reddened forehead. I’d never seen him so frustrated, except when we argued.
“What in the world is all this?”
“It’s a bed, Mama.” Dakota handed me a sheet of white copy paper. Printed in big black letters were: SANTA’S ELVES WANT THEIR BED BACK. She giggled as I read the words. “It was taped to our door when Carter and I got home.” She cupped a little hand around her mouth. “I know he wrote it, but don’t tell. He likes pretending.”
“You bought her a bed?”
He paused reading the instructions in his hands. He hadn’t just bought her a mattress, he’d bought her a frame and attempted to put the thing together. A matching dresser already stood where Dakota’s old one had once sat.
I couldn’t decide if I should kick him or hug him. So I did neither. I stare down at him, waiting for him to confirm what I already knew.
“Pretty sure the elves bought it,” he said, without the lightness in his tone that I’d gotten used to when it came to Carter. He threw the instructions down and scanned the pieces around him.
Gritting my teeth, I held back the remark that he shouldn’t have done this, that he’d crossed a line, that we could take care of ourselves without his charity. Still, I scrutinized him and he watched me back, waiting for a remark I think. I could show charity as much as the next person, though. I’d keep my thoughts to myself—for now.
“Kotes, you wanna help me with dinner?”
“I’m reading to Carter. So he doesn’t get bored while he works.” She bounced her bottom on the mattress again and held up one of her Babysitter’s Club books. “Amy ran down the driveway. Where had the twins gone? Steven would never call her back if she lost his sisters.”
“The twins are gone?” Carter said, and though he sounded interested, he looked as though the story caused him some type of physical pain.
Good. Dakota could torture him now and I’d yell at him later.
I threw the lasagna in the oven—who knew it would be as easy as frozen pizza? Though it took a lot longer. I plodded about the kitchen, listening to the faint words of Dakota reading and Carter grunting. I could have offered to help him—but he never asked for my help and he certainly never asked my permission to buy this bed. What if I’d had my own plans of surprising Dakota? Besides, I’d only end up yelling at him.
With eight minutes left on the timer Dakota skipped into the kitchen. “You have got to come see this.” She snatched me by the hand and pulled me from the room, not waiting for an answer.
Carter stood with the twin mattress on end, awkwardly pulling the plastic off of it. Whether I liked it or not, he’d bought Dakota a bed. And I wouldn’t take a bed away from my baby girl.
He struggled, trying to rule both ends of the long mattress. It wobbled on its side and about toppled to the ground rather than in its place on the frame he’d so carefully built. I stepped around the mattress and helped him yank the plastic from the plush white cushion. “Were you a boy scout, Deputy?”
The hair around his face was slicked back with sweat, his cheeks were flushed, and he gave me a questioning glance.
“You’ve got charity down.”
“What’s wrong with charity?”
“Not a thing—for those who really need it.”
He grunted, moving the mattress so that it flopped onto the white wooden bed frame. I stepped back, seeing it for the first time—really. My breath caught in my throat. It had four white pillars on each corner, a built in head rest with a shelf Dakota would no doubt use for books, and three dresser doors at the bottom. Beautiful.
I had never seen a more perfect bed in my entire life. I swallowed back the lump forming in my neck.
Dakota climbed on top of the high mattress and lay her head back, looking so small on the twin. It fit her well, but compared to the crib bed, she looked so little now. “Ahh,” she moaned. “Come try it out, Mama.”
I swallowed again, the spittle hurting my clenched throat. I sat down, my body pressing into the firm foam. It did feel nice. Dakota deserved this. She needed this. She should have a comfortable bed to lay her genius head at night.
“Lay down.”
I did as she asked and she lay next to me, her head pressed into my arm and shoulder.
“Come on, Carter.” She waved him on.
I moved my body against the wall and Dakota scooted, too. Carter lay down, his face still flushed with work. Dakota’s head lay between our shoulders and I swiveled my neck to look at him. He already peered at me.
“This is the best bed anyone ever had,” Dakota said, her little hand finding mine.
I glanced down at the top of her blonde waves and then back to Carter. I’d meant to say thanks to him. I’d meant to be decent and civil and tell the man thank you for buying my girl a bed. But I didn’t. I couldn’t find the words.
I swallowed back the tears and stretched my neck, reducing the gap between us. His breath warmed my cheek with a scent of honey and mint. As if a magnet pulled me to him, I leaned an inch more, then pressed my lips to his. His mouth warm and round
, took mine in, kissing me back.
Chapter 19
Carter
A tear rolled down the side of Emma’s face. With her back flat against the bed she studied the ceiling in Dakota’s bedroom. She’d kissed me. We crowded on this bed, Dakota smashed between us, but a head below. Then, she just leaned over and kissed me. Her expression and body were gentle and earnest, so un-Emma like.
I’d never sought her affection, and now that she’d given it I wanted a do-over. I wanted to be prepared and ready and really experience it. I needed total awareness before I kissed her again.
Another tear slipped from her eye, traveling down the side of her face and onto the new white mattress. Why did she cry? I’d never been more confused or aware of Emma Sunday than I was this minute.
Dakota sighed between us, unaware of the happenings just above her head. She picked up my fingers with her little hand and for a short moment I wondered if it were Emma’s.
A dinging interrupted our silence and Emma sat up. Her long legs stretched over top of us and she flew from the room. “Dinner,” she called.
“This is a great day.” Dakota sat up and I followed her. Her little legs dangled from the bed and she sat there a moment longer. “A new bed. And it smells like Mama cooked.” She grinned and then hopped to the ground.
We sat around the kitchen table, a square of lasagna on our plates—nothing else—talking about Dakota’s day.
“Six times seven is forty-two.”
“How do you know that?” I said, making her giggle again. “I don’t even know that!”
“Yes you do.” Dakota stabbed her last bite of lasagna and held it up on her fork. “Mrs. Olson said she’s gonna have to send me to fourth grade for math pretty soon.”
“That’s great, baby.”
My back tweaked with pain. I knew I’d done something to it when attempting to put Dakota’s bed together. I never should have charged first base my senior year. The long-shot play cost me a lot. We lost the game and I got carried out on a stretcher. My back hadn’t been the same since.
Maybe that’s why when Emma suggested I leave, I simply stood from the table. We’d eaten late and I knew what time Dakota went to bed. Still, I walked to the door slow and deliberate, Emma’s kiss on my mind, and a sting cramping my back.
“I can help with the dishes,” I said, but we were already in the living room.
“There aren’t any. We used paper plates and the lasagna came in a foil pan.” Emma’s long stride beat me to the door.
“Thank you, Carter.” Dakota hugged me about the legs.
“You’re welcome, Kotes.” I guess she’d figured out the elves hadn’t sent that note—or the bed. I bit a section of my bottom lip. “Emma, can I talk to you a minute.”
She rolled one shoulder and then the other. “Why?”
“Kotes,” I said and the smart girl nodded, racing from the room.
Emma looked after her daughter, though her little form was long gone down the hall. Her face scrunched in annoyance and she reached for the front door. A cold breeze whipped through the dark evening and flew in through the house. She held the edge of the door with one hand, the other on her hip.
I moved to the doorway, but couldn’t leave just yet. “Emma, we should talk. I could stay.”
With both hands on my chest she shoved me out into the night. “No, you cannot stay.” Her jaw moved in tight frustration. “It’s time to leave.”
Back aching, I stepped toward her, my gaze finding her lips, pink and smooth. “But Emma—"
“I am not going to let you kiss me!” she bellowed, her voice traveling in the night.
“You kissed me,” I hollered back—because she had. She acted as if I were the crazy one. But she’d kissed me.
Taggart’s car rolled to a slow stop next to the curb behind Emma’s Volkswagen. He stepped out, stable on his feet, but not sober.
“Goodbye, Carter,” Emma said, turning away from me and her sorry excuse for a father.
I sighed. I’d actually thought this night might end differently. With her door closed, I started toward the slow swaying man. “Taggart, what did I tell you about driving that car after coming back from Twila’s?”
“I only had three beers.”
“I don’t care. I will bring you in next time.”
“You ain’t on duty,” he said, waving an arm at me.
“I’m always on duty and I won’t hesitate. You can’t blame Emma for this.” I kept my eyes on him.
“I can do whatever I want,” he said, something between a grin and a snarl on his lips. He opened up the front entrance and light poured out onto the dim, snow covered ground. “Emma!” he yelled before pulling the door shut.
Emma
While beating Mr. Bear with the palm of my hand, I ran through the night before for the thousandth time in my head. I slid my elbow up the length of his oily back and over his shoulder blade.
“Oof.” He grunted. “You having a bad day, Emma?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I slapped the bottom of his back, right where his belt would have sat and watched as his pasty skin turned a cherry red.
“You wanna talk about it? I talk things out with you all the time.”
“Yeah, well, my problems can’t be solved by buying Shirley a new set of wine goblets.”
“Now, that’s beside the point. It’s the talking that gets my nerves under control. What is it?”
I could not tell Mr. Bear that I’d actually lost my mind momentarily and kissed Aiden Carter. But Corbin had a way with difficult relationships, maybe he could help a friend. “Well, Carter bought Dakota a gift, kind of a big gift. At first it annoyed me. Who does that for another person’s child?” Mr. Bear didn’t answer. “Anyway, it did annoy me, but then I saw how happy it made Dakota and in a moment of insanity, I—I gave him a—”
“A?”
“A lasagna.”
“A lasagna?”
“Yes. And now, I wish I hadn’t.”
Mr. Bear adjusted his head, already facing down, to the side. “Well, you could ask him if he’s eaten it yet. Maybe he’d give it back.”
“You can’t give back a lasagna, Corbin! Once you’ve given it, you’ve given it.” I smacked him on the back again but turned the slap into a kneading motion over his shoulder blades.
He grunted. “Sounds as if there’s nothing to do then.”
I sighed and rolled my aching shoulders. “Well, I don’t want him thinking he can come over any time he wants for lasagna—if you know what I mean.” I pinched the end of a piece of his flab.
“Eep!” Mr. Bear jerked on my table. “I don’t think I do.”
“I’m not—I won’t make lasagna for him, even if he wants me to.”
“Do you make lasagna often?”
I hadn’t kissed someone since Keith. Once I had Dakota, she became my center and men were just stupid, lustful morons who only cared about themselves. “I never make lasagna.”
“There you go. Just talk to him. Tell him your lasagna making days are over. Aiden’s a good man, he’ll understand.” He adjusted on the table top. “If you do need a good lasagna recipe, Shirley’s is the best.”
Emma
My foot tapped in the car and my knee bobbed in time with the country tune playing over the radio—I didn’t care about the beat—my dancing could more accurately be called a nervous twitch. Carter hadn’t arrived at the station yet this morning when I dropped off Keith, so I hadn’t seen him—not since the night before. I knew he’d be waiting at my house with Kotes and I could have murdered myself for making this already strange relationship more awkward.
But Carter’s car wasn’t parked outside.
I rapped on Virgie’s door. A good minute and a half later Virgie opened up. “Where is he?” I asked.
She shook her head, knowing whom I meant. “He never showed up.”
“He never showed?” Adrenalin surged through me. He didn’t come? What an ass. “Where’s my dog
?” I growled out.
Virgie’s brows rose—neither of us could believe I’d called Keith mine. She shrugged. “Dunno.”
“Can you keep Kotes another hour?”
“Sure thing,” she said as a ballad in Spanish sang from her living room television.
“Virg, it’s starting!” I heard Kotes call.
I sped away, for some senseless reason, burning with rage. I believed he’d be there. He’d bought a dog and a bed and showed up every day for dozen days and somehow that gave me belief—not faith and certainly not hope—that the idiot would be there today. I drove past the station and when I saw the empty lot, I went on to his house.
Dubois—I knew where he lived. I’d heard the new deputy had rented out the Lawrence home. Old man Lawrence had died more than a year ago. His place had sat empty until his kids paid some locals to clean it out. Not a month later Carter moved in.
I pulled up to the small yellow house. I couldn’t see the red shutters framing the pretty front window in the dark, but I remembered them. The door had once been red too, but it had a new shade of canary blue painted over it. Maybe the shutters were blue, too. I couldn’t see well enough to know. I thwacked my fist against the door. “Carter!”
Keith must have heard my voice, because the most horrible howling suddenly penetrated the house.
“Carter,” I called again, but no answer. Holy moly. What if he laid in there dead as a door nail? My temper simmered a little with the thought and I shook my head. “He isn’t dead.” I knocked again, this time with less fury. When no answer came I twisted the knob on the door and stepped inside the dim house.
Keith waggled over to me and sat at my feet.
“Hey there, ugly mutt. Where’s Carter?” I flipped on a light and saw him face down on a leather couch in the front room where I stood. Holy moly, maybe he was dead. “Carter?” I whispered, a tremor starting in my fingers.
“In here,” he said—though feet away and I barely heard him. He picked up his head without moving his body and swiveled his neck around so he faced out.