I opened my eyes and studied the road ahead. The only way to honor my father was to keep showing up. For this town, for my family, and for Vincent.
Chapter 7
Evie
At the sound of a knock on the door, I popped up from where I must have fallen asleep on the couch.What time is it?
I stumbled to the door, and when I pulled it open, I was blinded by bright sunlight.Okay, I think it’s morning.
“Can I help you?”
The gangly teenager on the porch looked both terrified and a bit bored, if it was possible.
“Delivery,” he said, tossing his head so his floppy brown hair revealed one blue eye.
He held out a brown paper bag with a familiar logo and a cup.
“Cold brew, Vermont style,” he mumbled. “And a pesto egg sandwich.”
My stomach rumbled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten a meal.
“I didn’t order delivery.”
“Good,” he said. “Because we don’t deliver.” He had already turned and was walking back toward the sidewalk.
“You can thank my Uncle Jasper,” he hollered, raising one hand as he walked down the street.
I stared at the coffee in my hand, already feeling more awake. As if the caffeine could leach through the plastic cup, straight into my pores.
Jasper. He was working. Did he really have his nephew deliver coffee to me? I shook my head, both delighted and annoyed. It was just so… Jasper.
I was sitting at the kitchen counter, savoring the last few bites of my sandwich, when the doorbell rang again. Jesus. What was with this town and early mornings?
“Good morning!” Ruby trilled, wearing a big smile.
Frankie trailed behind her, her usual scowl in place.
“It’s a beautiful spring day,” my effervescent friend said. “Let’s go for a walk.”
I assessed my friends, then peeked around them. Sure enough, the air was brisk, and the day looked pleasant. Apparently, spring was in full effect in Vermont. Huh. I swore it was just winter.
Then again, I hadn’t left the house in…
I peered around at the laundry and the baby gear strewn all over the living room. A week? Maybe two? A month? It was hard to tell.
Frankie pushed into the house and went straight for the laundry pile. Ruby followed her in and ushered me to the bathroom, where she turned on the shower.
“Ruby,” I whined, following her out into the hall. “I can’t go for a walk. Vincent will be ready to eat again in like an hour. I can’t leave the house.”
“Why not? You’ve got the fancy stroller,” Frankie said, her arms full of towels. “And the little meatball is already a month old.”
As if on cue, Vincent cooed from the swing in the living room.
It was true. My baby had arrived a month ago. It had been the longest yet shortest month of my life. He’d aced every checkup,was sleeping for up to four hours a night, and was rocking his tummy time every day.
Was this how the rest of parenthood would be? An endless blur with some moments slowing to a crawl while others passed by in a flash?
“You need a pick-me-up,” Ruby said, smiling brightly. “I’ll rock Vincent while you shower. Then we can all get some fresh air together.”
