1. A Song For Mama – Boyz II Men
Shay Donovan – 11 years
It was still pissing from the sudden thunderstorm that hit Rocky Mountain, our small town in British Columbia, Canada when Dad cursed. “What the heck?” He was pulling the truck alongside the bus stop as I looked up from the mobile gamer in my hands.
“Dad?” I frowned wondering why we’d stopped. We’d just come from the local grocer, and I figured he’d forgotten something.
He didn’t answer me but rolled down the window and leaned his head out. “Hey, are you all right?”
Because of the way he was parked, I couldn’t see who he was talking to. Straining my neck, I tried to look out the back window, but the fogged-up glass made it impossible to see anything.
Dad glanced at me while rolling up the window. “Stay in the truck, son.” I nodded before he climbed out and walked up to the bus shelter.
I moved to his side of the seat, pulled my sweater sleeve over one fist and wiped a circle in the window. This time I saw the person— a woman dressed in a yellow sleeveless summer dress with big white flowers. Soaked, shivering and trying to hide from the rain, she was huddled against the corner of the shelter. I couldn’t hear what Dad was asking her, but she refused to look at him. Then she covered her face with her hands and the way her shoulders were shaking, I knew she was crying. He sat down but not too close to her. Still, she hid her face from him. Grandma didn’t call me her curious angel for nothing, I waited with rounded eyes to see what this woman would do.
I don’t know how long we sat there before she lowered her hands and looked at Dad. He said something and she nodded. After he stood, she followed, picking up the small duffle next to her.
When he opened the passenger side door for her, her smile was slow to form but it was the prettiest one I’d seen in our town. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I slid down the bench seat to the middle.
She set her bag on the floor and climbed in. Dad shut the door, walked around, and got behind the wheel again. All this I noticed out the side of my eye because I couldn’t stop staring at her. When she rubbed her arms to get warm, I moved closer to give her some heat, not minding that she was all wet. Even with her hair plastered to her face and the big purple patch around her left eye, she was pretty.
I turned up the heat and was rewarded with another smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.” My heart did a little flip and I beamed like an idiot. “I’m Julie, what’s your name?”
“Shay,” I whispered, suddenly too shy to speak.
“That’s a cute name.” Her laugh was soft, like a tinkle and unlike the loud women I was used to around the town. Or maybe I was just paying more attention this time.
While Dad drove, she talked. She was from the city, miles away and had no family. But I didn’t know what she was doing in our town, sitting in the rain, waiting for a bus to the city I knew wouldn’t come along until the next day.
When we got back to our average-sized ranch, Julie climbed down from the truck and looked around before she stared at our three-bedroom log cabin with a loft at the top.
“Dad and I built it,” I puffed out my chest with pride. When I turned seven, Dad, who was a stuntman, bought the ranch to train horses for stunts and why he decided to build a home for us.
“It’s lovely.” She palmed my cheek and I blushed hard.
As if he noticed, Dad chuckled and guided her inside with me in tow. He stopped outside the spare bedroom that was across from his and looked at her. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. If you prefer a little more privacy, there’s a loft right at the top. That means you’re more likely to suffer some loud music from Shay’s room upstairs.”
Her laugh soft, she entered and slowly rotated, her eyes scanning the room. Dad went away for long periods of time, shooting movie scenes and because Grandma stayed over when he was gone, she’d decorated the room with all white bedding, curtains and rugs.
“It’s beautiful,” Julie said.
“You’re going to stay with us, right?” I asked, my voice hopeful.
She looked at me, her eyes dancing with a light that made me want to hug her and never let go. Then she looked at Dad, her expression suddenly hesitant before her eyes filled with tears.
I frowned, my eyes shifting between them. “Why is she crying, dad? You said she can stay.”
He gave me one of his small smiles. “Grown-up stuff, son.” He always did this when he didn’t think a discussion was for my eleven-year-old ears.
“Thank you, Logan.” Julie set her bag on the floor. “I don’t know how I’d repay you—”
“Hey,” he cut her off with a smile. “Just think of this as your new home. There’s nothing to repay.”
Julie shook her head. “If you’re okay with me doing so, I don’t mind cooking for you guys. I’m a pretty good cook.”
She laughed and the sound made me pipe up, “oh, boy, you can cook?”
