He’s so levelheaded, he must be right—he usually is—and with the unnatural rhythm my heart is pounding, I know I shouldn’t be making any decisions. I’m too close to it all—to the store, to my mom. Maybe I should sell it. I can get married and move on to the next chapter. One without the money pit that is Old Vines. It sounds so easy, yet I have never hated the thought of anything more.
“Just think about it.” He plants a kiss on my head. “But this summer is ending with you married.”
His voice says he’s joking, but his eyes say he’s worried.
“I know it is.” I lean into him with a hug, and he wraps his arms around me. “Tell me about your day.”
With the comforting cadence of his voice, he does. He tells me about a kid who bit onto a rope tied to the monkey bars thenjumped, effectively ripping out his two front teeth, then about a woman who brought a pet ferret in with her—on a leash—and called it her emotional support animal right before it peed all over the chair.
He doesn’t make me feel any better, but I do manage a laugh.
“A bad guy took all the money from the bank account for the store,” I tell Bennie as I tuck her favorite tattered pink quilt around her body. “And Gypsy has a spot on her brain that’s been giving her headaches.”
“Is she okay?” she asks.
“Of course she is.” I push her hair away from her face and tap her nose. “But we have to keep an extra eye on her.” In a more playful voice I add, “And keep getting the mail when she forgets.”
At this, she grins. “I can do that.”
“I know you can.” I kiss her forehead before standing. When I turn off the light, an explosion of stars scatters across the ceiling and walls from a nightlight.
“Mom,” she calls when I’ve nearly closed the door.
I pause and widen it a crack. “Yeah?”
“Do you love Jonathan the way you loved my dad?”
The question is from so far out of left field, my breath catches.
“Um.” I swallow. “You love everyone differently, I think.”
“Do you miss him?” she asks. “My dad, I mean.”
Oy.
“Sometimes,” I admit.
“Would you still be together if he didn’t die?”
I grip the doorframe. “Maybe.” My mind wanders down that make-believe trail for the first time in years before I snap myself out of it. “Where is this coming from?”
“Just wondering.” She smiles sleepily. “Love you.”
“Love you, back.”
I pause at her closed door, rattled. It’s natural for a kid to want to know about a parent they’ve never met, but it doesn’t change the way every memory hurts when I’m forced to relive them.
It also doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone.
Five
“Tough times?” Mary’s tone is one of blatant curiosity rather than genuine concern.
I force a tight smile, handing the school secretary the new check—from my personal account—to cover the one that bounced for the barbecue.
“Just an accounting error,” I lie. “You know how it goes.”
She eyes the check then looks at me, lips pursed as she leans across the desk of the school’s front office and sends a whiff of her pungent perfume my way. In an indiscreet whisper, she says, “Barry told me.”
