2
Erin was thankful to be in the shade of the porch that afternoon. It was an unseasonably hot day, even for July, and she’d suggested that Samantha and Parker have a water balloon fight to stave off some of the heat. Erin split her attention between watching them and painting the old swing on the porch. The white paint had been chipping for as long as Erin could remember. She thought back to the many nights she spent out here with Jake and Logan. Even then, flakes of paint came off with the smallest amount of pressure. Now, the paint came off in large sheets. The brown of the wood was more visible than not.
The scuffs to the paint hadn’t bothered Erin—she loved the natural wear on the bench—until she saw Logan. With his return came the undeniable urge to give the old piece of furniture a refresh. She wanted tocover those memories with something new. Aunt Betty never minded when Erin made repairs to the house, in fact, she’d always been grateful when Erin painted trim or patched holes in the walls. Erin hoped that painting over the old porch swing would be no different, especially since she’d decided to go with a pale pink. It was a far cry from the neutral colors real estate agents preferred, but it was Samantha’s favorite color, and Erin hoped that it might help cheer her daughter up and help pull her from the pattern of grouchiness she’d been falling into. Besides, with any luck, Erin would be the one buying the house, and she loved the color.
Erin paused and stretched her arms above her head as she stifled a yawn. The stress of Logan’s return and the reality of Aunt Betty selling the house were finally catching up to her. Erin hadn’t been able to get a full night’s sleep. No matter how tired she felt, sleep seemed to evade her at every turn.
Thankfully, Erin could take that anxious energy and turn it into something good. She’d attacked her midweek order of brownies and cheesecakes for Good Eats with a renewed fervor, and when she finished that, she’d started working on some projects around the house.
All the old cabinet pulls in the kitchen were now replaced with bright and shiny ones. The front flower bed was freshly weeded, and now she was painting the porch swing.
The water balloon fight paused as Samantha filled up more balloons, and Parker walked over to where Erin worked. He stood on the front steps, water dripping from his clothes.
“I’m not sitting on that anymore,” he said with a wrinkled nose, and pointed at the swing.
Erin set the paintbrush on the top of the paint can. “Once it’s dry, we won’t have to worry about the paint getting on us.”
Parker shook his head. “I know. But I’m still not sitting on it.”
Erin walked over to her son and kneeled in front of him. Once at his eye-level, she tilted her head. “Because it’s pink?”
Parker looked down at his feet. “Rock Man says only girls like pink.”
Erin pinched the bridge of her nose. Ever since her husband’s death, Parker hadn’t stopped talking about Rock Man. He was big and strong, and nothing could hurt Rock Man. He’d become the Carlisles’ silent protector.
The only problem was that no one could see him.
The doctors told Erin that Parker’s imaginary friend was a coping mechanism that her son created to deal with the immense pain that came with losing his father at such a young age. Aunt Betty told Erin it was harmless, and she shouldn’t discourage the boy.
Still, it was hard to listen to Parker go on and on about Rock Man. She worried about what his friendssaid about him. She worried the neighbors would judge her.
Most of all, Erin worried that Rock Man would be a part of their lives forever because moving on from Jake’s death seemed utterly impossible.
Erin lifted her hand to Parker’s cheek and tilted his head so he looked at her again. “Rock Man is amazing, but he doesn’t know everything. A lot of boys like pink.”
Parker crossed his arms and gave her a challenging look. “Name one.”
Erin scrambled to think of a guy, any guy, who might confess to liking the color, but drew a blank. Partly because she didn’t think she’d ever discussed the color pink with a guy, and partly because she didn’t really speak to anyone other than Aunt Betty these days.
“Mr. West likes pink,” she said. The words rushed out of her so quickly, she wasn’t sure where they came from.
Parker watched her skeptically. “The man who lives in the guesthouse?”
“Uh huh.” Erin nodded enthusiastically.
“But he doesn’t even have a real house.”
Erin choked on a laugh. Neither did they, but she didn’t point that out to her son. She was glad he viewed this house as his home and was thankful for the stability it provided for him and Samantha. It was justone of the many reasons she wanted to be the one to buy it when the time came.
She shook her head. “Well, I don’t think something as insignificant as the color should prevent you from enjoying it.”
“What if someone in my class walks by and sees me sitting in it?”
Parker went to preschool for a couple hours a day at the local church. It gave him a chance to play with friends, while giving Erin some much-needed time to focus on baking or home repairs. Overall, Erin thought it was good for Parker to socialize with kids his age, but she’d noticed a recent gravitation toward caring what the other kids thought about him. She wondered how much of Rock Man’s opinions were actually those of the other boys at school.
Erin shrugged. “So what if they do?”
“They might not want to be my friend anymore.”
