Page 74 of Goode Tidings

CHAPTER 35

Eden

I could not describe the scene in the front yard of the cabin and do it justice, so I snap a photo of it instead.

And then, because I want to share the wholesomeness of this moment, I send it to the Pretty Babies group chat, which still hasn't been renamed.

My phone vibrates repeatedly as I watch Callum toss a baseball to Oliver. The trees have dropped a majority of their leaves, leaving only the pine trees full. Last weekend Oliver and I raked the leaves into landscaping bags, and he thought I was nuts because I loved doing it. Maybe it would lose its novelty if it was a chore I had to complete every year, but I can't imagine so. Cleaning up after the trees when they've given us a real autumn is a privilege.

It's chilly enough outside that Callum wears a flannel, and Oliver wears a light jacket. The weather forecasters are calling for a storm this weekend, and chatter around Snowflake is that it could be the first snow of winter. I'll have to go into town tomorrow and make sure I have enough warm clothing. Food, too. And chocolate, and toffee syrup. I have romantic notions of lounging in front of a crackling fire with sweet treats.

Callum says something to Oliver, and even though I can't hear him from my spot inside the cabin, I can tell he's reminding Oliver to keep his eyes on the ball.

Oliver's nodding, taking Callum's instructions seriously. I'd been confused when Oliver came to me and asked if he could run into town with Callum, saying he needed to buy a baseball and a glove. Did he want to learn? If so, I could have taught him.

I watch him now, the way the tip of his tongue sticks out when he concentrates. Should I have thought ahead when he was younger? Made a list of all the sports, and taught him every one? I can catch and throw a football, and I know better than to kick a soccer ball with the front of my foot, but I am only slightly athletically inclined.

Did I fail Oliver in this way?

Outside, Oliver bursts out in laughter. Callum's laughing, too. I want to slip outside, ask what's funny, but I don't want to insert myself. I'm not used to Oliver having guy time, but maybe that's what he needs. Maybe that's why he wanted to go with Callum to buy the baseball gear.

I hate that it hurts. I wish I felt only gratitude for what Callum's doing out there.

The timer in the kitchen dings.

Chicken pot pie. I made the crust myself. Sliding my hands into mitts, I take it from the oven, setting it on the stove to let it cool. I toss the mitts on the counter and check my messages.

Paloma: Is that man who I think it is?

Paisley: Naked Guy is hot! Objectively speaking, of course.

Cecily: How does it make you feel to see him playing like that with Oliver?

Eden: Good, mostly. But there's maybe two percent of me that feels jealous. Like I want to do my job so well he could never need anyone else. During his childhood, I mean.

Paloma: That's a lot to put on yourself. Nobody can do the job of two people.

That's what someone who isn't a single parent will never fully understand. I have to do the job of two people. I know what it feels like to miss out, and I never want Oliver to experience that.

But he did. Despite my best efforts, I failed.

I tuck my phone away and set the table. Then I go outside, plaster a smile on my face, and call Callum and Oliver in for dinner.

They lope across the yard. Oliver knocks into Callum on purpose, pressing his forearm into his side. Callum bends his knees and widens his stance, pretending to punch Oliver. Oliver mimics him. He's like a puppy wanting to play. Klein used to do the same thing to me when he was a teenage boy, and I wanted no part of it.

"Alright, naughty boys," I call. "Enough roughhousing."

Smiles light up both their faces. Callum walks with a relaxed gait, his hair messy from pushing it back from his eyes and his sleeves pushed up his forearms. He is unintentionally sexy, but the most attractive part of this scene is the way he's in such a state because he's been hanging out with my kid.

I know I should ignore the flutter in my stomach, and I should absolutely reject the quiver in my heart.

But every day, it gets more difficult to remember why.

I think one day soon, I'll forget altogether.

CHAPTER 36

Callum