Butter You Up: A Grumpy Sunshine Romantic Comedy

34. Alex

I staytwo more days in Spokane. Mr. Perkins considerably warms up to me now that Molly and I are back together. The two days I waited for Molly, he had me help him with projects around his trailer. I wonder if, even then, he was thinking about selling it so that he could move.

Molly and I go on a proper date, then back to my hotel room before I drop her off at their home, and Mr. Perkins and I both pretend I haven’t just had sex with his daughter. I help them buy a tent and air mattress for someone to sleep on while they drive Vaniel back to New York, and Mr. Perkins invites me to play pickleball with him and his VA buddies.

It’s an embarrassing loss because I’ve never heard of pickleball before, and being a dairy farmer doesn’t require much hand-eye coordination. I make a note, though, to look into veterans’ services in the Catskills and put together a mental Rolodex of people his age in Fork Lick who might make good friends for him.

Molly takes me to the airport. I give her a tight hug at the curb and we both linger as long as we can. I’m nervous about leaving. What if they get to Fork Lick and decide not to stay?

What if they don’t even make it back to Fork Lick? Or Molly and Mr. Perkins cancel the drive? What if they turn around once they check Pennsylvania off the list, and I never see Molly again?

“This doesn’t feel real,” she says. “Like I’m going to wake up in our trailer and I’ll have dreamed the entire last eight months. How has so much happened?”

I rub my hands up and down her arms. “Same,” I tell her. “But if I wake up, it will have been a fantastic dream.” I allow a small smile. “And then I’ll come find you.”

That’s what I would do. If Molly turns around, I’ll come find her again.

Her smile lights up. Maybe sometimes Molly needs me to be the optimistic one, and that I can do.

With one last kiss, I pick up my bag and wave goodbye to the perky love of my life.

* * *

By the time I pull my truck into Bedd Fellows Farm, it”s early evening. I text my brother to let him know I”m on my way to retrieve Trixie.

This trip was the first time I’d spent so many nights away from Udderly, but also the longest I’ve ever been away from Trixie since I adopted her. I hope she doesn’t think I abandoned her.

The moment my truck pulls up Trixie flies out of Baabara’s palace. I bend a knee, and she launches herself at me, licking my face and wiggling so hard I have to put her down. There’s too much energy contained in one small body, and Trixie runs laps around me, around the yard, up the stairs to the house, and back down to my arms again.

Jesus, you would think I was returning from an overseas deployment or something. Finally, her energy gets pushed down to just her tail, and she flops over onto her back, tongue lolling and jowls succumbing to gravity. I put my hand on her chest, feeling that soft, baby-fine fur and her racing heart.

“She isn’t the only one who missed you,” Gran calls down from the top of the stairs.

I keep my focus on Trixie so Gran doesn’t see my reaction. She comes down the stairs and places her hand on my shoulder. “Stay for dinner. Let’s talk.”

I give Trixie a final pat and she races back to Baabara. “Thanks for taking care of her, Gran.”

“She’s my only grand baby.” Gran sniffs while we walk back to the dining room. “She’s been sitting on the porch with me every day. You always leave her out in the truck.”

“She likes the truck. She also really likes Baabara’s shed.”

Gran gives me side-eye. “Molly told me about her fancy dog bed.”

“It’s a dog bed,” I argue.

Loud voices come from the kitchen before Ethan and Colleen step out, carrying platters of sandwich fixings. Four place settings are on the table.

“Where’s Lia?” I ask. “Or that seed woman…”

“Diane,” Gran says with a glare, “is no longer here. I’d hoped she’d stay for at least another week, but she left Monday. I think she was uncomfortable after the fight. Lia is having dinner with her brother.”

Chastened, I sit down, and we make our sandwiches. There’s lunch meat and veggies, but Gran hands me a bowl of egg salad.

Ethan asks me about Spokane, and everyone listens while I tell them about Molly’s dad and that they’ll be driving back to Fork Lick, but it’ll take a while. Colleen has been running the summer reading program at the Fork Lick Library and Ethan and Gran are busy freezing, preserving, and making syrup out of blueberries.

When we’ve polished off the sandwiches, Gran laces her fingers together and gazes at me from across the table. My palms start to sweat. I don’t want to fight with Ethan or Gran again.

“I didn’t know what my Eugene said to you until it was too late, and I only got his side of the story. It was a long time ago, but would you be willing to tell us about it?”

Uncomfortable memories push inside my brain, and I shift in my chair. I glance at Ethan, who flashes a smile at me.

“Grandad was pretty stubborn,” he says.

I blow out a breath. “Yeah, he was. I don’t even remember what we were fighting about, you and me.”

“We fought about a lot.” His smile is gone now.

I shift forward, pushing my plate away so that I can rest my forearms on the table. “I know you didn’t expect to raise us,” I say, eyes on my plate. “And it must have been hard to be saddled with five kids when you were supposed to be thinking about retirement.”

A gentle hand touches my arm. I look up at Gran. “You don’t have to justify our behavior.”

Colleen, beside me, puts a hand on my shoulder.

I swallow. “I don’t remember what his exact words were, but he said that this was going to be Ethan’s farm someday, and he couldn’t have me arguing with the two of them all the time. He asked what my plans were after I graduated high school, and when I told him I was going to work the farm, just like he did, and Dad did, and Ethan was going to do, Grandad said I should think about doing something else.

“So, I did.” I shrug.

Across from me, Ethan’s jaw is tense. “He was so mad when you got the job at Udderly, though. I don’t understand that.”

I remember that, too. At the time, it felt like I just couldn’t win either way.

“Your grandfather was a proud man,” Gran says. “But he had a lot of stress on his plate and, while I’m not trying to justify his behavior and he wouldn’t say it outright, he worried he was failing you kids all the time.”

“But that’s in the past now,” Ethan adds.

I frown. It is, and it isn’t. The way we grew up is coloring how we see each other now. I have old wounds from my childhood, and I bet Ethan does, too.

“And I owe you an apology for how I acted more recently.”

“You didn’t know,” I say.

“I know you’re my brother,” he tells me, “and I haven’t always been the best at communicating. But I’d like to get better. And I really like spending time with you–and not just working together.” He punches me in the shoulder playfully. “It’s good having you around more often. Let’s make a habit of it?”

“Okay,” I say.

Colleen lifts her glass of lemonade, which is mostly empty. “To family,” she says. “Both original and new additions are always welcome.”