Spreadsheets and Bedsheets (Havenwood #1)

11

ELLIOTT

T he morning air was cool and crisp, carrying a subtle hint of dewy dampness as I stood on the front porch. The smell of freshly turned earth mingled with the delicate aroma of early spring as I waited, every breath filled with an undercurrent of hopeful anticipation. A small, brisk breeze toyed with the collar of my jacket, its fleeting caresses unable to quell the bubbling excitement within me. For the last two years, Spring break with Caleb has been a burst of brilliance in my otherwise routine academic year, a full week of uninterrupted closeness with my son, free from the constraints of school, lesson plans, and the endless interruptions of everyday life.

The past week had been tense, Jules and I had barely spoken since the fight during our hike, exchanging only the most functional and curt texts about the playhouse production. My phone buzzed in my pocket occasionally, but it wasn’t him. Not that I was expecting it. I think we were giving each other space as we navigated his demands at work and my preparations for my week with Caleb.

I spotted Anna’s car turning as it rounded the corner and turning onto my quiet street. I straightened up instinctively, tucking my hands into my pockets as I watched it pull gently into the driveway. The familiar blue sedan was a welcome sight as it pulled into the driveway. Even before the car had come to a complete stop, Caleb had already burst forth from it, his energy causing him to practically leap out as he ran towards me with an exuberant grin that stretched wide across his face, making him seem even taller than I remembered.

“Dad!” he called out joyfully, his voice carrying both warmth and eagerness as he jogged over. I met him halfway and wrapped him in a quick, firm hug, inhaling a faint mix of peppermint gum and the fresh, earthy scent of the outdoors with the faintest hint of fabric softener, a reminder of his endless energy and restless spirit.

Caleb stepped back, adjusting the strap of his duffle bag with a conspiratorial smile. “You ready for the best spring break ever?”

“Always,” I replied with a smile that mirrored his own. “Go on inside and settle in. I’ll be right behind you.”

As he bounded up the front steps and vanished into the house, Anna emerged from the car. Her auburn hair cascaded in a loose ponytail, and her soft, knowing smile was complemented by her casual posture as she rested one hand in the pocket of her cozy coat.

“He’s been looking forward to this all month,” she observed with a gentle, almost wistful tone, leaning against the car as if it were an old friend.

“Same here,” I admitted, my eyes following Caleb’s retreat through the front door. Then, gesturing toward the welcoming entrance, I added, “Do you want to come in for a minute? You’re welcome to.”

Anna hesitated, her smile softening into a tender yet apologetic expression. “Thanks, but I really should get going. I don’t want to take up your time with Caleb.”

I nodded, though a part of me silently wished she would linger a little longer. Anna had the remarkable ability to pierce through my muddled thoughts, her presence always a consoling force I rarely allowed myself to acknowledge. Respecting her boundaries and our shared focus on Caleb, I let the moment pass. She studied me with her sharp, kind eyes, which narrowed slightly as if trying to read the hidden layers behind my tired gaze.

“You look… tired. Is work wearing you down or is it something else?” she asked softly.

I paused, my internal debate waging over how much to reveal. Anna and I had carefully rebuilt our friendship after the divorce; though the embers of romance had long since cooled, there remained a deep-seated trust and care between us. Yet, certain subjects, like Jules, remained locked away, my heart still gripped by lingering guilt and memories I wasn’t ready to share. “It’s a mix,” I finally said. “School’s been fine, and the GSA is really thriving, but… there have been some other things. Complicated stuff.”

“Complicated,” she echoed as she tilted her head, eyes inquisitive. “Would that have anything to do with a particular friend of yours? The one Caleb briefly mentioned at dinner the other night? Jules?”

Her unexpected question caught me off guard. “Caleb mentioned Jules?”

Anna nodded, her tone both casual and curious. “He said you had a friend from the theatre you were working with. You know, he’s pretty perceptive, Elliott. He notices more than you think.”

I exhaled slowly, crossing my arms against the cool morning air. “Jules and I… it’s been rocky. We’re collaborating on the GSA project, and we haven’t been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things. But this week isn’t about that, it’s about Caleb.”

Her expression softened further, an unspoken understanding shining in her eyes despite the fleeting hint of concern. “If anyone can compartmentalize, it’s you. Just don’t shut out everything else, okay? You deserve more than just work and co-parenting.”

Her words lingered in the crisp air as she straightened and glanced up at the house. “He’s happy, you know. He really loves spending time with you.”

“And I love my time with him,” I replied quietly.

She smiled, delivering a quick hug before turning back to her car. “Have fun, Elliott. And tell Caleb I’ll call him midweek to check in.”

I nodded and waved as her car melted away down the street, the faint hum of its engine gradually fading into silence. I lingered on the porch a moment longer, attuned to the soft, rustling sound of Caleb rummaging through his belongings inside.

Soon after, Caleb emerged again, his goofy grin still plastered on his face as he greeted me. “So, what’s the plan?” he asked brightly as I stepped into the house behind him.

Locking the door behind us, I replied, “Well, you’ve got two options: we can go camping for a few days, hiking, fishing, and sleeping under the stars, or we can head over to that amusement park two towns away. It’s your call.”

He grinned mischievously, sprawling dramatically onto the couch as if he were the ruler of our little kingdom. “Why not both?”

I laughed, tousling his hair affectionately as I passed him. “We’ll see how ambitious you’re feeling after the first day.”

I brushed aside the residual worries of my earlier conversation with Jules and Anna, stepping deeper into the comforting order of our home. This week was Caleb’s, and that thought alone was enough to anchor me firmly in the present.

Our first two days took us deep into the heart of Rivermere Woods, a sprawling, verdant park crisscrossed by winding trails, dotted with towering pines, and centered around a crystal-clear lake that shimmered under the radiant mid-spring sun. Caleb practically bounced out of the car the moment we arrived, his anticipation tangible as he snatched his gear and dashed toward the trailhead without waiting for my signal.

“Hold on, buddy. Let’s set up camp first,” I called out, hefting the heavy tent bag over my shoulder.

He groaned theatrically but quickly doubled back, his enthusiasm still blazing. “Okay, fine, but can we please set up camp right by the lake?”

“Deal,” I said with a smile, knowing full well that Caleb’s heart had always been drawn to water, whether he was splashing enthusiastically in puddles as a young child or racing eagerly to the beach.

We eventually found the perfect clearing just off the main trail, a sunlit patch of grass close enough to the lake that we could hear the gentle, rhythmic lapping of water softly kissing the shore. The tent setup quickly turned into a comedy of errors: Caleb, stubborn as ever, insisted he didn’t need my help, only to spend several minutes wrestling with a recalcitrant tent pole before finally conceding and handing it over with a dramatic sigh.

“Fine,” he declared with exaggerated flair as he sprawled onto the dewy grass. “You can handle the boring stuff while I go gather wood for our epic fire.”

I smiled fondly as he dashed off into the nearby trees. A few minutes later, he returned with an armful of sticks, most of them far too slender for any practical use but perfect for kindling, his face alight with pride at his efforts even if I refrained from any teasing criticism.

Once camp was set up, we spent a languid afternoon by the lakeside. Caleb embraced nature with an unquenchable zeal reminiscent of his younger days, laughing heartily as he skipped flat stones across the water and insisting he could catch a fish with nothing more than a discarded stick and a length of string. He darted along the shoreline like a wild creature, his erratic yet joyous movements mirroring the playful dance of birds overhead.

“You’re not exactly Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream ,” I teased, amused as he attempted to fashion a makeshift fishing rod from a crooked branch he’d scavenged.

He furrowed his brow, his small fingers fumbling with the string as he tried to secure it in place. “Shakespear? You've clearly been spending too much time at the Playhouse.”

I laughed, settling back onto the soft grass as the warm sun caressed my face. “Fair enough.”

“Good. That guy’s a troublemaker,” Caleb shot back, grinning as he tied an elaborate knot that immediately came undone.

“Pretty sure you’ve got him beat,” I said. “Puck never tried to catch a fish with a branch.”

“Yet,” Caleb countered, tossing his failed creation aside and plopping down beside me. He skipped another rock, this one sinking after just two bounces. “Fine. You win. I’m not Puck. But at least I’m outside. How long do you think you’d last without your coffee?”

“Longer than you’d last without Wi-Fi,” I retorted, nudging him with my shoulder.

He gasped in mock offense. “Rude. I could go without Wi-Fi. I just don’t want to.”

That evening, the campfire’s glow illuminated our faces as the air filled with the rich scents of pine and smoky wood. Caleb, with the precision of a seasoned chef, skewered hot dogs onto sticks and declared himself “Hot Dog King” as he carefully balanced his charred creation over the dancing flames.

“You’re way too interested in this theatre stuff,” he teased at one point, stuffing a sticky marshmallow into his mouth and grinning dauntlessly despite the sugary mess on his face.

“Not enough to bring work along on this trip,” I replied, reaching over to tousle his unruly hair affectionately.

“Thank goodness,” he said dramatically. “I don’t need any more stories about battles or ancient civilizations tonight, Dad.”

I chuckled softly, prodding the fire with a slender stick as the flames crackled and danced. “I’m more interested in hearing about your day. What’s new at school?”

Caleb launched into a rapid, animated recount of teacher antics, favorite classes, and the elaborate prank he and his best friend had orchestrated in science class. His words tumbled out one after another, each story laced with infectious enthusiasm, even as I feigned mock horror at the idea of a frog puppet being flung across the room.

“Did you get in trouble for that?” I asked, trying to sound stern but unable to hide my amusement.

“Nah,” he replied with a mischievous smirk. “Mr. Thompson thought it was hilarious, even if it meant extra homework for us later.”

As the stars began to reclaim the night sky and the fire dwindled to soft embers, we slipped into a peaceful rhythm, roasting marshmallows, sharing whispered stories against the backdrop of nature’s quiet symphony. Despite the lingering thoughts of Jules and the unresolved tension with him, I managed to push those worries aside. This time belonged solely to Caleb, and I was devoted to preserving every fleeting moment of his laughter and wonder.

When the fire’s warmth finally faded, Caleb leaned his head gently against me, his energy finally ebbing. “This is nice,” he murmured, his voice barely audible against the crackle of dying embers.

“It really is,” I agreed, feeling my heart swell with gratitude and quiet contentment.

The amusement park two towns over was alive with a riot of color and sound. The air buzzed with the melodic whir of rides, the cheerful hum of lively music, and the exuberant screams of thrill-seekers. The intoxicating aroma of popcorn, hot dogs, and sugary cotton candy intertwined with the faint tang of grease from the rides, creating a sensory feast. Caleb’s excitement was almost tangible as he eagerly tugged my hand and practically dragged me toward a towering roller coaster, its steel frame looping and twisting like an adrenaline-fueled serpent.

“Dad, look, this one has three loops!” he shouted, pointing excitedly at the roller coaster whose cars spun rapidly along its intricate track.

“Three loops? Are you trying to kill me?” I teased, though I was already in line beside him.

“C’mon, you can handle it. You’re tougher than you look,” he said, grinning up at me.

I feigned hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Caleb just laughed it off, nudging him playfully. “Relax, history nerd. It’s a compliment.”

While we waited in line, Caleb filled the air with animated chatter, stories of his best friend Cooper, who he claimed would chicken out on this ride, his vivid imaginings of the breathtaking views from the top, and his confident assertion that this roller coaster was destined to be the highlight of the day. When our turn finally came, he bolted forward, positioning himself at the front row with all the impetuous energy of youth, leaving me no choice but to follow suit.

As the ride steadily ascended, the clanking of the track punctuating our anticipation, Caleb leaned forward, eyes wide with exhilaration. “This is gonna be awesome!”

Then came the drop, sudden and heart-stopping. My stomach did a flip as we hurtled downward at a breathtaking speed, the world blurring around us. Caleb’s unrestrained laughter rang out, pure and unfiltered, and soon enough, I found myself laughing along with him. By the time the ride finally screeched to a halt, I was breathless, my hair dancing wildly in the wind, my heart pounding in a symphony of adrenaline and joy.

“Let’s do it again!” Caleb exclaimed, practically bouncing off his feet as we stumbled off the ride.

“You’re relentless,” I laughed, shaking my head as his infectious enthusiasm continued to lift my spirits throughout the rest of the afternoon. We hit every ride Caleb deemed a “must-do” from the dizzying spins of the Mind-Bender to the soaking thrills of the Log Flume. Between rides, we meandered through the bustling midway. There, Caleb became fixated on winning a giant stuffed animal from a ring toss booth.

“You’re going to blow all our cash trying to win that thing,” I teased, watching him line up his shot with serious, determined focus.

“Not a chance,” he replied, tongue peeking out in concentration.

After several humorous misfires and plenty of good-natured ribbing from me, he finally achieved a perfect toss. The booth attendant presented him with a neon green bear nearly as tall as he was, and Caleb held it up over his head as if it were a prized trophy.

“This bear’s coming home with me!” he declared triumphantly, his smile broad enough to light up his entire face.

“That bear better earn its keep,” I quipped, examining it jokingly. “Does it know how to do laundry?”

Caleb rolled his eyes, a playful glimmer in them. “He’s a bear, Dad. He’s here for moral support.”

The day gradually mellowed into evening, the sun dipping low and setting the sky ablaze in brilliant pinks and oranges. Strings of whimsical lights flickered to life throughout the park, casting a warm, magical glow over the lingering crowds. We shared a funnel cake at a small picnic table, powdered sugar dusting our noses and fingertips. Caleb burst into laughter as I attempted to brush the sugary mess off his face, only for him to smear a bit more onto mine.

“Really, you’re worse than a toddler,” I teased amid our laughter, wiping at my cheek.

“Yeah, but I’m a toddler with a giant bear,” he retorted, clutching his new companion as if it were a shield against the soft evening gloom.

As the park’s lights grew brighter against the encroaching darkness and the crowd slowly thinned, we wandered over to the carousel. Caleb insisted on climbing onto one of the wooden horses, inviting me to take the one right beside him. As the carousel spun slowly, the soft strains of classic carnival music mingled with the distant echoes of roller coaster screams.

“This is a perfect day,” Caleb said quietly, his usual exuberance subdued into a tender moment of reflection.

I glanced at him, feeling a subtle tightening in my chest. “Yeah, it really is.”

For a few blissful hours, all else melted away, no lingering thoughts of school, no underlying tension with Jules, no worries about the days ahead. It was just Caleb and me, laughing, sharing funnel cake, and absorbing every magical moment beneath the kaleidoscopic amusement park lights. Yet, as night deepened, a bittersweet sadness crept in; I knew that this week with him was ephemeral, its sweetness destined to become a cherished memory.

“You know,” Caleb said as we made our way back to the parking lot, clutching his neon green bear like a personal talisman, “we should do this every year.”

I smiled, tousling his hair once more. “We already do.”

“Then let’s keep it that way,” he said, his tone turning serious for a fleeting moment before breaking into a carefree grin. “Next time, I’m picking the rides again.”

“Deal,” I agreed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as we walked towards the car. The night air was cool and crisp, a perfect close to a nearly perfect day, even as it reminded me all too clearly of the impending goodbye.

Saturday morning arrived with an invigorating crispness that hinted at the full bloom of spring, though the lingering dampness of melting earth still clung to the air. Caleb’s week with me had swept by like a vibrant, cherished dream, a dazzling tapestry woven with laughter, adventure, and those quiet, intimate moments that filled my heart. Now it was time to help him pack his belongings, a task that I approached with both practicality and an undeniable sting of reluctance.

Caleb darted down the hallway, his hair disheveled in the charming way of sleep and the neon green bear clutched tightly under one arm. “Dad, do we really have to pack already?” he whined dramatically.

I couldn’t help but smile at his theatrics. “Unless you intend to wear the same clothes for the rest of the year, yes.”

He flopped onto his bed with a melodramatic sigh, his bear landing softly beside him as I began folding a neat pile of his t-shirts.

“Okay, but can we at least make pancakes first? Packing always tastes better with pancakes,” he bargained.

I chuckled warmly, shaking my head. “Deal. You start gathering your stuff while I whip up breakfast.”

Soon, the kitchen was filled with the homely, comforting aroma of pancakes sizzling on the griddle. Caleb appeared in the doorway, his duffle bag already half-packed, and began excitedly recounting his favorite moments of the week while he carefully buttered his first pancake.

“The roller coaster with the loops? That was the GOAT,” he declared between mouthfuls, his voice muffled by the sweet treat. “And fishing was awesome, even if I didn’t exactly catch anything.”

I teased him gently. “You nearly caught that tree branch once.”

He grinned conspiratorially, syrup slowly dripping down his chin. “That was skill, Dad. Pure, unadulterated skill.”

By mid-morning, we were back in his room, folding shirts, stuffing his favorite books into his bag, and ensuring the neon green bear was placed safely by his duffle, far too big to be crammed in with his clothes. Caleb insisted that the bear ride shotgun for the journey home, and I didn’t have the heart to argue.

Just as I zipped up his duffle bag, a horn honked sharply outside, signaling Anna’s arrival. Caleb rushed to the window, waving with unbridled enthusiasm, and I couldn’t help but feel a pinch of bittersweet emotion as I followed his gaze outside.

“Alright, buddy,” I said, giving him a light, affectionate nudge. “Let’s get your stuff out to the car.”

Anna stepped gracefully out of the blue sedan, her auburn ponytail swinging as she approached. Her warm smile was tinged with the same quiet sadness I felt. “Ready to go, kiddo?” she asked kindly, gently ruffling Caleb’s hair as he hefted his duffle toward the car.

“Almost!” he called back, darting inside one last time to retrieve his cherished bear.

Anna turned toward me, her eyes softening as they lingered on my face. “Looks like you two had a wonderful week.”

“We did,” I replied, leaning against the worn yet familiar porch railing. “The best.”

Her gaze searched mine for a moment longer. “You look lighter, Elliott. Happier.”

I hesitated, trying to decide just how much to reveal. The pressing tension with Jules had been a constant undercurrent in my life, yet this week with Caleb had provided a serene escape. “It’s been good to focus on him,” I said finally. “To just… be a dad for a while.”

Anna nodded in silent understanding, her expression a mix of empathy and hope. “He talks about it all the time. He loves his time with you. And his letters!”

“That means everything to me,” I replied quietly.

Before she could say another word, Caleb reappeared, the bright neon green bear slung over his shoulder like an honorary companion. “Ready!”

Anna grinned broadly. “Alright, let’s hit the road. Thanks, Elliott.”

“Always,” I responded, pulling Caleb into a quick, heartfelt hug. He held on tightly for a moment, his lanky arms wrapping around me as if to squeeze every ounce of affection possible, before he stepped back with an exuberant grin and climbed into the car.

As the car pulled away and disappeared around the corner, Caleb leaned out the window, waving energetically. “Bye, Dad! I’ll call you about the Marvel marathon!”

I waved back, standing on the quiet porch until the car was nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

Once inside, the house felt achingly empty, the joyful echoes of Caleb’s laughter replaced by a reverberating silence. I wandered from room to room, tidying up subtle remnants of our week together: an empty soda can perched on the coffee table, a lone sock peeking out from under the couch, and the lingering, familiar scent of campfire that still clung to the jackets by the door.

Every small reminder brought a bittersweet smile to my face: memories of Caleb’s laughter on the roller coasters, his determined attempts to fish with a makeshift rod, the dusting of powdered sugar from our shared funnel cake. I refused to burden him with the intricacies of the tension with Jules or the unresolved emotions that simmered quietly in my mind. What mattered was that I had been present, that we had given each other a week bursting with love and adventure. And I vowed, in the quiet solitude of the empty house, that I would do it all again whenever the chance arose.

I settled at the dining table, reaching for the stationery I kept in the drawer. A fresh letter to Caleb was already forming in my thoughts, a cherished habit we had maintained since the divorce, a small ritual to bridge the distance when our daily lives diverged. Even though Caleb didn’t write back as often as I’d wish, I now knew the letters held a special place in his heart.

My phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence. It was a text from Jules.

Jules : Hope you and Caleb had a great week. Should we meet tomorrow to go over plans for the GSA event?

I stared at the message, feeling a tightening in my chest. Jules’ words came across as careful, neutral, as though he was treading lightly, not wishing to intrude. I typed back succinctly.

Elliott : Thanks. We had a great time. Tomorrow works.

Though my response was terse and almost mechanical, I wasn’t ready to face more complications, not yet. Jules would have to wait, just as I would wait eagerly for the next summer, for the next stretch of blissful, uninterrupted time with Caleb. Until then, I would write my letters, make my calls, and hold these vivid memories close.

In that quiet moment, as the soft hum of the day faded into memory, I acknowledged that despite the challenges and unresolved threads in my life, the time with Caleb had rekindled something within me, a reminder that sometimes, the simplest moments of genuine connection were enough to fill even the deepest voids.