Chapter 4 #2
BrentAlan Wallace. It was a good name, a strong name.
Just trendy enough to not sound like an eighty-year-old man, and just mature enough to not sound like a college kid.
There was no doubt in her mind that he’d gotten the nickname Blue because of the color of his eyes.
He’d been called that as he was growing up, and by all the people in his life who’d hurt him, mistreated him, or disappointed him and let him down.
But now he was a grownup with a child of his own, and he needed a grownup name. She’d call him Brent from that point forward. He was turning a page in the book of his life, and the next chapter needed to begin differently than the stuff that had already been written.
And she desperately wanted to be the one who helped him rewrite his life.
The next morning was insane. Blue got up extra early to feed Indigo and get her ready for the day, then pulled on his uniform pants and shirt and ate a granola bar with a cup of coffee to wash it down.
He gathered up her things, grabbed her basket, and headed across the yard.
Polly and Toady were just coming out the door to catch the bus, and they greeted him and the baby as he stepped up onto their porch.
“Anybody home?” he called out when he opened the door slightly.
“Yeah! Come on in!” Anne called back, and he scrambled to pick up everything he’d set down to open the door, but she was there in a second. “Here. Let me help you.” She snatched around, picking up the bag and some extra towels. “You didn’t have to bring these,” she said. “I’ve got plenty.”
“Just put them in a garbage bag and I’ll take them home and wash them. I shouldn’t cause you extra laundry,” he told her.
“Nonsense. Have you already fed her?”
“Oh, yeah. Fed her a little after five. She’s been changed twice, but… Crap! I forgot to bring more diapers!” he said, panicking a little. He didn’t want to be late to work.
“I have a key, remember?” Anne said, laughing. “Stop worrying! Go to work! We’ll be fine, won’t we, Indigo?” she said, leaning down over the baby and tickling her. Indigo responded by squeaking a little and wiggling.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive! Go to work, Brent. We’ll be fine,” she repeated.
“Okay. See you… Well, I won’t see you. But I’ll see Polly as soon as I can get home from work.”
“Yep. And I picked up the baby wash and formula, so you can take that home with you this evening.”
Blue felt his face flush. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I…”
“I’m not worried about it. Go to work. We can discuss all that later,” Anne told him and pointed toward the door. “Go!”
“Okay, okay!” he answered, laughing and heading to the door. “Talk to you later.”
“Yes. Have a good day at work,” she called after him.
Oddly, he had an overwhelming urge to kiss her goodbye. Where the hell did that come from? he asked himself, but he already knew the answer. He just didn’t want to admit it.
And he tried―to have a good day at work.
He really did. But it seemed as though Turner was always watching him, waiting for him to trip up so he could hammer his best mechanic.
What the fuck was that about? He’d only been there for about thirty minutes when he heard that voice.
“What are you yawning about? Have another late night?” Turner laughed, but it was a menacing laugh, not something jovial and friendly.
“Uh, yeah. But I’m working, aren’t I? So what’s the deal?”
“You’re not working very fast,” Turner informed him.
Blue rolled out on the mechanic’s creeper and glared up at him. “I’m working. What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Tell me you were lying,” Turner said, leering at him.
“About what?”
Turner started to laugh loudly, and everyone turned to look. “About a fucking baby on your doorstep, asshole! What a story!”
Blue struggled to his feet, careful to keep the creeper from shooting out from under him, and pulled his ancient smart phone out of his pocket.
He poked the screen several times, and after a few tries the pictures folder opened.
He punched around in there and finally smiled down at the phone before turning it around to show Turner.
“See? Me. And a baby. At my house. I’m no liar. ”
“Who’d you borrow that baby from?” Turner asked mockingly.
“I didn’t. She’s mine. An ex-girlfriend dropped her off on her way out of town,” Blue said, then realized how pathetic it sounded. But it was the truth. No reason to lie about it.
“Does she realize how bad she’s fucked up? You? With a baby?” Turner said, glaring at Blue.
“Oh, I’m sure she doesn’t care or she wouldn’t have left the baby on my doorstep,” Blue countered.
“Boy, ain’t that the truth. A fucked-up woman leaves a fucked-up man a baby to fuck up. That’s priceless.”
If he was aiming to piss Blue off, he’d managed. “I’m not going to fuck her up. I’m taking very good care of her, no thanks to you,” he snarled.
Turner’s face went beet red. “She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t starve to death with you taking care of her,” he replied, his voice dark and husky.
“I’ve got help. Good help. Don’t worry about my daughter. She’s fine,” Blue spat back, and then realized he’d never said that out loud before. My daughter . He kind of liked the way it sounded, and he couldn’t help the little grin that crept out on his face.
“What are you smiling about?” Turner asked, obviously angry.
“I have a daughter. And I know more about taking care of mine than you did about taking care of yours, and I haven’t even had her three days yet. Guess I am smarter than you in some ways, huh?” he said and chuckled.
Turner’s face was a mess of fury. “Get back to work! And pick up the pace! I don’t give a god damn why you’re not getting sleep as long as you get the work done.” With that, he stomped away and left Blue standing there, wondering what the hell his problem was.
From across the shop, Chris called out, “You’ve really got a baby?”
Blue nodded. “Yeah. I’ve really got a baby.”
“Bummer, man. I’m so sorry,” Chris told him.
“Yeah. So sorry,” Calvin said and nodded toward him.
“Thanks.” They felt sorry for him. He hadn’t expected that, but he also hadn’t expected the way he felt when they said that.
They were sorry he had a child? That baby hadn’t done anything to anyone.
She was an innocent in her mother’s game, and it wounded him to know that so many people thought of babies as problems rather than precious gifts.
He was shocked to know that he’d started feeling that way, but there it was.
She was like a gift, cute and sweet-smelling.
Well, except for when she… yeah. But otherwise, she was a little angel.
“But don’t feel sorry for me. She’s beautiful,” Blue called back to them, and they both waved him off and went back to work.
He stared down at the picture again, one Polly had taken of him holding Indigo and feeding her.
One of her tiny hands had come up to grip one of his fingers as he held the bottle to her mouth, and on his own face there was an almost-smile.
That one simple expression set up a ball of heat in his chest and he felt a sudden panic.
Was she okay? Was she giving Anne a hard time?
Would he be able to do it, to raise her, to give her what she needed?
It was terrifying and exciting at the same time.
There was one thing that was sure. He was going to give it his best shot. The thought of that sweet little baby having to live the way he had made him sick. That was not going to happen to her.
At three o’clock on the dot, a shadow fell across the floor near Blue’s creeper and he slid out to find Mr.Wentworth standing there, smiling down at him. “Mr.Wentworth! Good to see you, sir! Have you got something you need done?”
“I sure do, Blue! Good to see you too. I think my steering wheel is pulling to one side and I want you to look at it for me.”
“Yes, sir. I will. Let me finish this job. Shouldn’t be but about twenty minutes. Then I’ll―”
“No rush, son. I can bring it back in the morning if you’d like,” Mr.Wentworth told him.
“You may have to if it’s something I can’t fix quickly. But I doubt it’s anything dangerous, just annoying,” Blue told him. “We’ll find out in a few minutes, okay?”
“Quite all right. I’ll just wait in the lounge. Come get me when you’re ready and we can take it for a spin, see what’s wrong.”
“Sure thing. Be right with you,” Blue told him and slid back under the car he was working on. He got the new exhaust system bolted in place in no time and slid out, then headed to the lounge.
Turner stepped out of his office and blocked Blue. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Mr.Wentworth’s here. He says his steering wheel is pulling to one side. He wants me to go for a drive with him, see if I can figure out what’s going on,” Blue said in explanation.
“Get back to work. I’ll put one of the other guys on it,” Turner said.
“No. He specifically came to me and asked me,” Blue insisted.
“I’ll take care of this,” Turner said and marched toward the lounge. A sick feeling spread in Blue’s gut. What was that idiot about to do? Run off one of their best customers?
Blue headed back to his work area but he could hear voices coming from the lounge, and they weren’t friendly either.
In a few seconds, Turner came tearing out the door and walked straight up to Blue.
Leaning in just a couple of inches from Blue’s face, he half-whispered, half-growled, “This is the last time, Wallace. Last fucking time. And I’ve told the old bastard that, so go do what he wants this time and it won’t happen again. ”
“What is your fucking problem, Turdbucket?” Blue asked, glaring at Turner.
“Just go. Do it. I don’t want to hear another word,” Turner said.
Blue headed to the lounge to find Mr.Wentworth sitting there, looking somewhat smug. “Mr.Wentworth?”
“Come on. Let’s take it for a drive and see if you can figure it out,” Mr.Wentworth said, pointing toward the car.