Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Dave
I dream of Zara. Daylight. White sheets. Filtered sunlight on soft, bare skin .
We’re tangled up in bed together, her body under mine. I sink down into her curves. We’re wound so tightly together that my hips move in shallow, inadequate thrusts. She makes breathy, desperate sounds. We’re never going to stop. The wanting will never be sated. I grip her more tightly and moan. Our mouths are locked into one long kiss .
But then I hear it—the baby crying. She’s wailing, and it’s been going on a while. I just didn’t notice until now .
I pull back, but Zara grips me even more tightly .
The baby lets out an agonizing cry and …
I woke up sweaty, my breath coming too fast. Also, I was really fucking hard .
Letting out an entirely different kind of moan, I threw off the sheets to get some air .
Really, brain? A mashup of the sexy dream and the baby screaming? It was almost funny .
Almost .
It was Sunday morning. I lay there a little while, waiting for both my body and my fucked-up mind to relax. When I picked up my phone, I saw it was ten a.m. I still had plenty of time to shower and get ready for the midday meal at Zara’s uncles ’ farm .
The phone was open to that photo Zara had sent me. I didn’t know how long I’d looked at it yesterday, but it was longer than I cared to admit. I was drawn to it, and I didn’t know why. It wasn’t meant to be a sexual shot. I wasn’t perving on the nursing mother .
Okay, I was, a little. She was so casually voluptuous in the photograph. And her smile was cheeky .
But there was more to it than that. There was my sleepy baby’s head in the shot, her face serene, her little hand curled comfortably around the fabric of Zara’s T-shirt. The two of them so cozy and so complete . Like they belonged together .
And Zara’s smile was wise. Like she knew secrets I’d never learn. One of us had grown up a whole lot in the last two years, and it wasn’t me .
I put the phone down and rolled over in bed. But my hungry body imagined Zara underneath me—the Zara of two years ago, who’d wanted me only for sex. My cock thickened again, as it always did when I remembered those nights. I trapped my palm between the mattress and my dick and flexed my hips. Her body had welcomed me in. I’d fucked her so eagerly and then …
Gripping myself, I pictured spilling into Zara, planting my seed inside her as we slowly kissed, coming down from the high we’d given each other .
I took my hand away and wondered what the fuck I was thinking. We’d made a baby, and I shouldn’t find that sexy at all. It was irresponsible. It was exactly the thing I’d never meant to do .
What the hell was wrong with me ?
* * *
“I s that what you’re wearing?” Castro asked me when I came downstairs a couple hours later, freshly showered and shaved .
I glanced down at my khakis and oxford shirt. “What’s wrong with it?” I thought I looked fine .
“Where’s the body armor?” He cracked up at his own joke .
“You’re hilarious.” I grabbed a banana off the kitchen counter and peeled it .
“Need a last minute pep talk? I think I should show you how to change a diaper .”
“Why? I’m not babysitting. Her whole family will be there .”
“It’s not babysitting if it’s your own kid,” Castro pointed out. “Besides, I thought you wanted to make a statement that you can handle whatever gets thrown at you. Even if it’s a poopy diaper .”
My reluctance to be someone’s daddy had nothing to do with diapers and everything to do with my pessimistic attitude. “The only point I want to make to her family is that I’m not afraid to show up and look ’em in the eye. But I’m not anyone’s idea of Mr. Family Man. I’m not going to pretend .”
“Thing is, you are a family man now. Whether you’re just a check in the mail, and not a show-up-every-Sunday kind of dad, you’re still in it forever. Just like I’m an uncle to my nephews forever, whether I’m a good one or not .”
I scowled at him, because that was exactly what freaked me out. He’d just stated the problem in all its glory. “What is your point? I don’t think a diapering lesson is going to make me into a good daddy .”
“You gotta start somewhere. I learned, and I don’t have a kid .”
I ate the banana, getting grumpier by the second .
“Babies are so cool,” he said, oblivious to my discomfort. “They will laugh at anything. For some reason, my sister’s youngest thinks the top of my head is hysterical. All I have to do is lean over him and he grabs my hair and laughs .”
It wouldn’t be nice of me to wonder aloud if that was normal, right ?
“And he’ll, like, fall asleep anywhere. Even sitting up, with a toy in his hand .”
“Hmm,” I said, feigning interest .
“The first time I saw him, it was love ,” Castro gushed. He spotted the look on my face. “I guess there’s one big difference, though. If my sister really needed me, I’d be there. But the truth is that he’s not really my baby. I can just hand ’im back if he cries. All I have to be is the fun uncle. So he’s real easy to love.” My teammate reached across the counter and squeezed my shoulder. “Give yourself time, D. We gotta get that deer-in-the-headlights look off your face .”
If only .
“So.” Castro clapped his hands. “Let’s talk about diapering. I’m gonna show you some skills. First you remove the old diaper. There are tapes that hold the diaper on .”
“Tapes?” A fragment of a memory floated up to the surface of my brain. “I thought there were safety pins .”
“Pins? Hell no. Too dangerous. Welcome to the twenty-first century. The tape is the multiple-use kind, so after you roll that wet diaper up you can close it again. If there’s poop, you use baby wipes to clean it out of all the crevices .”
“That sounds… alarming .”
He grinned. “Baby wipes are awesome. Once when Mario had a poopsplosion I used a half a box of them. You could clean up, like, organized crime with those suckers .”
“Good to know .”
But he wasn’t done talking yet. “The dirty wipes go inside the messy diaper. Then you tape up the whole mess into a little poop grenade. Most moms have a diaper bin thing to throw them into. You know those hazmat wastebaskets in the doctor’s office? Like that .”
“Right.” I eyed the clock with a pointed look .
“Now, always put something under the baby before you change her. A baby boy can whiz right in your eye while you’re working, so you gotta stay nimble. But a girl just makes a puddle, I think .”
He thinks . We were the blind leading the blind. Or the stupid leading the stupider …
“Then you take the fresh diaper…” Castro grabbed a paper napkin and set it on the counter. He took the banana peel out of my hand and laid it on the napkin. “Just fit the front part between the baby’s legs, and tug it upward…” While I watched, he began to bring the napkin’s front and back corners together between halves of the banana peel .
“Whoa,” a voice said behind us. “What the fuck are you two doing?” Our sleepy teammate—Silas, the backup goalie—shuffled into the kitchen, staring at Castro’s banana diaper .
“You don’t even want to know,” I warned. “You just stay in your happy place .”
“My happy place needs coffee .”
“Tape ’er up, and boom!” Castro said, as if I was still listening. “Fresh kid. Easy peasy .”
There was nothing easy about any of this. “Pour me a cup, too, Silas. This could be a rough day .”
* * *
I wasn’t dumb enough to show up for my beating at the Rossi farm empty handed .
With a little help from Silas—who had arrived after Leo and O’Doul went back to New York—I was well armed with a bouquet of flowers for Zara’s mom .
And earlier in the week, Castro and I had waited in line for two hours outside a Montpelier food co-op to buy our allotment of the most decorated beer ever made. So I also had a case of coveted Heady Topper beer for Zara’s uncles .
With my bribes in the back seat, I drove with the windows down along several winding dirt roads, following the instructions Zara had texted. I knew I was in the right place when row upon row of pear trees appeared out the window. The fruits were green and shorter than my thumb. But there were hundreds of them on every tree .
I found the sign for Rossi Farm and turned onto a gravel driveway. The rental car bumped along until a big house came into view. It was a white clapboard farmhouse with a gently sagging porch and a porch swing .
As soon as I parked the car, Zara came outside. My progress was halted momentarily while I took her in. She was wearing a sundress in orange and white that made her look… Softer was the word that came to mind. She looked more approachable than the bartender I’d met two years ago .
“Hi,” she said shyly. Then she smiled like I’d done something funny .
“Hi,” I echoed, walking toward her. I opened my arms to greet her, then hesitated. After our ugly moment earlier in the week, I needed to take care not to overstep boundaries. But then she came closer, allowing me to wrap her in the world’s most awkward we’re-just- friends hug .
I kissed her cheek quickly. She smelled like sunshine and perfume, and my libido shook itself awake .
No time for that , I reminded myself, stepping back. “Have your brothers loaded the shotgun , yet ?”
“Oh.” She waved a hand dismissively. “There’s more than one shotgun. But lunch is almost ready, and they’re more interested in my mother’s cooking than in firearms. After lunch, though, you never know .”
“Noted.” I went to the back door of the rental car and popped it open. “These are for your mother,” I said, pulling out a generous bouquet arranged in a basket .
“ Hello , kiss-ass.” Her face lit up with humor, and I found myself smiling back at her .
“Can you blame me? And these are for everyone.” I hefted the beer out of the back .
“Nicely done, champ. You might live through dessert.” She turned and carried the flowers toward the house and I followed her, trying not to notice her long legs in that dress .
Maybe this whole thing would be easier if I wasn’t attracted to Zara. But there was no chance of that fading. She just did it for me. I couldn’t even say exactly why. It was some heady combination of her looks and her take-no-prisoners attitude .
She reminded me of a female superhero from the comics I’d read as a boy. Put her in a bodysuit with a bow and arrow in her hands and ink in that dark hair and those piercing eyes .
Then look out , boys .
* * *
A half hour later I was no longer worried about surviving until dessert. I was, however, worried that I might kill someone. Because Zara’s uncle Otto was a real dickface .
We were seated at the dining table in preparation for the meal, and he’d already made disparaging remarks about Zara’s coffee shop, Alec’s bar, and Zara’s mother’s menu choices. “Who puts sesame oil on broccoli?” he grumbled. “What, are we Chinese now ?”
“I love sesame oil,” I said immediately. “I put it on everything. Even eggs .”
Otto snorted. Then he mumbled something about “arrogant city folk .”
Whatever .
Zara’s mother had just put about ten dishes on the long table in about as many seconds, two of which were giant pans of lasagna. “TV off, Benito!” she hollered. “And bring a corkscrew to the table !”
“Can I help you in any way?” I’d asked a moment ago, watching her make lightning-fast adjustments to the meal she’d prepared. Now I knew where Zara got her efficient demeanor .
Mrs. Rossi had given me the side-eye. “Do you actually cook ?”
“Only bachelor food. Eggs. Burgers. Chicken. But I take coaching really well .”
She’d sniffed. “I have everything under control. But it’s good to know you’re not completely helpless, like some of the men in this family.” She’d turned toward an open doorway and bellowed, “ON THE TABLE! LET’S GO !”
Zara had set the flowers I’d brought in the center of the table. Now she was seated beside me. Her brother Alec was already seated as well, and shooting me grumpy looks. Another brother—Damien—had given my hand exactly the bruising shake that I’d give his if he’d gotten my sister pregnant. But now he was ignoring me from the seat beside Otto’s .
Benito was the last to sit down. I noticed that Zara’s fourth brother was missing, but I didn’t ask why .
And then there were the uncles. Otto had an identical twin, Art. But I found them easy enough to tell apart. Otto was the sterner man, and his hair was grayer. Art had less to say, but he smiled when his sister put a lasagna down in front of him, and he didn’t seem to want to kill me .
“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “Twins run in your family?” I asked, thinking of Zara and Benito. I gave Zara’s elbow a squeeze. “Only one at a time for you? Slacker .”
“God, bite your tongue!” She laughed .
But then I heard Alec mutter under his breath. “Maybe you just couldn’t get the job done .”
You couldn’t pay me to touch that comment .
“Thanks for these,” Art said, cracking open a can of Heady Topper. “You’ll have one, right?” he asked me .
“Sure, I’d love one.” Or ten . “Want one?” I asked Zara .
She shook her head. “Can I have just a sip of yours? Nursing is literally a buzz kill .”
Otto snorted. “Offer the nursing mother a sixteen-ounce beer at noon, whydontcha ?”
“Right. Sorry,” I said, feeling my neck heat .
Zara gave me a sympathetic look. I winked at her. Otto was a prick, and her brothers looked ready to pounce. But I honestly didn’t care what they thought of me. I was here for Zara and the baby. They were the only ones who mattered .
Luckily, Zara’s mother finally took her seat. “I’d like to say grace,” she announced, so I bowed my head .
I always felt like a fraud at moments like this. Nobody had said grace at my house when I was a child. Hell, I couldn’t remember ever sitting down to a home-cooked meal. Even when I’d lived with my grandparents, food sometimes appeared on the kitchen counter. And when it didn’t, I heated things from cans for Bess and myself .
“Thank you lord for blessing us with this meal, and may we know thy everlasting grace—” A baby’s squawk erupted from the other room, and she flinched .
“Sorry.” Zara pushed back her chair and stood. “I knew she wouldn’t go for a nap right now .”
“Amen!” Otto declared, then reached for the spatula in one of the lasagna pans, and his nephews reached for their beers .
Mrs. Rossi raised her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m sorry, God. I tried. Thank you for these blessings . Amen .”
Dishes were passed, and I waited for Zara to reappear. She came back with Nicole in her arms just as Benito offered me a piece of lasagna. I picked up Zara’s plate instead, extending it toward her brother, who plated it up .
“No, you eat,” Zara said when I offered her the plate. “I’m going to cut up a few things for the baby first .”
Other dishes were passed, and my plate became loaded down with two different salads, a slab of ham, and cheesy potatoes. There were olives in a cut-glass dish and green beans topped with almonds .
“You must have been cooking all week,” I remarked to Zara’s mom. “This is delicious .”
“Thank you.” She smiled at me from the other end of the table, but somehow it still looked chilly. “I like to make a big spread for the family on Sunday. Then I walk out the front door and let Otto and Art deal with the cleanup .”
“Totally worth it,” Art said, helping himself to the ham .
Zara cubed a piece of meat into bite-sized pieces and cut several green beans in half. “Here,” she said, bringing the plate closer to where Nicole sat in her lap .
But the baby pointed at the potatoes in their casserole dish and squawked .
“Hmm,” Zara grumbled. “If you eat those, I’ll probably be wearing that cheese on my dress.” But she reached for the serving spoon anyway .
“Shouldn’a got all fancied up to try to impress your man, then,” Otto rumbled .
Zara glared at him, and I developed a fascination with my lasagna, pretending I hadn’t heard that comment .
“So what do you do for a living?” Art asked me .
Let the grilling commence . I was surprised I’d made it this long without being questioned. “Hockey,” I said .
“That’s not a job,” he grunted .
“There’s no desk, if that’s what you mean,” I said lightly. “But it pays, and it keeps me busy. I play eighty-five games during the regular season, and sometimes we make the playoffs. Keeps me off the streets .”
“Did you go to college?” Otto asked .
Did you? my inner smart-ass wanted to fire back. But I reined it in. I’d basically come here to be grilled, not that it was fun. “I didn’t finish college. The NHL signed me after my sophomore year. And I had bills to pay so it wasn’t a tough decision to leave the University of Michigan .”
I’d been a decent student before I’d dropped out, but the NHL paycheck had been impossible to resist, since it would allow me to pay Bess’s college tuition and still feed myself. Who wouldn’t make that choice ?
“Still have your teeth?” Benito asked, smiling .
“Mostly. But my dental bill is pretty brutal.” Like everyone else in hockey, I had a mouth full of crowns. Not my favorite topic. “I chew carefully now. It could be worse .”
“How many years do you think you’ve got left?” he asked, watching me with a thoughtful expression .
“On earth? A bunch, I hope. In hockey, maybe five.” Okay, that was probably a stretch. “Maybe less,” I amended. “But I don’t like to think that way .”
Zara’s mother piled on. “What’s your Plan B ?”
The questions just kept flying. And I hated that one. “Not quite sure yet,” I admitted. “Some guys coach, some work in the media.” I happened to hate sports-TV, so that wasn’t really a good choice for me. But the Rossi family didn’t get to hear all my secrets. I cut another bite of lasagna with my fork. “This is really fabulous,” I said, and meant it. “I don’t really eat carbs during the off-season but I am going to have to finish this, anyway .”
“You drink beer,” Zara pointed out .
“Yeah. That’s why I don’t eat carbs.” I lifted another forkful. “During the season I can eat and drink almost anything, and I still drop weight. During the summer I have to be a little more careful. The Chinese takeout place knows me as that weirdo who doesn’t want any rice with his order .”
“That is weird,” she said, offering Nicole a tiny bite of potato on the end of a spoon .
I glanced at her plate, which still held only baby bites of food. “Don’t you get to eat?” I asked .
“In a minute,” she said .
Well, then. It was obviously time to make the point I’d come here to make—that I’d stand by Zara and her baby if she needed me to. So I pushed my plate forward, out of the way. Then I offered my hands to take the baby. “ Switch ?”
The corners of Zara’s mouth turned up in amusement, and I waited to see what she’d say. And everyone else watched us as carefully as a season finale on Game of Thrones .
But Zara’s mother jumped out of her chair and came around to take Nicole herself. “Finish that lasagna,” she ordered me. “I only make it a few times a year. And I’ll take care of the baby .”
She’d fired me before I’d even begun my job .
* * *
A lec got chatty as the meal wore on, taking some of the focus away from me. “I think all those emails I wrote to travel bloggers are paying off. The summer tourists have found The Gin Mill .”
“It’s either that or the fact that you’re sleeping with that woman from the distributor,” Benito teased him. “You never run out of the hard-to-get beers anymore .”
Alec grinned, and Mrs. Rossi gave them both a stern look .
“Seriously, though. Business is good. If my cash flow keeps up I can renovate the mill kitchen and think about serving food .”
“Don’t get out over your skis,” Otto grumbled. “The off-seasons’ll kill ya. Running a bar is hard .”
“Oh yeah?” I heard myself ask. “Do you run a bar ?”
“The Mountain Goat in Tuxbury,” he said. “Goin’ on fifteen years now .”
“Huh.” I picked up my excellent beer and took a sip. “Two years ago I went there all the time. Never met you, though. Seemed like Zara was running the whole show—tending bar, managing the help, keeping the place orderly. Tossing out the drunks, too. You’re right—looked like a lot of work .”
Otto chewed slowly, staring me down. Maybe he was trying to decide whether or not I’d meant to call him out on if he’d put in hours at The Mountain Goat. Under the table, Zara nudged me with her knee. But I was pretty sure it was more of a solidarity tap than a plea to shut up .
Meanwhile, Benito hid his smile behind his beer can. At least somebody found me funny .
“This is a great meal, Mom,” Zara said, deflecting. “Is the baby still eating ?”
“She sure is. Another member of the clean-plate club. Takes after her daddy, maybe ?”
Daddy . How wild that she was referring to me .
* * *
A fter lunch I tried to ferry some of the dishes to the kitchen with Benito and Alec, while Otto scowled at me .
“Guests don’t help,” Mrs. Rossi said sternly. “Have a glass of wine instead ?”
“Or come outside to see the orchard,” Zara suggested. “Nicole needs to run around a little and tire herself out .”
“Sure thing,” I said, grateful to escape the claustrophobia of the Rossi house .
The old farmhouse screen door squeaked (as a screen door should) as Zara carried Nicole outside. I followed her, trying not to admire her tanned thighs as she set Nicole onto the grass. “Let’s show Dave all the pear trees,” she said, pointing toward the first tidy row of orchard trees. I noticed that Zara hadn’t used the word “ daddy .”
Nicole took off at a toddle, her chubby little feet bare in the grass. “Vermont is an awfully nice place to be a baby,” I said. “Nobody can run free like that where I grew up in Detroit .”
We followed Nicole between the row of pear trees, and it felt like entering a green tunnel. “Detroit, huh? You never told me where you grew up,” Zara said .
“You never let me tell you anything,” I said .
“That is true.” She bit her lip, looking sheepish .
I felt like a dick for making that sound like an accusation. “The thing is, though, I probably wouldn’t have shared much, anyway. It’s not my favorite topic. Actually, my tolerance for sharing personal details would’ve only been slightly higher than yours .”
“Fair enough.” Her smile was wry. “Then ask me anything, and I’ll answer. Go ahead .”
I thought about it for a minute while we followed the baby down another row of pear trees. She could move pretty fast on those short little legs. “Did you grow up on this farm ?”
“Not exactly.” Zara shook her head. “We spent plenty of time here. I wanted to live here. And I did twice—for less than a year each time. Both times happened after my father left us. He did that a lot. One day he’d be at home, my mother fussing over him at the dinner table. The next day—gone. No forwarding address .
“My uncles always offered to share the house, but my mother wanted her independence. She kept us in successively smaller dwellings—I can’t even say houses, because the last one was a trailer—rather than move in with her brothers. I was so angry about it. Sharing a room with Benito when I was sixteen made me insane. When I was a senior in high school I actually moved in with my friend Jill for a little while, just to get out of that trailer .”
“Jill from The Mountain Goat? The one who caught her husband with the nanny ?”
Zara stared at me. “You have a killer memory. You really do .”
“I told you, gorgeous. I remember everything when it comes to you. That was the night we drank tequila before we went upstairs. Don’t tell me you forgot the tequila .”
Two pink spots appeared on her cheekbones. “I remember. I’m just surprised you got Jill’s name from that crazy night .”
I shrugged. “I loved The Mountain Goat, and hearing all the locals’ gossip. Never saw your uncle’s face once, though. Hope you don’t mind that I said so .”
She grinned. “That was the best part of the meal .”
“No wonder your mom didn’t want to live with him .”
“Exactly,” Zara agreed. “Otto never held back his opinion on my mother’s life choices, just like he doesn’t hold back on me. My mom just couldn’t stand it. Living with him would have meant more space for us but less peace for her. And I get it now. My brothers are great. They’re so much kinder than Otto. But even so, they’re all up in my business .”
“I can’t imagine how you’ve kept it together,” I said .
“It’s been a chaotic couple of years.” She laughed. “But there’s something I want to explain to you .”
“ Yeah ?”
“Two years ago I was in a dark place. I wasn’t very happy with myself or anyone else. I wasn’t always that nice to you .”
I laughed, because that’s not really how I remembered it. “You seemed pretty nice .”
Zara’s eyes sparkled. “I suppose I had my moments. But I was angrier at the world that summer. In spite of, uh, recent evidence to the contrary, I’m much happier now. I have a new business and a healthy kid. I’m feeling pretty optimistic. You don’t have to worry about me .”
“That’s great. I…” Let’s face it, I could not say the same thing for myself. “You found optimism, and I’m more of a wreck .”
“ Really ? Why ?”
“Well…” As it turns out, I’m not invincible, and also stupider than I’d thought . I wasn’t used to sharing my thoughts with anyone. Let alone Zara. And where to start? My career seemed to have hit a rough patch. The future scared me, and everyone had tiptoed around me all season. “I had an injury during the playoffs that’s still bothering me. That’s the worst of it .”
She made a sympathetic sound .
“Two years ago I felt like I had the world hanging off the end of my dick. Now I just feel like an old guy in a young man’s life .”
“You look okay to me,” Zara said. And when I met her gaze, those spots of pink had returned to her cheekbones, and she looked away. “Still in Brooklyn ?”
“Yeah. I own a condo that’s only two blocks from our training facility. Bunch of guys live in the same building. It’s great .”
“I lived in Brooklyn once .”
“ Really ? When ?”
“For two years right after high school. That’s where I learned to tend bar—in a nightclub in lower Manhattan. I used to take the F train home to Red Hook at four in the morning, and fight sleep so nobody could pickpocket me .”
“ Yikes .”
“It wasn’t a great life. When I came home to Vermont, I appreciated it a lot more. Otto let me tend bar, and within a year I was running the place .”
Ahead of us, Nicole tripped over something in the grass. She pitched forward, and my heart lurched as her small body made the short trip to the ground. It wasn’t the worst fall I’ve ever seen, but her shriek was almost instantaneous .
“Oh, baby.” Zara ran and scooped her up off the grass. “You’re fine,” she said calmly. “It was just a tumble .”
But the baby howled. Her little face turned red, and she wailed onto Zara’s shoulder .
“Come over here for a moment?” She didn’t beckon, since her arms were full of the child. But I followed her around the end of the row of trees, toward an outbuilding .
Square bales of hay were lined up against the outer wall, and Zara sat down on one of them, as if it were a bench. I sat down beside her, while the baby still cried .
“She’s just tired,” Zara said. “My brothers love to rile her up and then hand her back to me.” She fumbled with the strap of her dress, tugging it off her shoulder. In a practiced maneuver, she freed her breast and the baby latched right on, going silent mid-shriek. Then her little body relaxed completely in Zara’s arms .
“That’s some powerful mojo you’ve got there .”
“When it works, it works.” She tipped her head back against the barn wood. “I have your watch .”
I had no idea what she was talking about . “ What ?”
“Your wristwatch. You left it behind. I put it in a drawer. I thought I’d never find you, and someday I’d end up giving it to Nicole when I was ready to explain to her the real story of where she came from. But now I can return it to you instead .”
For some reason I looked at my wrist, which was banded by a Timex on a canvas strap. “I wondered what happened to that. I thought I left it in the cabin. And when I called the rental company they said nobody had turned it in .”
“I’ll drop it off when I go to yoga again .”
“Eh,” I hedged. “I never really missed it. That thing wasn’t really me. Just something I bought my first year making big money. Thought that’s what you were supposed to do. You guys should hang onto it .”
Zara didn’t say anything, and I realized that I’d just validated her original plan—to use an overpriced chunk of metal to explain an absent father to Nicole when she was a teenager. It wouldn’t go down that way now. I wasn’t going to cut off ties with Zara again .
Although, when I tried to look a decade into the future, I saw…nothing. It was all a haze—my career, my relationship to Zara and her child. What the hell would I be doing in ten years ?
The question scared the shit out of me .
“I got papers from your lawyer on Friday,” Zara said suddenly .
“Really? That was fast. What do they say ?”
“Standard paternity request. I take a swab from inside Nicole’s cheek and mail it back to a lab. And that if I refuse to comply with the test, you can take me to court .”
“That’s just lawyers talking. You know I wouldn’t really do that .”
“I know.” She cleared her throat .
“I think I got the same test by FedEx. Haven’t opened it yet. I’ll do it tomorrow. And if you don’t like the tone the lawyer takes, I can ask him to back off .”
“It’s really okay. Somehow I don’t think you’re about to surprise me with a request for full custody .”
We both knew that would never happen. But even I wasn’t a big enough ass to agree too loudly. Instead, I reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze .
Her fingers closed around mine, and then I think she surprised both of us by holding on and interlacing our fingers .
We sat in silence for a minute while I admired this quiet spot in my favorite state. “So when are pears harvested? There’s so many of them.” There were hundreds on each tree, still small. “They get bigger, right ?”
“Sure. And the tree will shed fruit over time. The harvest happens in August, but the fruit is still hard and green when it comes off the trees. Pears are tricky. They’re not like apples—you don’t wait until they ripen to pick them .”
“ Really ? Why ?”
“If you let a pear ripen on the tree, the texture is mealy at the core. They ripen from the inside out. So we pick them hard, chill them down to thirty degrees for a day and then ship them out .”
“But how do you know when to pick them ?”
“There’s some guesswork involved,” she admitted. “Some varieties are ready when the stem releases easily from the branch. Some never release easily, and you just have to go with your gut .”
“Who knew?” She was still holding my hand, and I liked it way too much .
“ Hey , Dave ?”
“ Mmm ?”
“I’m really sorry I slapped you .”
“I thought we were going to forget about that .”
“But I just want you to know that the last person I slapped was Benito. When we were seventeen .”
“He probably had it coming,” I said mildly. “Pretty sure I got into some scuffles with Bess.” I distinctly remembered locking her in her room when we were teenagers because she’d gotten into my stuff .
“Well.” She cleared her throat. “I would never hit my child,” she whispered. “Just putting that out there .”
Wait , what ?
I turned to find her watching me with sheepish eyes. “No kidding, Z. You’re really not the type .”
Her face softened, and it made her appear more vulnerable than I remembered her ever looking. Clear brown eyes blinked back at me from that pretty face, with those defiant cheekbones. She was so pretty in a way that was so unforced. I’d bet she had no idea how far she turned my crank .
“Just wanted you to know that,” she whispered. “Your sister told me that your dad used to hit you both …”
“That’s different,” I said quickly. We were not going there. “And anyway, my mother was a face slapper,” I said. “But she would never …”
Shit . I couldn’t talk about that parent, either. This was exactly why I wasn’t a family man. My family tree was a fucking landmine .
“ She what ?”
“Never mind. I was going to say something dumb .”
“Why? Where is your mother, anyway ?”
Yikes . “She passed when I was small. Really, I barely remember her .”
“You remember her hitting you on the face, though .”
Point to Zara . “It wasn’t a big deal.” It didn’t even make the top-ten list for things that went wrong during my childhood .
“How’d she die ?”
“Zara,” I warned. Christ almighty . She didn’t really want to hear about this shit. She only thought she did .
“How?” she pressed, proving my point. “I thought we were asking each other anything ?”
I sighed. “Drug overdose. I was five, Bess was one and a half. I’m the one that found her .”
“Wow.” Zara’s eyes popped wide. “I’m sorry .”
“It was a long time ago .”
“But you still remember it?” she pressed .
Leaning my head against the outbuilding behind me, I closed my eyes. “Yeah, I remember that nobody had shown up at school that day to pick me up from kindergarten. This was not much of a surprise, and so I walked home by myself. I didn’t think anything of it, even when I banged on our front door and she didn’t open it …”
I pictured my five-year-old self standing there, waiting. And then the hair rose up on my arms as I remembered something else—the sound of Bess inside the house, wailing. Just like in the dreams I’d been having .
Shit .
And then I couldn’t stop the memory from unfolding. I’d gone next door and retrieved the extra key from Mrs. Parker, the retired school librarian who was always out on her porch, watching the kids come home from school .
When I finally got into the house, I’d seen her. My mother. Laid out on the floor, a baggie of powder near her outstretched fingers. She’d been very, very still .
And I’d known . I’d known, but I hadn’t known. My mother had been passed out in my presence before .
But this time I was afraid of her. I was afraid to touch her .
I knelt down on the rug while my sister screamed even louder. She’d probably heard the door open, and was making her presence known. I knew I had to get back there and show my face so she’d stop. But I was staring at my mother’s body. Her eyelids were blueish. Her lips were ashen. Her hand lay on the rug in an ordinary way. But way too still .
Slowly, I stretched out my own hand, hovering an inch over hers, and finally lowering it to her fingers .
They were cold. And then so was I. So cold and so scared. Bess wailed on .
I rose from the rug. With a pounding heart, I stepped over my mother’s outstretched legs and went into the bedroom I shared with Bess. My sister was standing in her crib, chubby little hands clenched around the wooden bars, her face bright red and tear-streaked. Her voice was hoarse from screaming. She didn’t stop when I entered the room .
Getting her out of the crib wasn’t going to be easy because I was too short. So I climbed into the crib and hugged her until she calmed down. She stank of urine …
Whoa .
With a gasp, I let go of Zara’s hand and leapt to my feet .
“What’s the matter?” Zara asked, sounding far away. Nicole popped off her mother’s nipple and squinted up at me .
“Nothing,” I wheezed, pacing in a circle. I’d just realized that Bess had worn cloth diapers. I remembered them now—they were held together with safety pins, and there was a plastic thing she wore over them. I remembered cupping her fat little foot as she stepped through the leg hole …
I’d changed diapers before. Quite a few of them. I’d done my first one that day in the damp crib, while my mother’s dead body lay on the floor of the living room .
“Dave.” Zara’s voice was low and steady, and it broke through the fog of my panic .
“Yeah?” I forced myself to stand still for a second .
Deep yoga breath in …
“Are you okay ?”
“Sure,” I grunted. It might even be true eventually .
“Have you ever had perry ?”
Breathe . “Who’s Perry ?
Zara’s smile was the kind you get when someone was tolerating your strangeness. “Not who. What. Perry is pear cider .”
“You can do that?” I watched her pretty face and tried to calm down .
“Sure. I’ll show you .”
Zara had already tucked herself back into her dress. Now she lifted a sleepy Nicole onto her shoulder and stood. The baby wrapped one chubby arm around her neck and tucked her face onto Zara’s neck. “Let’s walk the long way so this one gets lazy .”
She pointed down a row of trees and I followed .
My heart rate descended back into the normal range as we walked slowly through the orchard. Nicole was completely zonked out on Zara’s shoulder. Supporting her sleeping body looked cumbersome, and I realized I was basically letting a woman carry a heavy object while I walked beside her unaware. “Hey. You want me to take her ?”
She stopped, turning to me with amusement on her face . “ Sure ?”
“Unless she’ll wake up during the handoff .”
“It’ll work. Sleep is the deepest right after you go under .”
Well, okay then. I held out my hands, and Zara grasped her daughter and turned her. I bent my knees and hastily brought her against me, tucking her head against my shoulder with one hand .
And then I was holding my sleeping baby girl for the first time .
“There you go,” Zara said, looking more amused than absolutely necessary .
We walked on, coming to a fenced-in area where chickens pecked at the grass. Some were reddish and some had blond feathers. A single rooster walked towards us on his claw-like feet, cocking his head at me and blinking reptilian eyes. He opened his mouth and let out a loud crow of warning .
The baby on my shoulder did not stir .
“I think he’s telling us to back off,” I said, as the rooster crowed again .
“No way,” Zara scoffed, giving the rooster a casual wave. “I think he’s just showing off. ‘These are all my wives. Aren’t they pretty?’ Just like a man, really .”
Something tight inside my chest loosened up, and I laughed as the hens began to cluck. It was like a fucking storybook around here .