8. Carter
8
CARTER
I ’m slightly concerned by the amount of cheese, crackers, and fruit on the tray next to soft drinks on the coffee table in Oliver’s living room.
“Did you hear me, Son?” My father, Edward Oaks, is the man that everyone in town would lay out the red carpet for. Truthfully, I’m not sure why he didn’t run for mayor before he retired, but maybe he is projecting his life ambitions onto me. He’s over the top with his quest for me to win, yet it’s almost too humorous.
“Seriously, Carter, Deputy Sheriff Jones is ready to walk into your spot when you hang up the badge. Now, you need to ensure that you’re at that end-of-summer festival in a few weeks. That’s prime time to shake hands and throw on a smile for local businesses,” he reiterates, because I might have let my thoughts float to other pressing issues.
My mother whispers something to Jane, the woman handling press and marketing. By that I mean she plasters a poster up here and there and tells the weekly Everhope Times what to write. The only thing earth-shattering that she has come up with is that there is a black-tie charity function next month where county and state politicians will be present, with my name even thrown around for a congressional seat one day.
“I hear you all.” I give everyone a little salute.
“Good. I love your talking points. County road updates. More funding to schools. Local business incentives. What about population growth?” my brother cheekily lists, and his last comment doesn’t fly by me.
I give him a warning glare. “Why are you here, again?”
“Because this is my home which I offered for your campaign headquarters since your house is for peaceful Zen only, and I wanted a snack. My wife is busy shopping with Ros—” He stops when he realizes whose name he is about to say.
It’s too late. My mother’s head perks up at record speed because her radar to my love life is disconcerting.
“Rose? She’s here?” She begins to look around like a headless chicken. “Someone mentioned they saw her the other day, but I laughed it off that they must have been mistaken.”
Right on cue, the front door opens, with Hailey and Rosie laughing, each holding a shopping bag. Their laughter fades as soon as they realize that we’re not alone.
“Oliver,” his wife greets him with a raised octave. “I thought you were supposed to be finished by four,” she mutters under her tight smile as her eyes circle the room. By her side, Rosie’s face is blank, unsure what to do.
“We ran over time. Something about free coffee for voters,” he replies and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.
“Love the communication with a warning text,” she retorts.
I stand and usher myself to Rosie. “Perhaps everyone can give us a minute,” I suggest.
“Why? Do you two need to talk? Maybe you should do that over dinner. Absolutely, go to dinner and talk.” My mom’s enthusiasm really needs to be checked by a doctor.
“ Yeah. Dinner is probably a few steps behind,” Oliver notes to himself.
Everyone privy to the details of our news whips their gaze to Oliver.
“Uh, hi, everyone.” Rosie gives a little wiggle of her fingers. “I-I… was just in town to see Hailey,” she lies.
I rub my face with my hands, all eyes on me.
“How about we go to the other room to talk,” I recommend to Rosie.
She nods in agreement, and we quickly exit the room down the hall near the garage where Jet has been baby gated in the laundry room because my dad hates that dog.
“Shit. They weren’t supposed to be here,” Rosie lowers her voice and looks panicked.
I touch her arm to calm her, even though I might be having a little freakout, too. “I think we have no choice. They’re never going to let me forget that you and I are in the same room right now. Plus, you said week by week, and apparently, this is our week.”
Rosie fans her face with her hand. “Okay, you’re right. It’s not like they’re my parents. You should be the one who might be having a meltdown, not me. It’s your responsibility to handle this.”
My lips roll in and my face strains because I’m well aware that she is right. “Fair point. I’ll tell them.”
“Right. You’ll tell them.” She doesn’t sound too convinced.
“ Yep . I’ll tell them that you’re pregnant.” I don’t seem to be moving.
She gawks at me. “Are you sure? You seem to be a little, I don’t know… edgy? Could it be the sheriff in town is scared of his own parents? What a surprise.” She’s toying with me and feigns shock by bringing her hand to her mouth.
“You’ve been in my shoes, so don’t even go there.” My voice rises a tad in a loud whisper.
“Oh, don’t you dare remind me of telling my parents before I packed a bag and left. Just tell them I’m pregnant.” Her tone matches my own.
The dog whimpers, and his ears perk up as his tail wiggles. Rosie and I stall as the air seems to shift.
“Why is it quiet?” I ask. “Why do I suddenly hear nothing from the other room?”
Rosie’s sight lifts to over my shoulder. “Because I think they’ve been listening.” Her face screws up.
Of course, this is how this is going to play out.
I turn on my heel and make my way back to the room, with Rosie not far behind. She nearly runs into me when I stop as I enter the living room and my mother scurries away from the entrance, clearly having listened in. She goes to sit down then pretends to dust lint off her skirt.
You could hear a pin drop.
My father’s face is resigned, and Oliver smirks to himself and tosses a cube of cheese into his mouth. Hailey and Jane just pretend to be focusing on the ceiling.
“I guess you… might… have heard.” It’s uneven coming out of my mouth.
“What might that be, dear?” My mother is composed yet clearly about to burst, and she never calls me dear.
A laugh bubbles deep in the back of my throat. “Rosie and I are having a baby.”
My mom jumps up and claps her hands together. “This is wonderful news. The best news. You two are back together, and I’m finally going to be a grandma.” She’s nearly skipping to Rosie.
“We’re not back together,” I correct her.
Her festive demeanor is popped. “Don’t be silly. Of course, you are.”
My dad is suddenly rejuvenated. “Now, Carter, this is wonderful news. A great time, too. We can really angle the family man persona for the campaign. It’s only fitting that you two are together if you are having a baby together. It really connects with people in our neck of the woods.”
Rosie’s eyes go bold just like my own; she’s struggling to believe what I’m hearing.
“Oh, Edward, give it a rest… for now.” My mom is holding Rosie’s arms and drops her eyes to her belly. “How far along?”
“You don’t need to do calculations, okay?” I intercept. I’m not going to let her count back in her head to the wedding, even if it is fucking obvious. It’s her fault for dragging Rosie to that day, and it’s her fault that I’m torturing myself by having Rosie sleeping in the bedroom next to mine when she should be with me.
“Wedding. My wedding,” Oliver butts in, and his wife elbows him which causes him to yelp.
Another squeal from my mom, and I wish the floor would swallow me whole. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
Rosie is unsure how to react, but she manages to hold onto an uneasy smile.
Straightening my spine, I bite the inside of my cheek. “Okay, I think this meeting is adjourned.”
“You’re right. I should grab some cigars from home so we can celebrate and talk strategy.” My dad is off his fucking rocker.
I need to get us out of here as soon as possible.
I bring my fingers to the corners of my mouth and whistle to quiet the room. It works, and I even hear Jet let out a woof from down the hall. Everyone stares at me.
“Calm down. You found out. Keep your mouths shut. It’s early still. Yes, Rosie is living with me. No, we’re not back together, and I swear, Oliver…” I point my finger at him with a hardened look. “I could strangle you right now due to your commentary.”
He grabs another cracker from the tray. “Trust me, you will do no such thing, as you’re channeling your inner softer side since you’re going to be dad.” He winks at me, and his wife elbows him again.
In the corner of my eye, I notice Rosie’s face is turning a little red. “Do you think we can get out of here? It feels a little warm.”
I touch her arm and shoot daggers around the room. “Of course.”
“Don’t forget to grab the snack tray. I might want it later.” That makes me crack a smile at least.
* * *
We walk along Everhope Road with our arms touching as we stroll and I balance the tray in one hand. We’ve been a little quiet, and we’ve walked one block.
Perhaps, it’s because it’s calming on the street with only the sound of a lawn mower in the distance and some kids playing ball a block up ahead. Someone checking their mailbox and saying hi. It’s all the things that one would want in neighbors.
At least we no longer need to worry about who sees us together. That’s a relief, but Rosie is quiet.
“You okay?” I ask.
She continues to step slowly, one foot in front of the other, and stare down at the sidewalk. “Yeah, sure… not really.”
I stop and touch her arm to encourage her to face me. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s silly.”
“No. What is it?”
She nibbles the corner of her mouth. “What?” I wonder.
“Appearances and all. Is that why you insisted that I move in?”
My eyes grow big, and my mouth opens to adjust to the silliness that just left her mouth. “Are you serious?” She nods once, and I snort a laugh in response. “Absolutely not.”
The evening sun glows an orange hue on her face as she looks up and down the street. “Okay, I just thought that I would ask. I heard the words strategy, and I don’t know, my head kind of connected dots that maybe it makes sense, the whole sell-the-image kind of thing.”
If it wasn’t for our snack necessities, then I would throw away the tray that I balance on my arm so I could touch her with both hands. Instead, I have to deal with one hand. Crooking my fingers, I scoop up her chin to lift her sparkly eyes up to chain with my own.
“It’s Everhope. I’m not sure the need to sell an image is a necessity. The current mayor literally walks around in jeans and a polo. People here are just happy to have farmers’ markets and clean streets. Besides, you know me better. I wouldn’t do that. I want you to be in my house. For so many reasons, but that isn’t one. It never even crossed my mind. You believe me when I say that, right?”
She nods. “Sorry. I just… my thoughts are everywhere these days.”
“Mine too. You don’t need to say sorry, I understand why you asked, but there is no need to. I promise,” I assure her.
She now wears a tiny smile. “It’s also kind of weird. I mean, do you really want to be mayor?”
“Why not?”
She snickers and steps back. “It’s not your parents pressuring you or boredom? You love being sheriff, and you won’t be allowed to do both.”
“Yeah, but I’m ready for a change. It’s less dangerous, too.”
Now she giggles. “Right.” The way she licks her lips, with her wry smile staying fixed, tells me she’s remembering something. “I used to be scared that you would get hurt or have to answer a robbery call or something. But then you would always remind me that in this county the worse that can happen is denied permits or a hockey player speeding and trying to avoid a ticket. The only time you got hurt on the job was when a drunk guy tried to throw a bottle at a raccoon and you had to intervene. Not exactly city life. Still…”
This is the part that I always love to hear her say.
“I worry.”
That’s the part.
“Do you still?” I wonder.
Her mouth twitches. “I do.”
That warms me still the same as it did before. “Luckily, mayor is a lot less risk. The only concern is when those city council meetings can cause a few tempers to flare.”
She steps to me and reaches out to touch my shirt near my shoulder. There is no reason to, but she does. “You really want to be the guy without a badge and handcuffs?”
“Handcuffs can still stay a part of my life, just in a different way.”
It causes her to blush, and as much as I’m teasing her, I’m really not.
“Fair enough. You want to listen to complaints and cut ribbon when the library has a new statue?”
“I do. I’ve been sheriff for many years now.”
“So, you want to get your hands dirty with suggested proposals and laws and meeting minutes and all of that boring stuff before getting your picture taken because we have the state-winning pickle and you have to take a bite. And no, there is no inuendo there.”
My fingers wrap around her wrist with her fingers close to me. Soft and tiny but not willing to fall because we’re touching.
“In life, sometimes things change.”
Like us.
“Okay then. I’ll support you and not ask questions.”
That causes me to smile. “That’s nice to hear. Supporting me doesn’t mean we need to pretend to be back together if we’re not. If people don’t want to vote for me because of that, then this isn’t the town I want to represent.”
She chuckles. “Now that is some serious political marketing right there… but you mean it.”
“I do,” I reply in earnest.
We stand there, not breaking contact, and I want to swipe away her wistful smile with a kiss, but I can’t. We’re having a baby, which is why we have to tread carefully with whatever we do.
One squeeze of her wrist and I let her go, feeling the loss as soon as her fingers drop.
“Come on, we have a snack plate ready for us to conquer.” I lead us on the journey to the house.
This time, Rosie walks even closer by my side.
“You’ll always be my hero with a badge.” She says it so dreamingly.
This woman has always been this way. Saying things to cause people to lift their hearts. And she often hides a little bit of truth underneath the surface.
Which is why I’m waiting for the hint of what she wants.
It’s better to be patient than snap and tell her how it’s going to go.
My way.