31. A Helping Hand
A HELPING HAND
“Baker. Bakeeerrrr,” Micah hollered, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“He’s coming,” she assured her son on Saturday afternoon, crouching to his level. “He just ran home to change. And maybe,” she poked him playfully in the belly, “you shouldn’t have painted his shirt.”
Micah giggled, lifting his freshly scrubbed hands high in the air like proof of innocence.
Or maybe she shouldn’t have let him finger-paint knowing they were headed to her parents’ house shortly.
She straightened, blowing out a slow breath. She was way more nervous than Baker.
It had been years—years—since anyone she’d dated had met her parents. Long enough that the idea alone made her stomach flutter uncomfortably. She wasn’t sure she was ready for the inevitable lecture if they didn’t like him.
Or worse—the pressure if they did.
She glanced at the clock for what had to be the tenth time in five minutes, then forced herself to stop before she wore a hole through the wall with her vision.
“Okay, buddy,” she said, clapping her hands together with more energy than she felt. “Let’s get you changed.”
Micah zoomed past her down the hall, his bare feet slapping against the floor on the way to his room.
She hoisted him up and put him on the changing table, pulled his jean shorts off, grabbed another diaper, then unfastened the one he was wearing that was soaking wet, and swapped them out.
The minute she pulled his shorts back up, she saw the blue paint on the bottom of his red shirt.
“Ready!” Micah shouted.
“Not quite. You got paint on your shirt.” She lifted him off the changing table, grunting while she did. He was getting heavy to keep doing this.
He let out another giggle as if he knew and was trying to hide it from her.
His arms went in the air, getting in position for her to lift it over his head, which she did, sending his hair up with it.
Just another thing she’d have to take care of.
She found his blue T-shirt with the little dump truck on the front.
She helped him into his sneakers, tying the laces while her thoughts spun. What if her parents asked too many questions? What if they liked Baker more than she was ready for them to? What if they saw something she was trying not to think too hard about herself?
“Mama,” Micah said, touching her cheek. There was red paint on the inside of his arm. Good lord, it was no wonder Baker got it on his shirt. She missed so much.
“We need to get you washed up better.”
He took off toward the bathroom next to his room, then reached for the tub, but she pulled his stool closer to the sink, letting him know where she wanted him.
He didn’t hesitate to step up and smile in the mirror as if he had been told to say “cheese”.
She brushed his hair and kissed the top of his head, washed his hands and his arms, looked for any other signs of paint she might have missed, and lifted him high before setting him down.
She could do this. She’d handled far scarier things than a Saturday afternoon with her parents.
She stood, tugging her shirt back into place after it’d lifted picking up her son, then left the bathroom to chase after Micah when she heard the knock at the door.
Her heart jumped anyway.
“That’s Baker,” she said, inhaling deeply before opening the door, hoping like hell her nerves didn’t show. “It was unlocked. You could have just come in.”
He looked unsure of her statement. “I didn’t know if you were busy or not.”
She laughed. “You left fifteen minutes ago. The only busy thing I was doing was changing Micah and cleaning him up.”
“Paint on my arm,” Micah said, lifting them in the air. “And shirt.”
“So I wasn’t the only one,” he said, laughing, then squatted down and lifted her son who stood there with his arms still raised.
The sight of Micah resting on Baker’s hip sent off an avalanche of thoughts, emotions, and giddiness in her body that had no business being there for a man she’d only known for three months.
Right or not. She was a person who needed time.
It wasn’t just her, it was about Micah.
Not that her son seemed to have one care in the world as he jabbered about his trucks and said he wanted to leave.
She walked over and got the diaper bag, then her purse. “We’re ready now.”
“I’m blocking you. I’ll pull back in once we get your car out of the garage.”
“We can take yours. I’ll get the car seat out.”
He reached for the bag on her shoulder, not caring it was pink and floral, just carrying like a manly gym bag.
She came out of the garage with the seat, put it in the back, then let Baker buckle her son in. He did it faster without Micah wiggling around and it just proved how nice it was to have a helping hand in things.
They were on the way with her giving him directions.
“You seem nervous,” he said. “Why? They aren’t going to pounce out from behind the walls and tackle me or something, are they?”
She laughed. “No. It’s just been so long since someone has met them.”
“Not as long as it’s been since I’ve met someone’s parents. If I’m not that nervous, you shouldn’t be.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
He reached his hand over and rubbed her leg. “You’re one of the most confident women I know. Nothing is going to bother me if that is what you’re worried about.”
It really wasn’t, but if she told him the things going through her mind, it’d only make it worse.
There was no reason for him to be worked up when she was being silly. She knew it.
She just had to get over it.
The fifteen-minute drive felt more like three seconds in her mind before they pulled into her parents’ driveway.
The front door opened before Baker even shut his SUV off.
Of course it did. Just adding more nerves to her already unsettled stomach.
This was ridiculous. She knew it. But her parents could say any number of things and always had. Always things that put pressure on her, and it was the last thing she wanted in front of Baker.
She knew her parents were excited, but good lord, they weren’t helping her any.
Then she had to ask herself why they needed to help relax her?
How many years had she kept them in the dark on her personal life? So it stood to reason they were thrilled to be let in now.
“No, Mama. Baker,” Micah said when she went to get him out of the back.
“You heard him,” he said, laughing, and nudged her out of the way to get her son.
Yep, there was her mother’s grin watching the show and just loving the fact her son chose her boyfriend over her.
“Hi. I’m Gillian. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“The same,” he said, putting his hand out to shake, holding Micah when he started to squirm.
Micah at least went to his grandmother shouting, “Nana!” So Baker released him.
“Hey there, little man.”
“Papa!”
She rolled her eyes. “As you can see, Micah loves spending time with his grandparents.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with that,” he said.
They made their way into the house, Micah taking off running toward her father who was standing in the center of the living room, his arms crossed, ready to hold the fort down against the new man in her life.
Oh my God. Her father had never done this before. What was happening?
“Dad, this is Baker Hansen. Baker, my father, Ron.”
Baker moved forward and put his hand out to shake once Micah was lifted by his grandfather.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“The same,” her father said, but he wasn’t smiling like he normally did. He wasn’t as open or as friendly either.
This was crazy.
“Dad,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
Her father nodded his head to go outside. “I’ve got something new for Micah.”
“Okayyyy,” she said, dragging the word out. It wasn’t like that should be a reason for his grumpiness.
The only thing saving her from freaking out was the fact her mother was smiling and offering a drink to Baker.
The minute they were outside, her father said, “Am I supposed to give him a hard time or what?”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“You haven’t brought someone home in years. Your mother said you love him and he loves you. I could see out the window how easily Micah wants to be with him.”
“All of those things,” she said, smiling. “Are you trying to protect me?” Was that what this was all about?
“Get that silly look off your face. Your mother said I need to be firm so that Baker knows not to mess with you.”
She laughed. “Dad. That’s not you. Why are you acting that way? Especially since Mom is in there being overly sweet.”
Her father put Micah down and let him run toward the plastic swing set.
“I don’t know how to act. It’s been years since someone came home with you. The last thing I want to worry about is you locking us out again. I just want you happy and you seem it. If you like this guy.”
“I love him.”
“If you love this guy, then I’m happy for you. You’re smart. You know there is more on the line this time around.”
She went into her father’s arms. “Thanks, Dad. I do. I want to say I know what I’m doing. But I really appreciate the attitude you’ve got about this.”
“We all always say we know what we are doing, but don’t necessarily. Your mom, she gets ahead of herself. I’ve told her to dial it back for years. We see how stubborn you can get and I’m not having that come between us again.”
“Thank you.”
She hadn’t realized just how much her father had stepped up for her.
The words Jolene had told Baker rang true. Or came back.
That a mother was always fearful of pushing their child away, even if they thought they were doing the right thing.
The same could be said about a father.
Her parents always were a good team. Maybe they were just sad that she was doing it alone.
But she wasn’t alone anymore.
And she was going to let them see that today.