10. ten
ten
Nora
October
After a wild shift at the diner on Friday, I barely have time to get home, shower, and pick up Ollie from my neighbor’s daycare before heading to Alice Park off Main where the Harvest Market is held. I’ve shopped at the market with my mom and sisters for nearly a decade, and for the first time, I’ll be selling my own products at my very own booth. Though I’m trying not to have any real expectations for how things will go tonight, the nerves have fully settled in. My stomach feels like I chewed and swallowed an entire pack of Bubblicious bubble gum.
Don’t do it, Nora. Don’t follow that little Hansel and Gretel trail to where thoughts of bubblegum inevitably lead in my brain.
Kissing Brooks.
A little shiver traces down my spine at the thought. I quickly turn my attention back to the smooth, cool texture of the mug in my hands instead. I’ve got to be present tonight. No more thinking about Brooks. Although, holding this mug is not helping. Every mug I’ve made since Brooks told me he wants one has been carefully and consciously crafted with the knowledge that the sweet little thing could end up being used by him. Cradled in his hands. Caressed by his lips.
Could it be you, mug seventeen with the speckled texture and the wide handle, perfect for the athletic hand of a baseball player?
Yeah…I’ve lost it.
I also priced a few items at twenty-eight dollars before realizing that it was Brooks’ number. Now I see the number 28 everywhere I go.
I glance down to check the time. 4:28 . I suck in a gasp and shove my phone back into my coat pocket. Maybe I’m just looking for it, or maybe I’ve genuinely cracked.
“How does this look?” Sydney asks, gesturing to the display shelf she’d arranged for me while I was at work. Trent had made it especially for me and brought it down in his truck. I don’t know what I would do without the two of them.
“It looks perfect! You’re so good at these things, Sydney,” I reply, scanning the park for Ollie and Trent. He offered to take him to the playground while Sydney and I finished setting up. The whole deal takes longer than I anticipated it would, and the residents of Kitt’s Harbor have already started filing through the pathway lined with string lights and white tents by the time we’re finished.
“My goodness!” an accented voice calls out a moment later. “She’s finally done it!”
Carol, the owner of our favorite local sweet spot, Brickyard Bakery, comes barreling towards us, gathering both me and my sister into her arms for a hug.
“Look at these, Nora!” Carol gasps, admiring a row of citrus juicers I’d made. “Oh, I’m going to need one. Maybe two.”
Her joy-filled inspection of my pieces fills me with a vibrant glow. I carefully wrap the items she selects while Sydney takes her payment.
“See?” Sydney says once Carol is gone. “I told you everyone would be eager to support you.”
Her prediction proves correct. My hand-thrown creations are picked off one by one by old friends from high school, teachers, and neighbors. Trent eventually returns with Ollie, who’s now crusted in something red and sticky.
“Uncle T gave me a treat,” he says with bright, wild eyes.
“I can see that,” I say, taking him from Trent.
“I’ll be back,” Trent says, looking furtively at the gathering crowd of people around the booth. No doubt he’s going to hide out in his truck for a minute to recoup.
I hoist Ollie up on my hip and rummage through my diaper bag with my free hand for some baby wipes. I’ve got the container popped open and am trying to separate one single wipe from the endless string of folded wipes that inevitably comes out when I hear someone approach the booth.
I turn to glance over my shoulder, and that’s when I see him. Across the way, perusing a selection of Rose Marie’s famous salsas, is Brooks Alden. He’s with the twins, looking tall and lean and wearing a hat, clearly trying and failing to blend in. The lines of his masculine profile are lit by the warm glow of the string lights. Between the sweep of his long lashes and the scruff on his jawline, he’s nothing short of beautiful. He has no business looking so attractive while sampling chips and salsa. He should have chip crumbs and tomato dribbles all over his chin at the very least.
So shocked am I at the sight of Brooks and his sisters, that the crinkly container in my hand falls to the ground, pulling a waterfall of wipes out with it. I curse under my breath.
“I heard that,” Sydney says without looking at me.
“Shut up,” I hiss, my heart pumping with nervous anticipation. What if Brooks sees me? What if he comes over to talk to me? I am completely unprepared to see him like this. With my oversized puffer jacket covering most of my outfit and my wet hair slicked back into a low bun, I look like a freaking Founding Father.
Ollie whines out mama in a long drawl, and I start wildly flapping the attached wipes around, trying to get one to break apart from the bunch. I whisper-swear, and I can tell Sydney’s about to tell me off again, but just then a pair of bright voices interrupts my curse. Sydney notices I’m in no state to greet customers and hurries to cover for me.
“Well, if it isn’t our baseball buddies!”
I wince, recognizing Claire Alden’s voice immediately. Ollie decides that now is a great time to attempt to squeeze both of my cheeks together with his sticky palms. Great. Now I probably have two Ollie-sized red handprints on my cheekbones.
By some miracle, I finally work a wipe free and set Ollie on his feet. I stuff the rest back into the container before quickly swiping the wipe over Ollie’s face and hands. I try to discreetly rub the wipe over my face, hoping Sydney will be a dear and tell me if I’ve still got an unidentifiable substance smeared all over my cheek when I turn around.
Once Ollie is situated back on my hip, I work up the courage to face the inevitable.
“Ahh, there’s the artist!” Caroline says as I turn around.
Brooks is standing a foot behind his sisters at the edge of the pathway, awash in the glow of the market lights. It’s like the magic of the evening collects around his edges, the smell of cinnamon and the sound of the girl playing acoustic covers swirling together all at once.
Brooks meets my eyes, and I feel like I’ve just dropped into another dimension. One where he and I are something to each other still. He ducks under the edge of the tent and his presence immediately fills it. He’s even more handsome than I imagined when we text. Real and fully dimensional and unexpectedly here .
“Hi,” he says softly, giving me another warm, disarming smile. I feel my stomach drop another level in my gut at the sound of his voice. It’s lower and deeper, more gravelly than I remember.
“Hi,” I reply, sounding dazed.
“Mama,” Ollie says into my ear, snapping me back to reality. I startle and take a step towards Brooks, knocking right into the table that I forgot was there to separate me from the customers.
I’m winning tonight.
“Who put that table there?” I say, making Ollie laugh. Oh, well. Brooks already knows how clumsy I am.
“Is this your son?” Brooks asks, turning his gaze to Ollie. I nod.
I’m not sure what I expected Brooks to do when he met Ollie for the first time. I definitely hadn’t pictured it happening tonight. I don’t know how much Brooks knows about what happened between Nate and me, but he doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest.
“What’s up, Ollie?” Brooks says, putting his knuckles out for a fist bump. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Ollie smacks Brooks’ knuckles with his own and grins up at him shyly, laying his head on my shoulder. It’s only then that I realize that everyone else in the tent has gone silent and is zeroed in on the interaction taking place. My gaze flits over Sydney, Claire, and Caroline, who are all staring at us with sappy smiles on their faces. I’m surprised nobody is shedding tears.
“Thanks for coming by,” I say, trying to draw them out of their stupors. “I didn’t know you guys would be here tonight.”
“Brooks came to visit my fourth graders today,” Claire explains. “Career day. The kids were thrilled.”
All heads swivel to Brooks again. “It was a good time.” He glances my way, as if expecting me to contribute to the conversation, but I’m only half here. I think the rest of me is back in high school, looking at Brooks and feeling like the luckiest girl in the world that I get to call him mine.
“That’s so sweet of you to come all the way out here to do that,” Sydney says when I fail to speak up. The half of me stuck in the past zooms back into my body, and I startle. Sydney gives me a concerned look that reads, What’s your problem? Speak up, woman!
“You know Claire. I didn’t have much choice in the matter,” Brooks replies. His eyes drift to mine, and my heart wonders if he knew I’d be here tonight.
“He did great. Pretty sure half the kids in my class now want to be professional baseball players,” Claire says.
“Who wouldn’t after meeting the real deal?” Sydney says. “Thanks again for letting us sit with your family for Dad’s birthday.”
“Of course,” Brooks says. “I’m just sorry that was the game you had to see.”
“Don’t say that,” I say, somehow finding my voice. Brooks’ gaze collides with mine again. “It was a great game.”
“Yeah, Brooks. Quit beating yourself up about it, would you?” Caroline says with an affectionate squeeze around her brother’s shoulders. “We’re all over it, aren’t we, everyone?”
“Over it,” Sydney says.
“Totally moved on,” Claire says.
Brooks is still watching me with interest, his gaze so open and honest that I’m almost grateful when Ollie starts reaching for the ground, forcing me to set him down. But of course when I do, he immediately darts around the edge of the table and tries to make a break for it.
“Whoa,” Brooks says, swiping at Ollie. “Where are you off to?” He catches him under the arms and swings him through the air playfully. “He’s fast.”
“You’re telling me,” I reply, watching as Brooks gently sets Ollie down. Ollie grins up at him. “Oh, no. You made that too fun.”
Sure enough, Ollie giggles and tries to run away, and Brooks easily snatches him up and swings him in a wider arc before setting him down again.
Ollie starts pulling Brooks away from the group with each mini sprint he takes, so I squeeze past the table to get closer in case I need to interfere.
“This is amazing,” Brooks says, gesturing to the tent.
“I know. I love the Harvest Market. It always makes me feel like fall is officially here.”
“I was talking about your booth,” Brooks clarifies.
“Oh! Thank you,” I say sheepishly. “I had a lot of help.”
Brooks sets Ollie down again, and before he can run away, I catch him by the arm. I clearly should have named him Houdini because he twists easily out of my grasp with a cackle.
“Why don’t you two go walk around with Ollie for a little bit?” Sydney suggests. “I can man the fort for you.”
Not a bad suggestion. Though, I’m docking my sister ten points for her lack of subtlety.
“Do you want to go look around?” I ask Ollie, half-hoping he says no so Sydney can’t take credit for getting Brooks and I off on our own.
Ollie nods excitedly. “Let’s walk,” he says, reaching out a chubby little hand…for Brooks to take.
I swallow at the sudden thickness gathering in my throat as I watch Ollie slip his tiny hand into Brooks’ big palm. He doesn’t even know this man and is immediately so trusting of him.
“Have fun!” Claire says with a naughty wink. I hurry after Brooks and Ollie.
“Looks like Ollie is taking you for a walk whether you like it or not,” I say, falling into step with Brooks on the pathway between the tents.
“I don’t mind.”
“Come on, Mama.” Ollie reaches up and takes my hand, too, connecting the three of us together. We walk in silence at Ollie’s pace for a minute, his hands gripping our respective fingers tightly.
“Hope you weren’t planning on continuing your baseball career,” I say. “Ollie’s death-grip might cause some permanent damage to your hand.”
Brooks laughs, and my heart lurches at the sound of it. It’s been so long since I’ve heard him laugh. I used to live for that sound. It awakens something youthful and innocent inside of me. That same bubbly, sweet feeling I get every time he texts me.
“I can handle it,” he says, and I finally look up to find him already staring at me.
Brooks looks totally at ease as we wander through the market together with Ollie between us. He has no idea what he’s doing to me right now. How walking with him, even in this casual way, turns my world entirely upside down.
A fraction of the fear I’ve held onto since the divorce and Ollie’s birth falls away as Brooks briefly smiles at me. It’s like I’ve caught a glimpse of a possibility I haven’t allowed myself to entertain. The possibility of finding someone who will love Ollie and me with a gentle, steady kind of love. For the first time in two years, the chance of finding the kind of love my heart so desperately yearns for feels possible.
I had thought after Brooks and I broke up and he left for good that we simply weren’t meant to be. I learned to be okay with that. But memories and feelings are resurfacing, daring me to hope that maybe things could be different this time. The thought both excites and terrifies me. But I can’t deny the sense of a weight being lifted off my shoulders and the unexplainable, deep need to try .