Single Dad Seeking Love

1. Welcome to the Farm of Despair

“What is this place?” I mutter to myself.

I navigate the car past a big concrete barn next to an outbuilding a gust of wind could knock over. Since turning off the main road up from Belfast and on to this one-lane, pothole nightmare, there hasn’t been a single sign with directions. The GPS on my phone isn’t much help – connection is fickle at best up here on the north coast.

“Dad! I see a cow!”

The corner of my mouth tugs for a second at the excited voice from the backseat.

“Yeah?”

I want to give Adam my full attention, but I’m still trying to find an elusive sign telling me I’m in the right place, but there’s nothing. I must have passed the entrance. I swear under my breath and turn down to the right between two farm buildings so I can reverse and double back.

That’s where I see it, the sign.

“Reception” is written crudely on an A4 page stuffed in a poly pocket and stuck on the wall with duct tape.

“Wow. Impressive.”

I sigh and park up. I guess I can’t expect much more for fifteen pounds a night.

“Can we go see the cow?” Adam asks as I unbuckle his seatbelt and lift him out of the car and into my arms. At four, he’s more than old enough to walk himself, but he’s been clingy since I moved out. And truth be told, I need him to need me – what else is there for me but my son’s love?

“We have to check in first, buddy. There will be plenty of time to see the cows,” I promise.

The door to the reception is open – if you could call it a reception. The makeshift desk is a foldable picnic table. Brochures and paperwork surround a laptop. A hand-drawn map is all that’s up on the grey concrete walls. And at the far wall? A small ice cream freezer.

For the second time in a few minutes the corner of my mouth tugs. I don’t smile often these days, but the sweet, round jean-clad ass sticking up in the air while the whole of the torso is in the freezer is kind of funny. The person lifts up on the toes of their green wellies to get even deeper.

“Ah, there you are, you little devil,” echoes from the belly of the freezer.

Adam slams his tiny hand over his lips to stop his giggle.

The torso slowly emerges over the edge, a narrow waist, then brown hair in a thick ponytail tumbling down their back, almost touching that nice round ass. Arms appear last, one of them holding a cone-shaped ice cream. The lid of the freezer slides shut, and the person turns.

And screams.

Adam’s giggle breaks through his fingers and I try to hide my grin.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you,” I tell the girl.

“Oh, you didn’t, I, um…” Her cheeks turn a charming tone of pink and her ice cream-free hand pushes some loose strands of hair behind her ear. Clear blue eyes meet mine, fleetingly, before she hurries behind the desk. “Are you here to check in?”

She’s not a girl, I realise as I see her in profile. Her tempting curves are those of a woman.

A woman much too young for me.

“We are indeed.”

She places the ice cream on the desk.

“What’s the name please?” She glances up at me through her lashes and I can’t avoid noticing that her gaze travels down the length of me. I straighten, hiking Adam higher up on my hip. When was the last time anyone checked me out?

“It’s Jamie Carson.”

A few clicks on the laptop. A few more clicks. Shuffling through some papers. Back to more clicking. The pinch of her eyebrows would have been cute if it wasn’t my booking she’s desperately searching for. She’d better not have lost it. I can’t spend the next two weeks trying to entertain a four-year-old in my cramped apartment that is hardly a step above a bedsit.

“Ah, there you are,” she says finally, holding a piece of paper up in the air.

My shoulders drop.

“So, Jamie Carson. Welcome to McBride Farm Campsite. I’m Julie.”

Julie’s smile is blinding, and I find myself smiling back. Camping was the cheapest holiday I could find these two weeks that I have Adam – it’s not like I have money to splurge on a hotel or B B.

“Thank you, Julie. This is Adam.”

“Hi, Adam.” She grins, and my son whispers his hello while hiding his face in my neck. Still needs some work charming the ladies, my boy.

“Adam is really excited about seeing the cows,” I say, trying to coax him from hiding.

“Oh, then you’re in luck, Adam,” Julie says with added excitement, placing both hands on the table and giving my son all her attention. “There are lots and lots of cows here, this campsite is on a farm, you know?”

Adam glances at her. “Can we see the cows from the tent?”

“You can indeed. The field where they graze is directly behind it.”

“Yey! Can we put up the tent now?”

“Let’s quickly get you checked in first.” Julie laughs and studies our reservation. “Uh… so you have booked… just the site, without electric hook-up?”

“That’s right.”

“We still have some sites with electric and a water tap if you’re interested? It’s a fiver more a night.”

“Nah, we’d like to go rustic,” I reply, cringing inwardly.

“No problem. Most parents like the electric hook-up for all their kids’ electronics and toys.” Damn, didn’t think of that. “And the adults’ toys as well, of course.”

“The adult toys?” I ask and lift an eyebrow.

Julie’s gaze widens and her cheeks turn crimson.

“I-I mean their phones and laptops and stuff.”

I chuckle quietly. “I know what you mean, Julie. I’m only messing.”

She giggles, a sweet little sound. “You can come here, to the reception and charge…Adam’s toys if you need to.”

She bites her lower lip. Is she flirting with me? She’s pretty, but the last thing I should be doing is flirting with someone, especially someone who looks like they’re barely legal. Then again, Alison was eying up other men even before we were officially separated – and she’s now dating again – so why shouldn’t I flirt?

Hell, I’ve always jumped right into another relationship after a break-up, but it’s different when it’s a marriage that falls apart, compared to a relationship without legal bindings and a child. I haven’t even tried to search for someone else. And where would I find another woman? The last six years, my social circle has been Alison’s family and friends who became our family, our friends. They are now all back to being only hers. And the IT company I work for has changed to remote home working permanently, so I can’t even chat up a colleague by the copier.

With my own family living on the other side of the planet in Australia, I haven’t just lost a wife, I’ve lost everyone in my daily life as I knew it.

The only thing left is Adam. My arms flex around him.

Hanging out with this charming young woman while I charge Adam’s pad may be what I need. Some harmless flirting never hurt anyone. “I might take you up on that,” I say in a deeper tone and wink at her. Dimples appear on Julie’s cheeks as she bites down on her lip to stop the grin that threatens to split her face.

“What’s going on here?”

I startle and turn quickly.

A massive body fills the doorframe. Massive as in impressive. Wide shoulders and muscular arms under a stained white t-shirt. Trunks for legs lead into wellies that must be size fourteen if not sixteen. I glance up at the man’s face where brows are drawn together above scowling eyes and the frown around the mouth highlights high cheekbones. Brown hair is tied back in a short ponytail. I wonder what it looks like, out of the confines of the rubber band?

“Trevor!” There’s a nervous hint to Julie’s voice. “Uh, Jamie is just checking in.”

I suck in a sharp breath of air and quickly shift my gaze away from the big man. Who is this Trevor guy? Her boyfriend? Her boss? Both? He doesn’t look much older than me, perhaps even younger, late twenties? But he oozes the authority of someone way older.

He steps into the room and I can’t help the feeling that I’m being assessed and found lacking. His nod in my direction is slow and his voice deep. “Jamie.” His face softens ever so slightly as his focus drops to the boy on my hip. “And who have we got here?”

“Tell the man your name,” I prompt.

“Adam,” is whispered against my neck.

“Adam can’t wait to see the cows,” Julie says, and the smile on her face defuses some of the tension in the room.

“Is that right?” Trevor faces us fully. “Would you like to see us milk the cows some day while you’re here, Adam?”

My son’s head snaps up. He quickly turns to me, eyes wide. “Can we, Dad?”

“If you’re a good boy, I don’t see why not.”

I ruffle his blond hair. Mine used to be that colour when I was his age. Mum would call me her “little ghost” due to my pale complexion. My hair has darkened with age – I keep it cut short – and my skin now even takes a bit of a tan during summer, but she will still tease me with her nickname. God, I miss her. I wish she didn’t live so far away. I squeeze Adam a bit closer to me and take in his rich brown eyes, a colour he inherited from Alison, so different from my light grey.

Turning those brown eyes at Trevor, Adam nods vigorously. “I’m a good boy.”

Trevor smirks for a second. “I bet you are. Right, what plot are they on?” He addresses the last bit to Julie.

“Oh, uh, just the field, no electric hook-up.”

“No hook-up.” Trevor nods slowly, his focus firmly on the blushing young woman. To me he says, “Continue straight. Kitchen, toilets and showers are at the end of this building. Turn left there and follow the path up to the field. You can park and pitch your tent anywhere to the right of the path.”

“Got it.”

We all turn to the sound of crunching gravel as another car comes to a halt outside.

I nod to Julie and add a little wink. “I’ll be seeing you.”

She blushes and those dimples appear again. “Bye, Adam!”

Three tiny fingers wave back at her. I wonder if she’ll have a chance to eat that ice cream before it melts.

Outside, I strap Adam in the back seat. I can hear the next customer complain about the lack of signage as I close the door – and almost walk straight into a wide, hard chest. I retreat a step and take in the scowl that is back on Trevor’s face.

His gaze travels the length of my body, sizing me up. A shiver erupts along my spine and I swallow tightly. I work out, but my lean swimmer’s body could never take on his bulk – he could lift baby cows for fun. He probably does.

“Now, Jamie,” he drawls. “Why don’t you be a good boy and stay away from my sister?”

With that he turns and leaves me standing there, stunned.

Sister.

I should have realised. He’s got the same startling blue eyes and thick brown hair.

“Good boy,” I huff and get into the car, slamming the door harder than intended.

Adam squeals happily when a playground with swings and a football net comes into view when I turn up the path and follow the dirt road that splits a large field in two. There are a few free spots on the left-hand side in between the row of large colourful tents and windbreakers. Adults and children mill around, laughing and playing or slouching in camp chairs while enjoying the afternoon sunshine. I sense them all stopping what they’re doing to watch my car come up the path.

I swallow tightly as I glance to the right. There, it’s only grass, no specific plots. And no tents.

I drive all the way to the end, park up on the grass and unload the car to the constant stream of cow chit-chat from my son. The chosen spot is probably a bad one, I should have pitched closer to the bathrooms, but I’m too embarrassed to reload everything back into the car. It feels like the eyes of the whole campsite are on me already – eyes on the loser who can’t afford a fiver extra for electric. The guy who can’t remember how to put up the tent he bought three years ago and has only used once. They’re looking at the stupid divorcé who only has a foot pump to inflate the mattress, and realises too late he should have inflated it inside the tent as the opening is too small to push the double mattress through.

Failure and despair hang heavy in the air around me as the evening crawls in.

I could tuck Adam to bed and light a fire in one of the wheelbase pits that are set out, but I can’t stand the thought of sitting there on my own, on display, looking at the large walk-in tents on the other side of the field, their attached gazebos, wetsuits hanging over windbreakers, families laughing, eating, drinking around large picnic tables…being on their happy holiday on the beautiful North Coast of Northern Ireland.

Instead, I crawl into the low two-man tent with Adam who is clutching Moo, his brown cow teddy, and asks about every sound coming through the thin plastic walls.

How can I give Adam a happy holiday? I’m lost, lonely, a single dad seeking love, and as the morning light brightens the tent, I’m still no closer to finding a light in my life. Except for Adam.

The image of electric blue eyes flashes in my mind.

Perhaps those are my light?