2. Beau
2
BEAU
B eau Wilson placed a mug of coffee and a mug of milk down next to a plate with a slice of cranberry bread, feeling relieved that he’d managed to get two drinks, a plate, and a four-year-old up to the table by the window without dropping or losing track of anything.
“ Look, Daddy,” Zandy cried excitedly. “It’s snowing.”
“Wow,” he said, following her gaze out the big window. “It sure is.”
“I’m going to make angels,” Zandy decided.
“Well, we have to see if it sticks to the ground first,” Beau told her. “But if it does, we can make snow angels together after school.”
That earned him a bright smile.
“Can I have cake?” Zandy asked, eyeing the plate hopefully.
“This is cranberry bread,” he told her. “But it’s kind of like cake. And yes, of course you can. We’re going to share it.”
He cut the slice in half horizontally and pushed the plate toward Zandy.
She considered her two options carefully, and then selected the piece topped with a thin layer of glaze and sparkly red sugar glitter, just as he’d thought she would.
He smiled and watched her dig in. He wasn’t planning on making a habit of taking her out for breakfast. But he figured they both had earned some extra opportunities for bonding, since he’d been away for most of her life.
He and Zandy’s mom, Irene, had hardly known each other when their whirlwind courtship ended in an impulsive marriage while he was home on leave. They gave it their best shot, but they were so young, and living apart just made it too hard for the relationship to work. The marriage hadn’t lasted, but the friendship did. And of course they had their funny, fierce, and wonderful Zandy.
Irene had taken great care of Zandy for the past few years, but now that Beau was home for good, she was taking some time to follow her own career path.
At first, he’d been terrified to take over right away as a single parent with so little hands-on experience. But he was realizing now that maybe it had actually been better to jump right in. There was no time to question or second-guess the million decisions he had to make every day. He just tried to put Zandy first and hoped that overall he was doing a good job.
“You don’t want it?” Zandy asked hopefully, pointing to his half of the sweet confection, her green eyes sparkling.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m full. You can have it.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” Zandy said politely before taking a big bite. “ Mmmmm.”
Irene had clearly done a wonderful job of teaching their little girl manners. Beau made a mental note not to let those skills slip. He grabbed his coffee as she ate and took a sip while gazing out at the sweet little town under the falling snow.
He had been gone a long time, and it felt longer when he thought about the new skills and discipline he was coming home with. But the town itself looked almost identical to when he’d left.
There were a few changes—the Co-op Grocer’s had a nice deli and seating area now, and baby trees had been added between the street and sidewalk along Ambler Road. There was a toy store in town, and a dog-groomer’s of all things. And a real bookstore had taken the place of the strange little shop that had been there before.
But small changes like those had always ebbed and flowed throughout his life, like a gently shifting pattern in the reassuring tapestry of the town.
When he was a boy, Beau remembered reading a comic book about a man who went to space, journeying lightyears away. When the man returned, he was a hundred years old, but it was only the next day to everyone back on Earth.
These days, Beau sometimes felt a lot like that old man—like he had seen and done impossible things and then returned to find that nothing had changed but him.
He suspected that maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling that way. A new veterans center had just opened up in town, and Beau had stopped in yesterday at his mom’s urging to check it out. The young lady there had been disappointed that he didn’t need her to help him find work, but she was happy to get him into a group chat with some other vets who were newly home. He hoped that connecting with some old buddies or new friends would ease his mind, but so far he’d been too busy with Zandy to get very involved with anything else.
“I have to go to school,” Zandy said suddenly, as if she had read his mind and knew he was thinking of her.
He blinked back into reality only to realize that his coffee cup was empty, the plate was clean, and Zandy had sugar-speckled glaze all over her adorable face.
“Hang on, guppy,” he told her, grabbing some napkins. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Zandy submitted peacefully to the cleanup, and insisted on carrying their plate back to the counter herself. He let out a breath when she successfully got it up there without help.
“Thank you, Zandy,” Holly called to her as she refilled the big coffee maker.
“You’re welcome,” Zandy said. “I have to go to school now.”
Beau placed their mugs on the counter beside the plate and put his hands out to Zandy in question.
She lifted hers, so he swung her up in his arms to carry her out. Zandy let out a little waterfall of delighted giggles and he felt his heart melt.
They had talked on video every single week of her life, but when he first came home Zandy had been a little afraid of him. He figured his big body and deep voice hadn’t really come across on the video calls.
He couldn’t blame her a bit, and he did all he could to let her approach him in her own time, but it did make him feel awful for not being around.
Now, it felt incredible every time she willingly went into his arms.
“You don’t really have to go to preschool, do you?” he whispered in her ear as he carried her outside.
“I do,” she laughed. “I do have to go to school.”
“Are you sure?” he teased. “I could just teach you some things around the house instead.”
“I like school, Daddy,” she said, shaking her head and laughing at him some more.
“Well…,” he said, pretending to think it over as he opened up the rear door of his truck. “I guess if you like it, you can go.”
“ Yay ,” Zandy yelled.
He smiled as he watched her buckle herself into her car seat, then checked the belts to be sure everything was just right.
“Should we listen to some music on the way to school?” he asked.
“ Yes,” Zandy yelled predictably.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Some heavy metal? Or maybe some disco?”
“ Christmas,” Zandy yelled, laughing.
“Okay,” he told her as he got into the truck. “I guess we can try and find some Christmas music.”
The local station played all Christmas music, all the time from November first through the new year, so it wasn’t like they actually had other options unless he wanted to use his phone. But Zandy loved being in charge, even if Beau knew it was only the illusion of choice.
“Give her two choices,” his mom always advised. “Like, Would you like to brush your teeth and go to bed now? Or would you like to play for five more minutes before you get ready for bed?”
“Hey,” he’d said, feeling a little affronted. “That’s what you used to say to me.”
“It worked too, didn’t it?” she asked, winking at him.
“I didn’t know you were tricking me,” he said, shaking his head and smiling back so she would know he wasn’t really offended.
“I wasn’t tricking you,” she said right away. “I was giving you a real choice, even if I was pretty sure which option you would pick. It’s good practice for kids to make decisions. And she’s in control of so little in her life…”
Mom had trailed off a little, but not before Beau saw the sad look in her eye.
Beau’s own father passed away less than a year ago, and he’d been a big part of Zandy’s life. They had all taken it pretty hard. And now Zandy’s mother was away, so she was without two of her usual grownups.
“Can I have music?” Zandy asked politely from the backseat, pulling him out of his sadness and firmly back to reality.
“Here we go,” he told her, hitting the button right away.
Elvis was just finishing up asking Santa to bring his baby back to him, and the next song that came on was a local children’s choir singing “Jingle Bells.”
“Jingle, jingle,” Zandy said happily.
“That’s a good one, isn’t it?” Beau said.
He pulled out onto Park and headed down toward Princeton. By the time he made his turn, Zandy was singing along with the kids on the radio. Her sweet little voice made him smile, and there was a tug on his heart as he remembered once again that her happiness was in his hands now.
They pulled up at the preschool a few minutes later, and waited in the drop-off line with the other cars, trucks, and minivans until they reached the entrance.
“Good morning,” Mrs. O’Toole said as she opened the back door to let Zandy out. “Did you remember your paper towel rolls, Zandy?”
Zandy caught Beau’s eye in the rearview mirror, a worried look on her face.
“We sure did,” Beau reassured her quickly. “They’re in the shopping bag on the seat right next to Zandy. Right, guppy?”
Zandy grinned and grabbed the bag from the seat next to her.
“Very nice, Mr. Wilson,” Mrs. O’Toole said in an approving way as she helped Zandy out of the truck with the bag.
Beau breathed an inward sigh of relief that the older lady was satisfied. Mrs. O’Toole had been a stern teacher back in his own preschool days, and he didn’t want Zandy judged harshly on her father’s lack of experience.
Of course, he’d only remembered last night and had to run to the store to get them. They would probably be using unraveled paper towels out of a plastic bag for the next six months, but he’d managed to send Zandy in with the cardboard rolls she needed for her turkey-table-topper project, and that was all that mattered.
He nodded to himself and relaxed a little, taking in the sight of snow falling gently over the little town as he turned onto Ambler and headed up toward Route One.
Out the window, lacy flakes drifted down on the old Tudor-style shops. People out walking waved to each other with colorful knitted mittens or gestured with reusable shopping bags, smiles on their faces in appreciation of the early snow.
Dad would have loved this…
Clyde Wilson loved Christmas. In spite of growing up in the frantic holiday rhythms of a wholesale tree farm, Beau’s dad had never lost the boyhood wonder of the holiday. He was fond of reminding a teenaged Beau, who wanted to do just about anything except shear trees after school, how lucky they were to be making the holiday more magical for so many people they would never meet.
Of course, Dad also would have been worrying about the tree harvest right now, and how he could ensure all the owners of the small lots in the city got their stock in time for Thanksgiving weekend, if the snow really came down.
That was the thing about the farm—there were always worries to go along with the good things. No two years were ever the same. And while Dad always said that problem solving and going with the flow kept him young, Beau figured it might have also contributed to the stress he knew his father felt as he went over the books late into the night, rubbing his forehead like a genie might miraculously come out and make the year more profitable or magically decipher the quarterly tax estimate.
Beau was nearly at Route One now. The community college fields had given way to the big stone houses on the north side of town. The snow was coming down a little harder, but it still wasn’t sticking much.
By the time he made it all the way back to the farm, he was singing along with Bing Crosby to “White Christmas” on the radio.
He pulled down the long driveway, intentionally parking a bit far from the house and barns, just as an excuse to stretch his legs. He’d been hoping to run in the mornings, but by the time he dropped Zandy at preschool, it felt wrong to be running when there was work to do on the farm.
He stood at the top of the little hillside for a moment, overlooking one of the fields of trees. The falling snow blended with the pale gray sky and then came into crisp contrast as soon as it hit the level of the dark green trees, making them look even more magical than usual.
“Just like a snow globe,” he murmured to himself, sucking in a deep breath of lightly pine-scented air and wondering if there could be a prettier sight in the whole world.
As he surveyed the farm, his eyes caught on the sight of the stake bed truck parked in the small barn.
He’d tasted it on the air yesterday afternoon before he’d even seen the light smoke—the truck was burning oil. But he’d been with Zandy, so there wasn’t much he could do. It was still early now though, and no one would be wanting to use it for a while more.
His feet carried him straight to the barn, even though he knew he ought to go to the house and ask Mom for the schedule.
One of the workers, Frank Gorman, was in the barn already, humming to himself as he searched through a toolbox.
“She’s burning oil,” Beau said to Frank, nodding toward the truck and forgetting to even say hello.
Zandy could teach me some manners…
“Yep,” Frank agreed. “Whistling a little too. Boss lady’s headed out to buy some oil to coast on until we can get ‘er serviced.”
At first, Beau thought boss lady meant his mother. Then he realized Frank was talking about Quinn Allen. Beau knew that Quinn had been running things for his mom this year. But he hadn’t expected to hear an old-timer like Frank casually calling her boss lady without judgement. She must be doing a pretty good job.
“I’ll just take a quick look,” Beau said, his brain and fingers itching to explore the problem.
“Fine by me,” Frank said.
Beau was cracking the hood and having a look around inside the engine before the words were even out. The stake bed was crucial on the farm for carrying cut trees in from the field. A truck like this one worked hard, but Dad always made sure to have it regularly serviced, and he treated oil changes like sacred duties. Now that he wasn’t around, Beau wondered if the truck might not be getting the love it needed.
As soon as he began acquainting himself with the engine, all his worries and insecurities slipped away. Beau might be trying to find his place in town again, figuring out how to be a good father to his little girl, and how to be a supportive son to his grieving mom—but here under the hood, he knew exactly what he was doing, and where all the pieces belonged.
After a good look around, the trouble turned out to be the PCV valve. Luckily, there was a spare in the old wooden cupboard. He changed it out and then decided to give the engine a little tune-up while he was at it. At this time of year, it was important for the truck to be in the best shape possible.
This is what I was meant to do , he thought to himself.
He had hoped to find work as a mechanic now that he was home. And he’d already left a message for Max Bernhard, the owner of the shop in town, to see if he might want to hire an extra mechanic after the tree harvest was done.
Max had dropped him a message back asking him to stop by, which Beau figured was promising.
He knew he’d need to talk to his mom about it, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to that part. There was work to do on the farm all year long. But if Quinn was doing a good job and Mom was here, he figured there was no point in hanging around except when all hands were needed.
Beau had always loved anything with an engine in it. Trade school was so expensive he hadn’t wanted to ask his parents to send him. But after talking to his football coach, who’d served in the Army, he’d learned he could get mechanic training there if he joined up the right way.
Now, Beau had worked on so many different kinds of vehicles that he doubted anything in the civilian world could get the best of him. If Max had an opening, he hoped he would do the shop proud with whatever challenges they threw his way.
But it was going to be tough to talk to his mom about spending a lot of his time off the farm when his dad’s big presence was already missing.
I’ll figure it out, he told himself as he worked. I’ve got time.