9. Carolina
Chapter nine
Carolina
I s it stupid to go to your landlord’s daughter's seventh birthday party? I glance down at the invitation that turned up on my doorstep earlier in the week, confirming the address. All the letter b’s are adorably backwards, but I plugged the address into my phone and found it easily enough. A cluster of pink and gold balloons secured to a telephone pole makes me certain I’m in the right place. Louisa invited me with such genuine enthusiasm that there’s no way I could turn her down. Besides, I wasn’t lying when I said I really loved donkeys. By the time I show up to the birthday party, it’s in full swing. Gravel crunches beneath my sneakers as I make my way through the parking lot, following the sound of excited children and bleating goats.
I feel like an outsider as I approach, the other guests mingling shoulder to shoulder in clusters. I don’t know anybody here except for the hosts, obviously, and Berg is busy on the other side of the field beneath a tent where there’s a long table of party snacks and presents set up. I clutch my small gift to my chest, noticing that all the other presents are big and beautifully wrapped. When I reach the table of over the top gifts, I set mine on the edge, reminding myself of why I chose it. I’m the youngest adult here by a solid decade, and, apparently, there’s such a thing as being underdressed for a birthday party featuring barnyard animals. Like, Berg might be wearing the hell out of jeans and a flannel (I noticed), but there are several moms here in sneakers that look fresh from the shoebox and tailored wool pea coats. Which, if we’re being honest, is sort of rude to the sheep. I glance down at my feet. I’m pretty sure that’s shit on the toe of my shoe. What animal it’s from is anyone’s guess. But all of that is forgotten when a pair of brown eyes spot me from across the muddy field.
“Caro!”
Louisa’s smile lights up her whole heart-shaped face as she runs in my direction and I’m totally taken aback by the force of the hug that hits me at hip height.
“Happy birthday! Holy smokes, you’re strong. That must be because you’re seven now, huh?”
Warmth spreads through my chest at her sweet welcome. Every thought I had about whether I should be here floats away like wispy clouds on a breezy day.
“Yep! You came! ”
I scoff as she peels herself off my leg. “As if I’d miss the donkeys.”
“Come see them. They like ear scratches.”
I let her drag me along, the earthy barnyard scent tickling my nose as we approach a large pen. About a dozen kids close to Louisa’s age race around the field, riled up on sugar, no doubt.
“The big one is Murphy, the small one is…” She wrinkles her nose as she thinks. “Maisy. Murphy and Maisy.” She gives a decisive nod.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, tentatively reaching a hand toward Murphy as Maisy grazes further away from the fence line.
“You wanna feed him?”
Berg’s low voice sends a tiny tingle down my spine and I turn toward the sound.
“Hi,” I say, but it comes out all breathy.
The weekend looks good on Berg. Relaxed despite the chaos unfolding around him. Clean jeans hug his muscular thighs and a warm, sweet scent surrounds him. His hair is freshly cut, and I bet his neck feels smooth as hell.
“I hope it’s okay that I crashed the party.”
“Can’t crash a party if you had a handmade invite.”
“This is true. It’s been living on my fridge. I love the way she spelled my name. Like the word care with an o added on to the end.”
He nods, a smile lifting his cheeks. “I didn’t have the heart to correct her because it was so cute.”
Berg slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a tiny paper bag full of what looks like oats.
“Donkey trail mix?” he asks, “Uh, for the donkey.”
“Super glad you clarified that,” I tease.
Murphy nudges my shoulder with insistence, clearly wanting me to take the darn bag and pass it along to him, and I laugh.
“Alright, Lou, you wanna teach me how to feed these big guys?”
She nods. “You pour it in your hand, but keep your hand flat so they don’t munch your fingers. Like this.” She gives me a demonstration.
Dumping a bit of the oat mixture into my palm, I reach over the top rail of the fence and Murphy wastes no time shoving his wet snout into my hand and inhaling the snack. His warm breath is ticklish, fuzzy ears happily twitching. Louisa balances on the lowest rung of the split-rail fence so she can get a better look, sparkly rain boots squeaking on the cedar.
“Here.” Berg presses another bag into my hand and leans down closer to my ear. “Don’t tell the kids. They only got one bag each.”
The heat of his breath near my ear is in contrast to the cool air. He smells even better this close.
“Wow. Two bags of trail mix? Be still my heart.”
Berg chuckles, moving to stand next to me as I feed Murphy small amounts from my palm.
“My grandma on my mom’s side? She had a hobby farm. Or maybe it was more like a homestead. I spent so much time with the animals and in her garden. Chris would be out bushwhacking all day. You wouldn’t see him until it was dark.”
Berg’s arm presses against mine despite the fact that there’s plenty of space along the fence line. I don’t move a muscle. Louisa is whispering to the big animal in a baby voice while she scratches his chest.
“Surprised he didn’t stay in the forest and live off the land.”
“Oh, he tried that once. Came home with a poison ivy rash on his a…and that is the entire story.” I glance over at Lou, glad I censored myself at the last second.
Berg barks out a laugh. “He very conveniently never told me that one.”
“It is my solemn duty as a pesky little sister to spread embarrassing stories about my brother far and wide.”
Louisa wanders further down the fence line as Murphy roams.
“Do you work tonight?” he asks.
I shake my head. I’m barely on the schedule for next week. Carl brushed me off when I tried to corner him in his office. Worry rushes over me. Why is he asking? Does he want to talk about the rent now?
“Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Nope. No babysitting drunks tonight. I’d rather hang out with an appreciative donkey than drunk people any day. They are the superior type of ass, you know? ”
Berg grins, shaking his head at my double entendre. “I’d cheers to that if we had drinks. Actually, I’ll get you one. Hot chocolate? A pop?”
“Oh, um, hot chocolate sounds yummy.”
“Be right back.”
A peal of high-pitched giggles carries across the field, and Berg and I both look up to see a woman arriving down the drive. She’s balancing a huge gift box in her hands, barely able to see where she’s going. It’s easily the biggest gift yet.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Excuse me,” he says, rubbing that smooth-looking neck and heading in the woman’s direction instead of the drinks table.
I nudge Louisa’s shoulder. “Hey, birthday girl, who is that lady?”
She glances at the new arrival and I’m grateful she doesn’t do something obvious like point directly at her.
“Her? That’s Milly’s mom. She wants to make my daddy chicken for a wedding.” Her little shoulders rise in a shrug. “She giggles a lot.”
Oh. Make chicken? Somehow I doubt Milly’s mom is a chef. Berg is holding the bow-covered package while they talk. I can’t see his face, but she’s all smiles, so she must like what she sees. Are they a couple? Maybe they used to be based on Berg’s reaction at her arrival. On cue, another forced laugh drifts our way.
“Yeah, I can hear that. ”
Of course, Berg would have a lot of women interested in him. Handsome, kind, good job. I squint at her hand to look for a ring, but can’t see anything from this distance.
“Milly always brags about her horses.”
A girl a bit older than Natalie hops out of her mom’s SUV.
“I see. Well, Milly is coming this way.”
“I’m not sharing my donkey feed.”
I press my lips together, trying not to encourage the sass, but finding it funny all the same.
“Happy Birthday, Louisa,” says Milly when she reaches us.
“Thank you. I’m seven now.”
“I’ll be ten next month.” Her expression is smug. “Is there horse riding at this party?”
Lou glances down at her boots. “No,” she says, voice small.
Everyone has met a Milly before. Unfortunately, they don’t stop being that way when they turn ten.
“Pfff, who needs horse riding when you have Murphy here?”
I give him an affectionate pat and I’m pretty sure he burps.
“Murphy looks fat.”
I cock my head to the side. He sort of does. But if my job was to stand there and look cute while people fed me, I’d be too. I’m already over this snobby girl routine. I crouch down, careful to keep my feet firmly planted.
“Lou, I’m having a lot of fun at your birthday party. I’m super glad you invited me.”
She smears a line in the mud with her boot. “Really? ”
I nod vigorously. “Should we track down that hot chocolate your dad promised me?”
“Milly!” Louisa gasps, glancing over my shoulder. “You shouldn’t be over there!”
I twist around so quickly I almost lose my balance. The girl has climbed right over the fence.
My heart pounds with surprise. “Um, Milly? Climb back over here right now.”
She gives me a snotty look. “You’re not my mom.”
My jaw drops. Oh, she’s a real piece of work.
“I want to see the animals closer. Don’t worry, I’m experienced.”
I turn, ready to call for Berg’s help but he’s all the way over at the present table now.
“For the love of…” I throw up my hands and turn back to try a little more negotiating with the know it all. Then I see it.
“Louisa,” I breathe. “No, no, no.”
She’s climbed over the damn fence too.
“Lou. Lou, honey? Climb back over right now.” I stride back to the pen, sick with worry.
Milly gives me a snide look. “You’re not her mom either. Louisa doesn’t even have a mom.”
I am utterly dumbfounded by her comment. Suddenly, I’m glad Berg wasn’t nearby to hear that.
“No. No, I'm not. But I am an adult.”
Why is nobody at this event watching their children? Is the hot chocolate spiked ?
“Wanna see him run?” says Milly to Lou.
Run? Oh, no.
“Okay.” Lou nods, her eyes round with interest.
“Louisa, um…” I wrack my brain for Berg’s last name, “Louisa MacMillan,” I hiss. “Get your cute little butt out of that pen right now.”
This is definitely a middle name situation, but I don’t know it.
Milly raises her hand, and like it’s in slow motion, I watch her smack it down on Murphy’s butt. Haunch? Flank? But Murphy doesn’t run. He lets out an angry bray and kicks powerfully, narrowly missing Milly. The little girl screams and retreats in fear. But Murphy is still pissed about the proximity of the tiny people in his pen, and he’s not finished. I’m over the damn fence in a flash, and the next thing I know, I’ve tackled Louisa out of the way, directly into a deep puddle of mud and only god knows what else. A wince in pain as my shoulder connects with something hard and sharp, but I hug Lou tight anyway, ignoring it to make sure she’s safe.
Someone screams, Milly’s mom, I suppose. “Milicent!”
Milicent? I’d have guessed Maleficent.
I wipe mud off my cheeks, flinching as my eyes burn and water around the muck. Lou is pale and shaking, clinging to my front as I sit us up.
“Are you okay?” I ask, patting down her head and giving her arms a gentle squeeze.
“Uh huh.” She nods, clearly frightened as much as I am .
“Why did you climb over there, Louisa? You know you weren't supposed to.”
Tears well up along her red-rimmed eyes. “Milly said I was a scaredy cat.”
I’m vaguely aware of the donkeys being haltered and led away to their stalls, an employee muttering under her breath.
“There are some things we should be scared of. That’s how we stay safe,” I explain.
She buries her face against my chest, beginning to cry as the surprise wears off, even though I’m covered in layers of stinking mud.
“Shh, it’s okay,” I tell her, returning her embrace.
I watch Berg climb the fence with ease, tramping through the mud and falling to the ground on his knees when he reaches us.
His voice is thick with emotion. “Lou.”
“She’s alright,” I explain. “I tackled your child for a good reason. Sorry.”
“Yeah?” He looks to his daughter, tipping her chin up with his finger for confirmation, examining her face.
Louisa nods.
Then Berg turns to me, cupping my chin between his thumb and index finger. “And what about you?”
Me?
The same motion that looked fatherly with Louisa feels intimate on me. My cheeks heat at the concern in his eyes and the tranquil timbre of his question.
“I’m fine,” I lie as a throb of pain radiates down my arm .
I shrug my shoulders, recoiling at the feel of mud in the collar of my sweatshirt. “No biggie.”
My brother and Anna lean over the fence. I didn’t even know they’d arrived, but my brother is smirking.
“Pig pen is over there, sis.”
I’ve got a very muddy finger I’d love to hold up in my brother’s direction if there weren’t so many kids around.
Anna elbows him. “Shut up.”
I knew I liked her.
Cold, muddy water sluices down the neck of my sweater as I push myself up. My shoulder smarts as it bears my weight. Thank god I’m not working tonight.
“How did she get over the fence in the first place? Jesus.”
“Chris.” Anna elbows him. “Your sister was brave. And Lou isn’t a baby. She doesn’t need constant supervision.”
Berg snorts at Anna’s last words.
With Lou on his hip, he stands, clasping my hand and hoisting me up with no effort.
“What can I do?” he asks.
“You can go back to hosting your party.”
I dab at the mud on my face with my sleeve, probably smearing it worse.
“Pretty sure the party is over now.”
Many of the cars in the small lot have left, and I see Milly’s mom marching ahead of her daughter back toward their vehicle. I’m ready to leave too. I’m cold and uncomfortable and embarrassed .
“Wait.” Berg glances around as though thinking of something to say. “I didn’t get you your hot chocolate. At least let me get you warmed up.”
“No, I’m fine. I want to go home and get cleaned up.”
He opens his mouth again, but I trudge toward the fence, climbing over it in all my muddy glory. Chris clasps my bad shoulder as he helps me down and I barely disguise my hiss of pain.
“You okay? Anna and I showed up right as everything was going down.”
“Never seen him run that fast,” Anna adds, swiping a bead of water off my chin and flicking it to the ground. “You did perfect.”
“I’ll add it to my resume,” I tell him, forcing a smile.
Someone amongst the stragglers passes me a pack of baby wipes I accept with a curt nod as I head for my car. The gravel drive toward the road seems endless. My cheeks burn hot with humiliation as I try to ignore the whispers of the remaining parents milling about. I definitely avoid eye contact with Milly’s mom. None of that would have even happened if her daughter didn’t climb the fence and egg Louisa on. I have to clench my teeth to keep from chewing her out. I will not get into a verbal altercation with a stranger, even if they deserve it. I know that it could have been a lot worse, and I’m so relieved Louisa is safe, but landing in a mud puddle in front of my handsome landlord and all his friends wounded my ego. Chris asked me how she got over the fence in the first place, and what if Berg is wondering the same thing?