11. A Mental Health Day
Chapter 11
A Mental Health Day
D o I regret spending the day upstairs in the master bedroom pouting like a princess who didn’t get her way? Only slightly.
I wonder how many blows I can take. This one is massive. Turns out my roof can only take one per season. The weight of the telephone pole and the tree couldn’t support it and everything crashed into my house as the rain and wind pummeled it overnight.
But that’s not the worst of it. Maddock Witt thinks he can just waltz into this town and take over. Well, technically, he can since he owns it. But he has no claim to my heart ... or my lips. It’s not like I think about kissing him. Much.
It makes me feel all twitchy inside like a lovesick teenager. I tug the pillow over my chest and hug it. Where did that notion even come from?
The flaming windstorm between us has to stop. Things need to go back to exactly how they were before he nearly crashed into my Porsche, and that’s final.
Tomorrow, I have to return to reality ... However, right now, Leonie’s tootsies are looking particularly adorable and perfect for a game of Piggy, so can you blame me for snuggling with my baby and generally wallowing while the beast of a man downstairs repeatedly comes to my aid?
Thankfully, the restaurant is okay. But I’m not. The emotional weight of my memories in this chateau press against me. I refuse to revisit that time in my life.
I won’t resort to crime like my mother and cousin. For them, it was a game, a lifestyle.
Before Leonie came along, saving, scrimping, and basically limping through life on fumes was acceptable. A necessity at times. But she needs diapers, and no one needs a pumpkin spice latte no matter what they tell you. Okay, fine. The Coffee Loft has been advertising and there have been moments when I’ve considered offering a kidney in exchange, but what if Leonie someday needs it? I’m a mom now and my responsibilities are real. So are diapers—even the cloth ones we use because I’ve worked out a trade with Debbie’s Diaper Care to cater her annual customer appreciation party in exchange for a discount.
Affording this kid, no less figuring out her care so I can work to earn money to afford her needs, is like a mental and physical gymnastics loop, treadmill, and hamster wheel all at once.
So yeah, I’ve taken my first mental health day EVER.
Yes, even after I lost Cory, I didn’t let a day go by that I didn’t persevere. Well, I did take up smoking, but that habit was short-lived. Lollipops to the rescue. I could really go for one right now. When my mother’s debt collectors called, I carried on. And when this baby arrived in my life, I forged ahead.
But now I’ve stopped and I’m scared I won’t ever be able to get up.
Leonie blows a raspberry as if in response. As if to call Hogwash .
Unlike my car, I’ve never run out of gas, but my tank feels so close to empty—something wet drips onto the pillowcase. Remembering where I am, I wipe away the tears, draw my baby toward me, and close my eyes.
Later, when I wake up, the sky is dim as dusky gray-violet light settles in the bayou. The storm and everything that transpired hurtles toward me, but not before I remember a dream.
I was on the long, lonely road between Hogwash and Pouppeville. I carried an empty gas can. A man approached, took it out of my hand, and rested his on my shoulder. With a wink, he went on his way.
Only, his eyes were Leonie’s eyes ... and I realize she’s not in the bed with me. I bolt upright.
A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead and neck. They say babies can roll and fall off beds and surfaces easily. Of course, there’s the wall on one side, I built a pillow fort, and made a barrier with my body, but she’s not here.
I rush downstairs, but before I reach the kitchen, a low voice sings, “You are my Sunshine.” Leonie lets out a happy little roar and a laugh. I go still and lean against the wall in the dark dining room, catching my breath. An upwelling of emotion threatens me again and I wipe away tears—they’re a mixture of happy and sad tears. Happy because Maddock unexpectedly appeared in my life. Sad because he’s only here temporarily.
Sending up a prayer, I ask for help.
And wouldn’t you know it, the next song Maddock sings an old Beatles tune about getting the help of friends?
Could I call him that? I think about who I’d consider a friend and frown. I know a lot of people—have a patchwork of helpers, but are they friends? Do I let people get close to me? Am I a friend to them? The answer isn’t a resounding yes and that feels like a problem.
The screen door opens and closes, wafting the scent of grilled burgers into the house. I peer around the corner to find the kitchen in use and Leonie’s various play containers where I left them. She’s not here, but relief washes through me because he must’ve taken her outside rather than leave her unattended. But the grill! It’s hot and I’ve heard stories about propane tanks spontaneously combusting.
Being a new mom brought with it an inordinate amount of new dangers. Things I once thought were innocuous are now potential threats ... and they’re everywhere. And this is coming from me, someone who lived fast and furious for a long time.
Through the window, Maddock and Leonie gaze off the back porch, far from the grill, and it looks like he’s pointing to a peacock wandering across the back lawn.
Letting out a breath, I turn around to go back upstairs because I should’ve brushed my hair and teeth, but Maddock and Leonie come back inside.
Turning around and entering the kitchen as if I’d casually just walked downstairs, I say, “There you are—” I’m about to scold Maddock and warn him never to take a cub from a sleeping mama bear again, but why would I think there would be an again ?
Also, seeing him holding the little bean pod baby outward so she can see what he sees—me—makes my heart hiccup.
“There’s our Sleeping Beauty.” Maddock’s gaze skims me from head to toe and a smile forms on his lips.
Feeling self-conscious, I smooth my hair and wheeze a nervous laugh. “I’m not pageant-ready by a long shot.”
“I’d love to hear more about that time in your life.” His grin is flirty and his eyes wander over me as if he likes what he sees. I question his taste because right now, I rate high on the swamp witch scale.
I greet Leonie and she waves her arms happily. Glancing up at Maddock, I answer his question. “My mother and cousin pressured me into joining so they could rob the judges and other entrants while we were on stage. I was always the distraction.”
If the truth shocks him or he thinks I’m joking, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his eyes dance and sparkle. “You certainly are.” Giving his head a shake, he adds, “Dinner is almost done. Made burgers, coleslaw, and?—”
“You made coleslaw?”
He tips his head to the side. “Why the sound of surprise?”
There’s also grilled corn on the cob and watermelon on the counter.
“I didn’t figure you for a cook.”
“I’m a firefighter.”
“Exactly.”
“At least once a week, I’m on chef duty for the guys.”
“Burgers. It fits.”
“And I make a mean fettuccini Alfredo, get seconds requests for my chicken soup, and there are never leftovers when I make pulled pork nachos. Still working on my rib game, though. Dish up.”
I reach for Leoni and he arches an eyebrow, stopping me in my tracks.
Maddock repeats, “Fill up a plate and then you can take the baby.”
“Fine. Sheesh. No reason to be mean about it.” But the idea of eating a meal off a plate, no less sitting down and one that he prepared for me after not doing so in nearly five months sounds like a gift—one I’m not going to turn down, thanks to Mrs. Daley’s lecture.
As if an afterthought, Maddock says, “I wasn’t being mean. More like direct. Has anyone ever told you that you’re stubborn?”
“You’ve mentioned. But other than you and Jesse, no.”
He grunts. “Probably because they know how you’ll respond.”
I’m about to do just that when Leonie laughs.
Point taken.
Nothing like becoming a parent to learn humility. Unless you’re my mother.
As I take a seat and Maddock sets a burger on my bun, I think back to all the nights we spent in this very house—her laughter filtering from the other room as she entertained gullible gamblers. Meanwhile, my stomach rumbled with hunger—for food and a way out of that life.
I jump to my feet. “Wait. What about Leonie?”
He gestures I calm down, or sit down, I’m not sure. I’m about ready to karate chop his big hand, not that I know how without breaking my own. “She ate an hour ago.”
I gasp, glancing at the food on our plates. “What did you feed her?”
“Milk.”
“She’s too young. She can’t have regular?—”
“Chill. I gave her the baby milk you’d put in the fridge.”
“How much? What was the temperature? Did you clean?—?”
Maddock looks me square in the face. “Honey, I understand that you’re a do-it-yourselfer. But I work as part of a team. I called the Coffee Loft and Tallula gave me Mara’s number. She walked me through what to do.”
I slouch into my chair, relieved. “Thank you.”
The corner of his lip lifts in a smile. “No need to thank me.”
Leonie, now seated in the play saucer, kicks her feet, but for once, her sock doesn’t fly off.
I pick up my hamburger to take a bite, then set it down. A nagging question holds my appetite hostage. “Before, you had a very clear aversion to babies ... and me. What changed?”
I notice he’s hardly touched his meal as he makes sure we have everything we need. He stops and looks at me again as if maybe I have the answer. “I don’t know.”
It’s not like Maddock and I cleared the air—it’s as gummy and humid as ever, at least outside—but it does seem like we turned a page.
While we eat, we talk about the damage in town from the storm. We also discuss Leonie and randomly our opinions on tattoos—we both have one. His is from when he graduated from the fire academy. I won’t tell him what or where mine is—a pair of checkered racing flags on my hip. For once, we’re like two normal people. Like friends. And not like a pair of wolves at each other’s throats. Funny, what breaking bread can do.
We take turns cleaning up and then take an after-dinner walk, which also feels very normal. I wear Leonie in the strappy pouch thing Maddock helped me figure out how to assemble. I’ve had it for months but didn’t know which clips to connect where and every time I tried to use it, she and I both ended up in a tangle.
The night is cool, the stars barely visible above, but the landscaping lights illuminate a path through what was once a beautiful garden and is now cut back like a toddler was set loose with a tractor.
“JQ suggested I consult Backyard Dreamscapes to figure out what to do out here. They did a nice job on what he calls his oasis. But that’ll come later. For now, I just wanted to clear out the old growth to make way for the new.”
A lump grows in my throat. “You’ve been hanging out with JQ?”
“And Jesse.”
A train of thought threatens to run away with emotions I thought were old and that I’d cleared out. JQ was Cory’s best friend. He and Jesse were enemies. But now Maddock dares to somehow bring them all together.
I harrumph. “Why would you hang out with them?”
Not surprisingly, he shoots me a look like I’m the one who kicked over the statue in the corner of the garden and ran away with its head—that was Jesse and it was a long time ago. We needed an additional bowling ball for a game we were playing on the drag strip out past Daley’s farm.
Maddock answers, “Because they’re nice guys. Remind me of Leyton and some of the others on the crew back home.”
“When are you leaving? Going back home?”
“Not sure yet.”
I have the sudden need to escape that answer. “We should go back to the house. Leonie needs a bath.”
I could spend the time in the bathroom with my baby reflecting on my behavior and comments. Instead, I stew in how unfair everything is. I didn’t ask for a tree to go through my roof or the power outage to render my side of the street to be dark until further notice. Meanwhile, the Coffee Loft and every other business on the north side of Main carries on while, I, the one who didn’t even ask to run a restaurant, am struggling to stay afloat.
Arson is but one of the crimes that sent Mama to the clink. In an ill-advised game of cards bender, she won and then subsequently lost the Laughing Gator Grille back to the original owner. Thinking the insurance transfer had gone through, she set the place ablaze. Thankfully, our volunteer firefighting crew extinguished it before more than the rear entry and kitchen were damaged. I used my racing winnings to pay George and Lucille Guidry, the owners, off instead of entering Nationals. But then they walked away, leaving me with the mess to deal with while Mama went to jail anyway on several other charges to boot—namely grand larceny.
The cheers and jeers at my pity party go quiet when I gaze into Leonie’s eyes. At least I have this sweet baby covered in bubbles, who is happy, healthy, and really truly my sunshine. I sing her the song that Maddock had earlier.
With a smile, she splashes me and lets out a happy roar. Her eyes sparkle. They’re the exact shade of Maddock’s with the dark blue center and the lighter ring like the teardrops on a peacock’s feather.
After wrapping her up like a little dumpling, I go into the bedroom to put her in fresh clothes, when I find Maddock plugging something into the wall.
“Excuse me.”
He shields his eyes. “Sorry. I was just hooking up the baby monitor.”
“We’re both clothed, er, covered. I meant what are you doing in here?” I’m wearing his T-shirt, but that’s so I didn’t get my outfit soaked. There’s no telling when I’ll be able to do laundry again. “Where did you get a baby monitor?”
“Lexi. She said to give it a test spin.”
I glance at the package. “It’s the Baby Watch Pro. Thelma and Betsy got it for her baby shower.”
“Well, it works.” He wiggles the handheld portion and starts to exit, then over his shoulder, says, “See you downstairs in a few.”
I refuse to be told what to do—sit like a dog at dinner or come when ordered. Or even heel. I’m not someone’s puppet. Then again, I did say I come with strings.
Once again, tears spill from my eyes. They’re silent ones—the kind that I hardly let myself spare when I found out Cory was dead. On nights when I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep the electricity running that week. When my dreams of going to Nationals were dashed.
I’m convinced this house is haunted—definitely by ghosts of my past. I’ll make arrangements to stay somewhere else. Anywhere else.
But that doesn’t happen. The rest of the week passes and the restaurant remains closed. Workers are stretched thin—along with the tarp over my roof—and the insurance lapsed. I don’t expect Hank, Dick, and Buck are going to replace it this time.
But Maddock lets us stay at the chateau, feeds us, and clothes us. Well, me. I now have four of his T-shirts.
It’s Friday night and the floor outside the bedroom door creeks. It’s open a crack and a shadow falls across it. Leonie just fell asleep and I tip-toe-run across the wooden floor, desperate for him not to wake her.
She had a gassy spell this afternoon and was generally fussy. I also think she’s getting a tooth. The internet says she’s on the younger side, but I have a feeling.
Finger to my lips in the universal Shh motion, I mouth, She just fell asleep.
He gestures me into the hallway.
Seriously, this guy. Who does he think he is?
I hesitate.
He tips his head toward the stairs.
My lips bunch up.
Chest rising, he inhales and then mouths, Please.
I can’t say no to that, but I won’t do it in one of his T-shirts. When I’m wearing them, his lips curl into a half smile and his eyes are blue flame. Plus, it’s huge on me, so I feel like a child. A grown-up woman child with a baby.
My mother’s words, Don’t be such a baby when I’d show reluctance to follow her orders to fool people into falling for her traps filter back. I bristle but another part of me wants to take younger me by the hand and promise her everything will work out. But is that true?
Safe and snug in the Pack ’n Play, I resolve that Leonie’s childhood will be nothing like mine.
Baby monitor in hand, I meet Maddock at the foot of the stairs. His mouth is a flirty, cocky grin like he knew I’d give in. My stomach tightens because I want to resist this man.
The best I can do is sling my arms across my chest and in my sassiest tone, ask, “Well?”
“I’m leaving.” He walks down the hall, and then casually over his shoulder, he says, “First, I want to show you something.”
Even though curiosity tugs me toward him, I dig in my heels and don’t budge.