Chapter 16
Vanessa
Thanksgiving was the lovely reset that I needed.
Other than one strange interaction where people seemed to be implying, mostly Rían unknowingly, that Trace couldn’t really change to do better, it was almost perfect.
I had all the people I really liked all in one place.
Trish was happy, and I was happy, and I’m still feeling a little guilty that Natalie basically did everything, but she likes to do things like that.
So for once, I just let her.
It was so different than every other Thanksgiving year, and frankly, one thousand times better than the last three Thanksgivings with just Jeremy and Trish and my kids.
My parents always talk about coming out to Colorado, but they never have, and I didn’t want to haul my kids a long way on the few days they had off.
The past few years, Thanksgiving has felt empty.
This year, it was robust, dynamic, and full of light.
Jack’s two kids were an absolute hoot, refusing to eat anything but the stew.
“They’ll eventually figure it out,” Jack said, implying that we’d have lots of Thanksgivings together.
It warmed my heart, and for the first time, I wondered whether I might start to look forward to the holidays again instead of dreading them.
When I finish work early, I head for the barn.
I know Sam and Natalie will be there, riding.
I don’t expect to intercept Bryce and Trace, who just got out of school. “Are you two going over to ride?” I know they’ve been riding occasionally, but I didn’t think they were going out today.
“I thought I might,” Bryce says.
Trace shrugs. “Maybe.”
But when we arrive, Rían’s just loading up a big old duffel bag. He almost runs into Trace on his way to his car.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“We’re squeezing in some extra hurling practices, hoping to be ready for the season to restart.”
As if the mention of hurling summoned him, Jack calls.
I swipe to answer.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says. “I have a favor to ask.” He never asks me for favors.
“What can I do?”
“Hey,” Sam says as we approach. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Jack just called her,” Bryce explains. “We were just coming by to say hello.”
“Wanna go for a ride?” Sam glances at Bryce. “Because those shoes aren’t great for riding.”
“He left his boots in the tack room,” Clara says.
“Can you watch my kids for a bit?” Jack asks. “We’re trying to get a few extra practices in before the holiday, and everyone said they can make it, but my sister’s still working.”
“Of course,” I say. “Would they want to be out there with you at the park? Or should I meet you at your house?”
“They love to run around, if you’re okay to keep an eye on them during my practice.” He chuckles. “Plus, that’s probably easier for you. They behave better when they have wide open spaces to destroy—er, I mean spread out.”
“Ha,” I say. “I can meet you out there.” It’s always fun watching someone do something they’re really good at, and Jack is great at hurling. The way he carries the ball, the way he runs and throws at the same time, it almost borders on art. “I’ll bring some snacks.”
“They loved those little gummy things you had the last time.”
“Fruit snacks,” I say. “Yeah, my kids love them, too.”
“Hey, can I come?” Trace asks. “I’d like to watch the real team practice, and—”
“Tell Trace he can come practice with us. He can fill in for some people who can’t make it, plus it’ll be good for him.”
Trace overhears through the speaker, and a big smile spreads across his face. He dead-sprints toward the house—to change, I’m guessing.
“I hear you’re going to be hurling,” Natalie says. “Not riding?”
I wasn’t dressed to ride anyway. “I just thought I’d check on the tack room, but I guess I’ll be heading another way.”
As I leave, I notice Sam and Natalie whispering to each other, and I suffer a small twinge of jealousy. I shrug it off, because I know they love me, and I’m just being crazy. Maybe they were talking about a Christmas thing. Or, who knows?
I know they love me.
I gather up a few portable kids’ toys, and the now-famous sugar-filled American fruit snacks, and Trace and I head for the GAA pitch, Trina and Paul also in tow. Trina loves running around, and she and Paul really get on well with Jack’s kids.
It may sound insane, but watching them all play together, I can’t help having weird thoughts about a future of them growing up together.
Jack may be too young for me, but his kids and mine actually blend fairly well.
I never felt like three kids was quite enough, but it’s what Jason and I had.
I always thanked God for each of our little blessings.
But having more? Or even another bonus child together? I’d love it.
About halfway through what I assume is a ninety-minute practice based on past experience, Trace just pops up in front of me. “You should go watch, Mom. You can’t see from here.”
“Oh no, it’s fine. I’m okay to watch the kids.
I said I would.” We can kind of see the practice, but not very well from the back corner where the kids are playing with small, dotted frogs.
“They’re making the frogs a mansion with the turf and those dirt piles.
” It’s gross, but kids love gross things, and it’s not hurting them or anything else, frogs included.
“You go watch him,” Trace says. “I like hurling—it’s been just what I needed.
But Jack is. . .” Trace’s face scrunches up.
“He’s—I don’t even know how to say it. He’s so good at it.
He’s fast, and he seems to just know where the sliotar’s going to be before it even knows.
” Trace points. “Just go watch him. He’s also such a great team player for someone who could be a superstar.
Most guys like him would be real jerks.”
He hero-worships Jack, and I can’t decide whether it’s good or bad.
I reluctantly walk a few steps away, but then I turn back. “You have to watch them,” I say. “Your focus has to be the kids, not the practice.”
“Mom, please.”
I arch one eyebrow. “Don’t ‘Mom, please’ me, Trace. It’s been a rough few years.”
“And I’m doing well now, alright? Trust.” He points. “And then go watch that boyfriend who’s way too cool for you.”
“Um, where’s the loyalty? Maybe I’m too cool for him, and you just can’t see it, because I’m your mom.”
He shrugs. “Maybe that’s it.” He’s beaming now, and I realize that maybe it’s good that he hero-worships Jack. He needed a hero. His dad’s death left a pretty big, gaping hole.
When humans don’t have anyone to look up to, they don’t look up at all. And looking down’s bad for the soul.
It’s been really, really bad for Trace. I just hope Jack can live up to all my son’s high hopes and expectations. I’m not sure many people could. For all his goodness and his kindness and his intelligence, Jason was just a man.
Jack is, too.
But watching him, I can see where Trace gets his excitement.
Trace has always been my jock. He has a lot of athletic talent, so he values people who have even more.
Jack’s just so fluid, so talented, and so handsome.
I doubt Trace is thinking the third part, but I can’t help if I am.
When I thought in the past about dating again, I never thought I’d wind up with someone who looked like Jack, not in a million years.
Sure, he shaves his head.
But he’s fit, he’s young, and he’s ripped.
I’m not.
I look like a mother of three. I’m not sure quite what he sees in me or why he wants to kiss me, but I’m glad about it. Trace brings the kids to me as the practice ends, and when Jack finds us, sweaty and red-cheeked, he gives me all the credit.
“Thank you so much for watching the little rascals.”
“We wewen’t wascals, Da,” his daughter says. “Weyow angews. Miss Nessa said so.”
“Nessa?” Trace laughs. “I’m calling you that.”
Before I can tell him to quit, Rory stomps her foot. “I’m onwy cawing her Nessa kicause Da says I can’t caw her Ma yet.”
Oh, wow.
Trace whistles.
“Okay.” Jack takes Rory’s hand, turning toward me, his flushed face brightening more. “Any chance you didn’t understand what she said because of her speech delay?”
I laugh. “Jack, it’s fine. She’s the cutest little girl in the world.”
“Hey.” Now Trina’s frowning.
“Other than you, duh,” I grab her and swing her around. “Stop being a stinker.”
“A stinker?” Ryan starts to run in circles, dodging his dad. “Trina’s a stinker. Trina’s a stinker.”
Jack shakes his head. “I owe you for watching them. Sorry.”
“Truly,” I say. “We had a wonderful time. Now the frogs they caught?” I glance at Trace.
He’s smiling.
“I’m assuming they will eventually recover from today’s trauma, but they seemed healthy when it started at least.”
“All the frogs survived the kids’ games,” Trace says. “I can confirm that no frogs died.”
“Oh, praise be,” Jack shouts. “My mother’s finally here.”
Rory and Ryan both start cheering, and Ryan takes off toward her.
“Jack!” Someone behind him is shouting, and when I follow the sound, it’s his coach. “Jack, we need to go over next week’s schedule.”
“Any chance you can walk them over to my mother?” But he’s already passing Rory’s hand to me, and she’s tugging toward her grandmother. How delightful.
“Oh, Mom, is this their grandma?” Trina’s skipping toward Jack’s mother, and I worry she’s going to barrel right into her. I jog to catch up, trip on something, and wind up lying flat on my face.
“It looks like your boys get their athletic ability from their father.” His mother’s as awful as ever.
Only, Trace is laughing like she’s a stand-up comedian. “Good one,” he says. “My dad Jason was much more coordinated than Mom.”
“You’re her oldest?” When Jack’s mother tilts her head, she reminds me of Niamh. I swear, that’s exactly how she looks before she pounces on a mouse. Normally, I like watching her hunt, only, in this scenario, I’m the mouse.
I stand up and brush off my now-grass-stained pants. “So good to see you, Mrs. Shanahan.”