Chapter Eighteen
Honor
The last time I went to a pumpkin patch was when Mila’s parents brought us upstate to a relative’s farm with cute goats, a huge corn maze, and vendors that sold homemade apple cider and cinnamon donuts.
Mila and I spent far too long within the stacks of haybales trying to figure our way out after loading up on sugar, before quickly realizing that my best friend was allergic to hay.
Shortly after she started sneezing and snotting uncontrollably, I got stung by a yellow jacket and discovered that I’m allergic to bees.
She sniffled and cried the entire way to the emergency room, swearing she’d never go to another fall festival again. To my knowledge, she’s never even so much as carved a pumpkin since that rueful weekend.
Then again, who am I to judge? I’m fairly certain this is the first time I’ve been back to one myself. And this time, I have Benadryl tablets, an EpiPen that cost way too much money, and a travel pack of tissues all stuffed into my purse when Bodhi pulls up to the guest house.
Thankfully, Sylvia and my father are out having a date day that consists of who knows what.
I was too busy internally panicking about whatever this was between me and Bodhi to consider telling them where I was going, and who I was going with.
It’s not a date. His daughter and her grandparents will be there.
If anything, I’m fifth-wheeling their family time, and—
Oh my God. I’m fifth-wheeling family time.
I can’t do this.
Just as I’m about to turn and haul butt right back inside, tires roll to a stop in the guest house driveway and I hear, “You’re not about to chicken out on me, are you?”
Bodhi. His playful tone makes me stop mid-step. I can be honest with him. Tell him that I didn’t want to impose on their time together.
But I don’t tell him the truth.
“I was going to make sure I locked the front door,” I say weakly, walking to the entrance and wiggling the locked doorknob.
Bodhi doesn’t believe me. He’s leaning against the passenger side door of his truck, his arms crossed on his chest and a wistful smile on his face. “If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have invited you, Honor.”
There’s no “hi” or “how are you feeling”.
He doesn’t need to greet me that way. We’ve been texting for the past two days.
Well, he’s been texting me to make sure I’m feeling better.
I sent him enough replies for proof of life, and one very nerve-wracking “okay” when he told me he’d pick me up at noon today.
“I wasn’t—”
“Honey” he cuts me off, pushing off the truck and stepping up to me. He uses two of his fingers to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. “I could feel your panic down the street. Saw it on your face as I pulled in. You were going to lock yourself inside and make up an excuse not to go with us.”
How does he know that? It’s unnerving.
What’s more unnerving is the “us” he refers to. Because I know for a fact when I look into the back seat, I’ll see a car seat with a child in it. The same child I’ll be spending time with today, along with her grandparents.
“Won’t it be weird?” I find myself asking, unable to look away from him no matter how much I want to. “For Joe and Helen. They were Inez’s parents, and you’re bringing some random girl to spend the day with them and your daughter.”
Bodhi’s lips twitch. “It isn’t up to them to decide who I bring into my life. And you’re not some random girl, Honor.”
“To them I am,” I argue, not allowing my heart to soak in those words and make assumptions.
“Joe and Helen know you’re Coach Erikson’s daughter, that you have a dog, and that you like the aquarium almost as much as Gemma.” I’m about to tell him the last fact is a stretch, when he adds, “When you were ten.”
A small smile appears on my lips.
“They also know you can make amazing soup, know all the words to Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off”, and can skate like a pro.”
All of those things, minus maybe the last tidbit of information, are true. But because I know he’ll argue with me if I point that out, I don’t for the sake of time. “How do they know those things exactly?”
One word. “Gemma.”
Gemma.
“Your daughter told them about me?”
He nods. “I may have interjected a few other facts. Like the skating one. Joe said it was good if I found someone to show me up on the ice,” he muses with an easy smile.
“Helen asked if you could send her a recipe for the chicken noodle soup because Gemma keeps asking her for more. Apparently, Campbell’s has nothing on you. ”
The compliment makes me blush. “I can write one down for her” is the only response I can come up with. Because I don’t know what to say about him feeding information about me to his ex’s mom and dad. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t seem to suffice. I’m not sure it’s even appropriate.
“Are you sure that they’re not going to be uncomfortable with me around?” I doubt, frowning at the thought of spending a day with people who don’t think I should be near Gemma.
I wouldn’t blame them. If their daughter can’t be with her child, why should some stranger that may or may not be a permanent fixture in Bodhi’s and Gemma’s life?
“Honor,” Bodhi says in a low, gentle voice. His eyes study my face as those fingers that were once holding my chin move down to cup my collarbone. “I promise you that it’s going to be okay. They’re not going to chase you with pitchforks or tell me that I can do better.”
It’s not me I’m worried about.
“Before Inez passed,” he explains quietly.
“She was seeing someone. She was happy. She found someone who could give her what I couldn’t.
They don’t hold any grudges against it not working out with us because they knew she wouldn’t have been happy if we’d settled for a relationship solely because of our daughter. ”
He speaks of Inez with sad fondness—like losing a friend. “Did you ever consider being with her for Gemma?”
It’s a question I asked years ago at the bar, when we were two strangers who had nothing to offer each other except advice.
He’d never answered me then, and I wonder if it’s because he’d wanted to give things a shot for the sake of his child.
No matter the jealousy poking my heart, it’s admirable if he tried.
He doesn’t hesitate to nod. “I did. But I think we both knew it wouldn’t have lasted. I’m glad she found someone. So were her parents. They got to see her glowing before…” His words trail off before he clears his throat. “I think that’s why they want the same for me.”
That’s sweet of them to want that. I know plenty of people who would choose pettiness. My mother being one of them.
Wait a minute. I make a face. “Do they think that we’re…?” His eyes glimmer as I struggle to finish that sentence. Is he going to make me finish it?
“That we’re…” He repeats knowingly.
I want to glare at him. “Do they think we’re together?” I ask, sounding a little off. “That this is some sort of date?”
His smile stretches. “I don’t bring my daughter on dates, so no. They don’t think this is a date. Speaking of, we should get going. Gemma is impatient.”
With that, he opens the door and gestures for me to climb inside. It’s almost comical how slow I am to settle into the seat, and how the nerves become tenfold when I hear a cute giggle followed by, “He licked me.”
I turn to see Puck sitting directly beside Gemma’s car seat, looking happy as ever to be going on a ride. He loves them almost as much as he loves walks. And he loves getting attention even more than both of those things. “Do you like dogs, Gemma?”
The cute brunette nods vigorously. “Daddy said we can’t get one though cause they’re a lot of work.”
I smile, watching as Bodhi grins while shaking his head at being ratted out. I focus back on the little girl stroking Puck’s fur. “They are. He’s right.”
“Maybe we can keep Puck at our house,” she suggests innocently, staring solely at the golden retriever whose tongue is lazily hanging out the side of his mouth as he gets fussed over.
It’s Bodhi who says, “We’ve talked about this, Cookie Monster. Puck is a working dog. He needs to be with Honor at all times.”
Sweet, sweet Gemma has a solution for that too. “So she can just move in with us. Puck can stay in my room.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“And where would Honor sleep?” Bodhi asks, entertaining the idea.
If I were drinking water, I’d spit it out when she answers, “Your room. You have a really big bed and it’s super comfy. She’ll like sleeping with you like I do.”
Bodhi’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel, squeezing it once until his knuckles are white before loosening. “There’s an idea,” he says, his voice a little hoarser than a minute ago.
I fight off the heat spreading up my neck and switch the topic to a much safer one. “Are you excited for the pumpkin patch?”
Thankfully, she takes the bait. “Yeah! We’re going to pick pumpkins to carve and then go on a wagon and pet cows!”
Her excitement is contagious. “Cows are pretty cool,” I tell her, even though I have no real opinion on the animal other than how great they taste between two buns with some cheese melted onto them.
But I’m not about to traumatize a child with that sort of information the same way I was when I found out that chicken nuggets came from chickens, just like the ones my neighbors raised next door to us on the island.
I’d almost given up meat.
The operative word being almost.
Gemma goes on to tell me about the other animals we’ll see, although I’m not sure they’re all accurate.
Cows, goats, and pigs I can see being on a farm.
But I think she started listing random animals she knew when she added donkeys, zebras, and elephants.
A strange feature for a farm, but I suppose you never know.