18. Tess
Tess
I only just have time to dash back down from the hayloft before Shel can appear at the top of the stairs and catch me eavesdropping.
Technically, I’m not sure it counts as eavesdropping. It feels like my parental right to listen in after getting home from work early, coming down to the barnyard to find my kid, and hearing her crying up in the hayloft.
Then again, the time to announce myself was probably when I heard Jacinthe’s voice as I was climbing up the staircase.
I didn’t, though. As soon as I realized the two of them were talking about Baron, I slowed to a crawl and crouched beside the doorway so I could hear as much as possible.
The more I listened, the more I started shaking. I got scared they’d feel the floor vibrating from me trembling so hard, but I couldn’t stop.
Even now, I’m having trouble standing up straight as what feels like wave after wave of emotions crash over me.
Guilt. Grief. Anger. Gratitude. More guilt, and then more guilt again.
I’ve spent Shel’s whole life trying to figure out how to explain her dad to her. I’ve spent countless nights staring up at the ceiling, my mind racing with the frantic urge to find the right combination of words to make everything better.
It turns out what Shel really needs is someone who can understand—in ways I never will, no matter how hard I try.
She needs someone like Jacinthe.
I’m still standing there reeling when Shel pops out onto the landing with her guitar slung over her back.
It’s almost too big for her to wear it that way.
She looks like a turtle about to get stuck on its shell.
Despite the puffy skin under her eyes and the red rim around her nose, she’s beaming like the sun is shining just for her.
I widen my stance to avoid dropping to my knees as a new emotion joins the deluge: relief.
She’s happy. She’s smiling. Despite everything, she’s smiling, and maybe I’m not the person who knew how to put that smile on her face, but it’s there, and right now, that’s all that matters.
“Mom!” she shouts when she spots me. “You’re here!”
“Hi, baby!” I call, lifting my hand in a wave and doing my best to sound cheerful.
“You’re not supposed to be home yet.” She comes barreling down the staircase, the wood creaking even under her slight weight.
It’s a miracle neither of them heard me when I climbed up there.
“What? You’re not happy to see me?” I ask.
I hold my arms out, and she sprints over to throw herself into a quick hug.
“We don’t have to go to Ali’s yet, right?”
I don’t get a chance to answer before she bulldozes through an information dump, explaining all about the broken guitar string and how Jacinthe is going to help.
If I hadn’t overheard their whole conversation, I’d be asking her to slow down so I can catch more than three words she’s saying, but I just nod and tell her we’ve still got plenty of time.
“Okay, I better run!” she says, zipping past me to hit the path up to the house.
I turn to watch her go. She makes it a few meters before she pauses to holler over her shoulder.
“Jacinthe! Are you coming?”
A voice from up above me answers.
“ Bient?t, ma belle ! You go ahead!”
I whip around to face the barn, and there she is. Jacinthe stares down at me from the top of the stairs. She’s wearing a waterproof jacket over her usual blue jeans, the zipper hanging open to reveal a knitted, forest green sweater underneath.
“Oh, salut !” she calls out. “I thought I heard her talking to someone.”
More creaking fills the barnyard as she clomps down the stairs. I open my mouth to try to say something, but no sound comes out.
“You’re back early. Easier job than you thought?”
All I can do is nod as she walks up to me. She narrows her eyes.
“ ?a va ? You look like you skipped your coffee or something.”
I shake my head and stuff my hands in my coat pockets. “Oh. Uh, just a little out of it today. Sorry.”
She shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve worked like nine days straight.”
Her gaze flicks up to the sky above us, and I follow the line of her eyes.
“Beautiful day,” she says. “That blue is just crazy. I decided to clean some tack outside to enjoy it.”
She sweeps her arm out, and I notice the saddle trees and bucket set out in front of the barn.
“Shel was practicing guitar up in the loft while I worked, but she snapped a string. She was, uh, pretty upset about it.”
All I manage is a nod.
“We had a good chat, though,” Jacinthe adds. “I, ah, never told you this, but I play a little guitar. I’m gonna help her re-string it and give her some tips for playing. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
“Oh, of course,” I assure her. “That’s awesome. Thank you so much.”
She presses her lips together in a guilty look.
“I hope you don’t think I was hiding it,” she says. “I should have offered to help her sooner. I’m just, uh, not the best at guitar, and I don’t tell a lot of people I play it. They usually laugh. I guess it is funny: me playing guitar.”
She gestures up and down her body and laughs, like she’s aware she doesn’t fit the stereotypical musician’s demeanor.
“Actually, I thought you would be more surprised,” she says.
“Your mom told me,” I admit, before I can think better of throwing Gabrielle under the bus.
Jacinthe growls, but there’s at least a tinge of fondness to the sound.
“ Calice ,” she grumbles. “The woman can’t keep a secret to save her life.”
We stand there scuffing the dirt with our feet as a few moments of awkward silence tick by.
There’s been more of those lately, ever since we kissed. When we’re talking or moving or keeping ourselves busy, things are fine, but in the silence and the stillness, the memory of what’s passed between us hits like the first drops of rain before a storm.
I know what her mouth tastes like.
I know what her lips feel like when they move against mine.
I know the sound she makes in the back of her throat when I graze her skin with my teeth.
She clears her throat and smacks the tops of her thighs.
“ Ben , I’m gonna go get that string for Shel.”
She spins on her heels and begins marching up the path. I stare at the line of her shoulders until she pauses and turns to look back at me.
“You coming?”
“Oh. Right. Yes.”
I jog to catch up with her, and we fall into step beside each other.
“You okay?” she asks when we’re almost at the front porch.
“Yes,” I say, just a little too quickly. “I just, um, really appreciate this. Really. Thank you.”
I stop at the bottom of the steps. Jacinthe shrugs and gives me a small smile.
“It’s no trouble. The strings were just gonna sit in my closet.”
I shake my head. “It’s not just the string. You’re helping her with playing too, and…”
My throat gets too thick to go on. I don’t know how to tell her what I heard, or what it meant to me.
She helped my kid in a way I’ve never been able to help her myself. She helped Shel without even being asked. She didn’t have to be told what to say or what to do. She just knew.
Not even Baron just knows . He’s Shel’s father, and I’ve been telling him what to do for her whole life.
“I’m just really grateful,” I finish. “If it’s too much?—”
“It’s not too much.”
Jacinthe’s eyes narrow, her voice taking on a hard edge, like she’s angry I even suggested it.
“Shel is a great kid,” she says, softening now. “Who wouldn’t want to hang out with her?”
The lump in my throat is swelling again. I can’t help thinking about Claire, my only ex since Baron, and all the things she said about Shel: how she was around too much, how I clearly didn’t have room in my life for anyone else.
Even when I was at my wit’s end trying to juggle everything, she made me feel like it wasn’t enough.
She made me feel like Shel was a problem.
I’m not dating Jacinthe, of course, but the fact that another adult can so easily accept Shel into her life—not just with grudging acceptance, but with genuine enthusiasm and care—makes me feel like my whole world is shifting on its axis.
“Still,” I say, staring into those brown eyes that stopped me in my tracks the very first time I stepped into this house, “just…thank you.”
The sound of the front door creaking open makes us both jolt.
“Are you coming?” Shel asks, poking her head out and giving us an impatient wave.
I leave the two of them to work on the guitar upstairs and head for the kitchen instead. I still need to put a snack tray together for Shel to take on her play date with Ali. I put all my focus into arranging blocks of cheese and packs of Goldfish crackers.
Once I’ve wrapped up the tray and changed out of my dirt-streaked work clothes, it’s nearly time for us to leave. I give Shel a five-minute warning and bring the food out to the truck.
Jacinthe comes to see her off on the porch. She holds her hand out for a fist bump, and Shel clunks their knuckles together before skipping over to hop into the backseat.
“How did the guitar lesson go?” I ask as I’m pulling out of the driveway.
“It was fun!” she chirps. “We didn’t have time for much, but Jacinthe says I’m better at strumming than I think and that I just need to play with more confidence.”
She bobs her head in a determined nod, like she’s drumming up that confidence as we speak.
“That’s great,” I say. “Seems like you two had a good morning together?”
She nods again. “We did. Jacinthe is really cool. I’m so glad we met her.”
I keep my gaze fixed on the highway as my pulse surges like someone’s squeezed a fist around my heart.
“Me too.”
Shel doesn’t mention the conversation about her father, and she looks so pumped up from the guitar lesson that I decide to save it for another time.
It’s a twenty minute drive out to where Ali’s family lives. I’ve already spoken to his mother on the phone a couple times, but I still insist on going to the door with Shel despite her telling me how uncool that is.