7. Gavin
SEVEN
GAVIN
What an impossibly long and frustrating day. Not only did we learn that our main supplier for roofing shingles was running at a shortage, meaning the roofs weren’t going to be finished on our projected deadline, but the weather was now forecasting a storm later this week. When George Harris, my crew’s lead, came to me bitching about the shingles and roofing issue, I hadn’t been able to get away from him in order to get Josie on time.
Letting my daughter down or making her worry always made me feel like a shitty parent. Logistically, I knew I couldn’t do it all. I knew I’d drop a ball I was juggling in the air at some point. That was why I relied so heavily on my parents even though I felt like I should be able to handle life on my own.
But being over a half an hour late? That was inexcusable. I’d seen her as I whipped into the parking lot, sitting next to Penny. She might have been talking, but she wasn’t happy and I’d done that to her. My lateness affected her, and I didn’t miss the concern, or maybe pity, Penny wore either when I apologized.
How many times was I going to have to apologize to the woman in the first week of knowing her? Considering I’d expected to be able to eat dinner at my parents, or at least have Josie eat there, I hadn’t planned anything for dinner either, so we were stuck eating Sunday’s leftovers I’d brought home after another afternoon spent watching Cameron play ball. Last night had been a late one, too. Caleb also had a televised game, so we’d stayed and watched both. During it, my mom had seemed tired, but not sick, so I hadn’t expected she’d call today and tell me she couldn’t watch Josie due to a fever and sore throat.
Which meant she couldn’t watch her for the next few days either. With snow coming soon, only a few inches predicted but anything could happen, I needed to be on the jobsite, ensuring the homes were protected as much as possible. And now, I’d be on pick-up duty, at least until my mom was feeling better.
“Hey, Daddy?”
“Yes, munchkin?”
“I’ve been thinking.” She dunked a cucumber slice in far too much ranch dressing and licked off the extra before setting it back down.
Josie did a lot of thinking. A lot of planning. Her request could be anything from getting a dog now that she’d fallen in love with Goldie or wondering if it’d be possible to someday live on the moon.
“Okay… what is it?”
“Do you think if Miss Pesco is alone on Thanksgiving, she could come have dinner with us?”
I would have rather she’d asked me for a dog. “I don’t know, munchkin. She probably has her own family to see.”
“Did you know she doesn’t have a dad, like I don’t have a mom?”
She had a mom. She was just a shitty one. And as far as Penny not having a dad… “How do you know she doesn’t have a dad?”
“I heard her talking to Mrs. Parker at recess. They were talking about her sister, which I think would be so cool if I could have a little sister someday, by the way, but then she said she doesn’t talk to her mom all that much and when Mrs. Parker asked about her dad, she said she had no idea where he was. Isn’t that sad? I mean, I at least have a daddy, but it sounds like Miss Pesco doesn’t have any parents to take care of her.”
That was sad. So sad my gut clenched at the thought of it, but there had to be more to the story.
“Were you listening to them? Or eavesdropping?”
Her shoulders scrunched up to her ears. “It isn’t my fault they didn’t know I was sitting close behind them.”
“Josie.” I rolled my eyes. “Remember how we talk about giving people privacy? And being respectful?”
“Well, I didn’t say anything to anyone else but you, but it still makes me sad that we have all this big family and Grandma and Grandpa always have so many people at Thanksgiving, so why can’t we have one more?”
I truly wished her thinking would have been about a dog. She was right. My parents welcomed everyone into their home, especially around the holidays. My mom always said they’d been blessed with much and it was their responsibility to share that blessing with others. If they heard a peep about the new elementary school teacher not having anywhere to go on Thanksgiving, Miss Pesco would be given the seat of honor at the table.
I might have enjoyed our walk home the other night, and in truth, I probably enjoyed it far too much.
Which was the problem.
The farther I kept away from Penny Pesco, the better. For everyone.
“We’ll see,” I told Josie and pointed my fork at her. “But don’t say a word to Grandma until I’ve decided, okay?”
“Okay,” she said happily. Too happily.
My eyes narrowed. That was too quick. “Or Grandpa.”
“Okay…” Her smile turned to a frown.
“Or anyone, especially anyone in our family.”
She blew out a breath. “Fine,” she muttered, pushing out her bottom lip into a pout. “I won’t say anything to anyone.”
My little girl. I had no idea when she’d learned to become so sneaky, but I blamed all the time she spent around Bryce.
It was late. Josie was in bed and all three dozen of her stuffed animals and pillows tucked in along with her. I’d cleaned up the kitchen and picked up the living room and was settling in to watch Caleb play a hockey game in Vancouver when a quiet knock rapped on my door.
It was so quiet I thought I imagined it, but when I leaned back over the couch, there was a shadow of movement at the front door.
No one stopped by my house at night. My family lived far enough out of town they would never show up, but there was one person who lived close.
One woman who’d sat and chatted with my daughter so easily this afternoon that Josie now wanted her a part of our family’s holidays.
One woman I couldn’t stop thinking of, regardless of how hard I tried.
And soon, only a glass storm door separated that woman from my home where Penny stood on the top step of my porch, far enough away from the door I could open it without her needing to move out of the way.
I pushed the storm door open and stepped out to the porch, flicking my gaze toward her house. “Is everything okay?”
“What?” She jolted. “Oh. Yeah. Actually, I wanted to give you this.”
She shoved a folded piece of paper in my direction.
I stared at it like it had the power to bite me. “What is it?”
“My number.”
“Your number?” My gaze jumped to hers and I pressed my hands to my hips to prevent myself from snagging the paper out of her hands. “Why?”
“You were late today, and Josie lives close. If something like that happens again, or, I don’t know… if you ever need help….”
I did need help. For a lot of things, but I was a damn good father, and so yeah, I screwed up today. But I didn’t need someone’s damn pity. And I didn’t need someone’s judgment.
“I’ve got people I can call.” I wasn’t nice about it, either.
The smile plastered on her face turned fake as hell, but she shook the note. “I’m sure you do, but I like your daughter. And it’s not a problem, so I wanted to offer. I’m not judging you for today, Mr. Kelley. I’m simply offering an easy solution if something ever comes up.”
I stood still, because damn her. She had no idea what I’d been through, what I lived every day. The looks I’d gotten, the whispers that followed. Sure, most of them now were about what a good dad I was, but they were always with a hint of surprise, like they assumed I’d suck at it.
Which was the exact feeling I was getting from Penny as she pressed her lips together. Slowly, she dropped the note to the porch. I watched as it fluttered to the ground. It somehow landed on my porch like a bomb ready to explode.
“Fine. Enjoy your night, Mr. Kelley.”
She turned and walked away, hurried down the sidewalk to the driveway and then pulled to an abrupt stop. “Just so you know, I practically raised my little sister with no help. Ever. And all I ever wished for was for someone to see me, to know I needed help and offer it with no strings. That’s all I was trying to do for you, but your choice. You don’t want it, fine. I still know I did the right thing in offering.”
She took off at a jog, the sweats she was wearing somehow managing to hide her curves and show them off as she ran down the street, up her yard. The slam of her front door behind her echoed through the neighborhood like a gunshot.
“Shit.” So maybe I’d screwed that up. Been rude to her— again —for no good reason.
I bent down and swiped up the piece of paper and went back inside.
For some stupid reason, I went straight to my phone and programmed her number into it. Further confusing me, I didn’t throw away her note. I shoved it in my wallet.
Just in case my phone died, and it was an emergency and I needed to get a hold of her.
That was what I told myself when I turned off the game I had no intention in watching and went to my shower.
Accepting Penny Pesco’s help would mean letting her further into my life, and the last time I’d barely attempted to do that with a woman ended in a disaster. But somehow, I couldn’t reach out, slam the door, and flick the lock on her offer either… or stop thinking about how her angry little looks made me feel something for the first time since Josie’s birth.
“We can’t see Goldie today,” I told Josie as soon as she climbed up in my truck.
I was right on time for pick-up today, and Penny wasn’t around to see it. I knew because I checked, scanned the crowd and line of teachers as I pulled into the lot. Part of me wanted her to see me show up on time, doing the right thing. See , I wanted to say to her with a look, I don’t need help. I’m actually a damn good dad.
It was days after she showed on my porch and I was still thinking about it. Still feeling shitty for my rudeness again, still feeling bad about the parting shot she’d left me stewing in.
Instead, a ball of irritation grew when I didn’t see her because I didn’t get to prove to her I didn’t need that help she offered. I still couldn’t shake the reason why she said she gave it, or the reminder of the conversation Josie overheard. She doesn’t have a dad, and she really doesn’t have anyone.
Everyone needed someone.
“Is Grandma still sick?” Josie pouted and hugged her backpack to her chest.
“Yeah.” Her fever and sore throat had turned into a nasty sounding cough. “I was thinking we could make a card for her tonight, though, and go to Millie’s for dinner?”
I still hadn’t stopped at the store for more food, but we could always do that after Millie’s.
“Can I get dessert there?”
Dessert at Millie’s meant a piece of chocolate cake the size of Josie’s face and on a school night, she’d be awake far past her bedtime.
“Please, Daddy?” Josie whined from the back seat. “I haven’t seen Goldie or Grandma for days and days . Chocolate might make me not be so sad anymore.”
It’d been days and days since I’d been listening to Josie whine about not seeing Goldie or Grandma. Frankly, I could use a sugar coma myself. “Fine, but only if we share it.”
She sighed dramatically. “I suppose that’s okay.”
In the big scheme of things, it was cake. Since I was usually strict about sweets during the school week, giving in once couldn’t hurt anything. Either that or I was so wrapped around her finger I couldn’t see straight anymore.
We headed home, where I studiously avoided shifting my eyes in the direction of Penny’s home to see if she was back from school yet. It didn’t matter. After how I treated her, I was certain there wouldn’t be any further offers from her to help me out with Josie.
Once inside, Josie worked on her spelling words and math facts while I showered the day’s dust and grime and sawdust off me. The homes were wrapped and half of them were shingled. For the ones where we were still waiting on the rest, we covered the roofs in plastic. Tomorrow’s snow was supposed to hit overnight and depending on how much we had in the morning, it could mean a lost day of work to us. We’d worked hard all day to ensure we got done as much as possible. After dinner and the store, I’d swing us out through the development to take one last look at everything to ensure the crews finished up properly.
Josie ducked, tugging her hood over her head. “It’s so windy out!”
“I know. Snow’s coming soon.”
“Tonight!”
“Yep. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to wear your snow boots to school tomorrow.”
“Can’t they cancel it instead so we can stay home and play?”
I chuckled and pulled open the door to Millie’s Diner.
“Sorry, kiddo, I don’t think there’ll be enough snow for school to be cancelled.”
“Bummer,” Josie mumbled.
Millicent Miller was every twenty-to-thirty-something’s second mom. She’d lived in this town as long as my own parents and opened the diner as soon as she turned twenty-five. For over two decades, Millie’s was one of the most popular spots for dining, surpassed only in recent years by a Mexican restaurant that opened up outside of the town’s square.
But no one, not even the creamery or the coffee shop, served up sweets and milkshakes like Millie did.
A blast of heat hit us as soon as we entered, and I shook off the cold.
From behind the wraparound bar, one of the high school students who spent their evenings serving was filling up sodas at the machine and smiled at us. “Have a seat anywhere you’d like, Mr. Kelley. We’ll be with you soon.”
“Thank you.” I nodded in her direction and reached down to set my hand between Josie’s shoulder blades. “Let’s go find a seat. Your pick tonight, okay?”
Some nights she loved to sit on the old-school vinyl covered chairs at the bar because she could spin in a full circle.
“Look, Daddy!” she cried and grabbed my hand. “Miss Pesco is here! Let’s go say hi!”
Before I could tug her back and suggest we leave Miss Pesco alone, she let go of my hand and took off to the far back of the diner. How she even spotted Penny in the corner, with her back facing us and in a booth by herself was shocking.
Not so shocking was the smile that stretched across her cheeks, making her nose wrinkle when Josie ran up to her.
“You’re here alone?” I heard Josie cry like it was the worst fate imaginable.
Miss Pesco said something I couldn’t hear, but her shrug made it seem like she was saying it was no big deal.
“Miss Pesco,” I greeted when I finally reached them. Josie was shaking off her coat and on instinct, I helped her, draping the purple coat over my arm. “Sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no bother,” Penny said, but as she talked to me, that smile she’d given my daughter vanished. “It’s fine.”
“Come on, Josie. Let’s go find our table.”
“But we can eat with Miss Pesco so she’s not alone.”
“No—”
“That’s nice, but…”
We answered at the same time, mine the abrupt no that further clouded Penny’s expression.
“Good evening, Mr. Kelley, and hi, Josie. Are you two going to sit here tonight?”
“Yes!” Josie cried and shoved into the booth right next to Penny.
Her eyes went wide, and I was left gaping at not only my daughter but Penny, and then the server. “I… uh….”
No, I was not going to eat dinner with Penny, Josie saddled up right next to her like we knew her or had the right to be in her space.
“It’s fine with me,” Penny said quietly. “It’s okay, really.”
She tipped her head to the side, toward Josie, who was bouncing on her bottom in the seat with glee.
I turned to the server, Eloise, and shrugged. “Looks that way. We’ll have a couple of waters, please.”
“Sounds good.” She gave us all a grin and set down two fresh menus. Penny still had hers in front of her, a barely sipped from glass of a clear, bubbly soda of her own telling me she hadn’t been here that long. “I’ll be right back.”
Wonderful. I tossed Josie’s coat to the booth closest to the window and took a seat across from them. When I glanced up, I peered right into irritated but beautiful blue eyes.