Chapter 7 #2
Truthfully, I have to squint to see the small hole near the bottom of her shirt, and I’m tempted to point out that it was bound to happen eventually, since she’s insisted on wearing her favorite shirt at least once a week for the past several months.
I know that’s not the kind of help she’s looking for right now, though, and I’m very committed to getting her day started out on the right foot.
“You know what, sweetheart? I think there’s a sewing kit around here somewhere. Maybe in my purse? I can probably fix it right up for you before we have to leave. Do you want to run back upstairs and bring me my purse from my room, please?”
The question is barely out of my mouth before she’s racing from the kitchen and thundering back up the stairs.
“And don’t run!” I call after her, even though it’s a lost cause.
It’s not until she’s out of the room and I’m trying to remember exactly what I was doing that I smell something burning.
“The toast!” Grant and I say at the same time.
I scramble to get it out of the toaster oven, but his reflexes are lightning fast, and he has the slightly singed bread out and onto a plate before I make it halfway across the kitchen.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” he says. “Maybe if we cut off the crust? That inside part has hardly burned at all.”
I have to laugh. “First, despite all of the things that you can do exceptionally well, lying isn’t one of them. Second, yeah, it’s pretty bad. I’ll eat those pieces myself and I’ll start some more for April.”
“Nah, I’ll eat these and I’ll start some for both of you.” He holds up a hand just as I’m starting to object. “Before you say anything, I already know you have it under control. But there’s nothing wrong with accepting a little help every once in a while. We’re a team now. It’s just teamwork.”
Teamwork.
Because Grant Parker and I are on the same team.
I’ve been raising April on my own for so long, doing everything for both of us without even considering asking for help, let alone accepting it, that it takes a few seconds to wrap my head around the concept of teamwork in that part of my life.
But maybe he’s right. Maybe there isn’t anything wrong with accepting help every once in a while, even when I think I have everything under control.
“Thank you,” I say instead, pushing aside the refusal that was on the tip of my tongue. “Our morning routine isn’t usually this chaotic.”
I let the lie sit there for a moment, as if he might question it.
But of course he’s way too polite to point out that it’s been more or less unmitigated chaos ever since April and I showed up at his door.
“Actually, sometimes it’s worse. There. That’s the truth.
I wouldn’t blame you for thinking I’m a hot mess. ”
“That’s the last thing I think,” he says with such sincerity that I know it can’t be a lie.
“It’s April’s first day at a new school.
You’re both a little nervous. That seems perfectly normal to me.
” He shrugs. “Besides, I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t have at least a little chaos in their life.
The ones who seem to glide so effortlessly across the water are usually the ones paddling the hardest underneath it all. ”
I want to thank him. Want to take the time to have another nice, meaningful, grown-up conversation with this man who seems so single-minded and focused on his sport from the outside looking in, but is obviously so much more than that.
But April pops back into the kitchen hauling my purse in front of her with both hands like it’s the heaviest thing she’s ever lifted.
“What do you keep in this thing, Mom? Bricks?”
“Yes, bricks. I thought that would be a nice change of pace from the million other things I normally haul around in there.” I dig through the semi-organized chaos that’s the inside of my handbag and pull out the sewing kit, then motion for her to sit down at the table.
“You eat while I fix that little tear in your shirt. We’ll have you looking good as new before you know it. ”
The tear is small and conveniently located right at the seam, so it only takes a couple of minutes to mend.
“Thanks, Mom,” she says. “I knew you’d be able to fix it.”
“All in a day’s work.” I toss her a quick wink. “Now, let’s finish eating breakfast and then we’ll go over everything you’re going to need today, okay?”
She nods and I turn back to Grant, letting my shoulders sag a little now that the first round of daily crises is over for the moment.
“Thanks for helping.” I keep my eyes locked with his, afraid I’ll let them start wandering over the contours of his muscles or the intricate tattoos that are only slightly covered by his tank top.
“If what you said earlier about the ones who glide effortlessly are the ones who paddle the hardest, I must look like the most effortless swan on the lake.”
He laughs, a genuine belly laugh that is so completely unexpected that I join in.
“For what it’s worth, it looks pretty effortless from where I’m standing.”
I’m not sure how to respond, but I can feel my cheeks heating up again.
April finishes the last of her breakfast and we have a quick conversation about whether she should take the initiative and introduce herself to her new teacher or just wait around to be introduced.
Her nervous energy from earlier seems to have transformed into excited anticipation, which is exactly what I was hoping for.
“Okay, sweetheart, it’s time to go.” I point to the clock on the microwave. “Say goodbye to Grant and go grab your backpack, then I’ll meet you by the front door.”
“Bye, Grant,” she calls out as she skips toward the stairs one more time to retrieve her book bag. “Thanks for letting me and my mom stay with you for a while.”
“No trouble at all,” he says, speaking a little louder with each word as she makes it to the stairs. “Good luck today at school. I know you’ll do great.”
I start gathering my own things—purse, keys, the folder with all of April’s school paperwork—and realize I must have misplaced my sunglasses.
I pat down my pockets and double-check my bag, but I can’t find them anywhere.
“Have you seen my sunglasses?” I ask, walking from the kitchen to the living room without waiting for an answer.
“I swear I left them with my keys. Or were they in my purse when April brought it to me?” I catch sight of her at the top of the stairs and call out, “April, honey, have you seen my sunglasses?”
“Yeah, I see them now.” She’s already grinning from ear to ear, but her smile grows even wider as she crosses the room and looks up at me. “You seriously don’t know where they are?”
Grant is watching from a distance, leaning against the archway that leads from the kitchen to the living room with his arms folded across his broad chest. There’s definitely a hint of amusement in his expression, but not enough for me to know for sure that he’s in on whatever joke April is up to.
“I know this is probably hilarious,” I say in the most reasonable tone I can manage. “But we don’t have time to play games this morning. Can you please just tell me where my sunglasses are? Or where you saw them last?”
“Sure, Mom.” She points up toward my face. “They’re on your head.”
“Oh my goodness,” I mutter, snatching them from the top of my head as April dissolves into a fit of laughter. “How did that even happen? When did it happen?”
Grant finally speaks up from the corner of the room, and there’s definitely more than a hint of amusement in his tone this time.
“I think you put them there when you were going through your purse. I almost asked at the time if you thought it was going to be exceptionally sunny in the kitchen, but decided against it.”
I groan, hating how many times I’ve already embarrassed myself in the past twenty-four hours.
At least Grant is getting to see the real me, the imperfect mom who is trying her best, who struggles to juggle fifteen tasks at once every morning and who loses her sunglasses on the top of her head. At least he knows moms like me exist.
“Well, I’m glad I could provide the two of you with some comic relief this morning.” I laugh even though I’m trying not to. “Now we really do need to get going if we’re gonna make it to school on time.”
I give a little wave to Grant and start to usher April toward the front door when there’s a knock that stops us all in our tracks. I look back at Grant, unsure of whether I should answer the door since I’m closer to it than he is.
“Oh, sorry. I’ll get that.” He hurries to answer the door, then steps aside for an older man with thinning gray hair, deep-set wrinkles, and an easy smile. “Hey, Colin, I have a couple of friends I’d like you to meet.”
Gesturing in my direction, Grant continues, “This is Heather and her daughter April. They’ll both be staying here for a while.”
“Pleased to meet you, ladies. I’m Grant’s neighbor, handyman, and housekeeper. If you need anything while you’re here, just let me know.”
Two thoughts hit me at once. First, that this seemingly friendly, easygoing older man is the complete yin to Grant’s stern, serious, buttoned-up yang.
Second, I instantly regret the trail of empty dishes, discarded clothing, and lord-only-knows what else that stretches from the kitchen to the bedrooms upstairs. April and I are generally pretty tidy, but this morning has been so hectic that cleaning up was literally the last thing on my mind.
“So nice to meet you,” I say, offering an apologetic smile as I shake his hand.
“And I’m sorry about the mess. We’ve been rushing to get ready for April’s first day of school and I ran out of time.
But I promise you won’t have to clean up any of our stuff.
I’ll take care of it as soon as I get back. ”
Grant shakes his head. “That’s not going to work. Colin, please take care of whatever needs doing, just like you always do, including anything Heather and April leave around.”
It’s my turn to protest now. “Grant, I appreciate it, but that’s not necessary.”
“It is,” he says in that quiet but firm way of his that makes everything sound so intense and serious. “You have enough on your plate today without adding housework to the list.”
Colin just grins. “Don’t worry about it, young lady. It’ll be nice to have some life in the house for a change. All I’ve done for the past couple of years is dust furniture that never gets used and vacuum floors that never get walked on.”
He seems so genuinely kind and sincere that I actually feel some of the tension in my shoulders start to ease. Maybe Grant was right about accepting help. Maybe it doesn’t always have to feel like accepting defeat.
“Thank you,” I say. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the help.”
“Don’t mention it,” Colin says. Then he adds with a wink, “Now get that little lady off to her first day of school, and don’t worry about a thing here.”
All I can do is nod. For the first time in a long time, I don’t have to carry the weight of managing absolutely everything on my own.
I can focus completely on April this morning without the constant mental checklist of all the chores that will still be waiting for me after I get off work.
The relief is almost overwhelming.