Chapter Thirty-One
Sheriff Sugar and Spice
Rod
Genny plops yet another kid on a ‘pony’.
Of course, we only have horses, so said pony is just a small horse, but the line for ‘pony rides’ has aggregated to the point where it stretches about fifteen ankle-biters back.
Tali has way more friends than I was prepared to host, and that’s not even counting all their parents.
It turns out my daughter is a social butterfly, which means I’m trapped at the grill, yelling across the property to get my sister’s attention.
‘GENNY!’
Very obliviously, she goes on walking the horse by the reins. I groan, but I start making her plate. I don’t need to ask her to know she has the Wilson family appetite: ‘I’ll take a little of everything.’
‘Hey, Jor,’ I call behind me, ‘is there still tiramisu?’
‘We’re running low, but I saved her a slice.’ Jordan passes me a plate with a wink, a fork not far behind. ‘Whatever Bianca sent is flying straight out of the dish.’
I nod in agreement, flipping the chicken before turning back towards her.
Considering she didn’t sign up for this birthday party to be a militaristic endeavour complete with a conveyor belt of food, and a plethora of ‘Wild West’ entertainment, she’s taken it in her stride, which doesn’t surprise me given how good she is with the kids at camp.
She’s more on Tali’s theme than I am, with a white tank top under a denim vest, matching blue jeans, and one of her saddle bronc belt buckles.
Of course, she has a straw cowboy hat on to top the whole thing off, and a plastic gold star attached to her vest reading SHERIFF in Comic Sans.
Her wavy black hair dances across her cheeks in the warm breeze.
She’s got to be the most beautiful sheriff I’ve ever seen.
Plenty of other less civil thoughts dance through my brain, but I shove them away on account of the children’s birthday party going on around us.
‘Did you eat?’ I ask. Then, for good measure, ‘Sheriff?’
Jordan rolls her eyes with a laugh. ‘I don’t know who gave this to me. Probably someone’s kid. But yes, I absolutely did. Before you ask, Genny set my lunch aside in the kitchen. No contamination. Did you?’
‘Not … totally.’
‘Great. Here.’ She’s terrifyingly fast in preparing a plate of tiramisu, which she digs into with a fork and holds out in front of me. ‘Open.’
I oblige, more out of surprise than anything else. I’m the one who usually chases everyone else down and makes sure they have lunch. That care, that concern … it feels pretty nice at Jordan’s hand.
She feeds me a bite, those happy creases forming beside her eyes as she takes the fork back. ‘You can eat the rest yourself, hotshot.’
‘Mmm-hmm,’ I manage around Bia’s heavenly tiramisu. ‘Ten-four, Sheriff J-Dog.’
‘Stop that,’ she commands. It doesn’t really come off intimidating, because just as she speaks, the dogs storm the tiramisu table, or at least attempt to.
Jordan reacts too quickly, getting on her knees ridiculously fast for someone in jeans, and taking them both in her arms. Her laughter is audible.
I can’t quite see her, so I peer around the table.
The furry brothers are licking her face to high heaven. She gives them scritches at their necks and behind their ears as they bark in Finally! Someone to harass! I also take note of the unimportant but evident fact that her butt looks a little too good in those jeans.
‘Scout! Boo!’ I call, hoping my dogs will take the cue to stop attacking guests. ‘Let’s go! I got food!’
Even the promise of grub doesn’t force them to budge. Jordan has them in a metaphorical vice. They get their paws all up on her knees, burying their snouts in her shoulders. ‘You are such good boys!’ she croons. ‘Such pretty boys!’
‘You’re spoiling my dogs,’ I point out, and she glances back at me with a smirk.
‘Ooh, sorry. Can’t help it if they like me better.’
‘They’re gonna eat you. This is how they start. Butter up the prey.’
‘You’re so extra.’ The dogs finally disentangle themselves from Jordan, and she stands, hands planted firmly on her hips. Her eyes are still laughing at me. ‘You get enough attention, Hot Rod.’
‘A little more never hurt a guy.’
‘For now …’ She strolls up to the grill, and up on her tiptoes, presses a kiss to my cheek. I can smell that floral perfume she wears. Her hair tickles my neck. That greedy little part of me growls that it wants more, but I’ll settle for anything she gives me. ‘That’s all you’ll get.’
Bites of tiramisu and many grilled chicken sandwiches later, we bring out the birthday cake.
It’s decorated in as Western a way as the rest of the birthday party, with bright pink horses and boots.
I asked Helen from the ice-cream parlour to help us make it an ice-cream cake, Tali’s favourite.
I sit Tali high up on my shoulders, and we laugh and clamber our way over to the picnic tables under the big tree at the end of our yard.
All sixty-some of our guests are there with huge smiles on their faces.
And as I heft Tali off my shoulders and onto her seat of honour, there’s Jordan, grinning the biggest grin of everyone, her hands clasped happily.
Tali beats me to the chase. She gets up on her feet, stands on the picnic bench, and with a proclamatory arm, points straight at Jordan. ‘Jordan! Please light the candles!’
That evokes laughter in our crowd. My stupid cheeks are going red faster than I can control them.
Tali, my newest nemesis. Jordan doesn’t miss a beat, though.
She rounds the table and joins us, picking up the lighter with a raised eyebrow my way.
‘Getting your daughter to win me over is always a pretty solid plan, cowboy.’
‘I didn’t …’ I cough awkwardly. ‘You wanna light those candles?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She clicks the lighter on and touches it to the first hot-pink candle wick, then the next, until we’ve got all seven.
Seven. Tali’s growing up too quickly. I don’t really get a minute to take it in, because the ceremonial singing of ‘Happy Birthday’ starts up right away.
But I join in soon enough, and I watch as both Jordan and Genny, crouched down to Tali-level, sing with my daughter.
Soon enough, Tali wraps one arm around Jordan, her cheek pressed to her newest idol’s, and throws the other around me with a giggle.
Her head bobs to the rhythm of the birthday song.
Beneath all the noise, I hear her tiny, ‘I love you, Daddy.’
I don’t anticipate the tears that well up in my eyes when the song concludes, and Tali leans forward to blow every last candle out.
I know that girl had some outrageous wish made.
It doesn’t look like she needs anything to come true, though.
She’s so happy. Happiest I’ve seen her, which is really all I can ask for.
This is the first birthday where she’s had two of us.
One on each side. And whether or not she realizes what that could mean, it chokes me up right away.
‘You okay?’ Genny’s gentle hand falls on my shoulder as Jordan helps Tali get straight to cutting the cake so she can dig in. My sister’s eyes look much like mine feel – teary, but not sad. Hopeful.
‘Yeah. Yeah, I am.’
‘Before you get that frosting everywhere,’ I hear Jordan tease Tali, ‘I got ya something.’
Genny and I both turn out of curiosity. Jordan pulls a big box concealed by hot-pink wrapping out from the bench next to her. Her eyes flit over to both of us with nothing short of an excited smile.
Tali gasps, and before she goes for the gift – pretty unusual for a kid her age, I’ll add – she practically sticks to Jordan in the biggest hug, her face all squashed in Jordan’s denim vest.
Genny squeezes my arm reassuringly. ‘Crazy how best case happens, huh?’
‘Definitely.’ I can’t help beaming as I watch Jordan place the gift on the table, and Tali tear the paper from the box with the kind of murderous intent only a grade schooler can muster. The wrapping paper goes, and the lid of the box comes off.
‘Every cowgirl needs something very important if she wants to ride.’ Jordan crosses her arms with a grin. ‘I thought I’d make sure this cowgirl had hers.’
The shriek my daughter lets out is so high-pitched I’m surprised only the dogs don’t hear it. She immediately turns to me. ‘Daddy! Come look!’
Her small hands grip the sides of the box in wonder, her face in shock as she takes in the pair of genuine leather cowboy boots inside.
They’re a softer, powdery pink, embroidered with vines and flowers that climb up the exterior and end in little pink bows.
They must be Tali’s dream come true, and actually, probably are, judging from the amazement in her big brown eyes.
‘How?’ I ask her, with the same sort of shock that Tali’s sporting. These are fucking stunning – far from anything you could get out here in New England.
‘I know a guy who works at a tannery in Eagle Rock,’ she replies. ‘I got him on the job, and then the aunty who made all my pairs of boots since I could walk. We sent her the design. Got it done and shipped over in record time.’
‘God.’ I step back and let the kids crowd the table so they can get to oohing and aahing over Tali’s latest acquisition.
My fingers twine through Jordan’s, a gesture so easy I don’t really notice until she runs her thumb across my knuckles, lifting her eyes to meet mine.
The flecks in the deep chocolate of her irises twinkle.
They’re a doorway to her complexities and emotions, the multitudes that make her so compassionate.
‘She’s a fangirl. Can’t even tell you how excited she got when I told her you did rodeo.
Now this. She’s gonna wear those in the freakin’ pool, you know that? ’
Jordan lets out a laugh. Her head falls against my shoulder, her other hand to my arm. I can feel the way she grounds me through the fabric of my flannel. ‘Let her. You’re only young once.’
‘Thank you.’ I press my hand to hers. ‘For making this so special for her.’
She shakes her head. ‘You don’t need to thank me, baby. Never.’
The sweet honey in her voice, the warmth of her body. Watching my daughter light up as she passes her boots around the circle of her friends, a couple of parents leaning in to get a look at them.
Man, this must be what it’s all about.