19. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Jimmy
The first light of dawn hasn't yet broken when I shut off my truck's engine outside Monarch Bakery. I turn to Eve, her profile softly illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights. For a moment, I'm transported back in time, remembering countless mornings just like this one when we'd arrive together to open Cornerstone Bakery.
I hop out and go around to Eve's side, opening her door and offering my hand. As Eve steps down onto the frost-kissed pavement, her fingers give mine a gentle squeeze that warms my heart. It feels like a small stitch mending the fabric between us.
Together, we stand, gazing at the sign. The monarch butterfly spreads its wings proudly across the logo.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Eve begins, her voice tinged with wistfulness. "Ella's idea. Mom would've loved it."
"Yeah, she would've. The monarch butterfly... it's perfect. A symbol of rebirth."
Headlights cut through the dimness as Ella and Drew pull into the parking lot. Ella's pregnant silhouette emerges from the car, Drew beside her, his hand protective at the small of her back.
"Morning, you two," Ella greets us, her voice bright as the sunbeams begin to touch the sky.
"Morning, sweetheart." I kiss her cheek. Drew nods, his usual easygoing demeanor shadowed by distrust.
"Let's get started, shall we?" Eve says, and we all move inside. "We've got a lot to do before the grand opening."
The bakery greets us with delightful scents. Fresh paint mingles with the comforting memory of flour and cinnamon.
The morning progresses in a flurry of activity. Eve and Ella organize the kitchen while Drew and I set up display cases. We work well together despite the unease between us—both determined to get the bakery ready on time.
"Hand me that wrench, will you?" Drew asks as we adjust the legs on one of the display cases.
"You know," I say, as I pass it to him, "I never thanked you properly for taking care of Ella and the bakery when I... when I left."
Drew pauses, his knuckles whitening around the wrench. Then he sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I didn't do it for you, Jimmy. I did it for Ella."
"And I'm grateful. More than I can say."
As I tighten a loose shelf bracket, a memory washes over me. Ella, barely tall enough to see over the counter, standing on her tiptoes to watch me work. Her eyes were wide with wonder. A smudge of flour on her cheek. "Can I help, Daddy?" I lifted her up, sitting her on the counter. Let her hand me tools while I’d replaced the hinges on a cabinet door. The pride on her face when we'd finished.
I'm pulled from the reverie by Ella's voice. "Daddy? What do you think about putting the register here?" She points to a spot near the front window.
I make my way over, wiping my hands on my jeans. "I think it's a good spot. Gives customers a view of Main Street while they wait in line."
Ella beams. "That's what I was thinking! And we can hang the menu boards right above."
As we discuss the details, warmth spreading through my chest. I've missed this—being part of a family, working together towards a common goal.
"Everything's coming together," Eve steps next to me, her voice soft with wonder.
"Thanks to you." I squeeze her hand.
"No. Thanks to us , Jimmy. All of us." Her eyes meet mine. I see the reflection of the man I'm striving to be—one who stays and fixes things instead of fleeing.
As the day marches on, we settle into a rhythm. The bakery slowly comes to life around us. Each completed task brings us closer to opening day. Outside, I catch glimpses of Strawberry Falls waking up. Old Mr. Johnson shuffles past on his morning walk, tipping his hat to us. The lights flicker on in MacGregor's Hardware across the street.
Ella's phone rings, and she stops to answer it. Her shoulders tense, her free hand unconsciously moving to rest on her belly. My paternal instincts kick into overdrive, and I strain to hear the conversation.
"Ok. Thank you." She ends the call.
Her face is pale, and she's biting her lower lip.
"Everything okay, pumpkin?" I ask, my heart racing.
"That was Dr. Donovan. She wants to see me first thing tomorrow morning to discuss some lab results. She... suggested I go on bed rest immediately."
Eve moves to Ella's side and wraps an arm around her shoulders.
"I'm sure it's just a precaution, sweetie," Eve soothes, but I can see the fear in her eyes.
Drew steps forward, concern etched on his face. "Let's get you home."
"What about the grand opening?" Ella protests.
"Your Mom and I can finish up here. Don't worry about a thing, honey," I promise her.
As Drew leads Ella out, she glances back at me. My little girl is scared and looking to her daddy for reassurance. It takes every ounce of willpower not to rush after them. But I know it's not my place. Not anymore. Instead, I nod, gulping down the lump in my throat.
Once they're gone, Eve and I work in tense silence. As we clean and organize, I wonder if the stress I've caused contributed to Ella's condition. I fumble with a box of disposable cups, sending them cascading across the floor.
"Damn it," I mutter, crouching down to gather them.
Eve kneels beside me, her hands joining mine in collecting the scattered cups. "Jimmy," she says softly, "this isn't your fault."
I meet her gaze, seeing my own worry reflected there. "I can't resist thinking... if I hadn't left."
"We can't change the past," Eve interrupts gently. "But we're here for Ella now."
"You're right. It's just... seeing her scared like that."
"Remember when she broke her arm climbing that old oak tree in the backyard?"
"How could I forget? She was, what, eight?"
"Nine," Eve corrects me. "I was terrified, but Ella... she was so brave."
"She sure was. Just kept asking if we could stop for ice cream on the way home from the hospital."
"That's our girl," Eve's eyes shine with unshed tears. "Always looking on the bright side, no matter what life throws at her."
We sit there, surrounded by scattered cups but buoyed by memories of our girl's indomitable spirit. I unconsciously reach out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Eve's ear. Our eyes meet for a moment as she holds my hand against her cheek, leaning into the touch.
The moment is broken by the chime of the door. It's Drew, looking exhausted. Eve and I exchange surprised glances.
"Drew? Is everything alright?" Eve asks. "We didn't expect you back today."
He runs a hand through his hair. "Ella's resting. After I got her settled with some chamomile tea, she ordered me back here. Said she'd feel guilty if the bakery wasn't ready because of her."
"She gets that stubborn streak from her mother." I tease.
"Hey!" Eve protests, but her eyes twinkle and she grins.
"Well, Ella's right about one thing. Drew's presence here will sure help get things done quicker," I admit.
"Right, let's get back to work." He gestures toward the kitchen. "Those ovens aren't going to calibrate themselves."
"Yes, you guys take care of that, and I'll finish what Ella and I started in the kitchen. After I clean up this mess, you made." Eve winks at me.
As Drew and I make our way to the ovens, the mood shifts back to focused determination. We work side-by-side, adjusting dials and checking temperatures. In the quiet concentration, I find an opening to broach the subject weighing on both our minds.
"So," I begin. "We need to make sure Ella doesn't stress about the bakery."
"Yeah, I've been thinking about that too," Drew nods, his expression serious. "We could come up with a plan to handle things without her for a while."
"Good idea. We can work together and keep things running smoothly for her sake."
After a long moment, Drew speaks, his voice low. "I've been so angry, Jimmy. Ella needed you, and you weren't there."
"I know I've got a lot to make up for. I'm here now, for Ella and the baby... for all of you."
Drew's hands pause on the oven controls. He turns to face me, his eyes scanning mine. "I want to believe that, Jimmy."
"I understand. All I want is a chance to prove myself—to be the father and grandfather this family deserves."
"I see you trying. That's... that's something. Look, for Ella and the baby, I'm willing to work on moving past this anger. Right now, they need all of us united."
Relief floods through me. "Thank you, Drew. That's worth more than you realize."
"Hold off on the gratitude." A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. "We're not out of the woods yet. Our priority is being there for Ella and getting the bakery ready. We'll take it day by day."
I extend my hand, a peace offering.
Drew hesitates for a moment, then clasps my hand firmly—the first brick in rebuilding the bridge between us.
As we turn back to the ovens, there's a new energy in the air. A fragile hope for the future, for a family reunited.