Chapter 3 Davie
DAVIE
Linnea and I arrived in High Ridge late in the afternoon, exhausted and a little hangry, after our seven-hour drive extended into ten hours, thanks to Jesse.
The little man protested each hour locked in his car seat with crying tantrums, diaper blowouts, and an episode of projectile vomit onto the passenger headrest. Linnea had taken it in stride, despite needing to spot wash her hair at a grungy truck stop.
By the time we'd checked in at Timber Bed and Breakfast, we'd agreed that our search for the mysterious Mac could wait until the next day, allowing us time to recover from the stress-filled journey.
But as the morning sun beams through the window, I wish I could pull the covers back over my head and ignore the fact that today the search for Jesse’s bio dad officially begins.
Noise from the bathroom alerts me to Linnea’s presence, her double bed next to mine empty and rumpled.
“Guess that means I can’t stall any longer.” I sigh and turn my head, quietly watching Jesse through the mesh netting of his travel crib. Judging by the bright light and Linnea’s activity, I doubt he’ll sleep much longer, but it’s comforting to see him so peaceful.
He has no idea the upheaval potentially coming his way. All he knows is the warm safety of his small crib and favorite stuffed giraffe.
A few rogue tears slip from the corner of my eye. I haven’t felt that safe and secure in a long time, probably not since I was Jesse’s age.
Back when our father was still around—two parents, food on the table, and a roof over our heads.
A thread of tension twined around every aspect of our lives, though, and it only got worse after he left.
We lived paycheck to paycheck, while a steady stream of Mom’s boyfriends came in and out of our lives.
Linnea exits the bathroom and notices I’m awake. “Ready to find your sister’s baby daddy?” she jokes, trying to lighten the mood.
Covertly swiping at my damp cheek, I sit up and lean against the headboard. “Ready as I’ll ever be. The bar opens at four, so I’m not optimistic about our chances until then, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Fingers crossed.” She raises two hands with crossed fingers to double our luck, and I smile, thankful she offered to join me on this trip as moral support.
We've been friends for over a decade, and she's the only one who knows my entire family history. Who understands the turmoil I've gone through with Jessica, even before she got pregnant.
“Let me change and brush my teeth, then we can check out Fancy’s Diner across the street for breakfast and, hopefully, some intel.”
A half hour later, Linnea, Jesse, and I are seated by a window overlooking Main Street while a waitress puts in our order of pancakes, eggs, and bacon after admitting she doesn't know a Mac.
Blue gingham tablecloths and chair cushions decorate the cozy cafe, and the matching pattern bordering the walls ties everything together.
It’s cute and rustic, and in any other situation, the easy comfort of such a quaint diner would bring peace of mind. Like I’m drinking Hallmark happiness straight from the source.
Unfortunately, the rest of the town is a little too rundown to embody the same vibe.
“So, how do you want to do this?” Linnea asks.
I spoon mushed bananas into Jesse’s gaping mouth and think for a second.
“It’ll probably be faster to split up, if you’re okay with going alone. We each take one side of Main Street and work our way down the open storefronts.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
We finish eating, then Linnea and I split outside on the sidewalk. Jesse’s happy babble emanates from his secure place in the stroller. Like this is any other day where we enjoy a walk in the sun and fresh air.
“Come on, little man. Let’s find your dad.”
First, we stop in the antique store next to the cafe. The older woman behind the counter is kind but ultimately no help.
The same goes for the florist, the pharmacy, and a shoe store.
Linnea and I are making quick work of the small-town shops, but I’m losing hope that we’ll find someone who knows the man we’re looking for.
I’m about to give up and wait for the only bar on Main Street to open up when the last building on the block is all that's left to canvas. The scent of wood dust and paint thinner wrinkles my nose as I enter the hardware store.
“Morning! How can I help you?” A middle-aged man approaches us with a friendly smile. His red polo has the name ‘Greg’ stitched on the chest in white.
I swallow the lump in my throat and launch into the spiel I've repeated multiple times this morning.
“Hi, I'm hoping you can help me find someone. I don't have much to go on, but his name is Mac.”
Greg's eager steps stutter to a halt once he realizes I'm not a customer, and his smile transforms into a quizzical frown.
“Mac?”
“Yes… Do you know anybody around here who goes by that?” I shrug, feeling another disheartening no about to come my way. “It might be a nickname? Short for something else? Or a last name?”
My voice gets smaller and smaller with each suggestion as Greg mulls over the possibilities. None of them appear to light a bulb of recognition above his head.
“Sorry, I don't think—”
“Did you say Mac? Like Cormac Madsen over at Rocking M Ranch?" The newcomer towers over me and Greg, a black baseball cap with an O'Hare Salvage logo doing nothing to disguise his considerable height.
“Maybe? Like I told him,” I gesture to Greg. “I don't know much more than his name, or part of it, anyway.”
The man scratches his bearded cheek with his thumb as his curious gaze sweeps over me and the stroller holding a napping Jesse.
“The thing is,” he drawls, “Cormac only uses Mac with… out-of-towners.” The way he delicately says the word makes it obvious he's being discreet, but I don't have time to be polite.
My sister had a one-night stand that resulted in an accidental pregnancy.
I'm way past the point of needing my delicate sensibilities protected.
“You mean flings,” I say flatly. “He uses a nickname with women he doesn't plan on seeing again.”
Both men have the decency to flush red at my bald assessment.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“And where did you say he worked? A ranch?”
“The Rocking M. It's situated just outside town proper to the west,” Greg provides, proving somewhat useful, despite being unfamiliar with Cormac.
“Thank you. Both of you.” My hand lifts in farewell before I wheel Jesse through the glass entry door, which Greg hurries to open for us. “Thanks,” I mutter, already reaching for my phone to text Linnea about this lead.
But I don't get very far because she's already crossing the street to meet us. Two iced coffees fill her hands, until she gives one to me, so she can shield her face from the sun.
“I've got a name and location,” I say before slurping a mouthful of caffeine and sugar.
“Cormac Madsen at Rocking M Ranch,” Linnea blurts before I’ve even had a chance to swallow.
“How'd you know?”
“A lady at the coffee shop said he might be our Mac. That's why I was coming to see you guys. To tell you the good news.”
“Potentially good news,” I stress, steering the stroller back toward the B&B down the street. “Did she mention how he only goes by Mac with one-night stands?”
Linnea chokes on her iced coffee and pounds on her chest to clear her airway. “No! Seriously?”
“That's what the guy at the hardware store said.” At the B&B, we wave hello to the receptionist then board the elevator before continuing our conversation.
“No wonder Jessica didn't have many details to share. He purposely kept it that way.” Each floor button lights up until we reach the third level. “Not that Jessica was probably any better.”
“This is when experience with casual sex would be helpful,” Linnea says right as the doors open to reveal an older couple gaping at us. The woman clutches the pearls hanging around her neck—yes, actual pearls—while her husband frowns in disapproval.
Stifling a laugh, we hurry past them, quickly unlock the door to our shared room, then let the giggles free.
“Oh my god, I can't believe you said that,” I gasp, holding my side as more laughter bubbles up.
“We were both thinking it.”
She's not wrong.
If Jessica is the wild younger sister who doesn't balk at sex with strangers, I'm the eldest sibling who would never consider hopping into bed with someone unless I've known them for… well, let's just say a long time.
So long that I haven’t figured out the timeline yet, because I’m technically still a virgin—self-made, battery-operated orgasms aside.
After witnessing my mom’s relationships, then suffering through Jessica following in her footsteps, I’ve vowed not to put myself in such a risky situation.
I need stability. Security. Safety. A serious relationship.
It's just my luck that those items are hard to come by these days.
My breaths slowly even out as my amusement fades, and reality sets in. I've got a lead, which means it's up to me to check it out.
Grabbing my purse from the mesh basket beneath Jesse’s stroller, I straighten with determination. "Will you be okay watching Jesse while I verify Cormac is our Mac?”
“I'll be fine, but are you sure you want to go alone?”
“No, but I don't want to drive out there with Jesse yet, and we can't leave him here by himself.”
Linnea sighs and nods in agreement. As much as I’d love to have backup while meeting a stranger, who may become a permanent fixture in my life if it turns out he really is Jesse’s dad, I have to do this alone.
Another snort of amusement threatens at the realization, though, this time it’s tinged with bitterness.
Solving problems by myself isn’t new.
I’m a master at going it alone, and meeting Mr. Cormac Madsen won’t be any different.