Chapter 20 #2
I let myself into the house, slipping off my shoes and immediately heading upstairs.
My bedroom door is open, my bed perfectly made.
The clothes that were strewn across my floor are folded into neat piles and placed at the end of my bed.
A crayon-drawn picture sits propped up against my pillows, big block letters say ‘Welcome Home, Kayla!’.
Three stick figures—Ben, me, and Colter—hold hands under a crooked blue sun.
I hold the picture in my hands, the paper shaking. My eyes well with tears, staring down at the little family on the page. I feel like I’m getting whiplash in this place. How am I supposed to remember my place when this kid is making me feel more and more important as each day passes?
Placing the picture on my nightstand, I wipe furiously at my runny nose and then pick up the book that was placed beside Ben’s drawing.
It looks like a coloring book for adults, if the title is anything to go off of.
The cover page reads An Adult Coloring Book for People Who Curse Like a F*cking Sailor, and a laugh slips out before I can stop it.
Tucked inside is a note in sharp, blocky handwriting.
For your colorful words.
—Colter
I sit on the bed, holding it in my lap like it might disappear. This ridiculous gift says more than anything else he could’ve said or done.
Because this silly, thoughtful, completely him, gift tells me he sees me. Knows me. Still wants me in his life, even if we don’t have the words for it yet.
It both scares me and thrills me. I love it, and I hate it.
I reach for my phone and open the draft I’d typed back in the kitchen in Chicago.
Then I press send.
Harry,
Thank you so much for your offer. After careful consideration, I’m thrilled to accept the position as Second Grade Teacher for the following school year.
I’m excited to continue building something meaningful here—both in the classroom and in this community.
Looking forward to what’s ahead,
Kayla Carson
The front door swinging shut alerts me that I’m no longer alone.
I hesitate in my room, unsure of whether or not I should head downstairs to see the boys or if I should let them come to me.
Boots thud against the shoe rack, and Ben’s metal bat clangs against the wood floors—a sound that has become familiar in the past month of baseball practices and games.
Hearing Ben’s voice as he chats with his Dad forces me to make a decision, and I quickly finish braiding my wet braid.
I’m just about to head downstairs to see my favorite boy when my door swings open.
“Kayla!” Ben cries, diving into me with enough force to steal my breath. “You’re home! I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Bud,” I hug the little boy to me, despite the fact that I just showered and he’s covered in red dust from the baseball diamond.
“Did you see my picture?” He pulls back to peer up at me, but keeps his arms wrapped around my waist.
“I did. I think we need to hang it on the fridge. It’s so good I want to see it every morning. What do you say?”
“We can’t,” Ben pouts, pulling away from me fully now. “Dad got a stupid fridge that things don’t stick to.”
“Ben.” The deep baritone voice sends shivers down my spine. It’s not that I didn’t know he was there, I felt his presence the second he’d stepped into the room. It’s just how I react to Colt’s voice. A reflex. “You know you can’t just barge into Kayla’s room.”
“But I missed her!” The little boy crosses his arms, looking every little bit like his father.
“I did too, Bud. But you gotta knock next time,” the cowboy says, stepping further into the room and ruffling his son’s blond hair. “Welcome home, Kayla,” Colt finally acknowledges me, and I hadn’t even realized I’d been waiting for it.
“Hi, Colt,” I shuffle in place, avoiding his eyes. “Thank you for the book.”
“I saw it last time I was in Malta. Had to get it,” he speaks softly, as if testing the waters.
“It’s perfect,” I reply just as softly.
“Good.” He clears his throat, using his hand on his son’s head to spin the little boy around. “Alright, Bud. Why don’t we get you in the shower, and then after Kayla can tell us all about her trip over some popsicles. Somebody bought a butt load,” he flashes a smirk over his shoulder, teasingly.
“Hey! Gwen ordered too many. I was just trying to help out,” I defend myself, following the two cowboys into the hallway.
“Nah, Sue sends that text every time she has no gossip to spread. Increases sales at the store, and gives her something to say.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“You’ll learn.” The smile he sends me tells me he’s excited to see every trick I fall for throughout the learning process.
“I will,” I agree, watching him pull a fresh pair of PJs out of his son’s dresser. I pass him a clean towel from the linen closet, knowing Sundays are wash days, and he never remembers to put a fresh one back in the bathroom. “Guess I’m sticking around for another year.”
That’s when I learn that Colter has different smiles. This smile is bigger and brighter than any other I’ve seen thus far. I think it’s my favorite one so far.