Chapter 15 #2
“She’s so funny and silly and you just can’t help but smile around her.
” I laughed quietly. “This one time, my brother burped really loudly after chugging a can of soda. Fernie took a drink from her sippy cup and mimicked him. Her burp sounded more like a growl, but we all cracked up. That’s Fernie for ya, silly little thing .
. .” Or that’s how she was last fall. I hoped the nightmare I’d brought on us hadn’t snuffed out her sense of humor.
“Does she look like you?”
“I’ll be right back.” I grabbed my phone from the kitchen counter and returned to the deck. I pulled up the picture Lana sent me and held it out to Henry. He wiped his hands on his shorts, then accepted it.
“She has your green eyes.” He grinned up at me.
“Yeah, but she has her daddy’s nose and chin, and when she smiles .
. . those dimples are all Arlo.” I took a seat and blinked back the stinging in my eyes.
“Arlo had this look he’d give me when he was trying to concentrate.
His nose would scrunch up and he’d squint only his left eye.
Fern makes the same face.” It would knock the air from my lungs, like a sucker punch, every time she’d make that face.
Henry placed my phone on the table in front of me. “The dad . . . is he not in the picture?”
“Dad and husband. No. Not anymore. He died in a motorcycle accident three years ago. I was seven months pregnant.”
“Junie . . . I didn’t know.”
I sniffed and cleared my throat. “How would you?”
A little crease formed between his eyebrows. He opened his mouth but closed it, then opened it again. “I’m really sorry you’ve had to go through so much at such a young age.”
Batting a stray tear away, I huffed. “You talk like I’m a child.”
“No. Not a child. Just young. It doesn’t seem right to lose a spouse in your twenties.”
“Yeah, well, most of life doesn’t seem right.” I gathered Henry’s empty plate and stacked it with mine. “Lunch break is over. Time to get back to work.”
“Let me help.” He tried taking the stack of dishes as we both stood, but I moved out of reach.
“I’ve got it.” I gave him a half-hearted smile. “I’ll see you around. Thanks for the tomatoes.”
He frowned. “Sure. Okay.”
Ruining a tasty lunch with my unsavory confession, I grabbed the napkins, tossed them on top of the plates, and beat a path inside, leaving Henry and another botched attempt at socializing behind.
I decided to work upstairs instead of on the deck to avoid another run-in with Henry.
Hours went by with Arlo and Fern heavy on my mind.
As I strung wooden beads onto a leather bracelet, the ache of grief crept over me like a nasty summer cold.
Olla told me once that the passing of time didn’t necessarily make the hard parts disappear but it dulled the sharp edges enough that they didn’t cut as deeply anymore.
Maybe, but today the edges had been drastically resharpened.
I wanted to remember Arlo in a good light, not the dark parts before his life completely snuffed out.
I flipped through the pages of my short past until landing on the moment I told him I was pregnant.
We were both stretched out on the grass outside our small apartment, drawing in sketchbooks.
Something we did often, losing ourselves in the art for hours at a time.
I remembered looking over, admiring the black smudges of charcoal on his hand as he used his fingertips to blend a shadow on a gnarly tree that was actually an old man.
My own drawing that day was of a lush peony cradling a bundle of baby’s breath.
When I had finished the flowers, I selected a stick of dark-pink chalk and wrote I’m pregnant at the bottom, then slipped it on top of his drawing.
Arlo stared down at the drawing, slack-jawed for a heavy minute before a smile bloomed on his face wide enough to bring out his dimples and the sparkle in his brown eyes.
It was the mischievous look that always gave me a heads-up that we were about to get in over our heads but danged if it weren’t gonna be fun anyway.
Vision blurring and hands shaking, I put the bracelet down. A sob worked its way up my burning throat and tore its way to freedom. I cried. Loud and messy. Sweating, nose-running messy.
I scooted out of the chair and stumbled my way down the stairs, sneaking inside the book nook underneath the stairs. I secured the door behind me without turning on the light and curled up in a ball on the floor, staying there until the cries decreased to whimpers, then to silence.
Overcome with exhaustion and a sense of defeat, I dozed off briefly and woke up confused about my location.
My hand reached out and bumped into a row of books.
Remembering, I slowly sat up, only to be met with a wave of vertigo, followed by an intense pounding at my temples.
Clutching my head, I breathed through the dizziness and pain.
When it ebbed, I crawled out from under the stairs, climbed to my feet, then went to my bathroom for a long, hot shower.
Night had totally descended by the time I reemerged and made my way downstairs. Feeling parched, I chugged a glass of water, refilled it, and drank that too. Knowing I needed to keep on my self-imposed schedule, I gave Cy a call while rummaging the pantry for something for supper.
He answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Cy. It’s Junie. Just checking in.”
After the expected pause and barely audible sigh, he finally acknowledged me. “Hey. You sound like you have a cold or something.”
I cleared my throat. “I think it’s just some sinus congestion. I’m okay.”
“What are you up to?”
“Nothing much. I rented a booth at the farmer’s market yesterday. You remember we used to go to it with Olla?”
“Yes. Did you sell anything?”
During our last phone call, I told Cy about the hats and accessories and he had voiced his doubt that there would be any market for that around Charleston.
I was happy to share with him that there was, in fact, a really good market for my creations.
“I sold almost everything I brought. And I ended up with three custom orders.”
“That’s good.”
“I also created an Etsy shop. No sales yet, but it’s brand-new. I think I can make a good profit if I keep it up.”
Cy huffed. “That’s the problem with you though. You never seem to keep things up.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I will keep it up, I just—”
“You’ve never been able to stick to anything.”
Face growing hot, I felt on the verge of tears again. “Then I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”
“Nothing would make me happier than being wrong about you for a change.”
“Awesome. I’ll work on that. Sorry I bothered you. Good night.” I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the counter. Needing some air, I went outside and sat on the deck steps.
Off in the distance, a cargo ship slowly approached the harbor.
It was probably carrying another load of finds.
How wonderful would it be if God was more like .
Just one-click your prayer request and have it delivered within one to two business days.
I’d prayed and prayed lately, asking God to help me fix this rift with Cy and ultimately get my little girl back, but he hadn’t delivered yet.
Maybe my selection had some kind of error or it was on back order. I just didn’t know.