Chapter 40
NINE MONTHS LATER
The warm morning breeze rustled through my low ponytail as Winston and I made our way along the sidewalk just past Stith Park. The playground was deserted but with summer break right around the corner, it wouldn’t be for long.
“All right, slowpoke. I’ve got a list a mile long to do today.
Come on. Let’s speed it up.” My upbeat tone and playful jog was all it took for the goofy dog to play along.
“I have orders for four new hats! Can you believe it? And I have to drop off stock for the boutique too. Fernie’s Fancifuls is keeping me busy. ”
Winston let out a spirited bark, sounding right happy for me.
“And I’m leading the meeting tomorrow night for Patsy.
She’s gone on a cruise,” I tell my companion, glad that I still had time to walk him, Jazzy, and Beau.
My days were too hectic to keep a full dog walking schedule, but I considered that a really good thing.
“I gotta figure out the object lesson I want to share with them. You got any ideas?”
Winston looked up, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth in that smiling way. I patted his head and we kept trotting along. He was still my favorite dog, but we’d made a pact not to ever tell the others.
I unlocked my front door and let myself and Winston in. Some silly song on TV and giggling welcomed us. Winston went straight to his water bowl in the laundry room and began lapping it up. Sounded like more was hitting the floor than making it into his mouth.
I’d adopted Winston last fall, but it felt like he’d always been here. Much like those two in the living room.
On the couch with cereal bowls in hand sat two bedheads.
Leaving them to their cartoons, I went to the kitchen, washed my hands, then grabbed a handful of oat cereal.
I stood behind the couch for a moment and watched as Fern pointed to the screen with her spoon and giggled.
Snickering, Henry crammed another bite into his mouth.
He’d been such a loyal friend, happily spending an hour or so in the mornings with Fern while I walked the dogs.
He’d subscribed to some healthy cereal subscription box so that he could share his love of cereal with my daughter without filling her full of sugar and preservatives, saying he had to be a good cereal role model.
“Hey, you two.” I popped the last bits of cereal into my mouth and dusted my hands together. “Whatcha watching?”
“Curious George,” Henry answered. Still holding the spoon, he pushed his glasses up with the back of his hand. “It’s a classic and Fernie here has excellent taste in cartoons.” He nodded at her and she beamed ear to ear at his praise. “How was dog walking today?”
Fern perked up and barked proudly.
Henry held his palm out and she gave him five.
Those two . . . This was one of the little games they played.
If either mentioned an animal, the other had to make that animal’s sound.
They even had a sound for fish. Bubble, bubble.
And in true Henry fashion, he did all his silly notions with her in utmost seriousness, making it all the more funny.
At the sound of her barking, Winston came barreling around the couch and plopped at Fern’s feet.
“It was fine until Winston chased a squirrel for a hot minute before the little thing turned to confront him. The big goof ran away from it in pure terror.”
Henry and Fernie squeaked like a squirrel.
Shaking my head, I joined them on the couch and accepted a bite of Fern’s cereal. She thought it was the most fun to feed me, so of course, I indulged her. “Thanks for hanging out with my girl.”
“No problem.” Henry made no move to leave, continued watching the cartoon while slurping up the last of the cereal and milk from the bowl.
Fern followed suit and spilled some on the front of her pajama top.
Already prepared, Henry picked up the dish towel from his lap and dabbed it dry.
“Today is the last day of the semester, so I’ll be a little late getting back, but .
. .” He placed the towel into his Papa Bear-sized bowl, eyes on it instead of me.
“I was wondering—and Fernie already said it’s a good idea—and if you think it’s a good idea too, I’d like to take you on a date tonight. ”
Eyes wide, I sat up a little straighter. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “You told me later when the dust settled you’d give us a shot.” He gazed around the room before giving Fern a meaningful look. “Seems pretty settled to me.”
I nodded, thinking about how far we’d come since last August. Cy finally relinquished custody of Fern without much of a fight before they moved to Tennessee.
I think our therapy sessions helped us both to get past our past enough so that we could move on from it.
Fern actually settled in rather quickly, as if picking up right where we left off.
At first, I caught myself thinking how children were just so resilient, but then I remembered no one noticed how un-resilient I was with my parents’ absence, so I set up counseling sessions with Shari for just me and Fern to make sure she was okay.
I was in a much better place in my recovery, but I still attended both group meetings every week and had no plans on stopping.
Between the meetings and church, I felt surrounded by an ironclad support system.
The dust had settled. So maybe it was finally time to agree to a date with Henry.
“Okay, but Fernie will have to join us.”
Henry blinked, looking taken aback. “That felt too easy.”
I shrugged, fighting a smile. “A year felt too easy?”
“You’re right. It’s been quite difficult putting up with you.” His lip twitched with tease, but he didn’t allow the smile freedom. “Bekah will be here at five to pick up Fernie. They’re having a girls’ night, but maybe Fernie can come with us next time.”
I loved that he was already talking about a next time. “A girls’ night?”
“Cookie class,” Fern answered, her attention on the silly monkey on the TV.
“Cooking?”
She shook her head. “Cookie.”
“They’re going to a cookie decorating class.
” Clearing his throat, Henry stood. From his shift in posture, slightly hunched, I already knew what was coming before he started speaking in his Count von Count accent.
“It’s time for the number of the day. Ah, ah, ah.
” He held up his bowl. “That’s one, one bowl.
” Fern happily handed hers to him. “Two! Two bowls, ah, ah, ah . . . The number of the day is . . .”
“Two!” Fern jumped up and did a little dance while Henry continued the ah, ah, ah laughing, mimicking the Sesame Street character.
Snickering, I sat there and took in the sight of them.
This counting was another one of their games.
Yesterday, the number of the day had been eight, because that was the number of washable markers in the new pack Henry gave her.
Those were as much a gift to me as to my daughter since it made for easy cleanup.
Admittedly, I had no idea what children her age should know but I considered my three-and-a-half-year-old daughter a level of genius all on her own. She knew colors, could count to twenty, could sing the ABC song, knew how to brighten any dark day just by smiling.
Henry placed the bowls in the sink, then headed inside the laundry room off the kitchen. “Junie, you mind coming here for a minute?”
I placed a kiss on the top of Fern’s head and then went into the laundry room, finding Henry leaning against the dryer. “You mean it? You’ll go on a date with me?”
“Yes. But what if I had said no?”
“I would have had to crash Fernie and Bekah’s girls’ night and drown my sorrows in pink frosting and sprinkles.
I’m really glad I don’t have to do that.
” He reached for me, pulling me in for a hug.
“You think this date tonight could end with a kiss, perhaps?” Henry said, his lips against my neck.
We both knew that counted as a kiss, just not the kind he wanted.
“No.”
He leaned back to meet my eyes. “No kissing, still?”
“No, I don’t want to wait until the date. I’d like for you to kiss me now.” I pouted my lips, making myself clear.
Growing serious, he took his glasses off and laid them on top of the dryer.
Even with his dark hair sticking up every which way and him wearing a rumpled T-shirt and joggers, Henry Morrison was the most handsome man I’d ever met.
His was the best kind of handsome too, the kind that came from within first.
As his lips met mine I knew something that I’d known for quite some time and would wait a little while longer before admitting out loud. I loved him, first as a great friend, but then much more than that.
“Mommy, we gotta check on Grandma!” Fern burst through the door and we managed to jump apart at the same time.
“Okay. Let’s go check on her.” I winked at Henry, who was blushing, and let Fern lead me to the grandmother clock.
I opened the glass case and stepped out of the way so she could pull the chains down.
As I listened to her cute little grunts and the zipping sound of the chains, I thought about Olla and wondered just how proud she would be of me and how far I’d come in the last year.
Between doing right by my daughter and wanting to honor my grandmother, I would give it my all to continue down this road of sobriety, to be someone my grandmother would be proud of.
“Look, Henry! I did it all by myself!” Fern pointed to the clock.
“Well done, Fernie.” Henry held his hand up and she slapped it with enthusiasm. “Okay, ladies, I must be on my way.” He placed a kiss on Fern’s cheek and then mine.
Once Henry headed out the door to get ready for work, Fern and I got ready for our day.
First, taming her hair and brushing her teeth.
Then moving upstairs to our workroom. I’d set up her own little table with interactive puzzles and educational coloring sheets appropriate for her age and she absolutely loved working alongside Mommy.
We would work until lunch and then she would nap while I worked a little more.
Our afternoons were spent at the park or beach until Henry returned home from the college and we’d either swim in his pool or play some game of their choosing. Life was simple but so good.
I settled down at my table to begin another hat, but I took a moment to gaze at my child. I’d learned the hard way not to take even a second with her for granted.
“What you want me to color, Mommy?” Fern uncapped one of her new markers.
“Whatever you want to.” I smiled wistfully.
“Hmm . . . Winston!” She replaced the blue marker and selected the brown one.
At the mention of his name, our dog trotted over to her table and stretched out beside her chair.
Fern started dragging the marker down a fresh piece of paper.
The concentrated expression on her sweet face—lips twisted, eyes slightly narrowed—reminded me of her father.
My chest tightened every time I caught a glimpse of Arlo in our daughter, knowing he’d missed out on meeting the most perfect gift we were ever given.
Sober and determined, I would love her enough for the both of us.
My phone buzzed with an incoming message from the MNS group text.
Mark your calendars for Somewhere’s Food Festival June 29 with Chris Evans!
I gave it a thumbs-up and put a reminder in my calendar app before I forgot. I loved that quaint town. Loved that people could go there and it could be their somewhere.
“I’m gonna give this one to Gilly and that one to Henry.”
I glanced up from the phone screen and saw Fern holding up two colorful drawings. “They’ll love that. So pretty, Fernie.”
She went back to marking up the page, as if trying to cover every speck of white.
As I watched her color, I reflected on my somewhere and decided it wasn’t an actual place, but the people surrounding me.
Fern, Henry, Gilbert, the Magnolia Nephalist Society, Betty and the group at the Methodist church.
Even Cy and his family. They were my somewhere.
Despite the rocky journey, I was no longer south of somewhere but exactly where I was meant to be.