Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
A Pearl of Wisdom
from Isabel Espinoza
“Savings bonds are a great present for a little one. You’re never too young to learn how to manage money.”
Juliet
Saturday morning, I woke up with a start, bolting upright, my heart pounding, my head aching.
Clutching the thin quilt, I took deep breaths. I’d been dreaming. I couldn’t quite remember the details, but I had vague memories of a storm.
The glowing red numbers on the alarm clock told me it was almost six in the morning. The house would be waking up soon. Tallulah would be headed to work—her short day. Maeve would stop by on her way to Juneberry. Tenn would sing. The girls and I would keep busy. I had a date tonight.
A pretend date.
Groaning softly, I flopped backward, pulled the quilt over my head, and burrowed into my pillow. I did not want to go on that date. Not if it was just for show.
A flash of light filtered through the quilt, and I sat up again. A moment later, thunder rumbled in the distance. I cursed the forecast I’d read last night, which had made no mention of possible storms, and picked up my phone to look at the radar.
A thin, broken yellow line was inching diagonally across the state, but it was moving quickly. Thank goodness.
As rain lashed the roof, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d subconsciously heard the storm while sleeping. I shivered, unable to shake the uneasiness the dream had left behind. Fear had settled deep in my soul, curled up there, as if lying in wait.
Realizing I wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep, I decided to get up for the day. I tiptoed down the stairs to the second floor and slipped into the bathroom. When I came out, I heard whimpering coming from across the hall. Katy’s room.
I tapped on her door before pushing it open. A night-light threw dim light across the space. Only enough to see shapes and shadows. “Katy? Are you okay?”
She didn’t answer.
I crossed the room, sat on the edge of her bed.
She was hidden under her covers, just like I’d been five minutes ago.
I peeled back the edge of her blanket and realized she was still sleeping.
She tossed, turned, then said “Mary Joy!” in a low, frightened voice.
Then she sucked in a sharp breath, sat up, and dissolved into tears.
I gathered her into my arms. She clung to me.
“It’s all right,” I soothed, my heart pounding. “It’s just a dream. A bad dream. Should I get your mom?”
Sniffling, she shook her head.
So, I stayed where I was and rubbed her back and held her and just let her be. After a few minutes, she finally pulled away, wiped her eyes and nose. I tucked her hair behind her ears, picked up her glasses from her nightstand, and slipped them onto her face.
I cupped her soft cheeks in my palms. I wasn’t at all sure what to tell her. I didn’t want to tell her that dreams weren’t real, because sometimes they felt like they were. Finally, I settled for the simple truth. “Bad dreams stink. I’m so sorry you’re having them.”
She nodded and hugged me again. We stayed like that for another minute until thunder rumbled, and she peeled herself away.
“It’s not a bad storm,” she said in a comforting tone, and I realized she was trying to soothe me.
“Not bad at all.”
She climbed out from underneath her blankets and sat next to me on the side of her bed, her small leg pressed up close to mine. “You’re not scared?”
“Only a little,” I said.
She smiled at me. “A little is better than a lot.”
“In this case, definitely.” Then I gently asked, “Did you remember anything about your dream?”
She started to shake her head, then stopped. “Something happened to Mary Joy.”
I wondered if she was able to remember because I’d asked so soon after she’d had the nightmare. It hadn’t had time to hide away. “Do you remember what?”
Her face squished up as she concentrated. “No, just—” She pushed her small hands to her chest, held them there. “It scared me.” She glanced quickly toward her doorway.
I said, “Do you want to go check on her?”
She nodded.
“All right, but be real quiet like, okay?”
Mary Joy’s crib was in Tallulah’s room, and I knew Tallulah would wake up the moment her door handle turned. She was a light sleeper. I was hoping that while Katy was in there, she’d tell her mom about the bad dream.
Leaping up, Katy tiptoed across the room, using comical, exaggerated steps, and I knew she was going to be all right. The floorboards creaked. The door handle of Tallulah’s bedroom squeaked. I heard some murmurs; then Katy was back.
“Mary Joy is sleeping,” Katy said. “Mama said not to wake her.”
“Did you tell your mom about the dream?”
She shook her head.
“Why?”
She shrugged and grabbed one of her stuffed animals off the bed—a dog that looked remarkably like Daisy—along with a book from her overflowing shelf.
“You don’t want to worry her?” I guessed.
Her chin came up, and she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. She nodded.
“She’d rather be worried than not know. You’re going to have to trust me on that. Besides, worrying is what moms do best. They’re experts. It’s practically an art form. It should be an Olympic event.”
“Now you’re being silly.”
“A little,” I said, standing up.
“A lot.” She squeezed the poor dog, then said, “You can tell her. If you want.”
I decided it was a good compromise. “Deal.” I smiled and held out my hand. “How about some breakfast?”
Nodding, she slipped her hand into mine and we went downstairs.
I glanced toward the TV and smiled. We’d finished the Keira version of P&P last night, and Tallulah and I had a heated debate about which production was better.
She held firm that it was the miniseries, while I held firm that it was the two-hour movie.
In the end, we agreed to disagree—and decided we’d watch Emma, starring Gwyneth Paltrow, next.
In the kitchen, I put on a pot of coffee and made some oatmeal for Katy, making room for the bowl—and her book—at the island. The counter was covered in birthday party items. Plates and cups and favors.
I didn’t technically have a present for Katy yet. I had an idea for one, however. Something handmade. I needed to run to the store later on for supplies.
As I pulled a mug from the cabinet, I smiled at how I’d come to know—and love—little Katy after only knowing her for so short a time.
Before long, Tenn came into the kitchen, moving at a decent pace. His back was healing nicely.
“Mornin’, sprout.” He ruffled Katy’s hair before heading to the stove to put the kettle on for tea. “Mornin’, Juliet. How about a little music to drown out the noise of this storm?”
I thought I’d rather hear the thunder, which suggested that I might finally be starting to heal.
He pulled his phone from a pocket and started swiping. A moment later, music flooded the kitchen. Gilbert and Sullivan songs, of course. As he sang loudly—and off-key—about being a little buttercup, Katy looked up from her book and rolled her eyes. I tried not to laugh out loud.
I wandered into the dining room to glance out one of the front windows. The ferns swayed, and the leaves on Bill’s branches fluttered wildly in the strong breeze.
The chubby robin with the white patch at its neck stood on a branch, positioned so it was sheltered from the wind. When it saw me, it lifted one of its wings, as if waving.
Emotion filled my chest and tears stung my nose. It felt silly, but I slowly lifted my hand and waved back.
The robin’s happy chirp was accompanied by a squawky cry from the floor above, signaling that Mary Joy had woken up. Katy must’ve heard the sound, too, because she was on her feet and up the stairs in the blink of an eye.
Tenn was chuckling as he came into the room. “What’s got into her, I wonder? I wasn’t even singing right then.”
Turning, I smiled, finding his self-awareness amusing. “I’m not sure,” I said, not really wanting to talk about Katy’s nightmare.
He placed a steaming mug of tea on the table, then sat down.
Off came his eyeglasses, which he set aside.
Then he put on his headlamp. “I’m right glad the weather’s going to clear later.
Do you think you’ll have time to help me set up a party tent in the backyard later on?
The more we get done today, the easier tomorrow will be. ”
“I have plenty of time.”
Well, until my date tonight. Which, honestly, I was considering canceling. It just didn’t feel … right.
He scratched his chin, which was covered with thick stubble as his beard regrew. Mary Joy could finally look at him again without breaking into tears. He said, “Katy’s party is shapin’ up to be quite the shindig. She’s going to have herself a real good time.”
I nodded, not doubting it for a minute.
When the sound of faint knocking came from outside, I glanced out the window. I first noticed that the robin had flown off. Then I spotted one of Bill’s branches slapping against a porch column, like it was trying to get my attention.
I smiled, thinking about Katy’s love of the tree.
Then I had the craziest, zaniest idea.
“Hey, Tenn?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Do you know anything about trees?”
“Trees? Some. Why? What are you thinking?”
I told him.
He grinned. “I don’t know much about that, but I know just the man you need to talk to.”
Many hours later, regret followed behind me as I pushed my shopping cart through the aisles of a superstore ten miles outside of Forget-Me-Not.
It was nearing eight o’clock at night, and I was trying not to think about how instead of being here, I should be sitting with Callum at the Lickety Split, looking into his blue eyes and breathing in his cedar scent.
Except I’d canceled the date.
I just couldn’t do it. Pretending to date felt wrong.
Incredibly wrong. So, I’d texted him and said I had a headache, which wasn’t a complete lie, because the one I’d woken up with still lingered.
I added that I’d see him tomorrow at Katy’s party and included a smiley face that I now wished I could go back and erase.