Chapter 26 #2
“Did you come to tell him that you’re dating my dad?” Harper looks at me now, tilting her head so she’s resting her cheek on her knees. It makes her look years younger, and I can almost picture her as a little girl with those dark eyes and her dark hair, the apple of her daddy’s eye.
“Yes.”
She smiles, and though I can’t see one of her hands, the way she shifts makes me think she’s resting it on her belly. “I told Mom about you too.”
“You told her about me?” I glance over at the pink headstone, as though it’s a third person in our conversation.
“I don’t remember much of her. And I don’t really think I believe she’s down there, listening, but it feels like the best I can do, you know?”
I nod. Because I do know. “Your dad said you were around Jo’s age when she died?”
“Yep. I feel like maybe Jo would have better memories. Mine are all soft. Hazy. I can’t tell if they’re real or just things people have said, layered on top of actual memories. Which makes me wonder …”
I wait as she goes silent, because it feels like she has something more she wants to say and needs time to locate the words. Or the bravery to say them.
“I don’t know how to be a mother,” Harper says.
It’s not what I expected, but given the track of our conversation, it makes sense. I think of John and our talk this morning, the way he seems to be struggling with how to be a man who isn’t his father.
“You will,” I tell her. “And I’m not just saying that to be nice. There’s something that just … changes in you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But you’ll also feel at all times like you don’t know what you’re doing. You’ll wonder why anyone trusted you with a baby at all.”
Harper laughs, then sniffs. It sounds like she’s crying a little, and I don’t look, offering her privacy. She strikes me as the kind of woman who would prefer to cry alone.
“That’s comforting,” she says after a moment. “Mostly.”
“Lindy will help. And your babies will be close in age. That will be fun.”
“Yeah.” She sniffs again.
“I’m sure your dad will be up here all the time helping too. He seems like a pretty involved grandpa. Though … he’s a little bit of a baby himself when it comes to poop.”
This draws a laugh out of Harper, which makes me feel like I’ve won a Nobel Peace Prize. I’m just about to ask if she’s ready to go because my butt is starting to go numb when she says, “Will you help?”
It’s a tentative ask. Hopeful. The vulnerability in her voice makes something seize up in my chest. I wanted to offer, but it felt like too much. It makes me so happy that she asked.
My “yes” comes out like a bullet. “Absolutely. You might have to fight me to get your baby back.”
She laughs again. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“You can.”
We decided it’s time to leave, and when I stand and brush off my jeans, I realize that dusk is falling. Definitely a good thing I didn’t buy any meat at Trader Joe’s.
Harper is parked near me, and just as we reach our cars, headlights of an approaching vehicle shine in our eyes. Putting a hand on her shoulders, I hold Harper back from the curb. It’s instinct, even though she’s a grown woman and doesn’t need me to keep her from being run over.
A familiar truck pulls up beside us, and Tank jumps out with a grin. “Well, if it isn’t two of my favorite women.”
He gives Harper’s shoulder a squeeze, then envelops me in a hug. His woodsy, masculine scent washes over me and I find myself wondering if it would be possible to button myself up inside his jacket. My initial theory was correct, by the way—I’ve learned that Tank Graham is an excellent hugger.
“You’re cold,” he says, pulling back to rub his big hands up and down my arms.
“What are you doing in Austin?” My gaze shifts toward Michelle’s grave, then back to Tank. “Oh—you were probably here for the same reason we were.”
I’m not sure why I feel suddenly awkward about this, but when Tank’s smile softens, I feel infinitely better.
“I’m here for you.”
“What?”
“You haven’t shared your location with me yet, but the Emilys seemed very happy to supply me with the information. I hope it’s okay that I tracked you down.”
“Stalker,” I whisper, and he laughs.
Harper clears her throat, and when we glance over, she’s smiling. “I’m probably going to go. Are you heading back to Sheet Cake right away? If not, you’re both welcome to join us for dinner. Chase is cooking tonight.”
“As much as I like your husband’s cooking, I’m going to take Rose out on a date. That is, if she’ll let me.”
“Happily.” I almost suggest we forgo the date for dinner with Chase and Harper. I know Tank’s family is important to him, and he probably doesn’t get as much time with Harper now that he’s living in Sheet Cake instead of splitting his time between there and Austin.
But … if he wants time just with me, I’m not going to turn the man down.
“Go,” Harper says, then surprises me by giving me a quick hug. She hugs Tank too, then hops in her car and heads out.
Tank leans in to turn off the engine, which I’d forgotten he left running.
“I thought we were leaving,” I say, then swallow when he emerges with a large bouquet of pink flowers. Dahlias, I think? I really need to learn my flower names.
He holds them out. “More non-roses for my Rose,” he says.
“Thank you. They’re beautiful! But you didn’t have to drive all the way here to give me flowers. I was about to head back.”
“I know. But I didn’t want to wait to see you.” Tank glances behind me. “While we’re here, is it okay if I stop by Michelle’s grave? Or would that be too strange?”
“Not strange at all. I was just there with Harper, actually. But I’m happy to wait here if you want a moment alone.”
“Nope. No more moments alone, thank you very much.” Grinning, Tank reaches for my free hand, wrapping mine in his. “Come on. I won’t take long.”
Standing in front of Michelle’s headstone with Tank is a little different than it was with Harper, and I suddenly feel strange holding a bouquet of flowers he bought for me.
“We should leave these,” I say, starting to bend down to place the flowers in front of the headstone.
Tank puts a hand on my arm to stop me. “I bought these for you, Rose. But if you don’t mind …” He reaches in and pulls a single flower from the bunch and places it in front of Michelle’s headstone. I do the same, adding my flower over his.
I’ll take good care of him, I silently promise. And, as much as they’ll let me, of your children.
I wonder if Tank is having a similar, silent conversation. But when the wind picks up and the sun finally dips below the treeline, I shiver, and Tank puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me back to our cars.
We have dinner at Matt’s El Rancho, which turns out to be a favorite of both of ours.
I tell him that I’m thinking about closing the bakery, and, as I knew he would, he tells me he’ll support whatever I decide.
And that I don’t need to worry about breaking the lease.
We’ll figure that out too, he promises. Tank tells me he’s going to work on finding balance so that he’s not constantly jumping up to help one of his kids or getting caught up in town business.
“I don’t want you to put your kids on the back burner,” I argue. “They’ll resent me if you suddenly stop spending time with them because we’re dating. One of the things I love about you is the way you care for other people.”
He puts his hand over mine on the table.
The salt I spilled earlier is gritty against the back of my arm, and I like how the feeling of it grounds me in this moment.
“I’m not saying I won’t still be with them, and I’d love to have you spend time with them as well.
I just mean they won’t be the top priority anymore. That spot belongs to you, Rose.”
As a show of this, he keeps his phone in his pocket through dinner, ignoring the insistent buzzing, telling me whatever his kids are saying in the family group chat can wait. I decide to do the same, and it’s refreshing to spend an hour or two not checking messages and having Tank all to myself.
Which is why it’s not until we’re walking to our cars after nine o’clock that we finally pull out our phones and get the news that someone burned down Backwoods Bar.