Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Lindsey
A week after driving Kace home, reality really kicks in and not in good ways.
Kace is slowly coming off the pain medicine and grumpier than ever because of his physical limitations, growing boredom, and sheer frustration. He's still in pain, too. Which only adds to the mix.
I'm trying to find a routine with him and the house and the girls—and all the while surfing the web for jobs and rentals.
I want to help with whatever I can help with but also keep my distance and focus on my life as well.
Especially given my baby situation. And frankly, the last thing I need is to complicate my life even more, whether it's getting too involved with the girls or a man struggling to cope with the challenges he faces.
I can only do so much. And so much of what Kace faces is completely out of my control.
So I try to keep myself in the moment and focus on what I can control in regard to my future.
Maybe I'm selfish, but I have my own things to figure out and plan.
I don't need to add to my list. It pays to be smart.
Especially when you're a woman. Especially when you've already been taken advantage of by a man lying about who he truly is.
The last thing any woman wants is to find herself stranded, alone, and wondering how she's going to survive.
I care for the girls. And I care for Kace.
I certainly don't want anything to happen to them, but they aren't my family or my safety net, and I have to remember that.
This is temporary. Meaning I have to build a family and foundation of my own.
No matter how hard it is to do or how long it takes. I have to do it. No one else can.
But Dani seems overly clingy and needy, and I'm not sure if she's always been this way and I'm just noticing, or it's because of the upheaval in her life and she's playing off her father's temperament. Or maybe mine?
Either way, she's more emotional and has tested my patience with her mood swings.
Then there's Madison— She's withdrawn and also moody, with whiplike responses that bite into me whenever I try to talk to her or ask her to do something.
I'm nauseated. Tired. Grumpy myself because of lack of sleep and wondering if I've made the right decision.
Maybe it is too much? Maybe I have taken on more than I can handle?
Maybe I just need to find a rental, even just a room to rent for the time being, and focus on taking care of myself while figuring out my future?
It's something to consider. And I'm deep in decision mode after dropping Kace off at his PT appointment. I'm driving Madi to the bookstore next when I decide maybe I need to try to talk to the girl once more. Bracing myself, I ask, "So how's work been going?"
"Fine."
How can one word hold so much attitude, I wonder. "Bronwyn says you're running the checkout now. That's huge."
"Why do you say that? Are you afraid I'm going to steal from her?"
I sputter at the accusation. "What? No! Madi— I just meant it's a lot of responsibility, and she says you're doing great. That's all. Why would you think—"
I glance across the vehicle and see her glaring out the window. Giving up, I search my brain for another topic that might hold less animosity.
"How long are you going to stay?"
I grip the wheel and slow for a red light. "Why do you ask?"
"Because it doesn't take a fortune teller to tell you're getting freaked out. And you're not getting paid."
"No, I'm not. But I am getting a place to live and food."
"Seems like a lot of work just for that."
Yeah, it is, I agree silently, thinking of trad wives everywhere who do the work of five people or more and are still expected to be grateful they live a "luxurious life" as a stay-at-home wife and don't have to "work.
" "Kace and I agreed to take things a day at a time.
We also agreed to an opt out if the situation doesn't work for either of us, but so far I think we're doing okay. "
Am I trying to convince her or myself?
I still inside. Because I'm honestly not sure.
"Do you?"
This is not the girl I met a few weeks ago. Or did I have blinders on like I did with the father of my baby? Do I see people with rose-colored glasses? How do I rip those suckers off? "I don't understand what's going on, Madi. Why do you sound so angry? Have I done something to upset you?"
I look over in time to see the eye roll.
"Something is obviously wrong."
"I just don't think you should be here at all if you're going to get fed up and leave."
The girl's words hit home, and I connect them to the fact she was already abandoned by her mother.
The light changes while I'm still reeling from the verbal sucker punch, and I struggle to breathe.
Obviously me helping out is more impactful than I thought, and I double down on my determination to succeed.
Dazed, I get us moving, and it's only two more blocks to the bookstore. I pull into the free space out front, amazed it's available given the time of day. "Madi—"
"I have to go."
"Madi—"
The door slams shut, and Madi practically runs into the bookstore.
I glance up at Dani in the rearview and find her father's eyes staring back at me. Now she looks upset, too. "Dani, honey, you know that if I get a different job, and I can't stay to take care of you, that someone else will take my place, right? You won't be alone."
She blinks at me, looking sad and wary and suddenly much older than her tender years.
"But what about Daddy?" she asks in a low voice.
"What about your daddy?"
"Is Daddy going to be okay?"
I smile and nod. "He's going to be just fine."
"Are you sure? Because he's grumpy and sad, too."
Grumpy and sad, too? Is she referencing me?
Or Madi? I suppose I have become grumpier as the week went on and my nerves frayed a bit.
But I choose to focus on Kace. "Sweetheart, you have to remember your dad is used to being up and about doing things.
And his leg and the burns hurt. Pain makes us grumpy, so we have to give him some grace right now, yeah?
As his pain eases up, he'll go back to normal. "
Dani blinks at me and searches my face as though seeking any hint of untruth. I add a smile and hope it helps reassure her.
"But…"
"But what?" I ask, urging her to ask whatever it is that's making her look so sad.
"Will he be able to run again? He always runs while I ride my bike. Sometimes we race."
I picture Kace in the recliner with his leg propped up.
I'm not a doctor, but I imagine the compound break will be painful for quite some time.
Months. Maybe even years? As to running…
Will he be able to run? How long does that type of injury take to truly heal?
Is that question another factor in his grumpiness? Is he wondering if his career is over?
For the first time, I realize I'm not the only one at a true crossroads. His injuries could be career ending. At the very least, I suppose he'll have to pass a physical in order to go back to work. Will he be able to?
As the doubts and questions bombard me, I struggle to find the words appropriate for a six-year-old. "I'm not sure, Dani. It'll be a while until his leg heals, you know? But the important thing is that it will. And, hey, maybe I can jog a bit with you later if you promise not to go too fast."
"Really?"
That promise turned the tide, and her little face lit up with a grin that soothed the worn edges of my soul.
I hit the blinker to pull out into traffic and check for oncoming cars.
"We'll see. I've been missing my morning runs.
I need to get back to them. But I probably can't go very far.
" I know I won't be able to run the entirety of my pregnancy due to my size, but I do miss my routine.
I had a great place to jog in California and found it helped to calm my anxiety and clear my head after work.
I haven't gone running since I've been in Carolina Cove, and that needed to change.
For my mental health if nothing else. "Let's go do our errands, and we'll try this afternoon. Just a short one if I can. Okay?"
"Okay. I can't wait!"
Dani's excitement keeps a smile on my lips all the way to the grocery store—until I realize why locals never go to the grocery store on weekends.
The tourists checking in for their stays are out in droves, tired from their long drives and impatient to get settled.
The shelves look a little bare as Dani and I make our selections, and a few items are completely out of stock.
"Welcome to summer at the beach," I hear someone say as they pass by us and see us staring at the empty shelf.
It takes three times as long to get the items on the list and head back to the house. By then, the heat of the day has fully kicked in, and my stomach is churning in that weird space between being a little hungry and feeling a lot sick.
Dani helps me carry in the bags and boxes and put things away, all the while asking repeatedly when she can ride her bike. I'm forced to say no since it took so long at the store, because we don't have time before piling back into the car to go pick Kace up from PT.
Dani's not a happy camper, and I can feel my own frustration growing because no one seems to be in a decent mood today.
And post PT, Kace is practically fuming, with smoke coming out of his ears, by the time we get him settled.
He's visibly drawn and pale, yet his cheeks hold red, and he repeatedly locks and unlocks his jaw, making me feel sorry for his poor teeth.
I know without asking that PT had not gone well.
I manage to stow the wheelchair and take a moment to catch my breath before moving to the driver's door.
Patience, I have. But this?
This day is requiring a lot more from me than mere patience.
Kace barely says two words the entire trip back to the house.
And that's fine. I listen to music and think of something I need to add to my résumé along the way.
I've been working to polish it before sending it out, wanting to put my best foot forward, so to speak.
Especially considering that by the time I go on interviews, my belly may be the part of me that enters a room first.
I get Kace inside and settled, working up a sweat from the effort it takes to roll and balance someone twice my size who's spent the last few hours at PT and worn himself out. At least I don't have to lift him. Not that I could.
Kace is so exhausted; he falls asleep in the recliner almost instantly despite the white line of pain around his lips. Another sign of his day and the toll it's taken on him.
But just when I think I can take a break myself, Dani starts begging to ride her bike. Over and over and over again. I don't feel up to it, but I compromise by saying I'll sit outside with her while she rides her bike in the shade of the carport.
So here I am, in the ninety-three-degree southern heat and mugginess of North Carolina in late July, watching Dani and barely able to keep my own eyes open. I blink hard, shift in the camp chair and try my best to stay awake.
Dani's riding in circles. Round and round and round. Her tires make a soothing, rhythmic noise against the concrete and grit of the ever-present sand.
Round and round and round.
Round and round and round.
Only a few feet away and right in front of me.
Round and round and round.
I let my eyes rest for just a second…