“—at eight on the dot. I remember.” I made a face. “It was the same for me with Eileen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her eating schedule . . . ? I had the same . . . ” my voice trailed off as I realized what he was thinking.
Eileen chimed in, “Yeah! She’s always telling me how I drove her crazy, only letting her eat at four, noon, and eight. Isn’t that right, Mom?”
“Yep. You were a pain in the butt,” I pulled her into a hug so she wouldn’t see Adam’s face. What was he thinking? The eating thing was just a coincidence. Didn’t all pregnant women have weird appetites?
Whatever his thoughts, within heartbeats he’d stowed them away and picked up the plate. “Looks tasty, kid.”
Eileen squirmed free of me. “It’s toffee chip!”
“Mmf . . . good,” he said around a mouthful.
She beamed. “Mom and I made them! Would Cara like one?” She didn’t wait for an answer before busying herself with wrapping an extra in parchment paper.
Once she was occupied, he honed in on me. “You always know what to say to Cara. Your pregnancy was rough, too?” He took another bite of muffin, one eye on Eileen’s back.
“Sort of.”
“Girl stuff . . . ?” His eyes searched mine in-between guarded glances at Eileen.
“Yeah, you know . . . ” I was uncomfortable with him looking at me like that. Thankfully, Eileen was already putting the roll of paper back in the drawer. “Worth it though. Couldn’t have been luckier!” I was waiting with a warm smile just as she turned around, and a pretty pink flush spread across her cheeks.
“Can’t argue with that,” Adam popped the last of the muffin in his mouth and then tweaked her nose—the same gesture she’d hated since she was four—but instead of complaining, she threw her arms around him.
“I think you’re awesome, too!”
My teeth grabbed at my cheek again, and Adam seemed to have trouble swallowing as he balanced the empty plate in one hand and patted her back with his other. When his watch beeped a second time, she ended the hug.
“Give her this!” She swapped his plate for the wrapped muffin.
“Will do, kid. She’ll love it.” He stopped at the front door, “I’ll just finish those windows before—”
“No you won’t.” The sky was almost dark, and the air was so heavy I felt like a human barometer.
“I can’t leave them un—”
“Yes, you can. You’ve done enough! Go tend your own house. Your wife needs you.” I smiled to soften my words, but I knew she’d be anxious alone. “These windows haven’t been boarded up since . . . Diana, maybe? And we’re still here.”
“Diana? That was over thirty years ago!”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well . . . ?” What did he expect? I could paint, spackle, and fix a leaky faucet, but I couldn’t exactly wield twenty-pound sheets of wood on a ladder with only my daughter for help.
“I’d just hate for anything to happen, that’s all.” His eyes skimmed the room, up at the ceiling line, as if gauging whether the roof was going to blow off.
I sighed and tried to let it go. What he saw as a fixer-upper, I saw as home. We retrieved his drill and put the ladder and last two sheets of plywood under the house. It was raining lightly now, and I made Eileen stay up on the porch while I followed him to his truck, holding Cara’s muffin while he stowed the drill in the truck’s big tool box.
His arm was wet when he took the food from me, with fine hairs clinging to his tanned skin like silk threads. My own skin was pebbled in the chill, and my unbound hair was plastered against my bare arms and ratty t-shirt.
“I just wanted to thank you, Adam. Properly. For the house, and for being so sweet to Eileen.” I lowered my voice, certain she was doing her best to hear over the wind. “And for saving her only parent from a broken neck.”
He winced. “I wasn’t going to let that happen. I shouldn’t have been in your face like that.”
“You weren’t. I’ve just been . . . on edge. And I am sorry I didn’t—”
“Stop. I told you. She’s the most—” The parchment paper crunched as his grip tightened on the muffin. “We’ll talk about it after the storm, okay?” I hadn’t yet nodded before he shook his head. “When you were growing up, did anyone prepare you for how strange the world could be?”
My laugh sounded like a dog’s yip. “Seriously? Who could be better prepared than you and me?”
His answering smile was sad, and I regretted reminding him of Aislyn.
“‘Night, Adam!” Eileen yelled down. “Say ‘hi’ to the puppies for me!”
“I will!” he called back, “You better come rile ‘em up after the storm!”
That reminded me again of what Miss Hester had said, and this time, I was thinking more clearly.
“Adam,” I leaned toward him, determined the wind wouldn’t carry my words, “My grandmother’s friend . . . it was as if she expected the storm. She asked if I’d been careless with my secrets, and I’m . . . please be careful. You’re closer to the water than we are, and I . . . we . . . ” The relentless drizzle stung my eyes, and I looked away.
“Good concert?” He plucked my shirt sleeve. “Got deployed and had to scalp my tickets. Drove the guys crazy whistling ‘It’s the End of the World as We Know It’ every time we headed out.”
A short Mogwai laugh burst free; but, unfortunately, it knocked loose a couple of tears, too.
He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but turned to the truck instead. As he got in, he paused. “I’ll take care of Cara, but you have to take care of both of you.”
“This may come as a shock to you, mister, but I do a pretty good job of that. Tell Cara to call me later if she wants. She’s probably wondering where you are.” He glanced at his watch, and I nodded, “Go on, then. Be safe.”
After he drove away, I dashed up the steps to get out of
