I couldn’t recall if I’d ever babysat, but if I had, I’d never sat for a kid with half the energy of Jackson.
From the moment Bella left, it was like someone plugged him in and set him on high. I helped him dig a hole about three feet deep. Then we dug a moat around the hole. He grabbed the wall and turret-shaped sand molds he’d brought and we worked together, filling them with sand and placing them around the moat, sculpting a castle.
He was a blur of constant motion, constantly jumping up and running to the other side of the hole to inspect or fix something. Then he’d sprint back and collapse into the sand, deciding on the next piece to build.
He chattered constantly, talking about the castle and the water and dogs and his mom and crackers and just about everything else you might find in an encyclopedia. He laughed randomly at his own words and never once asked where his mother was or when she’d be back.
I envied his carefree attitude and joy at nearly every little thing we did.
After I don’t know how long, we walked down to the water to rinse the sand off of our arms and legs. He splashed me and I splashed him back. He giggled and dropped face first into the waves, popping back up and shaking the water off like a dog.
I laughed and shook my head.
“Are you trying to drown him?”
I turned around and Bella was standing behind us.
“No,” I said. “Just rinsing off.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t blame you,” she said, coming down next to me in the ankle deep water. “I’ve thought about it plenty of times.”
“I doubt that.”
Jackson jumped up and fell backwards into the water.
“You’re probably right,” she said, smiling at her son. “He can be awful cute.”
“You get your stuff done?” I asked.
Her smile broke a bit and she ran a hand through her hair. “Um, yeah. All done.”
Her cheeks were pink, not from the heat, and her ponytail was in disarray. Something was off, but I couldn’t place it.
“He didn’t drive you nuts, did he?” she asked.
“Not at all. We had fun.”
“He can be a handful.”
“He did most of the work,” I said. “I was an assistant.”
A wave rolled in and knocked Jackson off his feet. He bounced up and flexed his tiny muscles, roaring at the water.
She shook her head. “If only he had more confidence.”
I smiled. “He’s a fun kid.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Thank you. For saying that. And for watching him. And I keep having to thank you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes. I do,” she said. “You’ve bailed me out twice in two days.”
I wanted to tell her that playing with her son was as much fun as I’d had in months, but I was fearful of the questions that might bring out. But it was the truth. Playing with Jackson was the first time I’d stopped worrying since I’d left San Diego.
“So I’m gonna need to pay you back again,” she said.
“No, you don’t.”
“I want to,” she said, touching my elbow. “For two days we've invaded your life and you’ve been nothing but kind to me and to Jackson.” She hesitated and her hand fell away. “It’s been awhile since we’ve…had that.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I watched Jackson do jumping jacks, water spraying all around him.
“Would you like to come over and have dinner with us?” she asked. “Not hamburgers from a window. But a real dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t, but I’d like to and I’ll feel guilty if you don’t let me,” she said. “Plus, you live in a garage and I don’t think you’re doing a lot of cooking in there.”
I shook my head, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m off tonight,” she said. “And I’m a decent cook. I swear.”
I felt stuck. I wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t that I minded spending time with her or Jackson. I didn’t. I was enjoying their company. But I feared several hours in a confined place with anyone. Even I couldn’t do that much small talk.
“Please,” she said, touching my elbow again. “I’d really like to.”
Jackson got down on all fours and began barking at the waves, splashing around and bucking in the water. He was a very funny little boy.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll come for dinner.”
THIRTEEN
Late afternoon clouds billowed in over the water and the tourists headed in early. I collected the chairs and umbrellas and locked up the shed a little after three, then headed back across the highway to the house.
The concrete guys had cut out for the day and I was anxious about going to Bella’s for dinner.
So I grabbed a shovel and a hoe and started trenching. I dug sprinkler trenches for three hours.
The sweat poured off me as I dug, the clouds providing no protection from the humidity and heat. I worked hard, pulling up the sand and clay, making sure it was deep enough to lay the PVC piping and hoses that Ike wanted in. It was physical, mindless work and when I stopped, my muscles ached and I was too tired to be anxious.
I went inside and showered away the dirt and grime from the yard. I found a clean pair of shorts and a T- shirt, slid my feet into sandals, found the scrap of paper Bella had written her address down on, and headed out.
On my bike.
No phone, no car. There were definitely disadvantages to laying low.
Ike had somehow found me an old beach cruiser and left it for me. I rarely went anywhere I couldn’t walk, but based on Bella’s description of where their house was, it was too far to go it on foot. I pulled the bike around from the side of the house, pushed it out to the cul-de-sac and took off.
Sunset had dampened the humidity, but the air still felt thick and heavy as I pedaled. I went east on the highway, riding against traffic and then north over the bridge, past the massive souvenir stores and chain restaurants and into Fort Walton Beach proper. I pedaled down the boulevard, past the small boutiques and stores, and took a right into one of the old neighborhoods.
The houses were small, compact ranches on rectangle lots, the sidewalks crooked and cracked. Older cars sat in the driveways and it felt quieter and more sedate than the tourist area out on the strip.
I made a couple of turns and found their street and coasted into the driveway behind Bella’s car. I dropped the bike next to a faded Big Wheel and knocked on a beaten, metal screen door.
Feet scurried on the other side and Jackson crashed into the door.
“Noah’s here!” he yelled. “Noah’s here!”
He pushed the door open and grabbed me by the hand. “Come on! You have to see my room!”
The door banged shut behind me and Bella stepped into the living room, smoothing her hands over her yellow tank top and denim shorts. Her hair was wet and brushed straight down, a faint bit of makeup on her face.
She put her hands on her hips. “Jackson, you’re going to chase him away before we even eat.”
“I want to show him my Legos!” he yelled, still tugging on my arm.
Bella looked at me. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
“You’re going to have to tolerate Legos for a few minutes, I think.”
