Page 66 of Lost and Found

“What?!”

“I’m sorry I tried to give him my number, Bea,” says Zoeie.

“What! Why would you be sorry?”

“Please.” This and a laugh from Rachelle.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.

“That man looks at you like he could shade-match a lipstick to your nipple, if you know what I mean.” Molly now.

“Not sure how much of that is up for interpretation?” I divert.

“You’re telling me he’s never seen you naked?”

I scoff, owlish and clumsy, and the place turns into a chorus of snickering.

The teasing picks up again on Wednesday morning, but it’s a welcome distraction to pass the hours leading up to my lunch with Kurt. It’s nice feeling melded to the group again. To not feel like an outsider looking in. For years, Merritt was my social glue. I can so vividly imagine her elbowing me encouragingly.“See, they love you. Who wouldn’t love you?”she’d say.

I spot my stepdad at a booth as soon as I stroll into the diner that afternoon. He’s up and crossing the room quicker than the lump can form in my throat. Seeing him emphasizes the absence of my mom.

“She misses you, too, sweetie,” Kurt says when I sniffle into his old Journey T-shirt.

“Does she, though?” I whisper.

“Yeah, kiddo, she does.”

Kurt and I don’t bother with too much small talk. After we order, he cuts right to it. “I don’t agree with your mom changing her mind on you the way she did. Not letting you stay after she originally said you could. And I love her—that’s my lady, youknow I love her—but I think she’s so protective of you that it goes a little too far sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Kicking me out feels like the antithesis of protective.

His shoulders rise on a deep sigh. “I mean that she thinks that she’s trying to keep you from something that could break your heart. Which would break her heart, too. It’s the same reason she always kept a buffer between me and you. And I respected that, back then. I know she went through a lot with your dad, and she wanted there to be some separation in case she and I didn’t work out, so you’d be protected from hurting. I wasn’t allowed to parent you, which again, I understood.” He breathes out a small laugh. “Like I had a choice, anyway. You know she’s a fierce woman.”

I snort. She is, indeed.

He threads his hands in front of him on the table, and I’m hit with a pang of tenderness, watching him struggle going around my mother, speaking against her in this small way. This man loves her so much, and I know he loves me, too.

“Now I don’t think she intended it,” he goes on. “But I also think she, sometimes, prevented us from being closer, too. And again, I always did my best to respect that—”

“Kurt, you were great,” I tell him. “You were . . . youareDad to me. In the most important ways. In all the ways that count.”

His eyes well up, and his chin dimples and bounces with the effort not to cry. He squeezes one of my hands in his meaty fist. “Still, Bea. I regret not trying harder. Not fighting with her more about it. And I wanted to tell you that, for whatever it’s worth coming from me, I saw you get your heart broken every day when Merritt was sick and still show up for that girl. I watched you care tirelessly for someone as much as you cared for yourself, and I think—I think you’ll be a great mom.”

I wipe at a tear and smile. “It’s worth more than you know.”

The morning of our fishing trip, the sun is still hiding when I administer my final Lupron shot, though I make a conscious effort not to think of it that way, knowing we might have to get acquainted all over again. I take all my other meds and slip into the kitchen, start a pot of coffee, and check on Cali’s food and water. She jumps onto the counter to stare daggers at me. When I try to pet her, she doesn’t growl, so, progress continues. I feed her two treat packets before she curls her lip, delicately hops back down, and trots off.

I log in to my banking app to see that a few more deposits have hit, one from the vacation rental agency along with work, and my heart somersaults. Even with the withdrawals that have been taken out, I am so much better off than I anticipated being at this point. My end-of-year goal is well within reach. And even if I don’t make it all the way, even if I have to pay for more than one round of IVF, I’ve done well enough for myself that I feel safe to, financially.

Silas sidles in a moment later, eyes puffy and red with sleep. “Morning,” he says.

“Are you sick?” I ask, noting the congestion in his voice.

“Just some mild allergies.” He picks up his mug, the one with big letters spelling outPECKERS AND TITSabove various illustrations of birds. He told me it was a Christmas gift from his sister. I’m using its more sophisticated sibling mug featuring beavers.

“Happy birthday,” I tell him, rounding the island to bring him into a quick hug.

“Is this my gift?” He tightens his arms around me like he’s squeezing the most out of it, if so.