Page 5 of Falling For You

Barb stepped out behind Birdie, pulling her reading glasses off and letting them drop to the chain around her neck. Her husband's ring hung beside them. She pulled her cardigan closed against the morning air and shrugged.

"She's been like this since six-fifteen." Barb zipped Birdie's lunch bag into the backpack. "Peanut butter, no crust, carrots instead of celery because celery is, quote, too crunchy for a Tuesday."

I set Birdie down. "That tracks."

Birdie tugged on my shirt. "Daddy, are you picking me up from school today?"

"Yes, I am." I patted her head.

"Okay!" She smiled so wide I could count her missing teeth. "I'll see you later, Daddy!"

Barb took Birdie's hand. "Get some rest. I'll be back by five."

"Thanks, Barb." She squeezed my arm on her way past.

They started down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. Barb held on to Birdie's hand while Birdie yanked it in every direction, acting out what, from where I was standing, looked to be the story of a bird having a very bad day.

I watched them walk down the street until they turned the corner, then went inside.

Barb lost her husband ten years ago and still wore his wedding ring on a chain around her neck. She'd been in our lives since before Birdie was born. She was Lillian's landlady before she became her closest friend. When Lillian didn't come home from the hospital, she showed up the next week with a casserole, took one look at me holding a baby I didn't know how to hold, and said I'll be here tomorrow.

That was six years ago. She never stopped coming back.

I apologized once for how much I relied on her. She waved me off. Her kids were overseas, and Birdie was her grandchild as far as she was concerned.

I dropped my keys in the bowl by the door, kicked off my shoes, and headed for the bathroom.

The 24-hour shift came off under the water. Smoke, sweat, the particular exhaustion that settled into your bones after a full day and night of being ready for the worst.

I dried off, brushed my teeth, and walked to the bedroom.

When I opened the closet for a clean shirt, a ball of yarn rolled out. Pale yellow, trailing from an unfinished sweater still on the needles. Lillian started it the week she found out she was pregnant. She was going to finish it before Birdie came, but she never did.

I picked it up, set it back on the shelf, and closed the door.

I climbed into a bed that was made for two, set my alarm for eleven, and lay down in a house that was too quiet.

"Wyatt!" Gus was behind the counter drying glasses. He put one down and started pouring my coffee before I reached the stool.

This was my routine on my days off. I'd come to the Lantern for lunch and help with whatever repair Gus had been putting off, fix a loose hinge, swap out a light. I'd hang around until it was time to pick up Birdie from school at two-thirty.

"The usual?"

"Please."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Brooks!" Terrence looked up from his laptop in the back corner.

"Afternoon, Terrence. How's school?"

"Cost accounting. It's destroying me."

"I'm sure you'll get there."

Terrence had his usual setup in the corner Gus had set aside for him. Glasses, textbook, laptop, a coffee he'd been nursing for two hours. Kid was on a scholarship, working every angle he could to build a better life than the one he came from. He'd walked in looking for work, taken one look at Gus's books, and offered to fix them. Gus handed him the ledger. Now Terrence studied here during the day, left for class, came back after, and put on his apron every night to serve customers. Gus paid him for what he worked, fed him lunch and dinner, and told anyone who'd listen that Terrence was going to run his own firm someday. That was Gus. If he believed in you, you knew it.

"Lockwood's people came by again yesterday." Gus set my coffee down. "More handsome offer this time."

"What did you tell them?"