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Chapter 13 – Potato
Vander
Nerves attacked my gut.
Despite my prayers, it had been over ten years.
I pushed my fingers through my hair for the umpteenth time as I remembered standing in that damn parking lot praying it would not be another ten years before I held her again. I prayed again, standing outside her door, that the nightmare of separation would soon be over.
Would she accept me?
Would she believe?
Was she still my Ruby? It was a lot to expect, a lot to hope for.
The past eleven plus years had been difficult. The custody battle went on for well over two years, and my ex-wife pulled me into court regularly, for imaginary infractions, over the years since. The final agreement contained a codicil that we live within a few hours drive of each other. She insisted on it when I requested an agreement that would allow for longer visitations spaced out over the year, allowing me to move. She protested and continued to refuse me even after she remarried and had two more children.
Two years ago, her husband got a job transfer opportunity. She came to me with her tail between her legs, wanting the codicil lifted, claiming we could modify our custody agreement, and that she’d allow Georgie to fly back and forth for longer visits.
I smiled grimly at the recollection of that meeting. She tried to insist I remain in the same town, so Georgie could have that familiar environment, but her ability to manipulate my life had come to a screeching halt with her pending move. I started the process of moving my business almost immediately.
Letting Ruby go had been the right thing to do.
About a year after our weekend together, I found out she had a child and a man. I pondered, briefly, the tantalizing possibility that the child belonged to me, and would have followed up, if not for the very real presence of the man with his arm securely latched around her waist.
I understood the shock she felt seeing me with my arm around that girl on Facebook. It was not a good feeling, and I reacted much like she did, and refused to look her up anymore.
Over the years, I reached out to her, at least once a year, more often since we lifted the codicil. Half of me hoped she was free and would reply. The other half wanted her to be happy and settled with a family. When she didn’t respond, I accepted with a grim sort of satisfaction that she had moved on. I hoped she’d built a beautiful family with a man who prioritized her in a way that I never had.
Interestingly, her lack of response didn’t stop me from moving my business. Moving eliminated one of the obstacles between us. Going to her, something I should have done twenty years ago, felt right. If life ever granted us a third chance, I’d be ready.
Quite by accident, I found out she was single. I ran into a mutual friend of ours from university at a conference my company sponsored. We sat down and did the usual, running down the list of everyone we knew back in our university days.
“I saw Ruby, your old girlfriend, a few weeks ago. Are you guys still in touch?”
Every cell in my body came alert. “Not so much,” I worked to sound casual. “Where did you see her?”
“At another conference. She lives in this area, and she’s looking to franchise her restaurant. Apparently, she planned to do it years ago but put it on the backburner when she had a baby.”
“I knew she had a child.” I forced myself to keep my tone easy. “I never heard anything about a husband.”
“No husband. She told me the only man she had room for in her life was her son.” He shook his head and laughed ruefully. “She shot me down pretty quickly. If possible, she’s even more attractive than she was back in the day.”
I received that piece of welcome news yesterday.
I paced outside the door to Spuds, my hair practically standing on end from the mauling I’d given it. I smoothed it down, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Ruby
With the lunch rush over, I spread my papers out on my customary table. The table in the back room sagged under the weight of the produce delivery that begged to be put away, but I planned to resist its demands for half an hour. I sat down to look at my options and consider my next steps.
I spread out the pamphlets I collected at the conference a few weeks ago and took notes on each by hand. The act of putting pen to paper helped the information to stick. The same information would make it onto my laptop later today. It had to. I would eventually misplace the paper, but it was much harder to misplace the laptop.
Not impossible, but harder.
The bell over the door jingled, but I kept my head down for an additional moment’s reprieve before sighing internally. I stood and rounded the table, heading for the front of the restaurant.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t lift my head until a electric frisson of awareness arced along my spine. I snapped my head up to assess the threat. Standing in front of me, long legs braced and face stern, stood my wildest dream and my favorite fantasy.
