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1
I don't know what imaginary little voice popped into my head when I was listening to my sister, Melody, and her new boyfriend, Brett, who were trying to figure out how to get his daughter to a school event tonight. The two of them have a work thing going on at the same time, putting them in a predicament. As I was listening to their list of solutions, that little voice in my head became very convincing, which led me to offer my non-existent babysitting services. Before I knew it, I had offered to take Brett's daughter to a bake sale and even sealed my offer with an "Of course, I'm sure."
It was a lapse in judgment on our behalf. I'm not exactly babysitter material. I might be one of just a few females in this town who didn't make a small teenage living by offering childcare services like all everyone else. Kids haven't been on my mind, and I don't think I'd be on their mind after spending time with me. I don't do voices. I can't tell a good joke, and the thought of trying to make life sound normal to an innocent person seems impossible.
Yet, here I am at my family's bourbon shop, where my sister and Brett run this shop side-by-side, picking up Parker Pearson, Brett's adorable seven-year-old daughter who appears to be the easiest child to care for. Maybe that's why I didn't hesitate. Anytime I've seen the kid, she's had her head in a book, hardly says a word, and dresses like my inner soul child would with vibrant tutus, leggings, and biker boots. She has more style than any kid I've ever seen, and it doesn't seem like she's even trying to make a statement.
"Are you sure about this?" Brett asks as I walk through the backdoor into the front of the shop.
"Yes, I'm sure." There it is again. Where are these words coming from? I could be at home, editing photos, researching trends for upcoming shoots, sleeping, anything but attending a school event, but nope. "It's really not a problem."
Brett seems hesitant, more so today than yesterday when I initially offered. "We have a box full of sealed cookies with the prices marked on a sheet of paper on top. One of the PTA members will come by to collect the cash at the end of the night."
"I got this, Dad," Parker tells him, sounding quite confident for a girl her age.
"I know you do," he tells her, placing a kiss on the top of her head.
Brett hands me a booster seat for my Jeep and places the box of cookies on top. "I owe you," he says.
"I'll steal a cookie, and we'll be even," I tell him, smirking for good measure.
"Journey, are you sure you got this," Melody, my more mature younger sister, approaches me after ringing up a customer.
"Yes, I can handle a bake sale with a seven-year-old." I offer a reassuring smirk.
"Call if you need anything," Brett tells me.
"Everything will be fine. I will bring Parker back here after we leave," I tell them, thinking about whether I entered Brett's address into my phone earlier. I'm sure I did.
"Ready, kiddo? Let's go sell some goods," I tell her as she pushes through the back door before me.
"You should call them cookies," she says. "We don't want anyone to think we're up to anything weird." The kid doesn't flinch a muscle when saying this.
2
We get settled into the Jeep, and Parker seems impressed by the interior, staring at the painted metal trim most cars don't have inside. "I've never been in a car like this," she says.
I glance into the rearview mirror, finding a hint of excitement on her face. She has good taste. "It's even more fun in the summer when I can take the roof off," I tell her as we pull out onto the main street.
"That does sound fun," she agrees.
I know where the school is, at least. I was a student there twenty years ago or something. I wonder if anything has changed, or if any of the teachers I had are
still there. If they are, I doubt they'd recognize me. I spent the first fifteen years of my life enduring teasing remarks for having red hair. I finally dyed my locks a dark shade of auburn and never looked back.
"Are there a lot of kids participating in the bake sale tonight?" I ask Parker, making small talk even though she has a book out on her lap.
"Yeah, I think so. It's mostly the PTA moms with their kids." There's the massive regret I was waiting to feel. PTA moms. I've heard of their type. They'll know I'm not her mom, and I'm sure I'll be receiving some severe stink-eye-looks all night.
The parking lot is full when we arrive, which tells me the place is going to be a crowded zoo. "Do we have an assigned table, or do we just find an empty spot to set up?" I don't know if she has the answer, but I didn't think to ask Brett either.
"My name will be on a table," Parker says.
"Cool."
Maybe this is just the reminder I need to stop second-guessing the life choices I've made to date. I've been pro-single life for quite a while, and it hasn't let me down yet.
I help Parker jump out of the Jeep before I grab the box of cookies from the trunk. "I like your boots," I tell her, admiring the black leather and the silver buckles.
