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Taeli
It is jarring, waking up in my old room. As I open my eyes, I have to blink a couple of extra times until the walls come into focus and I realize where I am.
I throw the covers over my head to escape the sunlight peeking in the window from between the cream lace curtains. I forgot how much brighter mountain mornings are.
I hide for as long as I can, ignoring the sounds of Mom puttering around the kitchen. When the banging underneath the window of my room begins, I know it’s time I get up and face the day.
Settling for only a cup of coffee in lieu of the chocolate chip pancake breakfast Mom and Caleb enjoy, I decide to take a long, hot bath before I get ready for the day.
I do my best thinking in the bathtub—always have. It’s like the warm water lulls my sore, stressed-out body into a calmness that allows my mind to tackle the big issues and think through what my next steps will be. It might sound nuts to others, but moms understand. The bathroom is the only place of true privacy. It’s a sanctuary from our demanding families.
While I soak, I devise a plan for the day. My goal is to get Caleb out into the fresh air and give him a tour of the place where I grew up. This might not be the summer he had in mind, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make it a great one. For him and for me. Balsam Ridge is a far cry from the city, but it holds it’s own unique charm, especially for children. Growing up here was magical and I have often wished Caleb had the same small-town adventures to enjoy. This is my chance to introduce him to the fun of nature.
After about an hour of me time, I get out and throw on a strapless mint-green sundress and run a brush through my hair. I skip makeup and settle for moisturizer and lip balm. Then, I make my way back downstairs to find my son.
When I make it to the hallway at the bottom of the steps, I pause in front of the collage of photos Mom has hanging above a wooden bench.
I run my fingers across the frame of a picture of me and my daddy sitting on the back of his old truck. The one of Gene pushing me on the old tire swing makes me laugh. I have such a look of terror on my face. He would push me so hard that I would swear I was about to fly up to the roof of the house. Then, there is one of me in my volleyball uniform. I’m in the air above my teammates, spiking a ball over the net. It was the state championship game my senior year. I was named MVP afterward, and it was one of my proudest moments.
I hear footsteps coming up the hall and stopping behind me.
“Is that you?” a deep voice asks, and I startle.
I was expecting Mom, but I turn quickly to find Graham Tuttle looking over my shoulder.
Where did he come from?
He looks down at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologizes.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, and he smiles and nods toward the photo on the wall. “Yes, that’s me. The last game of my senior year.”
“It’s a good picture,” he muses.
I sigh. “Yeah, I wish I still had that lean athlete’s figure,” I admit.
“Why?” he asks.
I turn to face him.
Isn’t it obvious?
“Because I couldn’t squeeze a leg into those uniform shorts now,” I state.
His eyes move from my face down, taking in my dress, and back up.
“Soft curves that fill out a dress like that are nothing to wish away,” he says, and my knees turn to jelly. “Don’t go wishing them away.”
Oh my.
We are locked in a heated staredown when Mom’s head pops around the corner.
“Come on, you two. Lunch is on the table,” she announces before disappearing into the kitchen again.
“After you,” Graham says, stepping to the side so I can walk past him.
Caleb is seated at the table, and Mom is scooping a helping of chicken casserole on his plate. I take the seat beside him, and Graham sits across from us.
Mom tells us to help ourselves, and we load our plates while she fetches a pitcher of fresh squeezed lemonade from the fridge.
Once we all dig in, Mom asks what the plan is for today.
