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13
Caiti
Dizziness fillsmy head that has nothing to do with my icy drink. Dane yanks my focus in circles with his wildly good looks, protectiveness, and easygoing attitude. When I first met him, he appeared sullen, almost with an unspoken motivation. What I’ve discovered since is a natural sweetness he reserves for a select few.
“Tell me about her.”
The question catches me off guard as he returns from filling another customer’s drink order.
“Who?” The left-field question requires clarification. Before he walked away, we were discussing whether or not it’s appropriate to wear a band tee if you’re not a true fan of the band.
He resumes his earlier position with his elbows on the bar and plucks a peanut from the bowl. “Ophelia. What’s her birthdate? Where was she born? I’ve already learned her favorite color is pink, and her favorite animal is a unicorn.” He grins with amusement at the absurdity of the mythical creature.
I relax on my stool and study the ice cubes in my glass. “Her birthday is January thirteenth. She was actually born at home. I hired a midwife and a doula to support me since I was alone. Her middle name is Louise. Her favorite food is string cheese, which she bites instead of peels like a little monster, and she also loves dogs. She’d make every puppy her friend if she could.”
When I look up from my babble, I find Dane staring at me with a touch of sadness.
“You were alone.”
I rewind the conversation in my head until understanding dawns. “It was my choice.”
“I would have been there for you. One hundred percent.”
Guilt sinks in. “You said you didn’t want kids.”
“Not for me. I know why you did what you did. For you, Mama. You didn’t need to go through it alone. I would have been there for you.”
A stinging starts in my nose. “I should have let you.”
He nods solemnly. “I’m here now. And so are you. You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”
If only he knew how much I wish that were true. Even making my way downstairs was a fear-filled endeavor I had to work myself up to accomplish. The future is one big question mark. I’m learning to regain some normalcy, but what happens when it’s time to return home?
“I have pictures of her as a baby.” The distraction steers the topic into safer waters. I open the album on my phone designated to her first year of life and spin the device on the bar toward him. “You can scroll through. This is her birth until her first birthday. I have another folder for her terrible twos.”
Obvious joy cracks through the dark shadows in his features. “She was born with all that hair?”
Returning the topic to Ophelia lightens the heaviness in my chest. “It was even visible in the ultrasound pictures.”
“I’m impressed.”
He continues scrolling with added commentary until a customer approaches. “I’ll be right back. I want to see more.”
I pocket the device. “I’m just going to slip off to the restroom. Where is it?”
Dane jerks his head to his left. “Just down the hall that way.” The way his gaze passes through the people milling near gives the impression he’s looking for something.
I slide off the stool onto steady legs and weave through the few bodies blocking my path. The goofy smile fixed on my face feels natural after the evening we’ve had. The zapping nerves I felt about meeting him here dissipated the moment I had a drink in my hand. The last time I sat in a bar with a drink was the night I met Dane, and I started off the evening in a pit of sadness until he gently coaxed me from it.
The humid atmosphere entices me to sip cocktails long into the night, but I should keep my wits about me. A mountainous undertaking in Dane’s presence. The feeling of his hands kneading my tired neck lingers like a phantom pain, and the ghost of his lips still electrifies my skin.
It would be so easy, natural even, to offer a repeat situation. But that wouldn’t be fair to any of us until I make my life-altering decision.
Return to Colorado and send my daughter cross-country for visits, or move to Arrow Creek and start fresh near the only man who’s made me feel anything other than my dead husband.
I promised myself I’d never let anyone get close enough to devastate me ever again, which initially included kids. Attachments are the recipe for pain when someone inevitably gets hurt or dies. Suffering is the unavoidable nature of life, and I’ve had enough to last me the remainder of this one.
But God sent me Ophelia. And someday, hopefully when I’m old and gray, I’m going to peacefully pass away, and I vowed the day she was born to not leave her in a position to deal with that pain alone. At the time, that meant having my affairs in order and a substantial life insurance policy to take her wherever her heart desires.
Now, I’m seeing where I’ve gone awry.
Which makes my decision pretty simple. She needs to be around people who genuinely care, and that place is not Colorado.
Arrow Creek might be the only town not to have a line out the door of the women’s bathroom at a bar. I tuck the revelations away to sort later and slip inside. The room is cramped but large enough for three stalls and three sinks. I choose the middle one to take care of business and position myself in the center mirror when I’m done.
The humid air teases a frizz near my hairline, and a smudge of mascara sits below my left eye. I wet my finger and clear off the mark, thankful for the dim lighting in the bar. I might have changed my clothes for this evening, but I still look the hot mess I pledged to be.
The door creaks open at my back, drawing my eyes back to the reflection in the mirror. Three women slink inside as if they’re up to no good.
“How do you know Dane?” The middle one, a short brunette with a curly ponytail, confirms my suspicion with her prying question.
“He’s a friend.” I turn on the spot to face the unwarranted confrontation.
She runs inch-long red nails through the curls at the end of her hair. “I’ve been here a long time, and I haven’t seen him pay one person so much attention.”
Her two cohorts exchange a curious glance with one another behind her head.
“I haven’t seen him in a few years, so we’re just catching up while I’m in town.” I inject a casual confidence into my tone. This woman doesn’t ruffle me, and she has no business asking questions. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are, so if you’ll excuse me.”
My phone rings in my purse, halting my need to retreat. I dig the device from my pocket and see Evie flash on the screen. Without hesitating, I hit the answer button. There could be a reason she needs me upstairs, and I can hear her better in here than out with the music and chatter.
“Hey.”
“Hi, Momma,” my sweet baby greets me. I move the phone from my ear to check the time. It’s after nine.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” I give my audience a shoulder and focus my attention on the little voice in my ear.
“Autie Ebie says I say good night!”
