Child of Mine (16 page)

But his aspirations didn't stop there. Yes, he wanted to raise Nattie with clear lines and strong discipline, but he also wanted
to transmit to her the message that, as far as he was concerned, she could do no wrong. That she was living a forgiven life.

It was the opposite of how he'd been raised, as if he could do
nothing
right. His mother had a knack for seeing the cloud behind every silver lining, and his father was too weak to stand in her way.

San, of course, told Jack he was obsessing.
“You've put
your life on hold for Nattie.”

This was where she was wrong. He hadn't put his life on hold; Nattie
was
his life.

Still waiting for Nattie's summons, Jack leaned back in his chair and thought about tonight's dinner date with Angela, with its disastrous ending.

“
It's in the eyes,”
Angela had told him at the restaurant.

Had he been missing this all along? Could Laura actually have feelings for him?

No. Of course not.

In spite of Angela's reaction, whatever she thought she saw, she was wrong.

Badly
wrong.

But still. He couldn't continue dating, not with the slightest possibility of hurting Laura. Or hurting Nattie.

“She's afraid you'll replace
her,”
Laura had said. That, in itself, was reason enough.

Big mistake,
he thought, squinting his eyes shut.
Big.

San didn't help matters by calling just then. “Do you have any idea what Angela just told me?”

Jack sighed. “I can guess.”

San churned through the next five minutes, blaming him for not exiling Laura to her Amish farm. “You can't let this one get away, Jack. Angela's a keeper.”

Jack barely concealed his frustration. “I think she's already gone.”

“Jack Livingston!” San's irritation was palpable. “No wonder you're not married. You have to fight for her.”

But he couldn't tell San
why
he wouldn't fight for Angela. San would have come undone. As it was, his sudden disinterest rankled the pugnacious go-getter, and she refused to back down. Sometimes, talking to San was like a dog chasing his tail. She continued pounding at him verbally until Nattie walked in the door, showing off her new hummingbird pajamas.

“Gotta go, sis.”

In midstream, San ignored him.

“Sis, I'm hanging up now—”

“We're not done, Jack!”

“Later, okay?”

“Jack—”

Click.

Sorry,
Jack thought.
I'll call her back when
she cools down.

After they prayed together, Nattie asked if Angela was mad at them.

“No,” he said. “But it doesn't matter anyway.”

“Why?” The hopeful look on Nattie's face melted his heart.

Jack told her what he'd been thinking, that maybe he wasn't ready to date after all, and Nattie sprung out of her bed, hugging him tightly. “I was holding my breath!” she exclaimed.

Jack was unsure where to go from here. The future seemed as hazy and unclear as before.
Nothing
's solved.

With infectious enthusiasm, Nattie dug under her quilt, extracting Dewey the Dolphin and presenting it to him like a reward for his decision. Jack stared at the perennial grin of the seafaring creature and waited for her explanation.

“Dolphins have their own secret language,” she said. “But even if you can't understand their words, you can understand their feelings. Kinda like me and Laura.”

Jack kissed her forehead. “You two have something very special.”

Nattie nodded solemnly. “She's my bestie.”

Jack shut off the light, and from inside his little girl's room, Nattie whispered, “You know, sometimes it's hard being a kid.”

“Try being a grown-up,” he replied.

“No thanks,” Nattie muttered. “I can wait.”

Me too,
Jack thought.

W
ith no urgency to get to the office early, Jack slept in the next morning until Nattie came barging in, wearing jean shorts and a Minnie Mouse T-shirt, her upper lip frosted with a greenish foam. “You do
not
want to go downstairs, Dad.”

Jack leaned up, squinting into the new day.

“I'm serious. Stay in here till the coast is clear!”

“Huh?”

Nattie disappeared down the hall without explanation. Jack smiled. Living with Nattie was like a never-ending merry-go-round. He got up, put on his robe, and looked down into the kitchen. Laura was busy at the blender. He spotted the kale leaves and blueberries.

“Oh boy,” he muttered.

Laura looked up, gave him a thumbs-up, and pointed to her green concoction, an overly wide smile gracing her face. She pressed a button and the blender began twirling and buzzing. No doubt she'd discovered a new smoothie recipe designed for the overall health and well-being of the Livingston family.
Hopefully
, this one has more honey than the last time,
Jack mused, glad that Laura didn't seem ruffled at all from last evening's fiasco.

He wandered down the hall, smiling at Nattie's unusual morning cheerfulness, most likely tied to last night's decision to abandon dating. He knocked on her door. “Nattie-bug?”

“Hark!”

He opened her door, and she was sitting on her bed, staring at some of her artwork. She raised her arms and twiddled her fingers, a Nattie-request for a hug, and he complied.

Nattie was a hug bug. When she was younger, Jack would peek in her room, and sleepy-eyed, she'd grin and extend her arms to the sky, wiggling her fingers,
“Hug me, hug me.”
Although Jack hadn't grown up in an affectionate family, he was quickly disabused of that notion. Nattie would have none of it. Due to her own upbringing, even Laura wasn't all that demonstrative, and yet she, too, had succumbed to Nattie's sheer exuberance.

———

Later that morning, after obliging Laura and consuming a full glass of her healthy concoction, Jack puttered around in the garage. He overheard the unmistakable song of the ice cream truck, a tinkling tin xylophone rendition of “Tones for Cones.” Or was that “Sprinkle Twinkle”?

Nattie came scrambling in and held up his wallet, deftly retrieved from his desk inside.

“Hurry!” she said.

“Hey, we have ice cream in the freezer.”

Nattie fidgeted. “This is
special
ice cream.”

Jack sighed. Ice cream was always creamier on the other side of the fence. He examined a ten and was about to trade it for a five when Nattie swooped in and removed it from his grasp. “Thanks, Dad!”

“I'll expect some change,” he called after her but heard only giggles.

She seems fine,
he thought, recalling the dinner date last night.
Thank goodness.

Jack texted Angela later that afternoon, but she didn't respond. He texted again that evening and still no reply.

The following day, he dialed Angela's number, but she never picked up. On the second call, he left a message. “It was wonderful spending time with you, Angela. Have a great week.”

San called again, having recovered her temper, and politely encouraged Jack to keep trying with Angela. “Besides, Nattie mustn't have that kind of control,” she told him. “
You're
in charge.”

“It wasn't Nattie—”

“Well, then you need to talk to Laura, get things straightened out with her.”

Ain't happening
,
Jack thought, wary of the prospect of confronting the nanny over the silly notion that Angela supposed Laura had romantic feelings for him.

“Keep in mind that Angela Walberg won't be single forever,” San finished, clearly displeased with Jack's lack of courage. “So I'll say farewell for now.”

Relieved, Jack said good-bye and hung up.

He wandered out the back door and found Laura sitting out on the porch, gently swinging to the rhythmic squeak of the two-seater. He stood there quietly, taking in the sunset.

Laura looked as wistful as he felt. Occasionally, at the end of her work day, instead of leaving immediately, she would sit and swing, watching Nattie play in the back or simply soaking up the ambience of the tree-lined property.

It was the best setting he could have provided for Nattie, and he was grateful again to his brother for handpicking such an idyllic home. The newer two-story was located on the far edge of the neighborhood, at the end of the block, and framed by their own little grove of maples, oaks, and elms, highlighted by a single flowering dogwood. In the fall, the colors were magnificent.

Laura smiled. “So peaceful tonight, ain't?”

“Would you like something cold to drink?” he asked.

She gave him a playful look. “That's my job.”

“Let me,” he said, and she acquiesced, suggesting the meadow tea she liked to make. He found some in a pitcher and poured a glass for her over ice. Rummaging in the food saver, he located a lemon, cut a wedge, and pressed it into the rim of her glass.

Back outside, he presented the iced tea.

“Goodness, Jack. I think you've got this dating thing down
perty gut
.” Instantly, she turned red. “Sorry, that wasn't—”

Jack waved it off.

“Where's your drink?”

“Not thirsty.”

Sitting next to her, Jack enjoyed the lingering scent of the late blooming lilacs from the bushes across the fence, mingling with the smell of freshly mown grass. Behind them came the tinkling of the wind chime hanging from the eaves. A rare tranquil moment.

The scent of lilacs could send him into aromatic heaven, and he mentioned as much to Laura.

“Lilac's my favorite, too.” She described her parents' lilac bushes in Lancaster County. As a child, she liked to cut a stem each day for a month, placing the flowers in a vase for her mother. “One of my happiest memories.”

Jack was surprised to hear her open up about her childhood. One story led to another, and soon Laura was sharing about the first time a boy had ever given
her
flowers.

“A boy or a beau?” he asked nonchalantly.

Laura went silent at that, and Jack wondered if he'd embarrassed her.

Later, when the stillness became too awkward, he said, “We should plant our own lilac bush.”

“I'd
love
that,” Laura murmured.

“Is it too late in the season?”

“We could check.” Laura pointed to his cell phone there in the space between them.

“Sure, go ahead.” He was humored by her interest in technology.
She's practically fancy
already.

The answer immediately showed up on a link. “Not too late, at all,” she replied excitedly. “But there won't be any blossoms till next year.”

“Let's plant a bush or two tomorrow.”

Her enthusiasm took flight. “Tomorrow, it is!”

They sat for another half hour or so, casually chatting. When the sun toppled beyond the trees at the back of his property, they were quiet, unwilling to disturb the moment.

Eventually, Laura said something about getting back to Apple Creek. And ten minutes later, she made good on it. Jack walked her to her car, to make sure the engine would start. If it didn't, he'd have the pleasure of driving her home again.

The motor roared to life, and she waved. After she drove away, he wandered back to the house, noting how very empty the house seemed.

Nattie was in the great room playing her Lego computer game, her eyes twinkling when she saw him. “So . . . did you have a nice swing?”

Nattie spared him more questions, too busy wielding her controls, guiding her little man through a dangerous forest. He watched for a few minutes, enjoying the beeping musical sounds until Nattie put down her controls and came over to the couch and sat with him.

She put her hand on his arm, her face sympathetic. It would have been almost comical if she hadn't seemed so serious.

“What's your thought bubble?” he asked her.

She searched his face. “Are you sad about Angela?”

“I liked her, but I don't think she's right for us.”

Considering this, Nattie bit her lip, then seemed satisfied with his answer. “Wanna play a racing game with me?”

Jack agreed.

“But I have to warn you. I'm out to
win
!” Nattie said, retrieving the second set of controls and handing it to Jack.

“I've never noticed that about you before,” he joked.

The next day, Jack helped Laura plant two mature lilac bushes on the south side of the house—carefully removing the root ball from its burlap wrapping. He dug an ample hole, making sure to cut a wide two-foot circle for expansion. Then Laura and he spread topsoil once the bushes were planted.

During the remainder of June, Laura found a number of new gardening projects, enlisting Nattie's help. In the evenings when Jack was home from the airfield, Nattie and Laura gave Jack an account of the day's accomplishments: a flowering vine on a trellis below the porch, a smattering of pink roses on a white arbor, delphiniums, hollyhocks, daisies, peonies, and black-eyed Susans, among others.

The exterior of the house was slowly becoming transformed into a botanical garden.

Later, as the sun fell to the horizon, the three of them often hurried to the back porch for the sunset. Nattie, especially, liked to watch the hummingbirds' antics close to twilight, before they headed for their nests in the grove of trees.

Laura also surprised Nattie with a hummingbird video documentary, which they watched together repeatedly, comparing it with the identification book Jack found at the library. With the help of Jack's camera, Nattie classified the several varieties and, of course, itemized them according to favorites. The green violet-ear, the fastest hummingbird with its shimmering green body and a velvet patch beneath its ears, was her number one. Each time a new hummer appeared in the yard, it became an event of magnificent proportions.

Eventually, nearly half of Jack's office wall was filled with pictures of Nattie's birds, mostly ruby-throated, but sometimes a feisty
rufous or a rare calliope. She loved their diving aerobatics but lamented their territorial fighting.
“Why can't they just share?”
she'd ask.

Conveniently, there were occasions when Nattie disappeared to her room, leaving Laura and Jack to occupy the swing and pretend to be ignorant of her rather obvious agenda.

Truth be told, Jack was beginning to savor those quiet moments with Laura, hearing her childhood stories, honored to at last be ushered into her secret world, especially considering her privacy over the years. But it also made him nervous.
Why
now?