He hands us each a glass of tea and gets Poppy situated in the high chair and straps a bib around her neck. He gives her a sippy cup filled with water. She tosses it to the floor and watches with a grin as Colt picks it back up and gives it back to her. She raises it in the air like she’s going to do it again and with a patient and gentle voice he says, “No no, Poppy. We don’t throw things, okay? We’re going to have a cup instead of a baba because you’re getting to be such a big girl now.”
The way Poppy stares at him, like he hung the moon and would do anything to make him happy, is the sweetest thing. These two adore each other. I’m sure there are many times Colt feels like he’s not cut out for being a single dad to Poppy, but from where I’m sitting, he’s doing an incredible job.
“Is there anything I can help with?” I ask.
“Nope. It’s all ready. Easy stuff tonight so I hope that’s okay with you two. Macaroni and tomatoes, grilled chicken with pesto on the side because little miss here isn’t ready for the greatness that comes from fresh made pesto, cucumbers and onions in vinegar, and I have some strawberries and brownies for dessert. Brownies are from a box and the frosting is from a can, so don’t go getting too excited for that. I do add extra chocolate chips into the batter, though.”
“You made all this?” Mom asks, in awe as he sets everything on the table, filling a little plate for Poppy and handing it to her. He cut the chicken up into tiny bites and gave her just a few cucumbers. The macaroni and tomatoes are pretty soft so he just gives her a little pile and blows on the plate to cool off the food.
From his seat next to Poppy, he glances at Mom. “Been living on my own for a while now and had to learn to cook if I didn’t want to live off takeout and frozen food. Considering there aren’t many options for takeout here, and I got tired of frozen pizza real quick, I made sure I learned the basics. Natalie taught me how to make some harder meals, which was fun because she was learning along with me. Plus, she loved to garden so she had planted one here and we’d always experiment with the fresh produce. It was just the two of us until she met Mason, and she lived in an apartment in town so she ended up being out here quite a bit. The tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions are all food from the garden she planted last spring.”
“I’m impressed,” Mom says, sounding exactly that. “I haven’t had macaroni and tomatoes for years. This takes me back to my childhood.”
Colt nods, dishing up plates for us since we’ve apparently become statues incapable of helping ourselves. “It’s one of my favorites. Total comfort food, you know? Natalie would always can tomatoes here but I don’t have a clue what to do with them since she was the one who did it all, so I’ve ended up giving most of them away this summer. You’re welcome to take some with you. My cucumbers are about done, though. Potatoes didn’t really do great this year. Not sure why, and that sucks because I always love new potatoes and peas together. Sweet corn is done, too. I did freeze plenty of that and peas, too. Peas are one of Poppy’s favorites so I wanted to get plenty of it in the freezer. At least as much as I could, but time wasn’t on my side this year for obvious reasons,” he says, gesturing to Poppy who’s already digging into the tomatoes and macaroni. “But I’ve got plenty of tomatoes and peppers still out there. Help yourself. Think I still have some green beans, too. Those got planted a little later so they’re still coming up.”
Mom and I sit slack jawed while Colt talks. He’s a grown up. Of course I knew this about him already, for more reasons than just Saturday night, but he’s an actual adult now. I missed it all. He’s matured in ways that I never imagined, and I feel like he’s leaps and bounds ahead of me. I can cook, but I’d never be able to pull together a meal like this and call it easy. I look around the house that’s neat and tidy. He runs a farm on his own, cares for his niece, cooks entire meals, keeps a clean home, and manages it all as if it’s effortless.
I was proud of myself for paying my bills on time and keeping a few plants alive.
To say I feel out of his league would be an understatement.
Hot emotion tickles the back of my eyes and I blink it away. Mom notices, because of course she does, and reaches over to tap me on the leg. She nods once as if telling me that she understands.
“I’m proud of you, Colt. You’ve really done well for yourself here,” Mom says.
He looks at her a long moment. “Thank you, Maureen. That means a lot to me coming from you.”
“You’re welcome. And I don’t say that to blow smoke. You really have been through a lot in your years and I think it’s just wonderful to see you doing so great.”
He blushes a bit and clears his throat. “Shall we get started?” he asks.
“Yes. It all looks so amazing.”
“Yeah, it really does, Colt. Thank you. You went to too much trouble.”
He cocks his head. “It wasn’t trouble. I have to eat, too, you know. I just made a little extra.”
It’d be good if he stopped being so wonderful. Might help my heart not to run away with my head.
As soon as the first bite of chicken and pesto hits my tongue, I let out a soft moan. “Holy moly, that pesto is delicious.”
His fork is suspended mid-air as he watches me eat. I’m sure I’m embarrassing myself but I can’t help it. With every bite of each thing he made, I eat faster. I’m already wondering if I can have seconds and my plate isn’t even halfway empty yet.
“Glad you like it. It’s Jenna’s recipe.”
“It’s so good,” I say around a mouthful of food.
“Layla Jean! I taught you better than that! Where are your manners?” Mom scolds but there’s a teasing lilt to her voice.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Sorry, Mom.”
Colt chuckles. “Still using the mom voice I was always terrified of.”
“Oh, shush. I never used it on you once.”
“For good reason. I was too scared to get you angry enough that I would have to be on the receiving end of it!”
“Oh my gosh, remember that time we all went to the drive-in theater a few towns over? Your pickup wouldn’t start when we were getting ready to leave and you werefreakingout that I’d get home past curfew. You paid Drew twenty bucks to come pick us up and offered him an extra ten if he went over the speed limit on the way home.”