Page 81 of Under the Influence

“Keep in mind, I need to look pretty for my lunch date,” I say as she aims at my face. “Don’t you want me to make a good impression on Donovan and Journey?”

“They already saw you swapping spit with their daughter. It’s too late to impress them now.”

“Who raised you to be so cruel?” I ask as she weighs pulling the trigger.

Clover only smiles and stuffs the pistol in her bag. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

“Happy enough to bunk at your grandma’s place tonight so I can make a lot of noise?”

Clover loses her smile. “You said I didn’t need to move out.”

“You don’t. But it’s my first night with Edith here. I’m not sure how loud we’ll get.”

“What the hell are you planning to do to her that’ll involve so much noise?” Clover demands, giving me a dirty look before shrugging. “I’ll stay away for my own sanity.” As Clover walks to the front door, she calls back, “But I’m planning to get a cat soon. Maybe a dog, too.”

“I look forward to dodging them both,” I reply as she walks out the door and into the warm morning.

As I ride over to the homestead, I consider Clover’s hesitancy to get more pets after our dog died. Struggling with her grief, Clover fell into her habit of avoiding anything that might make her uncomfortable. She will likely move out of the house for a short time to avoid dealing with Edith and the baby. But living in an apartment surrounded by people wanting to make small talk with her is bound to send Clover back home. In the end, everything will work out.

I arrive at the homestead to find Edith in the same edgy mood as last night. But once she starts smiling, she doesn’t stop.

As we walk hand in hand to her parents’ house, she asks, “What would you have named your girls if they had been boys?”

“I always like my grandpa’s name. Sean is simple and Irish.”

“Sean McGraw is a cool name.”

“Do you honestly like it or are you afraid to hurt my feelings?”

“No, I like it. If I didn’t, I’d say, ‘Oh, that’s nice.’ Despite my words, you’d hear my disdain.”

I chuckle at her tone, sensing she’s telling the truth. Before we reach her parents’ back deck, I ask, “Will one baby name be enough?”

Edith’s breath hitches. She stops walking and looks around. I know the answer before she has a chance to lie.

“I don’t know,” Edith says. “I’ve always wanted what my ma had, but I’m not sure now.”

“I think you are.”

“I believed I had things in order. In my head, my future made sense. But lately, I don’t know. I went nuts yesterday rather than showing grace under fire. So maybe I don’t know what I want beyond what I have with you.”

Studying her beautiful face, I don’t think she is lying. Edith has lived a very narrow life. Sure, it was weird and wild because of the homestead, but she never left her safe space. Now, she’s realized she can have more, but it might be scarier than she expected.

“What were you thinking for a girl?” I ask, and Edith smiles.

“I’ve had one name in mind since I was a kid, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“This thing between us started weird,” I say, and Edith’s smile falls. “But now, we’re starting fresh. I hope that means we don’t hide anything from each other. Just tell me the name. If I don’t like it, I’ll either grow to like it or we’ll find something else. Or maybe we’ll never have a girl. But don’t hide your feelings. That’s not the kind of marriage I want.”

Edith’s expression shifts immediately, and I realize how lucky I am to have found her. Without my panic attack, I’d be living my life in Basin Rock without knowing this incredible woman was within reach.

“Okay, but let me tell you my reason, so maybe you’ll like the name better,” she insists, and I assume it’s a grandma name. “When I was little, we were always playing outside. One of my favorite games with my brothers and cousins was Peter Pan. West and Val would take turns being Peter. All my girl cousins wanted to be the Lost Boys, so I always got to be Wendy.”

Edith looks around the homestead as if remembering a magical time.

“Otto was always Captain Hook,” she says, laughing at the memory. “He had a hat and a plastic sword. He’d chase around the Lost Boys, swatting them in the butt if he got close enough. And I’d stand up in our treehouse, crying for the Lost Boys to hide better.”

Edith sighs. “I was a little sad when we got too old to play that anymore. I loved being Wendy. Otto never swatted my butt. I got to stay pretty and clean while they all got muddy and wild. But I was still part of the action. Reaching me in the treehouse was the reward for Peter and the Lost Boys. Sometimes, Ike would go up there right away and hang out with me. When Tuesday got too hot, she would claim she was renouncing her Lost Boys status and was now Wendy’s assistant. Those were some of the best days of my childhood. Do you think Wendy McGraw sounds okay?”

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