Page 20 of Worth the Want
I start reading the back of the first cereal box I can grab. One hundred-seventy calories, four grams of fat, thirty-three carbohydrates, twelve sugars, vitamin D, calcium, iron, potassium…I take a deep breath and focus on the steady beeping coming from the checkout at the front of the store. Old ladies chatter about their grandkids in the produce section, and I hear akid asking their mom to get them a candy bar,please, please, please.
I’m here. I amhere.I close my eyes tightly, then open them, feeling triumphant.Hell yes, Indie!I hear the cheer echo in my ears, and with renewed confidence, I take my items to the front, helping the checker bag them before walking out to my car. A few months ago, I probably would have been curled up into a ball on the sticky grocery store floor. I’ve come a long way. Smiling and feeling a little proud of myself, I stow my brown paper bag in the backseat.
Main Street is quiet. Stores are starting to close for the evening, and there are fewer cars parked on the street. The sun dips lower in the sky, casting shadows over the town. I’m not sure what I thought moving across the country would look like, but I didn’t expect to feel so much peace already. Silverthorne is quickly becoming a comforting balm to my soul. I’ll write that one down on a postcard for Han later. She’ll appreciate the poetic nature of it.
The drive back to Knox’s guesthouse—my house for the foreseeable future—is calming. I turn my music up and roll my windows down, enjoying the evening air. The sunset is reflecting off the clouds over the mountain, making them look like orange and raspberry sherbet.I should have gotten some of that.I hit the long, forest-lined drive, and the view when I reach the lake is otherworldly. The lake looks lit up by the fading glow of the sun, reflecting the sky on the calm water. I slowly pass the faded old truck in front of the big house and park my car, grabbing my camera and running down to the water.
Making sure not to step one foot onto Knox Holloway’s dock, I walk to the water's edge, squatting down to get the angle of the water and the sky above just right. I snap a few beforeadjusting my settings, and the next few photos look like they belong on a postcard.Maybe I’ll make my own.I can hear the sounds of the forest around me, and closing my eyes to hear them better, I let myself sink into this moment until a high-pitched giggle has my head snapping to the side. When my eyes refocus, I see the most adorable little girl I’ve ever seen in my life.
Beside her is the man I kicked into the lake earlier—then saw naked.
Nestled into the tall grass near the edge of the lake, I’m watching my daughter enjoy the rest of her already exciting day. We came outside to watch the fading sunset, and after an adorablepretty please,we both ended up with a bowl of ice cream. Rocky road for me and chocolate for her. We relax on an old blanket; Hazel sits beside me, licking her spoon, melting ice cream dribbling down her chin while she’s at it. She has questions about the car that drove by a couple of minutes ago.
“Who’s that?”
“That’s Indiana. She’s going to be staying there for a little bit.”
“Why?”
“Because she needed somewhere to stay.”
“Why?”
“Well, the place she was staying before had a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because Muncle Rhett didn’t fix some pipes.” She giggles.
“Muncle Rhett’s funny,” she says, taking another lick off her spoon.
“Yeah, he’s funny,” I agree, giving her little side a tickle.
I’ve just answered to her satisfaction when the object of her questions comes racing out of the small white guesthouse down the dirt road, running down the path to the water. Where is she going in such a hurry? She makes a show of avoiding the dock, making me feel a little like an ass for how hard I came down on her this afternoon. I do need to know she can swim, but maybe telling her she wasn’tallowedon it wasn’t called for.
I watch her kneel by the edge of the water, hold her camera up, and mess with something on it before smiling. It’s a big, beautiful smile, full of awe for the scene in front of her. It generally annoys me when people bring their cameras everywhere. Like they can’t live in the moment without documenting every little detail for their social media pages. But watching her right now, the orange light of sunset on her face tells me that’s not what this is. I will myself to look away, setting my bowl next to me and leaning back onto my hands, crossing one foot over the other.
Hazel looks back at me, so I bare my teeth and give her a growl, causing her to giggle. She twirls in a circle, holding tight to her bowl, the sugary contents making their way through her bloodstream. Smiling, I watch her dance back and forth, catching the sun going down behind her as it casts vibrant light into the sky and paints the clouds. It’s one of our favorite things to do out here, together, just me and her.
“Hi,” a voice like honey calls from just below us at the water.
“Hi!” Hazel yells back. Her sweet voice is so pure andfriendly. I guess I should be talking to her about stranger danger soon.
“Evening,” I say, sitting up as she walks over.
“Sorry if I’m intruding.”She is.“I just had to get out here and see this sunset.”But I’m glad.
“It’s so pretty! Orange and pink!” Hazel yells at her, already hopped up on sugar and spooning another mouthful of chocolate into her mouth.
“It is. It might be the prettiest sunset I’ve ever seen,” she tells Hazey. “I’m Indiana. It’s really nice to meet you.”
“I’m Hazel Emilia Holloway,” she introduces herself, like she’s older than her three years. It’s adorable.
“What a beautiful name.” Indiana fawns over her, then shifts her feet, like she’s unsure if she should still be standing here. I suppose I’ll need to say something then.
“Thank you,” Hazel says politely. Well, at least some things I’m teaching her are sticking—maybe I should try being a bit more polite.
“You’re welcome,” Indiana replies, before looking over at me. “I wanted to say sorry again for earlier. I’ll stay off your dock, and I’ll—she clears her throat—“call before just showing up on your doorstep. I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time,” she tells me. Her sincerity is clear. I feel worse for my overreaction.
