Page 7 of Axe Backwards
“No.” Her little face went red as she furiously signed “more, more, more.”
“One more bite.” I broke off a small piece. “Then all done.” I waved my hands to add some finality.
She snatched the hunk of cookie from my hand and shoved it into her mouth.
“The baby sign language is adorable,” my mom crooned while offering Tess another piece of the cookie I’d just risked my life to remove from her clutches. Great, exactly what I needed:a ten-month-old on a sugar high. “She is such a little smarty pants.”
I took the rest of the cookie from her and shoved it into my mouth. It was soggy, but at this point, I might as well stress eat while my mother tried to guilt me into moving back in with her.
“Victoria came back to town…” She tapped her chin. “A couple of years ago.” She peered over her shoulder, then angled in close and lowered her voice. “Terrible divorce. So bad she left Boston and came up here.”
I nodded, my stomach twisting with shame. I shouldn’t have asked. It was none of my business. She’d never seemed like the type to stick around Lovewell.
“She’s a superhero. Took over as director of the food pantry from her Aunt Lou, serves on multiple town committees, and is always pitching in to help.”
My heart sank. “What happened to Lou?” She’d been a fixture in this town since my childhood, always organizing canned food drives for the holidays at our school.
“She has MS,” my mother said, her lips turned down. “She’s healthy, but she can’t keep up with it anymore. Victoria is a force of nature. Did some fancy corporate thing in the city, so she’s got a good head for business.”
I nodded, forearms on the table. As my mother spoke, my brain rapidly integrated this new information. Random memories popped into my head—Jude mentioning that Vic had gotten married, and even visits to the food pantry to volunteer when I was in high school.
“Noah,” my mom said, snapping me back to the present.
I disappeared mentally like that from time to time. My brain got going, drawing connections and pulling up memories. When it did, I’d fall into it. Jude had always been patient with me, but many people in my life were not.
“Sorry. Just thinking. Tell me more about Simone.”
She pulled out her phone and scrolled through photos. Because she’d been born early, it was not yet safe to visit with Tess, who could bring along lots of germs. So I let my mother delightedly fill me in and chatter while I ruminated over all I’d learned in the last ten minutes.
Victoria Randolph. She’d been a grade above me in school. We hadn’t interacted much, but in a small town, everyone knew everyone.
Her parents had moved up in social status after her dad had invented something big, and they moved away. I think, like me, she headed off to college and never looked back.
While my mom chattered on, several townsfolk gawked at me. I couldn’t imagine what the rumor mill was saying, not that I had the attention span to care. Others came to say hello and smile at Tess, who was now scrunching up her face.
With her brows raised and her eyes on me, she stacked her hands and separated them. The sign for pooping.
“Oh boy.” I took her from her grandma and snagged the diaper bag from the booth. “Something’s brewing.”
“Come to dinner tonight.”
I bent down to kiss my mom on the cheek, then picked up our trash with my free hand.
“We’re still getting into a routine,” I said, catching a whiff of a very dirty diaper. “I think it’s best I try to get her to sleep in her crib.”
My mother didn’t put up an argument. She gave me a sweet smile and nodded. I couldn’t escape her invitations forever, and I wouldn’t try, but I needed a minute to catch my breath. Tess wasn’t sleeping, and doing anything to make that situation worse was asking for trouble. I wished I could blame the cross-country move, but in reality, she’d never been a good sleeper.
It was entirely my fault. According to a couple of the books I’d read and one pediatrician, I was supposed to sleep train her.
What I discovered as I read was that “sleep train” was the polite way of saying I should leave her in bed to scream.
There was no way I could do it. She was too precious and had been through too much. If my Tessie girl needed snuggles, then I would give them.
I would rock her and hold her until my back gave out. The last thing I’d ever do was leave her feeling scared and alone. And if she was spoiled as a result, so be it. There were a lot worse things in life than having an overprotective dad.
At my truck in the parking lot, I opened the back door, pulled my supplies out of the diaper bag, and got to work. Not to brag, but I was fantastic at handling diapers. Treating each blowout like an emergency that should be handled with precision, strategy, and a thorough risk assessment was the key.
After she was clean and buttoned back up, I picked her up.
