Page 51 of The Nanny and the Hothead
As odd as it sounds, he hadn’t put together that this was his first family trip with his son. He’d written off the notion of having a family—at least in the Norman Rockwell white picket fence traditional sense. But Charlotte was right. Oscar was his family. And besides Holly’s sister, he was all the kid had. A heaviness set in, but there was no time to dwell on it as Charlotte continued barking orders.
“Oscar, you should bring your Polaroid camera. We can take some shots of our wood gathering adventure. Mitch, you’re in charge of…” She tapped her chin. “Carrying the heavy pieces,” she instructed. He had to give it to her. He’d never seen anyone try harder to make gathering sticks sound like a good time.
Oscar removed his camera from his pack and looped the strap around his neck. “Oscar Elliott is ready to go, ma’am!” the kid called.
He glanced at his son. He’d never seen the boy so eager to please.
Wood foraging it was!
But he needed to let her know she didn’t have to act like a cruise ship activities director. He walked over, then lowered his voice. “You don’t have to do this, Charlotte,” he said, trying to read her, trying to understand why she was so adamant about finding a few sticks to burn.
“Do what?” she asked, flinching as she shifted her stance. That wholeF.U. to shoeswasn’t working out so great for her. But he was smart enough not to mention it.
“You don’t have to organize a whole list of activities. We just have to get through the night,” he replied, thinking his words would make her feel better.
They didn’t.
She shook her head, eyes blazing. “You’re wrong! This isn’t some pit stop. And I do need to do this for Oscar—and for you.”
For him?
“Why?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“Because a happy family enjoys doing things together,” she replied, again employing the word family.
“Is that how it is in your family? Do you enjoy being with them?”he pressed, then watched as the muscles in her throat contracted as she swallowed hard.
“This is what we’re doing now,” she replied with a shake to her voice—not answering his question. And her non-answer answer spoke volumes. He knew a thing or two about glossing over the painful parts of life.
“Charlotte,” he began, but she cut him off with that hand thing.
“We’ll trek across the forest to find wood for a fire. And we’re doing thistogether,” she said, heading off into the woods—barefoot.
He met his son’s gaze. “Are you in?”
“I don’t think we can say no, Dad,” the kid answered with a weary look in his eyes.
The kid had smarts.
“I don’t think she knows where she’s going,” Oscar continued. “And she’ll probably get splinters in her feet.”
Another excellent observation!
They started walking, and he fell into step with his son as Charlotte’s form disappeared behind a row of evergreens.
“Do you like camping?” he began, surprised he’d never asked before. But they never really conversed. Their visits over the last couple of years had been strained at best. The kid had mostly stayed in his room from the minute he’d stepped foot in the cabin. Once or twice, Holly had gotten him to come out to play a board game, but they hadn’t spoken much. Sure, part of it had to do with his age. Oscar was three when he’d started visiting. But it hadn’t gotten easier. In fact, the kid seemed to like him less and less the older he got.
The boy kicked a rock along as they walked. “Mom used to let me put up my tent outside the back door. She’d make me a hot chocolate, and for dinner, I’d get to eat my favorite sandwich.”
“Grilled cheese?” he answered, knowing he was right.
“Yeah, and they’re Charlotte’s favorite, too. She told me,” the boy replied, focusing on the rock.
Mitch nodded, then bent down to swipe a stick from the ground. He’d expected that to be the extent of their conversation. It had been their first real exchange that hadn’t dissolved into yelling or resorting to ignoring each other. But Oscar abandoned the rock and glanced up at him as they continued.
“Charlotte taught me a trick,” the boy offered.
Okay! This had to be good. They were conversing.
