Page 18 of Crow's Haven
I rub my temple and grumble, “Don’t take it personal. I’m just teaching my boy he can’t run his mouth at women. Ain’t gonna stand for that from any son of mine.”
She gets up abruptly and leaves the table as well.
Chase catches me by surprise when he throws another one of my favorite sayings back at me. “You’re not making friends and winning people over today.”
“It’s influencing people, Chase,” I grumble.
“I’m still Throttle,” he says with a grin. A few minutes later, he shoves the last bite of pancake into his mouth and takes off.
Ten minutes later, Sharon comes back holding something. I quickly realize it’s a handwritten note that Scout made for her, an apology note to be exact. He didn’t run away because he was mad. He ran away to fix his mistake. I probably went a step too far when I mentioned making her cry. It says ‘Sorry’ in his six-year-old’s scrawl, and there’s a flower drawn after it.
“So, Scout apologized to you?”
She nods. “Yeah, he made it clear he doesn’t think you need another person on the team. But he doesn’t want me to feel bad or cry.”
“Maybe I’m crazy, but that feels like progress to me.”
***
Later in the evening, Sharon is sitting on the porch steps when I come out. She has her arms looped around her knees,watching the boys race around with slices of watermelon while playing in the yard.
I sit down beside her. “How are ya holding up? You look a bit bewildered. Regrettin’ taking on the job?”
She glances up at me. “No, I was just thinking,” she pauses. For a moment I think she’s gonna tell me who she’s running from, but instead she looks at my boys and smiles. “They’re more active than any kids I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how you manage to keep up with them.”
I draw my knees up and mirror her sitting position. “Who says I do? Sometimes I just have to let them run it off, especially after dinner. Letting them chase fireflies and have one final release of energy really helps them sleep.”
“Oh, thank God. I’ve been sitting here trying to calculate how many calories I’d need to take in to match their activity level.”
Grinning, I say, “What did you come up with? Something in the neighborhood of twenty thousand?”
She lets out a strangled laugh. “About that.”
“Nah, we’d spend all day eating just to keep up. Ain’t no life for folks like us.”
She smiles fondly at me. “You’re a really funny guy. Do you know that?”
“Glad you think so. Most folks just think I’m an asshole and hard to read.”
She shakes her head, smiling at me, as though she can’t quite believe that.
By the time the sun starts dipping below the trees my boys are sticky with watermelon juice and dirt.
“Bath time,” I call, jerking my chin for ‘em to head inside.
Predictably, Chase runs to Sharon, hiding behind her legs like I’m the big bad wolf. “I want Miss Sharon to help me.”
She freezes for a second, eyes darting to me for permission.
“Your call,” I say with a shrug. “Each kid’s got his own room, own bath. I leave ‘em to it, but I don’t trust ‘em running the water. I ain’t tossing you to the wolves unless you want it.”
“I’ve survived worse,” she says with a quick grin, before reaching down to ruffle Chase’s shaggy hair. “Alright, kiddo. Let’s de-funk you.”
Like always, he reminds her, “I’m still Throttle.”
We each take one of the boys and it goes a lot smoother than I expect. In fact it’s far easier when you’ve got another person helping to make sure your kids don’t flood the house.
By the time both boys are clean and in their pajamas, Sharon helps Chase pick out a picture book about a raccoon who hoards shiny things and stretches out beside him on the floor while I settle into the chair.
