Page 86 of Hand Picked
Oh, Lord.
I hesitated. “Because… because your dad is like a tree. Like… like an apple tree! No, really,” I said when Aiden wrinkled his nose. “Go with me here, okay? Your dad is a tree, and he’s stretched down roots. He’s happiest staying in one place forever. He gets strength from consistency. But your mom… she’s more like a butterfly, isn’t she? You remember when we studied them in class? Butterflies can’t stay in one place too long. That’s not what they’re designed to do. They can’t root themselves to the soil. They’d die if they tried. But they do come back, over and over, season after season, to visit the places they love.” I shrugged. “I mean, that’s not a hundred percent accurate, but—”
Aiden threw himself into my lap and wrapped his baby-soft arms around my neck. “Thank you, Mr. Williams. That makes me feel better.”
“Oh.” I hugged him back, so very tightly. One of the things I loved about teaching children this age was that they constantly teetered between the babies they’d been and the grown-ups they were becoming. It was easy to forget they still needed snuggles and reassurance to feel safe. “I’m glad, sweetheart. I know for sure that your mom and dad don’t want you to be upset, okay? They both love you, and they’re doing the best they can for you.”
“And you.”
“Hmm?”
Aiden pulled back. “You do the best you can for me. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I told him, trying not to show just how overwhelmed I was at his simple, innocent declaration.
Itshouldbe simple to tell someone you loved them. I wasn’t sure why adults made it so dang complicated.
Aiden sniffled, then scooted away to grab his spelling flash cards.
“So, which are you?” he asked over his shoulder. “A tree or a butterfly?”
“I…” I paused to think about it, even after Aiden dumped the stack of flash cards in my lap. “I dunno. Maybe a bird? A squirrel. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Nah. You’re more like…” He twisted up his mouth in thought. “I know! You’re like the branches my dad grafts onto the trees in the orchard.”
“So basically I’m a stick?” I poked him in the ribs. “Thanks bunches.”
He giggled. “No, Dad gets these tree branches from other places and then kinda sticks ’em to the trees that are already there.”
“Oh, right. He grafts them.” Webb had explained that too, sort of, the day I’d fallen in the pond.
“The trees bring the sticks back to life, kinda. And they make flowers and apples again. But the sticks make the trees stronger, too, so they makemoreapples. Better apples. That’s you.”
“Wow. That’s…”
“I know kind of a lot about apple trees,” he said modestly.
“You sure do. And that might just be the nicest thing anyone ever said to me. Thank you, Aiden.”
“Sure.” Aiden grinned, showing his teeth that still hadn’t grown all the way back in. “I’m a black bear, by the way. I eat food and make messes.”
I snorted. “Let’s get this spelling practice done, black bear,” I said lightly, telling myself not to dwell on life lessons from a seven-year-old.
But that night when I went home, Aiden’s words… and his father’s… were all I could think about.
ChapterEighteen
WEBB
It had been nearly a week since I’d fucked things up royally. A week of regretting, of wanting to apologize and not knowing how.
Of missing him.
Luke had been busy with his mom, and I’d been busy feeling sorry for myself. So, when my attorney had suggested an update meeting Friday afternoon, I’d agreed immediately, desperate for anything to distract me.
It hadn’t worked quite the way I’d intended.
“Hey, Katey. Jack around?” I asked as I walked into Panini Jack’s. The lunch rush had ended, but the after-school rush hadn’t quite begun, which I knew from experience was Jack’s favorite time to concoct new recipes.
