Page 81 of Bountiful
I knelt beside the spot where Bess sat with Nicole. “I’m going to change. Don’t want to walk through someone’s wedding wearing this.” I pointed at my gym shorts and T-shirt.
“Good plan,” Bess said withoutlookingup.
But when I got up to go, Nicole squawked. Then she raised her short little arms uptome.
“Wow, Davey.” Bess put a hand on her heart and smiled. “The lady wants yourattention.”
“I’m just going upstairs,” I said to Nicole. “I’ll berightback.”
That apparently wasn’t good enough. She put her little hands on the ground and pushed herself into a standing position. Then she cameforme.
“Fine,” I said, caving. I didn’t want her to cry again. “Let’s go find a nicer shirt for me to wear.” I scooped her up and carried herindoors.
Upstairs, my bed was unmade. So I awkwardly tugged the comforter up while holding Nicole in one arm. “Okay, little miss.” I deposited her on the bed. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” I opened the closet to locate the button down I’d brought to Vermont. I grabbed my T-shirt and pulled it off. Then I tossed it at Nicole, and it came down onherhead.
She giggled fromunderneath.
I hastily buttoned up the clean shirt and pulled my nicer pair of khakis out of a drawer. But then I hesitated. Nicole had shrugged off the T-shirt and was watching me. So I turned away like a prude and changed my pants facing into the closet. If she had an opinion on the color of my boxers she did notexpressit.
When I turned around again, she had crawled to the edge of the bed and was leaning down, head first. So fardownthat—
I lunged, catching her by the waist just as she nearly executed a face plant onto the woodfloor.
She squawked as I moved her back ontothebed.
“Everything okay up there?” my sister called. She must have been hovering at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me tofuckup.
“Yup! All set!”Except I’d thought the baby might know better than to dive to her own doom. My heart was pounding from the near miss. I could just picture handing Nicole back to Zara with a giant bruise on her face and a possibleconcussion.
Note to self—don’t take your eyes offthekid.
Tucking in my shirt in record time, I scooped Nicole off the bed. “Try not to scare me like that again,” I whispered. “At least not until I figure out what the hell I’mdoing.”
“Ba-bah-de-da,” she said, as I carried her into the bathroom to do the worst one-handed tooth-brushing job ever. It was a mystery to me how Zara ever got anything done at all. Single moms must develop some kind of ninja skills just to get throughtheday.
By the time I carried her downstairs, Zara had texted to say that the ceremony was over and that I could bring the baby to Shipley Farm. “She says her mother will be there shortly,” Bess added. Then she looked up from my phone, and her face lit up. “Holy cow. You arehilarious.”
“What?” I looked down at myself, wondering whatI’ddone.
“You’re twinsies! I need a picture. Stand on the porch.” She snapped herfingers.
When I looked at Nicole, I saw what she meant. The pattern on the baby’s blue checkered dress was awfully similar to the one on my blue and green checkedshirt.
“Adorable,” my sister said, aiming her phone at us, as I tried not to rollmyeyes.
After the photo, Bess took Nicole out of my arms for one more squeeze. “You are my favorite baby,” she said to Nicole. “Please don’t get much bigger before I find a way to see youagain.”
The look on Bess’s face was one I’d never seen before. Pure yearning. She carried the baby to her car seat, strapped her in, and put the wooden bus on the seatbesideher.
“You could drive over there with us,” Ioffered.
Bess shook her head. “You go. Spend a few minutes with Zara. I’ll start dinner with Castro. I told him I’d try out a recipe forpeachpie.”
Huh. My sister wasn’t much of a cook. Eating a pie she made might require some diplomacy. “All right. See you inabit.”
Zara’s car was a piece of shit, I noted as I drove away. It had a hundred and eighty thousand miles on it. But one feature was nice—she had an extra mirror clipped to the rear-view, and when I glanced at it I could see Nicole’s face in thebackseat.
Another single-mominnovation.
