Page 41 of Bringing Home the Bacon
“Bad news. You should always choose the bad news first.”
He wraps his arms around my lower back and pulls me closer until my slightly round belly nestles against his flat one. “Our official New York City date will have to wait.”
“And the good news?” I circle my arms loosely around his neck.
“I get to visit Fork Lick after all.”
That tension that slid off my shoulders and fled my forehead a moment ago? It immediately creeps back in with those words.
“Why, uh, why, uh, why would you visit Fork Lick?” I ask.
“Are you stuttering?” He laughs.
“I think I am, yeah.”
He strokes my hair and tucks a loose piece behind my ear. “The grandmother and four brothers you mentioned… I imagine they have feelings about some random man getting their granddaughter/sister pregnant?”
“They do, but?—”
“Well, I think the only gentlemanly thing for me to do is to pay them a visit as soon as possible. Last I checked, buses run every hour at half past the hour. If I pack my bag quickly, we can be there before dinner.”
He pauses and flashes me that beautiful smile.
“Colleen Bedd? It’s time for you to bring home the Bacon.”
Chapter 14
Bacon
I don’t get out of the city enough.
That’s what I’m thinking as I sit on this bus heading north toward Greene County, a sleeping Colleen resting against my shoulder.
Even in the wintertime, this scenery is stunning. The snow-covered hills and the tree branches encased in ice give off this vibe of tranquility that calls to me. I can only imagine how beautiful this area is in the fall when the leaves start changing.
I’m trying to remember the last time I really immersed myself in nature. While I was shooting Yes, Chef!, I took the occasional walk in Central Park when I could, but I’m not sure that counts when you can look up in any direction and still see skyscrapers all around. And before that, I was in Philly, working in the kitchen in any restaurant that would have me.
It’s strange the stories we tell about ourselves. For as long as I can remember, I’ve heard myself insisting, “I’m a city guy.” But I’m starting to wonder if that was ever even true. Because the moment I get a taste of fresh air and a big sky—space—I feel contentment and possibility like I never have before.
My phone sounds with a text and stirs Colleen awake.
Damn, I should have put the thing on silent.
A glance confirms what I already suspect. For the past decade, he reaches out periodically, requesting to see me and asking me if I can forgive him at some point. Letters, emails, texts… you name it. For the most part, I don’t respond. Since seeing me on TV, though, the frequency of his messages has increased. Must be hard when people congratulate you on your son’s big win and you have no relationship with that son whatsoever.
Well, that’s not my problem, Dad.
Colleen yawns. “How long have I been asleep?”
“You passed out as soon as we hit the Palisades Parkway.”
“Huh. I didn’t realize I was so tired. Sorry I left you without my stellar conversation skills,” she jokes.
“Oh, that’s alright. I got to experience your stellar snoring and drooling skills.”
“I do not drool!” she protests, then looks sheepish when I point at the damp spot on my shirtsleeve. “Sorry.”
“Lady, you can drool on me any day.”
