Page 24 of Pucked Up Plans
Heat rises to my cheeks. And it has little to do with the plot of the book. It’s all about the man’s backside I’m currently ogling.
Walsh hums to himself while he does the dishes. The tune is familiar, but I can’t place it. Lennon barrels into the kitchen, ending any possibility to ask what the song is. She has something on her mind, but Walsh cuts it off. “Perfect timing, Squirt. We’vegot to get home to Mimi.” Her mouth opens to refute, but his stern look closes it.
Aubrey and I walk them to the door. Lennon sits down, putting her sneakers on the wrong feet. Walsh mentions it, but she doesn’t fix them.
“Pick your battles,” I mumble, keeping my voice low so he doesn’t hear me.
“The doctor assured us she’d eventually right it on her own. I had given up the fight even before her mother brought it up at her physical. It’s more important to wear her skates on the correct feet, which she does.” Guess my comment wasn’t quiet enough.
Uncertain of a comeback, I smile at him.
“Lennon, please thank Tate for having us and for making you dinner.”
“Thank you, Tate. Thanks for having ranch I like for the nuggets.”
“Lennon!” Walsh chides in a hushed tone.
She turns to face him, a retort set on her lips. Like moments ago, she stays silent. Facing back toward Aubrey, she hugs her. “See you at school on Monday.”
“Yep. I’ll be there.” I can’t help being proud of Aubrey’s enthusiasm, brought out by this new friend.
“I’ll be in touch about next Thursday,” Walsh says with a grin.
Thursday? I’m about to question it when the playdate plan the girls concocted slams into me.
“Right. Thursday. See you then.” My voice hitches on the last part of the comment. Thursday is six days from now. Will I really not see him until then? My heart deflates at the thought.
“Unless I see you sooner.” With a wink in my direction, he shepherds Lennon out the door, pulling it closed behind him.
“That was so fun, Mommy.” Aubrey practically jumps into my arms. “Can I call Nana and let her know about the chili? Please?”
I can’t ever deny a call to her grandmother.
“Sure thing, Bean. Then it’s time for bath and bed.”
Without arguing, she races off to find the iPad.
We FaceTime with my parents once a week at a minimum and every time, she’s as excited to see them as the last. There’s always a bit of sadness when they say goodbye, but it lessens each day.
It nearly broke me the first time, knowing I had taken her away from the only family she’d ever known. I love my parents and am forever indebted for everything they’ve done for Aubrey and me, but as much as I tried to keep myself afloat living with them, I felt like I was drowning, every day the boat taking on more and more water, trying to sink itself with me in it. I needed to get out, live on my own, and prove to myself, and them, I knew what was best for my daughter and me.
But Damon died and the threats and custody battle began. The Melansons, Damon’s parents, lost their only son, and Aubrey was a piece of him, a piece they felt entitled to. It didn’t matter they tried to force me to get rid of the baby or hadn’t offered any help—financial or otherwise—the five years of her life, they suddenly wanted to be grandparents.
Personal letters, emails, phone calls, a declaration letter from a lawyer vying for custody, they came after me in all the ways. It was a losing battle for them, but rather than fight, I chose to escape. It wasn’t an easy decision, and my parents encouraged me to stay, but I didn’t have it in me. Running away was the easier choice, because I could support Aubrey and me on my own. I didn’t know if I could endure a custody battle.
And when a past visit to Aunt Marsha’s farmhouse came up in my Facebook memories, I concocted a plan, one Aunt Marsha helped put into motion.
Aubrey’s adjustment to life with just the two of us, a life without daily access to her grandparents, has had ups and downs. It’s not her style to lash out, to be mad at me for moving away, but her comments every once in a while let me know she hasn’t totally forgiven me. I’m okay with that.
One day she’ll learn why we made the move.
The weekend passes quickly, reminders of our dinner with Walsh not far from my mind. Nor is the upcoming time on Thursday. After a low-key weekend with a few drives to explore our new town, the first part of the week drags.
Work is more tedious, the doctors in my ear droning on and on and on. Since high school, I’ve worked for a group of doctors doing medical notes transcription. It started part-time, with one doctor, but over the years, it’s billowed into a full-time position. And it’s completely remote, which is why it wasn’t an issue for me to move so far from home.
While I can’t see myself doing this work for the rest of my life, I won’t deny the setup I have is too cushy to pass up. Even after giving birth to Aubrey, I still put in hours to “protect” my job.
I try to accomplish most of the assignments while Aubrey’s in school, which works well on Tuesdays and Fridays since the days are longer. On the shorter days, I put in hours after she’s asleep, and a few hours on the weekends too.
