Chapter Four
Dallas
“Oh, that is so good,” I sigh after tasting a sample of Miller’s Fruit Preserves on a slice of fresh-baked baguette.
“Local grown berries always taste the best,” Josh Miller says as he hands out more samples to the small crowd gathering at his booth in the farmer’s market. “Naturally sweet, full of vitamins and antioxidants.” He glances over me and Mason with a ready smile. “We’ve started a line of baby food, too, did you know?” He hands me a petite jar from a display behind his table.
“Really?” I say, swallowing the last delectable bites of my sample. “That’s such a great idea.” I look over the label on the jar of finely pureed applesauce. Nothing added, no sugar, no preservatives. Perfectly natural, with the full goodness every apple had to offer. I’m sure Mason will love it, and maybe that’s just what he needs—more whole food nutrients. “How much?”
Josh winks and waves a hand. “Free sample today.”
I sigh and give him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Josh. That’s very kind of you.”
“If he likes it, you can buy the next jar. But in case he doesn’t, no sense you being out of pocket.” He hands me a plastic spoon. “Let me know what he thinks.”
“Will do,” I say, taking the spoon and maneuvering Mason’s stroller out of the queue forming at Miller’s booth. It’s a lovely autumn day; the sun is shining, and the wind has mercifully stayed away. I almost want to remove my heavy Cowichan-style sweater, but it’s easier carried on my back than in the already overstuffed stroller saddlebags. Besides, I’m still not completely over this darned flu bug that’s plagued me for the last month. The antibiotics seem to have improved Mason’s constitution though, and right now warm sunshine and fresh air make it seem like all we need to get back to normal.
Normal, ha. What was normal? Living day to day in the house I grew up in, sharing my old childhood bedroom with my firstborn? Some kinda normal. My mom and dad of course welcomed us with open arms, but having my career literally shot down and returning home as an unwed mother were not among the plans I had for myself, nor the life I envisioned.
Bumping into Levi again felt akin to seeing a ghost, but it brought back those ambitions I once had in vivid, technicolor detail. As a bright-eyed bank teller, with a background in accounting management, I’d felt poised on the edge of a great career in the financial industry. I’d met Levi at a rock concert, and we just clicked. He was handsome and polished, flush with family money, but never coming across as arrogant or entitled. He was kind and fun-loving, and a future together with him had seemed right and good and beautiful.
I’d been soaring. Until that horrible day when he disappeared and my world came crashing down. And then just when I thought I had a handle on things, accepted my situation, accepted that Levi was gone and wasn’t coming back, he appears out of nowhere to stir my life up yet again, damn him. He sure didn’t expect the bomb I dropped on him about Mason. I couldn’t fully read his reaction, and honestly, who could tell under all that hair? I’d never seen him in such a state; it was as comical as it was out of character.
He said he’d been living nearby, somewhere up past Beaver. Why there? Not exactly a vacation spot, except for the backpacker types and roadsters stopping by for a dip in the hot springs. But it certainly afforded privacy. I knew he was troubled by what happened to his parents, and so was I. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known them—I had. Levi and I had been dating for more than a year before they were murdered. We’d been unofficially engaged, for fuck’s sake; I’d ached for his loss right alongside him.
After clearing away all the legal details and transferring ownership of the Strongbows’ business interests to him, the weight of his grief had finally taken its toll. That’s when he’d announced he was going to be away for a while, heading into the wilderness to heal, reflect, and get his head together. Understandable considering the circumstances, but it struck me as odd since Levi and the outdoors didn’t belong in the same sentence. When he hadn’t returned, I’d thought all kinds of crazy thoughts…that he’d been eaten by a bear or fallen off a cliff. As the months had passed, I’d eventually given him up for dead. I don’t know whether I’m shocked, relieved, or angry to discover he’s very much alive. Maybe all three. But I’m also glad, for Mason’s sake if not my own.
I find a picnic table inside the market square where I can have a seat and pull Mason’s stroller alongside. I never pictured myself as a mother, yet now I can’t imagine my life without him, despite my less-than-desirable financial position.
I open the jar of Miller’s baby food and offer Mason a taste. He kicks his feet in excitement as the spoon approaches his mouth. In a flash, he gobbles the sweet compote and grins at me. Hmm. Must be good. It makes me smile, too. I watch him as I feed him more, seeing every detail of his face, his eyes, his whole body as if in a new light. I see Levi in him, in the shape of his forehead, the dimples of his cheeks. Hair color is hard to tell, since much of Mason’s hair rubbed off in the early months and is now re-growing in a coppery shade of red; but that too, I suspect, comes from his father.
“Aw, now there’s a cutie,” a voice from aside croons. I turn my head to the sound, but don’t recognize who it’s coming from. A man I’ve never met stands a few feet away, not disheveled exactly, but roughly dressed as though he’s been on a long camping trip. Wearing torn denims and a stained, down-filled vest overtop a frayed black sweatshirt, he doesn’t exactly inspire warmth or trust. But since we’re not far from a national forest, I can’t expect tailored suits and hot-towel barbered faces. This guy sports an untidy, dark scruff and greasy hair parted in the middle. And though there’s a weird furry thing, like the tail on a coonskin cap, hanging from his belt that I can’t tell is real or fake, there’s nothing overtly threatening about him; he seems friendly and has just given my son a compliment.
“Yes, he certainly is,” I say, turning back to Mason and shoveling another spoonful of fruit into his mouth.
“He’s your son?”
“Yes.”
“I can tell where he gets his good looks from, then.” Obvious, much? Surely this ruffian isn’t trying to flirt with me, is he? I smile but don’t react to his cliché comment. “You from around here, pretty mama?” he continues. Oh, now that’s going too far.
“I’m from a lot of places, like most folks,” I respond, my voice cooling.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that, miss. It’s just that I’m new around here, and was wondering if you could recommend a good hardware store. Anyplace I could get some good solid tools, you know, hammers and axes and such?”
“Oh. Uh, yeah. There’s a True Value on Forks Avenue. Or you could try Forks Outfitters if you’re looking for camping gear as well.” Really? It isn’t a big town. You could hardly miss the shops on the main drag.
“They sell bullets too, you think?”
I suppress a shiver. Now he’s making me nervous. “I wouldn’t know. You’ll have to ask when you get there,” I answer, sealing the jar of baby food and wiping Mason’s face in preparation to leave. I don’t need this weirdo’s attention.
“Right. Well, thank you, miss. I’ll try there. Enjoy your day.”
Thankfully, he backs off and melds into the crowd. I breathe out slowly, watching him go. I should move along in case he comes back, but just as I’m straightening Mason’s blankets and checking his safety straps, someone else approaches us.
“Hey,” he says. This voice I welcome; though changed a little, it still fills me with a sense of happiness and safety. I look up to see Levi standing there, his green eyes twinkling and his lips parted in a comforting smile.
“Hey,” I reply, genuinely relieved to see him, though I find the beard and moustache still a bit disconcerting. His mane of hair is held down under a knitted cap, and the whole effect is amusingly hipster. “You really meant it when you said you’d be here.”
“Now, that sounds like a bit of a diss,” he says, his smile unfading. “But I suppose after all these months I need to prove to you that I never say things I don’t mean.” His gaze falls on the stroller and takes a step closer. “You look well. Nice day for the farmer’s market.”
“It sure is. A nice day for a lot of things. Like meeting your son.”
Levi glances up at me, and I hold out my hand. “Come. He doesn’t bite…often.” Levi cautiously steps around to the front of the stroller and takes my hand in his. It feels rough but warm. “This is Mason.”
His smile grows wider as he looks at the baby. “He’s amazing.”
“Yes, particularly when he cries at night and startles you from a dead sleep. He has a voice like a rock star,” I joke. “Amazing’s the word.”
Levi crouches down to stroller level, his well-worn canvas rucksack slung across his back. “Hi, Mason. How you doing, buddy? You feeling better?” Mason’s feet start moving excitedly. He pulls his fingers from his mouth enough to make a curious, gurgling squawk. Levi laughs. “Does that mean hello?”
“Could mean anything. Do you want to hold him?”
Levi looks my way, and then back to Mason. “Sure, I mean, can I? Is that okay? You said he’s been sick.”
“The meds helped a lot, so yes, you can hold him. Unless you’re scared to.”
“Scared shitless, actually. But yeah, I want to.” My eyes linger on his muscled, jean-clad legs as he straightens to standing again. Wherever he’s been living, he certainly hasn’t been lazing about. He looks as lean and taut as a wild animal, and just as strong.
I reach down and release the safety buckles, gently lifting Mason out of the stroller. “C’mon, li’l dude…come meet your daddy.” I hand him over to Levi, showing him how to position his arms for proper support. He doesn’t say a word for a long minute, just stares in wonder at the soft bundle in his arms. I feel a familiar burn behind my eyes that makes a treacherous tear begin to form. This is one of those suspended drops of time, a dreamy, expanding bubble that traps all sound and light, capturing uncounted seconds that imprint themselves in your memory forever. “You don’t look so scared,” I say.
Levi chuckles and tears his vision away from Mason for a second. His forest-green eyes are glistening with moisture, just as mine are. I’ll never forget this sight. “Yeah, well, don’t look too close. A gibbering, boneless, awestruck idiot is hiding just inside.” He draws in a huge breath. “And a happy one. Jesus, Dallas; I can’t believe we made something so perfect and beautiful.”
“Well, it does take two.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through it alone. Pregnancy, and childbirth, I mean. I should have been there.”
“You didn’t know. Neither did I, until after…”
“I know,” he interrupts. “Let’s not talk about that fucked-up, never should have happened day. I want to talk about today, and tomorrow, and every day after that. All the days I need to make up for.” He again gazes down at Mason, bouncing him gently in the spacious cradle of his arms.
“Are you saying you’re coming back…from wherever you went?” I ask. “You may not want to talk about it, but I do. You expect me to just forgive and forget? Discount the last year and a half like it never happened? It did happen…you’re holding the living proof of that. You owe me, Levi. An explanation, at least.”
“I’m saying I want to be part of your life, and Mason’s. I never wanted otherwise, Dally; I just…had to go away for awhile.”
“I know, but I thought maybe a week or two, to de-stress and whatever. Don’t you understand what I went through, what everyone who cared about you went through, desperate to know where you were? How could you have been so selfish? So irresponsible? I went half-crazy with fear and worry.”
“I can only say ‘sorry’ so many times.” Levi holds the baby even closer to his chest. For a crazy instant I think he might turn and dash off with him. I shake the irrational thought from my brain. His expression turns defensive. “There was no one to care about me except you.” He pauses. “Did you happen to file a missing person’s report?”
Now it’s my turn to feel chastised and look down at my feet. “I wanted to. But my folks talked me out of it. Missing adults aren’t at the top of the police’s to-do list, my dad said. I think they weren’t impressed that you’d gotten me pregnant and then just took off. After that, I was so wrapped up in morning sickness and doctor’s visits and pre-natal classes I couldn’t think about much else. When you didn’t turn up after a month, I thought maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Doesn’t want me. Us.”
“It wasn’t like that, I swear,” Levi says, his voice wavering.
“Then for the love of God, tell me what it was like,” I say, my voice desperate. “Tell me why.” I can’t stop the flow of tears this time. I feel them spill hot over my cheeks, and hurriedly swipe at them with my palms.
“Not here,” he whispers. “Can we go someplace private?”
Mason starts to fuss, and I sniffle back the rest of my tears. “That’s probably best,” I say, glancing around to check if my outburst has attracted any attention from the swell of market-goers. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“There’s that creepy dude.” I recognize the ripped jeans and dirty vest, the where-can-I-buy-bullets guy. He’s standing by the organic coffee booth, giving me the eye, sipping from a Styrofoam cup.
Levi follows the direction of my gaze. “Who the fuck is that?”
I reach for Mason as he lets out a wail. “I don’t know. He was here earlier, told me how cute Mason was. Then asked if I was from around here, and where he could buy tools. And ammo.”
“Ammo? What’d you say?”
“I told him to try the Outfitters.” I place Mason in the stroller and fasten the safety clips. I have a milk bottle stowed in the saddlebags and quickly offer it to my son. His wails cease immediately as he pops the nipple into his mouth. A quick glance over my shoulder reveals Levi and bullet-guy having a visual standoff, each glowering at the other. “Let’s get out of here.”