AARON

Faith was radiant that morning.

Okay. Every morning.

Fine. All damn day.

Her eyes glistened in the sun coming through the windshield. Her skin was flushed and her hair waved against her cheek from the calm breeze outside.

“I’m in love with you, Faith.” It was the most truth I’d ever said out loud.

Her breath hitched, a tiny gasp, and her brows rose in the middle. “I love you, too,” she replied, merciful and quick. Thank God.

I’d pledged to never put off kissing her again, and there’d never been a time when I’d needed her lips more. It didn’t matter if we were at the corner of Locust and home, I had no mind to wait. In the moment, I threw the truck into park, ran around to her side, and pulled her into my arms in the middle of the street, across from my house and the station, with Will and Carol watching from the side of the City of Wynne ambulance a few yards away.

My girl kissed me back tenfold. With every breath, she repeated, “I love you so much.”

We had things to talk about, but—so caught up in it all—I was compelled, and what I really wanted came out around our kiss. “Then move in with me.”

Her mouth halted my plea and her tongue slipped briefly over mine, which I enjoyed very much, but it wasn’t exactly an answer.

When our air ran short, I continued. “I want you and Delaney with me from now on.”

Her eyes searched mine, beaming. “Okay.”

Foxtrot.

Instinctually, I laid claim to her, downtown in broad daylight, because I couldn’t help myself.

Vehicles went around us. One honked, but I didn’t care. They weren’t important.

She was.

Eventually, I tamed the kiss and cautioned, “You’re going to be late.” There would be more time later to show her how she made me feel, and I’d take full advantage then. 

When her feet were back on solid ground, I pressed my lips to her forehead before we climbed into the truck and proceeded down the road.

At her house, Faith didn’t dawdle because she was literally running out of time. So she ran and jumped into her car, rolled down her window, and asked one last time, “You’re sure you don’t mind picking up Delaney at eleven-fifty?”

I insisted again, “I’m sure.”

She grinned ear-to-ear and relaxed into the seat. “Remember you have to go in. It’s that first room on the right, just inside the doors. It says Ms. Stone on the door.”

“You mean the room where we both went to preschool?”

Faith fired a look at me, and then rocked her jaw, hiding a smile. “Smart ass. I’ll come to your place after work.”

Hopefully, in a month or so or sooner, she’d just be coming home.

Those things took time, but she’d said yes and I prayed to God that didn’t change later. I prayed she’d understand why for so long I’d done what I had.

I replied, “We’ll be there.”

After a deep breath, she relented, “Okay, but don’t have any fun without me.”

“I never do, Fay.”

She pulled away and I let the morning sink in.

Mostly, the part where she loved me.

#

AT ELEVEN-FORTY, I was early, waiting in the very spot I’d parked in that morning. Surprisingly, the day had gone by quicker than I’d expected it to. That was, until the last ten minutes where I sat in my truck waiting to go inside. Those minutes had crept by.

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait until the exact time because I saw others going in to collect their children early. Grandparents. Other family members. Babysitters. Parents. And me.

Following what the others did, I stood to one side of the hall opposite Ms. Stone’s open door. One by one, the adults ahead of me stepped into the doorway and ushered their kids out. When it was my turn, I requested, “Delaney Simpson.”

The young teacher’s aide laughed, scanned her sheet, and confirmed, “Aaron Goodman?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Delaney,” she called. “Time to go. Walk on the green path to the door, please.”

Children sat inside individual squares mapped out on the carpet, bordered by a green track that wrapped around the room. Del popped up from her spot by the window and adjusted her backpack.

“Bye, Mia. Bye, Dawson. Bye, Kelsey. Bye, Riley.” Long story short, she told every child she passed goodbye and when she got to the door, she hollered, “Bye, Miss Stone. I’ll see you tomorrow,” across the classroom. She looked up at the aide and continued, “Miss Courtney, I wish your name was Felicia.” Then she giggled at her joke with her hand over her mouth. “I’d say Bye, Felicia.”

“Bye, Delaney,” Miss Courtney replied and chuckled. “She’s a lot of fun.”

“She is,” I affirmed.

Delaney skipped out, so we headed for the exit.

“Sure you got everything, Del?”

“I think so. Is Smokie in the truck?” she asked, hopefully.

“No, he was napping on the back patio when I left.” With Delaney around, he napped whenever he could.

As I took the short drive for the second time that day, I listened to the play-by-play of nearly every minute since I’d last seen her. Her zeal was contagious.

“They took our pictures today for the board. And, in the morning, we have to move them to the other side of the line. That means we’re present, but not like a Christmas present. It means we’re here, too. Did you know that?”

“I did,” I told her, and the conversation flowed like that all the way through our peanut butter and jelly lunches. I was pleased to learn we both liked crunchy best, and that I was somehow the bread when it came to her and her mom. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but I wasn’t going to argue. I’d be whatever they wanted me to.

“Have you ever painted a room?” I asked, cleaning up our mess.

Her pigtails dangled back and forth with her answer. “Nope. I’m only allowed to paint on paper, not on the walls.” It sounded like she’d been down that road before and had experience with making that very mistake.

“Well, it’s okay to put wall paint on the walls when you want a room to be a new color. Do you want to help pick out a color for a room in the house?”

Her big, deep blue eyes bugged, and then they roamed the room, dodging mine. Maybe it sounded like a big job, so I clarified. “I went to the hardware store today while you were at school and got a bunch of samples. We can put them up on the wall and see which one looks the best.”

Her gaze wandered down one of her new school shirts, the one she’d picked out all by herself. “That sounds messy,” she warned.

“It is, but I’ve got you covered. Messy on the walls is okay because we’re going to paint over it anyway.”

Her thin legs swung side to side, off the bar stool she’d climbed onto to eat. “What colors are there?” she inquired.

I nodded to the stairs. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

I knew better than to get her school clothes all messed up and had an old button up shirt that would work just fine. She put it on over her clothes and after we gave up on getting it buttoned straight, I rolled up the sleeves so she could work.

“What about you?” Delaney asked, petting Smokie’s belly on the floor of the bedroom, when I didn’t put anything on to protect my clothes.

“You think I need to wear something too?”

Her tiny head bobbed as she preached, “Better safe than sorry.”

So I found an old plaid shirt, similar to the one I loaned her, and we spread out the miniature cans of paint on the tarp in the center of the room.

“I’ll show you how, and then you can do it.”

She watched eagerly as I dipped one of the disposable brushes into the first container. “Oh, that’s a pretty one,” she claimed right away, watching the excess lavender color drip into the can.

I made two or three passes on the wall, up and down, at a height she could easily match. “Like this. When they’re all on the wall we can see which looks best in here. Then we’ll pick.”

“I get to pick too?” She sounded skeptical, like I was feeding her bullshit. She was probably used to that from Darrell.

“Heck, yeah. You get to pick too. If you help paint, you help pick.”

Delaney did great and we took our time applying samples to the wall and discussing what we thought of them as they dried. There were greens and blues and pinks and yellows, and she named each one. She favored the pale purple color we’d put up first, which was now named Grape Sweet Tart.

Honestly, I didn’t care what color she wanted, it would be her room and she could do with it what she liked. Plus, it was the biggest room upstairs, overlooked the park, and another window that faced down the street with a great view of Faith’s.

I’d slept in that room for years and loved it. I hoped she would, too.

Before I knew it, it was around five o’clock and we were still playing and painting different shaped samples. It was something to pass the time, and Delaney was having fun. Although, we weren’t supposed to be having any fun without her mom, I was certain she wouldn’t really mind.

When I heard Faith knock at the door, I hollered, “We’re up here.”

“Delta. I dropped it on the blanket,” Delaney secretly cursed, totally distracted with her sample work.

“That’s okay.” The knocking continued, so I got up. “I’ll be right back.”

By the time I hit the top of the stairs, a switch had flipped inside my body. From off to on, peace to war—if it came to that.

Chad turned around, limped back to the door, and flicked a cigarette outside.

#

FOUR YEARS EARLIER

I’d only been at the station a few months since I’d been back in Wynne, but I was there more than I was at the house. It was hard adjusting from being around so many people to the solitude of my family’s empty home.

I didn’t have a shift that day, but I was restless and walked across the street into the old firehouse, noticing the ambulance was gone. That was strange because I’d left my radio in the kitchen as I showered, but it had only been for a few minutes.

When I came in, I went straight to Randy’s office. “Where was the call?” I sat in the empty chair opposite his cluttered desk, assuming it was a nursing home transport, which was typical and not a call I would have missed over the radio.

“That Simpson girl. Um...” He snapped his fingers, conjuring her name.

A cold sweat broke across the back of my neck. The legs of the cheap chair screeched across the floor as I flew from it. “Faith?”

He stared up at me curiously. “Yeah, Faith. She went into labor last night but waited too long to go to the hospital. Her mom called Carol on her cell to see if she should try to drive her or if the ambulance would be better. They responded and, last I heard, they were en route to Browning.”

Blood pounded in my ears as panic changed to rage inside me. 

Chad’s Crown Victoria had been parked at the bar the night before. Hell, I’d seen it still parked there that morning when I’d gone to the store for milk.

I headed for the door, and then spun around, needing to know one thing before I left. “She’s okay though?”

“I’m sure she’s fine.” He glanced at the clock above the door where I stood. “They should be back anytime.”

The tightness I’d been dragging around in my chest for months fell deep into my gut.

That motherfucker. Even if he had been there for her, he’d have been hungover or still drunk. She deserved better than that.

Better than going into labor alone.

Better than waiting for some drunk fuck-up to get home from the bar.

Better than a goddamned ambulance ride to the damn hospital when he could have driven her if he would have just given a fuck enough to take care of himself—and therefore her.

But no, and I wasn’t standing for it. Not anymore. 

I wasn’t on the clock until the next afternoon, if I wasn’t in jail by then. Although, it was right next door, so either way I’d be back.

I didn’t even bother to say goodbye to Randy, and my feet menacingly beat the pavement as I marched to my truck with purpose, doing my damnedest to stomp out my sudden temper. 

It wasn’t my place. It wasn’t my business.

Fuck it, I didn’t care. Someone had to look out for her.

Chad had put her in danger—put the baby in danger—and now he was the one in harm’s way.

I slammed the door to my pickup, threw it in reverse, and tore into the road backward. My tires barked as I jammed it in drive and hammered the gas. Past her mom’s house, I sped to the alley at the edge of town where they shared a run-down trailer, only half expecting him to be home.

Gravel flew behind me, my foot not letting up when I saw both cars in their drive.

He was there.

I wasn’t really sure what I was going to say or do, but surging adrenaline had me pulling in beside his piece-of-shit car. The trunk was open and overflowing with trash bags.

My fists tight, I stormed toward the double-wide. I’d never looked for a fight before, but it felt kind of like I was on the hunt for one that morning.

Just as I got to the rickety porch, he busted through the storm door. It banged off the aluminum wall and came back at him. His hands were full of more plastic bags and piled on top was a pink glass pig. It slid to the side and almost fell off as he bottomed the stairs where I stood.

Reflexively I caught it when it toppled off the heap as he hobbled past me and slurred, “What the fuck do you want?”

Wynne was a small town, so we knew each other, but we’d never been friends—even before he got with Faith, before he became the addict the whole town knew he was.

I took stock of the situation. Chad wasn’t a big guy, inches shorter than me and scrawnier, and his clothes hung off of him like they’d been worn longer than they should have been. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes hit me in the face as he stormed by, only looking back at me to make sure I hadn’t let the ceramic bank hit the ground.

Things clicked in my head.

“This is a lot of shit to take to a hospital,” I alleged, not hiding the sarcasm.

He shoved the last of his bags to make them fit and slammed the trunk door. “I guess it would be,” he claimed and spit in the grass. “What do you want?”

What did I want?

For him to leave town and never come back. For him to disappear. I wanted everything he underappreciated and the life he took for granted.

And, by the look of it, I wouldn’t need to lift a finger.

My military and fire training kicked in. Work smarter, not harder. Although anger burned in my lungs like thick smoke, I went into operation mode, and the most efficient way to reach my goal was to let him do what he wanted.

If Chad was leaving, I’d fucking help him.

He was the trash, taking himself out.

Before I could answer his question, he lunged forward and attempted to grab the pig.

“This isn’t yours,” I said, remaining calm. I’d come there with rage inside me and, after gauging things, I’d only use it if I needed to, but he wasn’t getting the bank. “So you’re just leaving?”

“How in the fuck is that any of your business?” He shifted his weight, agitated, and then his shoulder shot forward to intimidate me. “Give me that goddamned money.”

I wasn’t afraid of him and gave the heavy stockpile of change a shake, knowing I was only goading him, but not caring. “How much do you think is in here?”

He paced and then made another reach for it.

Unlike him, I was swift and didn’t waste my time with empty threats. I pushed him back with one hand and he landed against the rusty fender. The shove stunned him, but now he knew I meant business.

He tried to reason. “Look, man. I gotta get out of here. I didn’t sign up for no kid and some chick who wants to run my life.”

What a shame. He had no clue what he had and got no sympathy from me.

“So go, but you’re not taking this.”

“I need that money, man.” He slapped the hood and shouted, “I’m broke! I’m stuck here.”

He was a coward. A fool. Garbage. Yet, I would have traded everything to switch places with him, and he was willing to give it all up in exchange for maybe twenty or thirty dollars’ worth of pocket change.

There lied the truth of it all. The best thing for everyone was for him to leave, and he needed money to do it.

He didn’t love Faith. Didn’t love his child. Didn’t care what leaving would do to them.

He just wanted out.

Still, he’d have to beat me dead to take the pink glass pig from me. There was no fucking way I’d allow it, but I didn’t have more than five bucks in my wallet either. I needed another solution.

“You’re not taking it,” I began, buying time while I thought, and then he lunged at me again.

I hadn’t seen it coming, but I was trained to protect myself and sober. He was neither.

One hand clutched the bank at my side, the other shot straight to his throat. I squeezed, finding satisfaction and pleasure in the fear I found in his glassy eyes.

To ensure I had his full attention, I walked him backward to the Crown Victoria and slowly pushed him until he bent backward, meeting the metal with his back.

It was tempting to cut off all his air. Killing him was another way to make sure he never came back, but there was a better way. One where I didn’t commit murder and lose whatever scraps I had of her forever.

His hand tugged at my forearm, struggling for a few seconds, not liking his position, but he was weak. When he finally surrendered, I had it all worked out.

“I’m going to tell you how this is going down. So listen because I’m only going to offer this to you once. Understand me?”

He looked away and so I tightened my grip. Chad got the message and met my eyes.

“Get in your car and go to the bank. You have an account open there, right?” His jaw rocked side to side and he ground his teeth, and then he nodded. “We’ll go in, and I’ll put money in your account. A hundred bucks should get you somewhere.” I nudged him with the piggy bank. “But not this. It isn’t yours. It doesn’t belong to you.”

I watched confusion brew in his bloodshot stare, like he was working something out in his cloudy head.

“The baby’s not mine?”

Only someone as messed up as him would think that’s what I’d meant, but the motherfucker actually looked hopeful. It was the easiest lie I ever told.

“No.”

The world seemed to lift from his shoulders, and he relaxed against the hood and then I let go.

All the way through us going to the bank and making the transfer, not a single time, did he even ask if the baby was mine. He truly didn’t care.

They would be better off without him.

That night I drank until I puked, and then I drank a little more and puked again. Alone in my truck in our old spot in the Park and Fish lot at the river, next to Faith’s new baby’s piggy bank, I swallowed the enormity of my choices, tip after tip of the bottle. It was wrong to make choices for them, to lie like I had, but I wasn’t sorry.

That day our lives changed.

A baby was born. A coward was gone. Faith was a mother, and because of my decisions, it was now my job to be there for her, and no matter what, I would.

The next morning, I drove back to town hungover and went straight to her trailer. I put the bank on a shelf next to the baby’s crib and saw firsthand how prepared and excited Faith was to have that little girl, and I knew she’d be okay.

I was there to make sure of it, starting with fixing her broken front door so it wouldn’t flap against the metal in the wind to wake her sleeping baby. They’d be home soon and that was just one less thing she needed to deal with. In fact, I found a few other chores to help with before I left that morning.

The only thing I felt guilty about was drinking the night before, when that’s all Chad had ever done, and vowed to myself I’d never be drunk again.

#

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” I asked.

Leisurely coming down the steps, I did recon. Baggy jeans, saggy shirt. Red-rimmed, sunken eyes. Scabs scattered his face and forearms. Long, greasy hair. I could smell him from the foot of the steps, five or six feet away from me.

“Oh, I just thought I’d come check on you.” He coughed but didn’t cover his mouth, as he stumbled around the living room.

I stood at the threshold to the front door and blocked the stairs. Putting my fist on the newel post and forcing my breathing to regulate, I calmly said, “I’m fine. What do you want?”

I knew what he wanted, but I never dreamed he’d come around looking for it.

He cracked his neck and sucked his teeth.

If he was trying to intimidate me, he had another thing coming. Didn’t he remember our last encounter? Or was he so strung out he’d lost all ability to size up risk and so far gone he didn’t think about consequences? He’d looked bad the day Delaney was born, but now he was but a shell of that person.

“Funny thing, man. I didn’t get my money this month.” He coughed again and scratched his neck. His right hip dropped and then he caught his balance against the wall. There was no telling what he was on or if he was just drunk, but he was unstable and needed to fucking go.

“You’re not getting any money.”

The sound of Faith’s tires crunching over the gravel out front shot dread through my body. I began to sweat.

“Why? Looks like you’re doing fine. You won’t miss a little of it, will ya?”

Her car door shut. He heard it too and crooked to the right to see outside, a wicked smile slipping over his haggard, strung-out face.

“Hello,” she sang, coming up the steps onto the covered porch, about to be blindsided.

Impulsively, I wanted to shut the door and lock her out, but couldn’t. He’d never get near her enough to physically hurt her—there was no way in hell he’d get around me—but he had other ways to inflict pain on her and throw her world—our world—into a tailspin, if he wanted to.

When her eyes met mine, the light in them dimmed. She knew immediately something was off.