The Presence of Grace (Love and Loss #2)(15)
“Hot dogs are great,” she said, still a little too compliant.
“Are you always this agreeable?”
She shrugged and then looked down at her feet. When she looked back up at me, her cheeks were pink. “I can be disagreeable.” She flattened her lips, forcing the smile from them. I assumed she was trying to look menacing, but it just didn’t work. Not with the sunlight creating a halo around her dark hair and the blue of her eyes sparkling up at me.
“Sure. I’ll believe it when I see it.” We both chuckled and then an uncomfortable silence settled between us.
“So, Evie and Nate seem great. Jax and Ruby really seem to love them. How do you know each other?”
I should have thought about this question coming up, should have formulated some sort of answer to have ready, since it was sort of an obvious one. But I hadn’t thought that far ahead. And I had no idea what to tell her. A big part of me wanted to tell her everything, but things between us were awkward enough; unloading on her in the middle of Disney World probably wasn’t best. But I wanted to tell her the truth. The need to be transparent with her was overwhelming, and I didn’t want to stop and think about what that meant.
“Evie was my wife’s best friend.” There. That was the truth. Well, part of it. The easiest part.
“Oh,” she replied, with obvious surprise. “Oh,” she said again, this time with a somber tone. The line moved forward and so did we.
“Yeah. She was really close with the kids before we moved here. This is only the second time they’ve seen her since then. She splits her time between LA and Fairbanks, where Nate lives. Well, he splits his time too. Anyway… she wanted to come see the kids.”
“That’s great that she still gets to see them, and that they still have that part of their mother,” she said softly. For some reason, it baffled me that she’d spoken the words I’d thought almost every time Evelyn had called or Skyped with them. In the long run, the good she did for the kids far outweighed any awkwardness between us. And the awkwardness seemed to have faded and dissipated.
“I agree. I’m very grateful for Evelyn. She was one of the only reasons we made it through after Olivia passed. She did a lot for us.” I hoped and prayed Grace didn’t have mind reading capabilities, or that my thoughts weren’t written all over my face. A lot of things had happened after my wife died, and I wasn’t proud of all of them, but my past was my past.
With four hot dogs between the two of us—because I knew Jaxy would want more than one—we made our way back to the table. Evie and Ruby had beaten us back, and Ruby turned to me with a wide smile.
“Dad,” she said excitedly, “Aunt Evie says she and Uncle Nate will take us over to Space Mountain next. It’s supposed to be the coolest roller coaster ever. It’s all in the dark.”
I took my spot next to Jaxy, spreading our food out while he bit into his lunch without a second’s hesitation. “Are you guys sure Space Mountain is the best ride to go on right after lunch?”
“Oh,” Nate said, sucking in a breath so it hissed through his teeth. “He’s got a point, babe. I know you’re used to being around little kids, but I’m a sympathetic barfer and if one goes, I’m definitely going too.”
“Wow,” Evie said, laughing. “Just when I thought there wasn’t anything else to learn about you.”
“I promise I won’t throw up,” Jaxy swore, making everyone laugh. “No, really, last year I went to the spring break carnival with Grandma and Grandpa. I had three slices of pizza, cotton candy, and a milkshake, then went on the Gravitron, like, seven times. Didn’t barf once.”
“Jax,” I said with a groan, “stop talking about throwing up. We’re all trying to eat.” Jaxy shrugged and then took a giant bite of his hot dog.
“I’ll brave the roller coaster,” Evie said with a smile. “We’ll just make them sit behind us.”
Chapter Seven
Grace
The last day of school was always a mixed bag of emotions. I was glad school was out, was looking forward to two months of not teaching, but that year in particular I would really miss the kids. This was the first time my life hadn’t severely intruded on my work, so I’d spent one blissfully drama-free year teaching those kids, and something in my brain didn’t want to let them go; didn’t want the first successful year to be over.
But the summer promised to be good. Promised to be relaxing. Promised to be exactly what I imagined when I moved to Florida.
I took a job bartending in the evenings on the weekends. I wasn’t looking to participate in the party that seemed to sprout up when the sun went down, but I definitely didn’t have a problem making money serving alcohol to those who did. Two or three nights of tending bar gave me almost what I made in a week teaching, and I needed something to sustain me over the summer. I’d started three weekends ago, in order to be trained before summer officially started, and working both jobs was really taking a toll on me.
That, coupled with the emotional good-bye to twenty-six second graders, left me mentally and physically exhausted. Luckily, the last day of school fell on a Wednesday, so I had a day to recover before I had to go back to the night job.
I left the school building, hearing the door close with a familiar thud that felt more final than it ever had before, and the emotions started to come over me. I felt the pinching in my throat and stinging in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry, but the idea of not seeing those tiny faces smiling at me every morning pulled at me. I made it to my car without a tear, but once the car door was shut behind me, one slid down each cheek. I’d wiped them away, still trying not to lose control, when I heard the ping of my phone indicating I had a text.