Only One (Reed Brothers)(19)

“Please.”

She stops in front of Hoppy and claps her hands and makes a silly face. Hoppy jumps and that damn bucket beans me in the eye. But she goes to Carrie without any complaints. Thank God.

“That’s a big bucket,” Carrie says, talking in baby talk. I rub my eye. It’s a huge bucket. She pries the bucket out of the kid’s hand and replaces it with a soft, squishy ball she took off a nearby shelf. Hoppy immediately stuffs it in her mouth. “They have to taste it before they can play with it, I guess,” Carrie tells me.

I point to mine. “This one tastes like peanut butter and jelly.”

Carrie shrugs. “Could be worse.” She laughs.

“True.” I heave a sigh. Around fingers.

“You left before I could say goodbye today,” she says quietly.

I bounce Matty on my hip, because he’s starting to squirm. “Oh, yeah. Your dad threw me out.”

“He did not,” she protests.

I nod. “He did.”

Her brows form a vee. “Why did he do that?”

“Um, well…” It’s terribly inappropriate to tell her that guys wake up with morning wood and that dads don’t like it much. So I just say, “He didn’t like me sleeping over.” I shrug. “Can’t say I blame him.”

“I liked having you there,” she says quietly. Her face goes red and I can see the pulse at the base of her neck jumping.

“Can I come see you tonight?” I ask. “If your parents don’t mind.”

She nods. “I’d like that.”

I look at my watch. “I have to lifeguard from two until eight.”

“Okay,” she says.

Paul and Pete come back around the corner. “Oh, hey, Carrie,” Paul says. He takes the baby Carrie has, but he leaves me with mine. “You’re good with her. You ever do any babysitting?”

She nods. “Sometimes.”

“Well, let us know if you’re interested. We could use some help.”

She nods again and smiles. “Okay.”

Paul narrows his eyes at me. “Nick, you ever do any babysitting?”

I nod, too. I do just about anything that will earn money. “Sometimes.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. “It might take both of you to keep all of them in line.”

“How many are there?” Carrie asks.

“Lots,” Pete says drolly. “Sometimes I can’t count them all.”

Carrie laughs. “Let us know if you need help.”

“Will do,” Paul says. Pete takes Matty from me. Then Matty lets out the loudest fart I ever heard, and Pete groans.

“I swear to God that wasn’t me,” Pete says, holding up one hand like he’s testifying.

“I can’t believe you’re blaming a fart like that on a helpless baby,” Paul says, but he’s laughing too, and I suddenly can’t keep from doing it myself.

“You’re changing it,” Pete warns as they go out the door. The girls follow them, with their buckets, shovels, and other beach toys in their hands.

“Do you need help finding something?” I ask Carrie. I really just want an excuse to talk to her a little longer.

“Flowers,” she says. “I want to get my mom some flowers.”

“What’s her favorite?”

“I don’t know.” She bites her thumbnail. “She likes roses.”

My mom liked roses too. So I know just where she can get some. I give her directions to my house and tell her to take whatever she wants.

“I can’t do that,” she complains.

“Yes, you can. Someone needs to enjoy them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. My mom would like that your mom is enjoying them.”

“Okay, thanks.” She smiles tentatively at me.

“So I can come and see you tonight?” I ask.

She nods. Then she steps onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to my cheek. She lingers there just long enough for me to catch the scent of her, and then she’s gone.

But I’ll see her later. That thought warms me all over, and I feel something I haven’t felt in a really long time.

Hope.





Carrie

When I get home, Dad’s car is already there. I have a big bouquet of roses and several pricked fingers. Roses have thorns when you cut them directly from the bush, apparently. I lift my wounded thumb to my mouth and try to suck the pain away. It doesn’t work.

I let myself into the house and don’t see Mom or Dad anywhere, so I go to the kitchen and put my roses in a vase. Then I go to put them in her room, but I open her bedroom door and pause. I hear murmuring from the bathroom and tiptoe far enough inside that I can see them.

I stop short. The rose vase tilts, and water drips onto the floor. I right the vase and wipe my foot across the spot to spread out the wetness. I stand very still so they won’t know I’m there.

Mom is naked, reclining in the tub. Dad is kneeling beside her and he’s rubbing a soapy cloth over her shoulders. He’s dressed like he was this morning, but she’s not wearing anything. He’s helping her take a bath? What?

Mom grabs his hand and he stops, heaving a sigh. “You can’t tell her. If you do, she’ll hate us both.”