| |
Five years later
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH HOMESCHOOLING?” Dusty asks me.
“Your son needs to go to school with other kids. He’s going to love it. You’ll see.”
My husband scowls at me. He’s not ready to send our little guy off, and if I think about it too hard, neither am I.
“We could keep him home. We’ll get that fancy homeschool curriculum. Hell, you’re so smart, you can teach him all the math stuff.”
“Are you going to finish painting that or should I call someone else?”
Dusty scowls at me some more and then turns his scowl toward the set he’s working on. Opening night for the play at the community playhouse is in two weeks, but the director didn’t like the mantel, so Dusty got volunteered to paint a new one.
I’m a tough director.
I’ve acted in a couple of productions over the years, but this is my first directing gig and I want it to be perfect. It never will be, but it feels good to have more control. I never even thought about directing when I lived in Hollywood. I was always so sure I wanted to be an actress. And I do enjoy acting still. Stage acting is much better than commercials. And directing has opened up a whole new passion for me.
“What happens if your water breaks on opening night?” Dusty asks. I think he’s picking a fight.
“Well, we’ll already be in town, so I guess that’s a good thing. I figure I’ll just head to the hospital after last curtain.”
“Last curtain? The hell you will. Your water breaks and you tell me right away and we go directly to the hospital.”
“You still have seven bricks left to paint.”
“Ruby, promise me.”
“I’m teasing you, Dusty.” I put his free hand on my belly. “She’s not due for a month.”
He kisses my forehead. “Sorry I’m being such a bear. I get so damn nervous when you’re pregnant. I just want to wrap you in cotton and feed you spaghetti.”
“Oh now you’re just being cruel.” I’ve been craving spaghetti every day for the last four weeks. It doesn’t matter if I eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I still want more.
“We should head back home soon. I want to check on the fence again.”
Home. I love hearing him say home. It hasn’t worn off yet. Not in the five years I’ve been living in Pair-a-Dice.
The resort is getting a little bigger every year. We’ve gotten more positive reviews than negative since the cabins were remodeled. And the saloon was built. Guests love having the saloon on the property, so they can have a few beers and not worry about cabs or cars.
This year, we’ve gone into weekly business. Instead of just booking for a few nights, we have a program that starts every Sunday. We’re all-inclusive now, with planned activities and nightlife. Next year, we start a kid’s program with counselors so parents can have some time to themselves during the day.
All in all, it’s a lot to be proud of.
“Mommy! Daddy!” Dustin Jr. runs down the aisle, Charlotte not too far behind him, but the kid is fast.
Dusty scoops him up. “Hey, Junior. You have a good time at the grocery store with Aunt Charlotte?”
I wipe the chocolate off his face while he tells us all about the exciting cookie he got for “free, Momma, that means it don’t cost nothin’” and that there is a new cereal that his Aunt won’t get him, but we should know it will make him grow big and strong like his favorite superhero. He saw it on TV when he was visiting Uncle Carter.
It’s all very exciting until I realize something is distracting me. A twinge. And then...
“Hey, Dusty, remember how we were talking about opening night and you made me promise to tell you if my water broke?”
“Yeah?”
“She hit her cue too early.”
“Who did?” he asks, not understanding.
“Momma, why are you standing in a puddle?”