Pot Odds
Being a parent sometimes means making hard choices. You might not like a particular task, but you do it anyway because it has to be done for the children. Then later, when they aren’t around… you cry. ~ From the Mother’s Survival Diary of Melinda D.
Tears stung Lin’s eyes but she blinked them back, determined to remain stoic while she cut her little one’s hair. Refusing to pay attention to the way the carrot-colored locks curled around her fingertips, or how the baby-fine hair reminded her of silky kitten fur, Lin slid the scissors along JR’s neck line and ruthlessly clipped away the strands, trying not to notice the growing pile of ginger spread across the floor.
Apparently oblivious, the normally rambunctious toddler sat on the desk chair chewing on one of the homemade sugar cookies Mrs. Dalton had sent back with Lin after her shift.
“Just a little more,” murmured Lin, uncertain whether she was reassuring herself or her child. After she made the last snip, she stepped back with a sigh. “There! Not half bad, huh? You make a very handsome young man.”
JR looked up and offered a bite of cookie. “Ju?”
Lin wiggled her nose at the baby, eliciting a chuckle. She glanced across the room to where Nathan sprawled in front of an ancient portable TV hooked up to the older version of a popular game console she’d found at the Goodwill store the day before. “Nate? Will you get JR another juice box, please?”
Her oldest tore his eyes from the TV and rolled over onto his side, making a face when he saw JR. His gaze fell to the hair spread across the floor, and he shook his head. “That’s so messed up,” he muttered, setting his game controller aside and rising from the floor. He crossed to the mini-fridge and pulled the door open. “There’s only two left.” He chose one of the rectangular-shaped cartons and closed the door, popping the straw from the front and unwrapping it as he sauntered over to JR.
The sugar cookie dropped to the floor as the baby wiggled tiny fingers insistently. “Ju! Ju!”
“How’s the video game?” asked Lin as Nate handed JR the box of juice.
“It’s pretty cool.” Her son actually smiled. “I can’t believe you got it for me. Thanks, Mom.”
“Well, you need something to do with your time, and you’ve been really great about watching JR for me.” Lin returned the smile. “And I didn’t find any interesting books there.”
Nate’s face took on a mildly disappointed expression, but he shook it off and grinned. “That’s okay. The game’s fun.”
He liked to read under the covers at night, though, and he was running low on material he hadn’t read yet. “You know, I saw an ad at the Goodwill for a used book sale at the public library. It starts today.”
For just a second, Nathan looked hopeful, but then his glance slid to the mini-fridge. “You’d better get JR some juice. We don’t have any more hotdogs left, either. There’ll be other sales.” He shrugged and turned his back, but not before Lin caught the glisten of unshed tears. He normally hid his disappointment and frustration better, though she was agonizingly aware of each time one of her life choices had brought pain to her eldest child.
“Will you stay here with JR while I go to the store?” she asked softly, feeling like she was about to let both of her children down once again. “I can hurry through the market this way, and then we’ll go to the library and borrow some books.”
Nate lifted one shoulder and let it fall again. “Sure. Whatever.”
It wasn’t the same, Lin knew. Holding a book that was borrowed wasn’t the same as holding one he owned.
She slipped into the bathroom and tugged on a pair of jeans, her mind made up to hurry through her shopping trip and then find something they could all do for fun. The day was too nice for them to remain holed up in the motel room.
A flock of seagulls near the entrance to the parking lot squawked as they all took flight. In seconds, she found herself surrounded by a screeching swirl of white and gray. Some of the raucous birds landed then waddled straight for her, checking to see if she had any food to offer.
A little shudder crept slowly up her spine. The menacing look in the beady black eyes of a few of the bolder gulls brought a Hitchcock flick to mind. Lin waved her arms. “Shoo! Shoo!”
Three loud handclaps from behind her effectively sent the pests on their way. Startled, Lin spun about, flexing knees and locking her fist around her car key with the jagged tip poking through her fingers.
The familiar stranger from the night before stood beneath the overhang that covered the ice chest and the vending machines. Bare feet poked from beneath the hems of faded blue jeans. His dark T-shirt was rumpled, and the dark stubble across his jaw gave him a lived-in look. The light wind teased a lock of warm brown hair into his eyes but he ignored it. His gaze locked onto her fists and he raised an eyebrow.
Lin cautiously relaxed her fingers and straightened. “You startled me.” She kept her tone low and even. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Apparently,” murmured the stranger. He made no move to leave.
“Where’s your noisy friend?” The second she voiced the question, Lin groaned inwardly. What was she doing, engaging this man in conversation?
One side of his mouth twisted upward into a wry smile. “Sleeping like the proverbial baby.” He held up his hands, revealing a protein bar and a small bottle of apple juice, and nodded toward the vending machines. “I came down here for some breakfast from the travelers’ friends in there.”
“Oh…” Lin side-stepped to her car and set her hand on the door handle.
“Hey, I…” He shrugged and his face took on a sheepish expression. “I wanted to tell you again that I’m sorry we disturbed you last night. Greg just got back from deployment, and he’s a little rough around the edges.”
Greg wasn’t the only one rough around the edges. The man in front of her looked like he’d come through a rocky patch himself.
“It’s nothing,” she mumbled. “I’m a light sleeper.” She yanked open the door and climbed inside, pulling it closed with a tinny thunk, hoping to cut off any further conversation.
After a polite nod, the man turned and walked across the rocky parking lot, either oblivious to or ignoring the fact that he wore no shoes. Lin released her breath and turned the ignition key, and the car coughed to life. She pretended to dig in her purse while she watched him from the corner of her eye until he got to room ten and entered. He’d seemed benign, almost pleasant. And he might have been rough around the edges, but he certainly hadn’t looked like a man out to do anyone harm. Still, something about him… about running into him so many times in the space of a day…
An itchy, tickling sensation began in her neck, and she rubbed at it as she considered her options. Nate had just started at school. Would she have to uproot him again?
Anger and frustration surged as she gripped the gearshift lever and pushed it into first. She wouldn’t think of that just yet. She’d hurry through the shopping, and they would go to the library sale. She’d use her emergency twenty if she had to. Then they would get out for the day; maybe go to Wilson’s Bend Park. Nathan liked fishing off the dock.
* * * *
Man! That was one prickly lady. Rabbit had the insane notion to check himself for wounds given the darts she’d been tossing at him with her eyes. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her little blue car sputter its way out of the parking lot, farting puffs of black smoke in its wake. Shaking his head, he stepped back and shut the door.
“Coffee,” mumbled Greg from behind him.
Rabbit turned and grimaced. Fiskar sat on the edge of the bed scrubbing at his eyes and forehead with one hand. He groaned softly, dropped his hand, and squinted at Rabbit.
“Good morning, beautiful.” Rabbit glanced down at the apple juice in his hand and tossed it onto the bed next to Greg. “Here. This’ll get you started until we find someplace to eat.”
Fiskar shook his head, flinched, and jammed the heel of his left hand between his eyes. “No food. Just the jet fuel. Got crap to do today.” He pulled the hand down his face as though trying to wipe off his features. Then he picked up the juice, glared at it, and popped the top, downing it in a few gulps.
“Yep, well that crap you got to do today’ll be easier on a full stomach.” Rabbit opened the power bar and bit off one end. Granola and raisons weren’t going to cut it for him, either. “What’s your agenda? You on leave now?”
“Gotta report to a Colonel Mullins at base hospital first.” Greg stood and tossed the empty juice bottle into the trash then belched and headed for the bathroom.
Rabbit reeled at the name. “The head wizard?”
“That’s the one,” Greg called over his shoulder before disappearing through the doorway. “You know him?”
Rabbit gritted his teeth. He knew him all right. The man only held the keys to his future. But Fiskar didn’t need to know that. Not if he was seeing him also. “I’ve heard the name around.”
“As soon as I check in with him, I can take leave and then go back or take separation and go home.” After a few squeaks and some banging pipes, the sound of running water drifted through the open bathroom door. “Gotta admit… not crazy about either option.”
The metallic rattle of the shower curtain being drawn over the rod echoed the empty rattle in Rabbit’s soul. Options? Stay in, get out. As far as he’d been concerned, he had only one option. And that meant he had to be fit mentally and physically, ready to resume his duties. Ready to get back in the fight.
He glanced down at his feet and wiggled his toes. Starting with getting his shoes on.
* * * *
Nathan shuffled through the stack of books on his lap, picking each one up, opening the cover and thumbing the pages then tucking it on the seat next to him and moving on to the next. Lin smiled. It seemed as though her son couldn’t decide which book to read first.
He’d been that way at the library, too. Once she’d pressed him to find a few books they could buy, he’d flitted from table to table like a bee in a clover field, picking one up, setting it aside when he’d spotted another. Pushing JR in the stroller, Lin hadn’t found it easy following him about and picking up the books he’d put down. But the way his face had lit with excitement when she’d told him they could afford the extra books had been its own reward. Lin still didn’t know where the extra ten dollars she’d found in her purse had come from. The crumpled bill had been lodged beneath her coupon wallet so it might have been in there for months. But it had made the difference, and she hadn’t had to use her emergency twenty after all.
She pulled into Wilson’s Bend Park. “Eat first? Go fishing? Or take JR for a walk?”
Nate rolled his lips inward and she knew he’d suppressed a moan at the idea of taking the baby on a walk. Squashing the temptation to tease him just a little, Lin smiled as she braced her shoulder against the car door and shoved. “Tell you what. You go ahead and scope out the fishing sites, and I’ll set up our lunch.”
The grin Nathan flashed as he bolted for the water was her second reward of the day.
“Okay, baby,” said Lin with a sigh when she glanced over her shoulder and took in JR’s sticky face. “I don’t think a whole box of wipes will clean up that mess.” She climbed to her feet, pushing her arms upward in a giant stretch as she threw back her head and gulped in a deep breath. It had taken weeks to get used to the salty, slightly fishy, sea air again after the sometimes choking atmosphere of Cincinnati. But once she had, Lin couldn’t imagine living away from the ocean. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to.
She dropped her arms and took a moment to check her surroundings. Beyond the white rail fence, grass that had dried and faded over the hot summer showed signs of an early autumn recovery. She spotted Nate already at the glittering water’s edge. A young couple sat snuggled together on the top of a picnic table, their faces turned toward Wilson Bay.
At the slap of footfalls from behind her, Lin whirled. The rhythmic murmur of running shoes against pavement strengthened then disappeared as they carried the solitary jogger up the street and away from the park. Lin watched the man disappear before turning.
No one else seemed to be around. Not even someone fishing. She retrieved the stroller from the trunk and then leaned into the back and unsnapped the buckle on JR’s car seat. The baby didn’t even wait for her to tug the straps down. In a flurry of twisting and scrambling, tiny toddler feet made contact with the asphalt parking lot.
“Oh, no you don’t, you little escape artist,” said Lin with a laugh, as she hoisted JR into the air. A few fretful whimpers later, and the child was settled into the battered secondhand stroller. Lin wiped a few sticky crumbs from the red sweatshirt and shook her head. She’d be making a trip to the coin laundry before the weekend was out.
“I promise you can get out and run around in a little bit, but let’s get lunch set up first so we can eat when Nate gets back.”
JR’s brilliant blue eyes grew rounder. “Nay!”
“Yes, Nate’ll be back in a little bit, and then we’ll eat.”
“Ju?” JR wiggled pudgy fingers in a grasping motion.
Lin smiled. “Now, juice I can do.” She rummaged in the cooler until she found a box of grape juice. In moments, the baby was contentedly sucking on the straw as Lin pushed the stroller toward the picnic tables at the far side of the park, away from the young couple.
She placed the cooler on one of the dark green tables and set the brake on the stroller. Better to wait for Nathan to return before getting the food out or she risked turning it into a meal for the bugs. He’d been known to take longer than expected.
A gentle wind kissed her cheeks, cooling her ever so slightly. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, struck by the lazies in the indolent breeze. The distant buzz of a lawnmower reached her ears from someplace in the subdivision. A black SUV rumbled past the park without slowing down. From the water came the low sputter of a small boat engine. Nothing seemed out of place or threatening.
The wind gusted again, rustling the canopy of beech trees overhead. Lin sighed again. She could still see Nate in the distance and he didn’t seem inclined to hurry back. She wouldn’t call him. Days when they could get out and enjoy themselves were rare. The kids deserved every second of carefree fun they could get. JR hadn’t yet felt the pinch of anxiety, but Nathan seldom smiled lately, and Lin knew he worried far too much. She refused to rob him of what fun she could afford to provide by reining him in early.
Maybe she should feed JR. But when she glanced down, the toddler had drifted to sleep, the juice box still clutched tightly in both hands. Lin yawned again.