What shes having, p.24
What She's Having, page 24
At first we all stand around waiting in a big group, making small talk to fight our nerves, but after an hour, we break into smaller clumps. Meg and David’s kids have brought a board game, and Maisie sits on a bench and plays it with them. She leans some on Sam and he leans back, even though he’s pulled his sketch pad out and is working intently on something bright. His hands seem steady and sure as he shades in the edges of the frame he’s drawing. Art must relieve his stress.
Meg, Rose, Angus, and David are standing together talking near the younger kids.
A woman walking by—a lawyer?—greets July, and they move off down the hall together.
I stand twiddling my thumbs, waiting and trying not to think too hard.
My phone vibrates… Hallelujah! A distraction in the form of a call from Colorado. My former employees pass the phone around at their end, catching me up on how the restaurants are doing and all the gossip and goings-on. I’m actually smiling as I wander down the hall toward the water fountain. I tune out the sounds around me and enjoy their long, convoluted story of how a manager at the Fort Collins store just got engaged to a manager at the Loveland store.
By the time we end our call, I’m in a better mood. I stoop to take a drink from the water fountain just in time to hear a woman out of sight around the corner say, “I heard Jimmy Moran mention seeing you with that guy from high school. I didn’t realize he was back or that you’re with him. Be careful, July. Is he even working anywhere? You sure he’s not looking for a free ride? I heard his dad was a real piece of work back in the day. Real asshole.”
Well, fuck, that was…a lot. I straighten slowly, wiping a water droplet from my mouth, and debate what to do next. The part about my dad was true, but the rest? Harsh and unprovoked and so, so wrong. I don’t get paid for working on my building or reading ahead for my social work program or making notes for a youth shelter, but they still count for something. And I’ve probably got way more money in the bank than July does, at the rate she gives it away.
It totally sucks that this woman’s put July in this awkward situation with her nosy questions.
Should I walk away and pretend I didn’t hear? Stroll around the corner and assure this stranger my intentions are honorable and I don’t need July’s stinkin’ money? Or maybe just tell the truth and let her know she’s got nothing to worry about because July wants no part of me?
Before I can decide, July says, in a voice colder than any I’ve heard her use, “Stacy, this isn’t any of your business, and Jimmy Moran’s a hopeless gossip. I’ll tell you like I told him: Joe and I aren’t together. But I’m not sure why you’d think he’s a user anyway. He’s the most decent guy I’ve ever met, and I know a lot of good guys. He’s not after my money—he’s got his own. What he wants is…a real connection with somebody. A real one. And if I could be the one to give him that, you bet your ass I would, and I would count myself blessed because he is beautiful inside and out. And if you hear anybody talking bad about him, please shut that shit down. Joe is not his dad, and he deserves so much better than that.”
There’s a pause, and then the other woman says, “Oh. Well. Okay then. Sorry.”
And I turn and walk back down the hall the way I came, my heart full to bursting from July’s defense. She has my back. She may not want me, but she gets me. She trusts me. And she laid it all out there for everybody (well, a courthouse gossip, which is pretty much the same as everybody) to see. Goddamn.
If I’ve had doubts over the last month—late at night, staring at my ceiling alone, my phone silent—July just removed them. Somehow, through some miracle, I’ve found The Right One twice. And I am just as head over heels this second time as when we were sixteen.
No sooner do I rejoin our group than the doors open and the kids’ lawyer beckons us in. I start back down the hall to fetch July, but she’s already headed this way. When she sees us moving toward the courtroom, she breaks into a sprint, and I linger, wanting to be the one to hold the door and walk in with her. Pretending she’s running toward me. Eager to be with me.
***
July
The judge asks to see Sam and Maisie one by one in chambers. He has them in there for at least fifteen minutes, ratcheting up the tension for those of us in the courtroom.
I don’t need more tension. I could strangle Stacy Billings for what she said about Joe. And then I’d report the crime to Jimmy Moran so I could strangle him too. Busybody assholes. I could barely look Joe in the eye as we came into the courtroom, and he held the door and gave me one of those knee-melting smiles of his anyway. I could feel the warmth of his hand hovering at my back as I moved past him.
He deserves so much better than to be talked about like he’s some kind of human leech.
I’m still grinding my teeth over that when Judge Fox enters the courtroom and settles at his bench. He’s a lovely, soft-spoken man whose dark skin is smooth despite his white hair. His eyes are tired but kind behind his glasses, and I’m glad he’s our family court judge.
He places his hands on the thick files before him and lets his eyes rove over all of us before turning his gaze to Maisie and Sam. “I have reviewed the facts of your cases and all the materials very carefully, and I’m prepared to rule. Emancipation cases involve one young person at a time, but I want to address you, Maisie, and you, Sam, together today.”
The two kids nod and straighten, visibly bracing themselves.
Beside me, Joe shifts and leans forward a fraction, as if willing them his support and strength. I want to gather all three of them up in my arms.
Judge Fox adjusts his glasses and glances at the files before him. “From these materials, it’s clear that you are two extraordinarily mature and resourceful young people who did an excellent job of taking care of yourselves under circumstances that would severely challenge many adults. You showed clear reasoning ability, fine decision-making skills, and a truly impressive ability to keep your future in mind as you coped with a difficult present. Your grades dipped only briefly last year and then improved again. You have a safe, sturdy place to live, and you have cared for it well. You have obtained the jobs you needed in order to live up to the adult responsibilities of paying bills and keeping yourselves fed. You are dedicated students and reliable workers, and your futures are bright before you.”
Pride wells up in me in the form of tears. I try to be subtle as I swipe at my eyes, but Joe tilts his head to look at me, gives me a small crooked smile, and takes my hand.
Judge Fox clears his throat. “I wanted to speak with you together today to commend you both not only for your ability to care for yourselves, but also for your ability to inspire the love and loyalty necessary to create the support system you have here, as illustrated by the presence of so many people in this courtroom and by the written testaments of so many more who were unable to be here today. You have many fine people showing faith in you and willing to help you in your future as adults.”
Lord, the man is going to have me sobbing. They do—they do have a net. We’ll catch them if they fall. We’ll help them back on their feet again.
Joe squeezes my fingers, his hand a warm, sturdy anchor.
“But the main reason I wanted to rule on your cases together rather than separately, even though your circumstances differ considerably, is the wording you each used when you spoke to me in chambers a little while ago. You did not sound rehearsed. You each told your own story in your own way and your own words. Yet you both ended with a plea that made quite an impression on me. Both of you said some version of, ‘My sibling and I take care of ourselves. We take care of each other. Please let us live together in our own home.’ You did not speak of each other as friends but as family. Family you have chosen, despite the certainty of difficulties ahead, because your relationship matters. The relationship you described to me was one of family members fiercely and loyally looking out for each other. You spoke with great love and great respect for each other…and great faith and trust in each other. You have instilled me with that same faith in you.
“Your path will not always be easy, but you have a strong and loving support system should you need help. Turn to each other in times of trouble, and turn to these wonderful friends.” To my amazement, Judge Fox winks at me, tips the files on end, and raps them on the bench. “I am certain that Ms. Tate in particular will be a formidable advocate. I approve both emancipation requests.”
I’m aware of happy noise rising around me, of squealing and hugging and clapping and backslapping and more hugging, and I’m sure I take part in some of it myself, but the biggest uproar is occurring in my head.
Family you have chosen, despite the certainty of difficulties ahead, because your relationship matters… Fiercely and loyally looking out for each other… Great love and great respect for each other… Great faith and trust in each other. Your path will not always be easy, but you have a strong and loving support system should you need help. Turn to each other in times of trouble and turn to these wonderful friends… Ms. Tate in particular…a formidable advocate.
Judge Fox’s words are like a kick to my head, jarring pieces loose so that they drop clattering into a new pattern.
The ability to love—to handle and survive love and loss—isn’t an innate thing I lack. It’s a choice. A brave choice. A choice about what to value and what to honor.
So what am I going to honor: love or fear? What am I going to value: an empty, false “safety” or the people and relationships I’ve been blessed with?
I’m not a shell-shocked sixteen-year-old kid anymore. I am a grown-ass woman. A formidable grown-ass woman, according to Judge Fox. A formidable grown-ass woman with a wonderful support system to fall back on in times of trouble.
Joe doesn’t threaten what I value; he’s part of it.
Turn to each other…
Beside me, Sam and Joe throw their arms around each other, their grins fierce and triumphant as they pound each other’s backs and Maisie hugs them both. Then the three of them turn and tug me into their circle of love.
Chapter 26
Dear July,
I feel so stupid and slow, like I’ll never get it. But I finally give up. I won’t bother you anymore. I’m sorry for everything.
Joe
Our happy group practically floats across the town square to July’s for a celebration lunch. The only people who don’t seem completely thrilled are David and Meg’s little ones. Apparently they really enjoyed having sweet older siblings.
“Okay, but you can come see us.” Maisie takes Melly’s hand and swings it. “Maybe Meg and David will do a date night, and you guys can come over and watch movies and eat popcorn and play games with us.” The little one gives an excited skip at that.
“And y’all can come over for dinner whenever you want, and we can have our holidays and birthdays together.” Meg’s a little misty, smiling at Maisie and Sam. David slings his arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss to her temple.
July’s smiling too, but there’s a tiny tremble to her lips. She’s looking around wide-eyed at everybody as if it’s the first time she’s seen us. When she gets to me, I expect her to turn away fast…but this time she doesn’t. She blinks down for a second, almost shyly, and then right back up at me, her gray eyes shining.
And I almost crash into the door Angus is holding open for us. He stops me just in time with a big hand on my shoulder. “Easy there.” He pats my back as I pass him, laughter in his tone. Sympathy too.
Inside, there’s a line of pushed-together tables reserved for us. Tina peeks out of the kitchen, and July gives her a big smile and two thumbs up. Tina ducks back in, and five minutes later when Sonya’s finished taking our orders, the rest of the day crew comes marching out singing, “For they are jolly good fellows.” In the lead is Tina carrying a beautiful, flower-decked sheet cake that reads, Congratulations, Maisie and Sam! I’m betting the lettering isn’t dry yet, that the cake would say something different, something comforting, if July had given Tina a thumb down about the judge’s decision.
Everybody in the place joins in on the singing. After the cake is cut and pieces passed out, the kids’—I guess I should stop calling them that—lawyer raises her water glass. “To Maisie and Sam, two of the bravest, most resourceful young people I know!”
Their caseworker goes next. “To Sam and Maisie, who really know how to adult!”
“To Maisie and Sam, the best kids we almost had.” Meg’s toast comes with hugs.
Then it’s Maisie’s turn. She holds up her soda glass and waves at the whole room. “To friends,” she says, her eyes full of tears.
And quiet Sam stands up and hugs her and raises his glass too. “To family.”
Nothing could top those, and we all know better than to try. We’ve got watery eyes too.
I check to see how July’s holding up. I’m still surprised she chose a seat next to me when there was another empty one right beside it. Sure enough, she wipes her eye with one finger before leaning forward to tug off her sweater.
And…that pretty yellow dress is a sundress. Which means I am now inches from her silky, bare shoulders and arms and back, and suddenly the room is a lot warmer and I’m wondering whether I should sit on my hands, just to make sure I keep them to myself.
She glances over at me. Is that a blush? “Wasn’t court appropriate without the sweater,” she murmurs.
I clear my throat. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” And I am an awkward high school dork.
She smiles, and I swear it’s that sweet private smile she used to give me. Quick and dazzling and full of all the warmth of summer. Her lashes lower, and then she raises them to look me in the eye. “Joe, could I talk to you after this? Could you stick around?”
Woman, I am yours. For as long as you want. “Sure.”
I can’t tell you how much longer lunch lasts or what I eat, who I talk to, or what I say. All I’m conscious of is the scent of July’s baby shampoo and soap when I lean to catch her sweater as it falls off the back of her chair. The tendril of hair that has worked its way free from her updo, and that I’m sure would be as soft as chamois if I rubbed it between my fingers. The fondness that crinkles her eyes when she smiles across the table at our big kids, and the little snort-laugh that bursts out of her when Donna pauses beside her a moment to say, “And don’t come back—you’re fired.”
Seconds or hours later, finally everyone is gathering their things and standing. Sam and Maisie are going to ride up the mountain with David and Meg to pack their things one last time, to move back into the cabin.
Rose leans toward the kids. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home?”
Maisie’s answer is prompt. “Unpack and make a grocery list.”
Sam’s is equally sure. “Test that drawing table you put in our new study area.”
At that, Rose beams at them, and Angus beams down at her, his big hand rising to squeeze the nape of her neck gently. She leans back against him, and the tie between them is so tangible I swear I can see it, swirls and tendrils of rose gold.
The back of my throat aches with wanting that.
July touches my arm, and the warmth of her fingers yanks my attention back. “I’m just going to carry some of these plates to the kitchen. Meet you in the hall at my stairs?”
“I’ll help.” I gather glasses and flatware and follow. Not sure what’s going to happen here. I’m afraid to hope. But this is my first actual invitation upstairs. Her first actual indication that she wants to really talk. About us. My heart thumps loud in my ears as we drop off the dishes and tease the kitchen crew. Because you always have to tease the kitchen crew.
And then we’re in her private stairwell, climbing up into her personal space, and this time I know I’m welcome, for however long as it takes her to say whatever she wants to tell me.
She pauses at the top of the stairs. “Want something to drink?” When I say no, she looks from the dining area to the living room area as if unsure where to seat us. Finally she moves to one end of the couch.
I take the other end and wait, willing my heart rate to slow, mentally turning off the mechanical squirrels jumping around in my head and my gut.
She shifts to face me, her hands clasped around one drawn-up knee, her brow furrowed. She presses her lips together as she seems to be deciding how to begin, and then she meets my eyes. “So I had a kind of revelation in the courtroom today.”
This could be good or bad. “Okay…” Thump, thump, thump in my chest.
“I’ve been…” She frowns again. “It’s kind of like if every time I saw a sunny day, I hid out in the basement because one sunny day a long time ago ended with a tornado.”
Wut. “Um…”
She laughs and I’m lost in pleasure at the sound. “I was trying to find a good analogy, okay? What I’m saying is, I’ve been hiding out from relationships, including and especially a new one with you, because the last time I let myself fall in love, it ended really, really badly and almost killed me. So when I was listening to Judge Fox today, I realized I’ve been denying myself all the sunny days, living my life without sunny days, because I was afraid they’d end badly.”
If I’m understanding her right, I’m not sure I like where this is going. “So…I’m the tornado?”
She throws up her hands, collapses back into the couch cushions, and rolls her head to face me. Her smile trickles over me like slow, warm honey, and her eyes crinkle. “Nah. Joe, you’re the sunshine.”
Oh. That’s…good? It sounds good. Hard to think over the pounding of my heart.
She reaches to take my hand between both of hers, stroking my knuckles with her thumb. “So I’ve been wasting all the sunshine out of fear it would always end in a tornado. I was letting my fear of some possible future tornado that might never materialize keep me from ever enjoying the sunshine.”
