“Is our car broken?”
“Yes, but I can fix it,” she said, her voice confident.
Leo nodded. “Okay.”
Finn carried the booster seat and Kayla held Leo’s hand as they walked down the dirt road toward Finn’s place and the truck. The piney breeze felt fresh against his face. A mountain bluebird flashed by, chirping its TOO-too, TOO-too.
Other than that, it was quiet, because Kayla wasn’t a person who had to talk all the time. As a quiet man himself, he appreciated that.
The ride to town got too quiet, though, so he turned on a little country music. When his current favorite song came on, he saw her tapping a hand against her jean-clad thigh. He was tapping the steering wheel, same rhythm, and when their eyes met, she flashed a smile.
They got close to town, and there was a sniffling sound in the back seat. Kayla turned half-around. “What’s wrong, buddy?”
“I don’t want to go.” Leo’s voice trembled.
“It’s hard to do new things,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact.
“My tummy hurts.”
“Sometimes that happens when you’re scared.” She paused, then added, “Anyone would be a little bit afraid, meeting a lot of new people. But we know how to do things anyway, even when we’re scared.”
“I don’t want to.” His voice dripped misery.
The tone and the sound brought back Finn’s son, hard. He remembered taking Derek to his first T-ball practice, a new team of kids he didn’t know. Finn had comforted him in the same way Kayla was comforting Leo.
His breath hitched. He needed to stop making that dumb kind of equation. “You’d better stop crying,” he said to Leo. “Buck up. The other boys will laugh at you.”
Finn looked in the rearview mirror, saw the boy’s narrow shoulders cringe and wanted to knock himself in the head.
Leo drew in a sharp, hiccupy breath.
Kayla was giving Finn the death stare. “Anyone worth being your friend will understand if you’re a little scared the first day,” she said over her shoulder.
But Leo kept gasping in air, trying to get his tears under control. And that was good; the other kids wouldn’t like a crybaby, but still. Finn had no right to tell Leo what to do.
No rights in this situation, at all.
And now the tension in the truck was thicker than an autumn fog.
He’d created the problem and he needed to fix it. “Hey,” he said, “when do you want the dog to come live with you?”
The snuffly sounds stopped. Kayla glanced back at Leo, then at Finn, her eyes narrowed.
He could tell she was debating whether or not to trust him and go along with this or to stay angry. He’d seen that expression plenty of times before, with his wife. She’d have chosen to hold on to her anger, no question.
“I don’t know.” Kayla put on a thoughtful voice. “I’d rather wait until this evening when Leo’s home from camp. That way, he can help me handle her. That is...” She turned half-around again. “Do you think we’re ready to take care of a dog? You’d have to help me.”
“Yeah!” Leo’s voice was loud and excited. “I know we can do it, Mom.”
“Hey, Leo,” Finn said, “I don’t know the dog’s name. She needs a new one. Maybe the other kids at camp could help you pick one out.” Actually, the former owners had told Finn the dog’s name. It was a common curse word. Even now, thinking of their nasty laughs as they’d dumped the eager, skinny, blind-and-deaf dog at the ranch, his mouth twisted.
“Okay!” Leo said as they pulled into the church parking lot. “I’ll ask them what we should name her!” He unfastened his seat belt as soon as the truck stopped, clearly eager to get on with his day.
“Wait a minute,” Kayla warned Leo as he reached for the door handle. “I need to take you in, and we have to walk on the lines in the parking lot. It’s for safety. The teacher told me when I talked to her.”
“I’ll be here,” Finn said as Kayla got nimbly out of the truck and then opened the back for Leo to jump down. They walked toward the building holding hands, Leo walking beside her, moving more slowly as they got closer.
Watching them reminded him of dropping off his son.
He couldn’t make a practice of getting involved with Kayla and Leo, he told himself sternly. It hurt too much. And it gave his heart crazy ideas about the possibility of having a family sometime in the future.
That wasn’t happening, his head reminded him.
But his heart didn’t seem to be listening.
* * *
Kayla walked out of the church after dropping Leo off at the camp program, her stomach twisting and tears pressing at her eyes.
If only she didn’t have to start him in a new program so soon after arriving in town. But she had to work; there wasn’t a choice about that.
He’ll be fine. He has to grow up sometime.
But he’d looked so miserable.
The lump in her throat grew and the tears overflowed.
To her mortification, two of the other mothers—or maybe it was a mother and a grandmother—noticed and came over. “What’s wrong, honey?” the older, redheaded one asked.
The younger woman came to her other side and startled Kayla by wrapping her in a hug. “Are you okay?”
What kind of a town was this, where complete strangers hugged you when you were sad? Kayla pulled back as soon as she graciously could and nodded. “I just hate...leaving him...in a new place.”
“Gotcha,” the older woman said without judgment and handed her a little packet of tissues. “I’m Marge. Just dropped off my Brenna in the same classroom your boy was in. It’s a real good program.”
Kayla drew in big gasps of air. “I’m sorry.” She blew her nose. “I feel like an idiot.”
“Oh, I know what you’re going through,” the mother who’d hugged her said. “I cried every single day of the first two weeks at kindergarten drop-off.” She patted Kayla’s shoulder. “I’m Missy, by the way. What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around.”
“I’m Kayla. Pleased to meet you.” She got the words out without crying any more, but barely.
“Now, me,” Marge said, “I jumped for joy when Brenna started kindergarten. She’s my sixth,” she added, “and I love her to pieces, but it was the first time I had the house to myself in fifteen years. I don’t want to give up the freedom come summer, so all my kids are in some kind of program or sport.”
Kayla tried to smile but couldn’t. Leo had gone willingly enough with the counselor in charge, no doubt buoyed up by the prospect of telling the other children he was getting a dog. But as they’d walked away, he’d shot such a sad, plaintive look over his shoulder. That was what had done her in.
For a long time, it had been her and Leo against the world. She had to learn to let him go, let him grow up, but she didn’t have to like it.
In the past year of starting and running her little business, cleaning houses for wealthy people, she’d paid attention to how they cared for their kids. Lots of talking, lots of book reading. That had been easy for her to replicate with Leo.
A couple of the families she’d really admired had given