Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“You’ve got to,” one of the small voices whispered. That one was Billy, my nine-year-old.
“We’re gonna get in trouble.” That slightly lisping, raspy voice was Molly, my six-year-old.
I whistled with no particular tune, letting them know I still had no idea.
I wasn’t exactly in the mood to play games, but I knew this was hard on them. I’d just uprooted them from our lives in D.C. so we could come to the middle of nowhere town of Fairhope, Colorado. It was temporary, but three months might as well be an eternity for little kids. They wouldn’t be seeing their mom–my ex-wife, Katie–for two weeks, either.
It would’ve been easier to let them stay with her until I got settled in here, but it worked out for Katie to let me have them, and I never passed up time with the kids when I could get it. I may have never been meant to be a good husband, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be a good dad. A damn good one, in fact.
My boss had only given me three months leave for the family emergency, but this was going to be great for all of us. I was going to make sure of that. Besides, it was good to show the kids where their old man had grown up, even if Fairhope was a little… dated.
The giggling continued while I looked around, noting the dust gathering on boxes of name-brand medication high up on the shelves behind the counter. I lifted my finger to tap a little candy-cane decoration that was about two months past the season. The whole town had a sense of being frozen in time. Like nothing had changed since I left after high school.
The downtown was a scattering of rustic little specialty shops and a few mainstays like the theater, the general store, the bowling alley, and of course, my grandpa’s inn. If you drove a minute or two in any direction, you’d be in the rolling hills that were dotted with charming little houses that were all built in the late 1800s and early 1900s.
I’d been back to visit every couple years to see my Grandpa, and the feeling struck me every time I was here. This whole place was a strange little bubble–completely insulated from the outside world. Once or twice, I’d fantasized about packing up and moving out here, but there wasn’t exactly work for someone with an M.B.A. in business in a small town like this. No. To me, this place was a dying reality.
“Just do it,” Billy urged.
“You promise he won’t get mad?”
I whistled a little louder. Being a good dad wasn’t always easy. But it was always worth it. I repeated that to myself like a mantra. It was a mantra I’d decided to drill into myself when I found out I was going to be a father. I might be a lot of things, but I was never going to be him. My own father was a narcissistic asshole who saw his kids as trophies. He didn’t even give a shit about gramps or his failing health. If you didn’t serve a purpose, he’d cast you out of his life without a second thought.
A small hand suddenly clutched mine and Molly started tugging like she was trying to break free from my grasp.
I looked down at my daughter and felt my stomach drop when she met my gaze. She did the breathing exercise I’d taught her when she was scared, never taking her big eyes from mine. Oh, shit. What did you put her up to, Billy?
“He’s not my daddy!” she screamed.
Her voice might as well have been a gunshot. Every pair of eyes in the small store was on us in an instant. For the longest second of my life, nobody moved.
The only sign that time hadn’t frozen was my precious little daughter tugging against my hand like I was the one holding her. I stared at her. Curly brown hair and big blue eyes. She had the face of an angel, and a few steps behind her stood the little devil who took after his dad. Billy was watching with the wide eyes of a pyromaniac who had just lit a fire and was somewhere between awe and terror at how quickly it had grown.
“Billy,” I said very carefully while Molly continued to tug at my hand and repeat that I wasn’t her daddy. “Tell these nice people this is your idea of a joke.”
I moved toward Billy, dragging Molly behind me as she continued her act of pretending to pull away from me. I reached for him.
That turned out to be a mistake.
My own son met my eyes, grinned for an instant, then clapped his hands to his face and did his best Home Alone scream.
I chuckled nervously, lifting my free hand while I looked around the shop. “These kids,” I muttered. I knelt down to get in their faces. Molly was red in the face from screaming and Billy’s mouth was open so wide I could see his tonsils.