Page 144

“But I’m happy Uncle Holt is here, you know? Dad said he hoped he’d come back some day—and here he is.”

“Yeah.” I can’t say more.

“I wouldn’t be upset, Mom,” Owen says softly, carefully.

I pull my head from his shoulder to look at him. “About what, baby?”

“If you loved Uncle Holt again.” He’s still looking at Holt and Mabel. “I think he still loves you. And I think—I think Dad would be okay with it, too.”

29

I WAS MISSING YOU

JUNE 2023 – PRESENT DAY

Iretreated into myself, into my thoughts after my talk with Owen last night. Holt noticed, but Mom and Dad arrived home shortly after, and like expected, they joined us. When they left, I practically kicked Holt out with the excuse that Mabel needed a bath. She did, in fact, need a bath. The child looked as though she’d tried to root herself into the soil with the plants.

If I’m being honest, though, I just needed some time. I needed quiet space to reflect on all that Owen had said to me.

And, like I suspected, it was a rough night with Mabel. She woke upset. I held her in my lap as we looked out her open window at the night sky for at least an hour. By the time she settled back into sleep, returning to my bed would have been silly. With less than an hour to sleep, I’d have been moody and off all day.

I decided to stay up. I did, however, skip my workout in favor of peace and coffee.

I guess I got that quiet time to think, after all. The peace, however, was nowhere to be found.

I don’t feel any more clear.

I’m confused and messy. And I hate feeling any of either.

Surprisingly, for being awake since three in the morning, I’m in a race to get to the office on time now. I feel frazzled. It was hard to dig myself out of my head after I fell into it. Mabel woke determined to wear a dress she’d spilled vinegar on while dunking her chicken—because my child won’t eat chicken without vinegar—and I didn’t do the laundry on Sunday as usual, because I spent the day gardening. It would have been easier to do dental work on a grizzly than it was to convince her to wear a different dress.

The workday hasn’t even begun and I’m exhausted.

I fumble my way into the office, giving Holt a quickly huffed, “Hi,” as I pass. I drop my purse before I drop myself into my chair.

Holt twists to face me where he stands at the coffee station. “An extra sugar this morning?”

“I’ve already had half a pot,” I mumble. “I shouldn’t have another.”

He turns back to the counter. “Another sugar it is.”

He stirs before carrying two mugs across the space. He hands me one.

“Thanks.”

“Why do you look like you’re returning from war?”

“I didn’t do the laundry yesterday.” He nods, but I know he has no idea what I’m talking about. He doesn’t have kids, so he doesn’t know how it piles up. I explain, “Sunday is laundry day. Mabel wanted to wear a dress she spilled vinegar on last week. It was a battle.”

“You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Faye.”

“Mabel had a rough night, Holt.” I stab my finger into the power button on my laptop. “I’ve been up since three.”

I expect the man to wince or cringe. To flee from the woman with the children who need so much, as children do. To flee from the messy chaos of it all.