Crossing Oceans Read online

  Of course I already knew the answer. She required my assistance at Chuck E. Cheese’s as much as I required hers at Pier 1. She mumbled something I couldn’t make out and left.

  Craig held up the hand the staff had stamped when we’d entered. “Invisible ink—how cool is that?”

  I watched dirty white socks emerge from the end of the tube slide, followed by the little boy who wore them. When his gaze met mine, I wiggled my fingers at him. Sheepishly he looked around, jerked his hand halfway up, then ran off. “Bella thinks everything about this place is cool.”

  Bells rang, whistles blew, and children all around us shrieked. Craig looked around and shook his head. “This place is like Vegas for kids.”

  I set our small plastic number in the center of the table and grabbed the cups. “C’mon, let’s go get our drinks.”

  Craig followed me to the fountain machine, his eyes darting from preteens riding mock Jet Ski video games to the little boy pedaling like mad on a bike that rose on a pole from his efforts. An Asian girl zinged by, nearly toppling Craig. He caught her right before she plowed into him. Muttering an apology, she tore away, chasing after a blonde girl about the same age.

  He glanced around. “Where’s Bella?”

  I held a cup against the Hawaiian Punch lever, watching ice cubes bob in the rising red liquid. “She’s around. I don’t worry too much here. You can’t leave without matching numbers. She’ll be fine. Besides, hawkeyed mothers lurk everywhere.”

  I filled my own cup with Sprite and Craig got himself a Coke. I snapped a lid on each, and Craig came behind me, stabbing in straws.

  Just as we set our drinks down on the table, Isabella popped up in front of us like a jack-in-the-box, took a sip of her punch, slapped three rows of paper tickets she’d won on the seat, and raced off again.

  Craig squinted at me, dimples sinking into his blond scruff.

  “What?”

  “What what?”

  “Why are you grinning at me? Do I have something on my face?” I patted my fingertips around the corner of my mouth.

  “Just a nose.”

  “Then stop looking at me like that. You’re making me nervous.”

  Dropping his gaze to his hands, Craig ran a thumb over his knuckles. “You know I never got what you saw in Preston. He was such a geek.”

  My first thought was that Craig had been a bigger geek than David—overweight, acne-prone, and shy—but I decided it wouldn’t be particularly kind to say so. “I guess I clung to the first guy who showed me attention. I was really starving for it back then.”

  “You, starving for attention? That’s hard to believe. You were the prettiest girl in school.”

  Looking into his eyes, I saw my reflection. In it I looked lovelier than I felt. Mama Peg had told me long ago that I would know a man loved me when I could see myself in his eyes. It was nonsense, I knew that, but my stomach still fluttered nonetheless. Pulling my gaze away, I took a sip of soda. I felt the coldness of the liquid slide down my throat all the way to my empty stomach. “So how in the world did you end up living at my dad’s house?”

  “I’m sure you remember my mom left us when I was little?”

  I didn’t but nodded just the same.

  “So it was just me and Dad. He did nothing but work, drink, and have an occasional pajama party with a bleach blonde. I pretty much raised myself. When I dropped out of college, he started charging me rent, so I left.”

  An infant cried behind us. I snuck a glance over my shoulder at the father scooping her from the mother’s arms. I turned back around. “What’s the difference if you pay rent to your father or mine?”

  “My dad was trying to charge me more than he was paying for the mortgage.”

  “Nice,” I said, thinking it was not nice at all.

  “It was his way of trying to force me to go back to college, I think, but I didn’t want to. He thought if I didn’t get a degree, I’d end up just like him. I guess that was the last thing either of us wanted. Anyway, I got to thinking about you one day. Wondering what you were up to. I drove to your house, hoping maybe you had broken up with Preston and . . .” His cheeks flushed crimson. “As Providence would have it, there was a For Rent sign on the saddle barn.

  “So I didn’t get to see my friend Jenny, but I did get a decent place to live that cost about a third the price my old man was charging. Your dad’s the one who talked me into starting the landscaping business. That’s how I lost the weight, by the way. Who needs a gym when you’re shoveling dirt and hauling tree limbs all day? I love your dad and Mama Peg. They’ve become the family I wish I had. I know someday I’ll have to move on, but I just can’t imagine leaving them.”

  I cleared my throat, feeling defensive. “Yeah, well, someone might feel the same way about your father, not knowing the whole story.”

  When his callused finger brushed mine, I found myself liking his touch more than I should. “Easy. I’m not judging you, Jenny. I know there’s a lot that’s happened that I don’t know about.”

  The waitress picked up the number from our table and replaced it with a pepperoni pizza and a stack of paper plates.

  As she walked away, Craig lifted a steaming triangle from the pie and placed it on a plate in front of me, then took one for himself.

  I scanned the perimeter for Isabella and found her at a toddler’s version of a video game. She clapped her hands, then ripped off a row of tickets sticking out of the machine like a paper tongue.

  “So whatever happened between you and David?”

  Trying to keep my pain from showing, I leaned back in my seat. “Well, basically, he told me he didn’t love me.”

  Craig shook his head. “Wow.”

  Wow was right.

  “Was that before or after he fathered your child?”

  “Take a wild guess.”

  He picked at a piece of pepperoni. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “Has he been a part of her life at all?”

  I shook my head, feeling miserable.

  “Man, what a jerk. If I had you two, no way I’d ever—”

  “He didn’t know,” I whispered.

  Craig’s eyebrows shot up.

  I tore off a piece of napkin and began to roll it between my fingers. “I’m guessing he knows now. My father told his father last night.”

  “Didn’t you want him to know?”

  “I wanted to tell him myself.” I took a small bite of pizza.

  Isabella’s cheeks blazed red as she plopped next to me and sucked down a gulp of her drink. I laid a piece of pizza before her.

  “Mommy, I have a new boyfriend.”

  “Oh, really?” I took another bite.

  She spoke around a mouthful of cheese and crust. “Uh-huh, his name is Jimmy. We’re gonna get married.”

  Craig stared at her with such a disapproving expression that I couldn’t look at him without wanting to laugh. I focused instead on Isabella, trying to make it at least appear as if I took her engagement seriously. “Well, congratulations, sweetness.”

  As Isabella inhaled her slice, Craig gave me a look that asked what I intended to do about this situation. When I said nothing, he crossed his arms. “You’re a little young to be into boys, don’t you think?”

  She reached over and grabbed a piece of pepperoni off his half-eaten slice.

  My mouth dropped open at her rudeness. “Bella!”

  “Pepperoni’s fattening anyway.” Craig patted his stomach. “Go ahead and take them all.”

  Without missing a beat, Isabella picked off the remaining two circles. “Mommy, are you going to marry Craig?”

  My daughter had been obsessed with marriage lately, so the question didn’t catch me off guard. “No, honey, Craig and I are just friends.”

  “You’re never gonna get married!”

  Craig’s gaze fixed on her as he sipped his Coke. “Why do you think your mother is never going to get married?”

  “
Because she doesn’t have any boyfriends.” Isabella planted her fists on her waist and rolled her eyes. “You need a boyfriend to marry you.” She gave him a look that screamed duh.

  I picked at my cheese. “Don’t be rude, and not everyone needs to be married, Bella. Not everyone needs that to be happy.”

  “You’re not happy.”

  I faked a cough. “I’m happy, silly.”

  “No, you’re not. You cry too much.”

  I dared not look at Craig as Isabella exposed me. “Hey,” I said, keeping my tone light, “we’re going to be leaving in about twenty minutes. Do you want the rest of your coins?” She shoved the last bite of her crust into her mouth and held out her hands. I dumped the remaining tokens into her palm. “Put them in your pocket with the others.”

  Isabella hurried away as Craig studied me with a load of pity that was nearly unbearable. “I really don’t cry all the time.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “You ask that a lot.”

  His pinkie touched mine. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “I’m dying,” I whispered.

  His impassive expression told me he already knew. Oddly enough, I felt no betrayal, only relief. “She told you.”

  “She was really broken up. She needed to talk to someone.”

  Until then I hadn’t imagined how hard the secret must have been on my grandmother. “How did she take it?”

  “It brought her to her knees.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “That’s okay, Jenny. That’s where we all need to be anyway.”

  “You sound just like her.”

  “Thanks. So are you going to let me take you out somewhere nicer next time?”

  His question left me speechless.

  “Well?”

  “Have you lost your mind? I’m dying, Craig. I have a year max, probably much less.”

  “Have you gotten a second opinion?”

  “Yes. A second, a third . . . a fifth. The cancer’s already spread to my liver, my bones, and my lymph system. There’s no cure at this point. They could prolong my life by a few months, but I’d just spend the extra time flushing the contents of my stomach and clogging the drain with gobs of my hair.”

  He glanced at the braid draped over my shoulder. “Is it the same kind of cancer that took your mom?”

  I smiled bitterly. “You’d think so, but nope. She had a brain tumor. Mine started as skin cancer. I ask the doctor to check out a mole on my shoulder and suddenly I’m getting biopsies, blood tests, bone scans, and being told I won’t live to see another birthday. No, Mom’s and my cancers are completely unrelated, like two members of the same family getting hit by bolts of lightning on opposite ends of the world. Lucky, eh?”

  He leaned in so close I thought he intended to kiss me. His breath warmed my lips. “Do you like sushi?”

  My heart beat double-time. “Listen, Craig, I appreciate the pity date, but honestly the only thing on my mind now is making sure Bella’s going to be taken care of after I’m gone. The last thing either of us needs is to complicate anything. What’s the best that could come of us seeing each other? We fall in love and then your heart gets broken when I die? Is that what you want?”

  “You falling in love with me? I can think of worse things.”

  “I’ve got a rule against dating masochists.”

  He leaned back. “Hey, I’m not talking about complicating anything. I just like your company. I always have. None of us knows how much time we have, Jenny. If you want to get out of the house now and again, I’m not a bad guy to hang out with. Make hay while the sun’s still shining; that’s all I’m saying.”

  When I glanced down, I noticed his thumb stroking his knuckles again. His emotions were easier to read than a children’s picture book. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and if I weren’t dying, I’d go for him in a heartbeat, half a heartbeat, but—

  Before I could finish the thought, he sprang up as though something had bitten his behind. He ran over to Isabella, who was swinging frantically, trying to hit the heads of plastic moles. She always swung a second too late, just missing them.

  Craig took her hands in his, winked at her, and guided her into smashing every artificial rodent that dared show its face. Isabella squealed in delight as tickets churned out at the end of the game. I sat watching them, a smile playing on my lips, letting myself imagine what life could have, should have, been for us.

  Chapter Nine

  Isabella and I lay in bed, nestled against one another under several layers of blankets. I wore light flannel and she, a long cotton nightgown. The evening temperature felt more fall than summer, so my grandmother and I decided to give our Freon reserve a break and open the windows.

  The coolness of the room reminded me of childhood camping trips—the way the crisp mountain air made the warmth of my sleeping bag a sanctuary I never wanted to leave.

  Isabella laid her palm on my cheek. “Mommy, thank you for taking me to Chucky Cheesits.”

  “You’re welcome, Bells. Glad you had fun.”

  Raising her finger before her eyes, she admired the trinket she’d cashed her tickets in for—a purple spider ring. She looked up at me through long lashes. “Next time I’m going to save for something bigger.”

  She said that every time, but the temptation always proved too great when it came time to choose. “I know you can do it.”

  She hugged me tight. “Beautiful Mama.”

  I kissed her forehead. “Beautiful Bella. I sure do love you.”

  “More than anything?”

  “So very much.”

  She bent her neck to look at me, her eyes now little more than slits.

  I hugged her middle and pulled her closer. “Bella, do you like Craig?”

  “Uh-huh. Maybe I’ll marry him ’stead of Jimmy.”

  “He’s really nice, isn’t he?”

  She nodded. “Is he my daddy?”

  “No, sweetness, not your daddy.”

  “He might be.”

  “Trust me on that.”

  “Do I have a daddy?”

  “God.”

  “I mean a people daddy.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he love me?”

  I closed my eyes and buried my face in her curls. “He would if he knew you.”

  “I’d love him too,” she whispered in a tone so vulnerable it was all I could do not to cry.

  My conscience pointed its judgmental finger at me once again. I had deprived the person I loved most in the world of the one thing she wanted more than anything—a daddy. Until now, I hadn’t understood why the Bible said the sins of the father were visited on the son. I thought it unjust of God to charge the innocent for their parents’ sins. Now I realized it wasn’t a threat, but a warning.

  “How about if we read a story?” I managed around the lump in my throat.

  She reached up and rubbed my earlobe between her thumb and pointer finger just like she had done as a toddler. “Goodnight Moon.”

  I leaned over the side of the bed, pulled the backpack from underneath it, and retrieved our worn copy of the classic. A strip of silver duct tape ran down its spine, loose threads poking out like a well-worn hem.

  I pulled the blanket up and tucked it around her shoulders. She pushed it back down to just above her waist and laid her cheek against my breastbone. My heart pulsated against her as I opened to the first page and read.

  As soon as I said “two little kittens,” her eyelids fluttered like butterflies, then closed. I shut the book quietly and recited the rest from memory, pausing where I knew the pages would turn.

  As I did, my mind wandered to David, replaying that morning’s awful events. He had overreacted, no question about it, but then so had I. The difference was that I had known what was at stake—or rather who—and still I took the low road. He, at least, had been walking blind.

  As Isabella drifted deeper into slumber, I crawled out of bed, onto the carpet and my knees. I re
sted my forehead against the mattress and waited for divine advice regarding my dilemma.

  * * *

  Eight hours later, I awoke shivering, with a sore neck and stiff legs in lieu of an answer. On Isabella’s side of the bed lay a crumpled afghan. I made my way down the stairs, following the melody of her laughter. As I came to the landing, I found her riding Craig like a horse, kicking her heels into his side and yelling for him to giddyap.

  I wondered how long his poor knees had been enduring the hardwood.

  Isabella waved at me, causing her to lose her balance and tumble to the floor. Her face scrunched into an angry ball. “You made me fall!”

  “I made you?”

  Though her anger was often misdirected, it never burned longer than it took to blow out a match. Instantly her scowl evaporated. “Did you see me, Mommy? I’m a cowgirl!” She ran to me and hugged my legs.

  Her enthusiasm made me smile. “I saw.”

  Craig stood and brushed off his legs.

  My gaze glided over his flannel shirt, half-tucked into faded Levi’s. “Thanks for entertaining her.”

  My father emerged from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand, and stood beside me. He took a sip, wrinkling his nose, apparently no more pleased with the decaf than was Mama Peg.

  I gave him a weak smile. “Hi, Dad. Feeling better?”

  He sighed and glanced at Isabella. “I tried to give her a ride like I used to give you, but my knees are shot, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t remember you ever doing that.”

  He jerked his head back. “Are you kidding me? From the age of five to eight, I was your one-man rodeo. Funny how the mind stays parked while the body hightails it down the fast lane.” He took another sip. “Your dad’s getting old, Jenny.”

  Isabella went to him and took his hand in hers. “It’s okay, Cowpa. I still love you.”

  He lifted her up and she straddled his waist. They looked so familiar, as though she’d spent her whole life in his arms, and I knew at that moment she’d be okay. He did love her and she loved him.

  From my periphery I caught Craig watching me. “You’re doing it again,” I said.

  He blushed. “Sorry. You’re a hard woman not to look at.”