13. Fern

13

Fern

F ern woke in the dark to the sound of a baby crying.

It wasn’t the sound of his cries that had awoken her. Waking up at three in the morning and not being able to fall back asleep was a problem that had plagued her on and off for years, and it had come back with a vengeance the day she kicked Chad out of the house. But once she was awake, the sound tormented her. Not because she felt annoyed by it. Just because her heart went out to him. She wanted to hold him in her arms and make everything better… a senseless impulse, when he didn’t even know her.

She gave up on sleep around four in the morning. She got up, filled her kettle, and turned on some mellow music to cover the sound of little Theodore crying upstairs. Once the tea was ready, she pulled on a sweater and took her drink outside along with her portable speaker.

An hour of yoga later, the sky had brightened from black to deep blue, and Theo had finally stopped crying. Fern sighed in relief and went inside to make herself a simple breakfast.

Humming along to her music, she sliced a few tiny local bananas into a bowl of greek yogurt and sprinkled some crushed mac nuts over the top, then drizzled it all with a spoonful of local honey.

She ate outside with her feet on the damp grass and watched the sun move through the trees across the road. It wasn’t as spectacular as the ocean sunrises she used to watch every morning from her balcony, but it was still beautiful.

She wondered if Ethan was watching the sunrise upstairs… or if he had gone back to bed.

As soon as she caught herself thinking about him, she went back inside to wash her bowl in the tiny kitchen sink.

Her first yoga class of the day was a good distraction. She loved having her students around her, all of the wonderful locals who came to her classes week after week. In a place where time and money were both valuable commodities, these women choosing her time and again meant more to her than she could ever express to them.

Payment was donation-based, with a painted coffee can available to drop cash into, and they continued to pay her even more than she suggested. Often a woman would forget to bring cash; without fail, a friend would spot her, or she would pay double next time.

Sometimes someone came early or stayed late and quietly explained that they didn’t have cash, but could they give her a jar of honey or a flat of eggs or a bag of lychee? And Fern was always delighted to accept.

They supported her and grounded her, and each class gave her a sense of purpose.

After the last of her students left, Fern felt restless.

She should go down to the beach for a swim, or maybe hike to a waterfall… but all she really wanted to do was go upstairs and check on Theodore.

Ethan’s footsteps reverberated through the ceiling, a constant reminder that he was home and awake.

Fern started up the outdoor staircase twice and talked herself down both times.

When she left the house a third time, dressed for a hike with her car keys in hand… she somehow found herself on the second-story landing, knocking on Ethan’s front door.

The man’s red-brown stubble was halfway to a beard, and his hair was adorably tousled. He wore a faded pair of blue jeans and a fitted t-shirt that showed off his strong arms.

How could a man look so tired and so handsome at the same time?

“Hi.” Her voice came out breathy and nervous, and silently she scolded herself. She was too old for this. The man was a tenant, nothing more.

“Mornin.” His eyes skimmed right over her and veered off towards the mountains.

Fern raised a self-conscious hand to her cropped hair, feeling oversized and unfeminine in her utilitarian hiking clothes. She dismissed the insecurities as soon as they arose – but they still clung to her, churning beneath the surface of her thoughts.

“I just came to see how you and Theodore are settling in. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Okay, you just let me know. I’d be happy to watch Theo for a while, if you need time to unpack.”

“There’s not much to unpack,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t bring much of anything.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Sorry.” He rubbed his eyes and focused, looking directly at her for the first time. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

“I know,” she said without thinking.

“I’m sorry. Did he wake you up?”

“I woke myself up,” she said quickly. “But I could hear him.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

“Don’t be. I felt bad for him, that’s all.”

“He’s sleeping now.”

“That’s good. Maybe you can get some rest too.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t sound hopeful.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Just give me a shout if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” He looked at her for a moment, seeming to really take her in for the first time.

Then he shut the door.

Fern went back downstairs – not to her car for a hike, but back to her little apartment to hang her keys on the wall. She just wasn’t feeling the hike today. Maybe she would stay home, get some cooking done for the week.

She pulled down a jar of pigeon peas to start a batch of dal. Running through the motions of a familiar recipe soothed her nerves, as did the warm aromas that filled her little kitchen.

By the time her food was done, Theodore was crying again.

She forced herself to sit and eat, even though the wails reverberating through the ceiling made her stomach ache in sympathy – for Theo and his father both.

Emma had mentioned that her brother was a widower, and Fern had picked up a few details through the coconut wireless. She wasn’t the only one who had noticed the handsome newcomer; Pualena was a small town, and people talked.

Apparently, Theodore’s mother had passed away just a few weeks ago due to an accidental overdose. She was Juniper’s mother as well, which explained the drastic change in the beautiful teenage girl who had been coming to Fern’s classes. She had disappeared for a week or two and then, when she had accompanied her aunt to class a few days ago, she had been an ashen shell of the vibrant girl that Fern remembered. If she’d known the girl better, she would have stepped up to support her – but she was a new student, and a young one. At least she had her aunt, and hopefully friends and neighbors who would be there to hold her up.

Ethan, though… he was new to the island and alone upstairs with his infant son. The man probably felt like he was drowning. Who wouldn’t, after a loss like that?

The attraction that she felt towards him was her own problem, completely unrelated to her desire to help. If there were a single mother struggling upstairs, Fern’s need to help her wouldn‘t be any less. If anything, she probably would have barged in and made the woman breakfast.

Women were like that, though. They pulled together and leaned on each other. It came more naturally to them. Even her mother, a rolling stone who gathered no moss, had always had a way of finding instant community and support wherever she went.

Men rarely knew how to ask for help… or even accept it when it was offered. And she didn’t want to overstep.

But when she heard Ethan’s steps on the stairs, a force beyond her control pulled her to the window. And when she saw Theo’s tear-streaked face, there was nothing for it but to walk out the door. Her long legs traversed the distance between them in a few strides.

“Good morning,” she said brightly. Then, awkwardly, “Again.”

“Hey.” Ethan gave her a quick smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry. Is it okay for us to be in this part of the yard?”

“Of course. It’s your yard too.”

“He woke up in a panic, and getting outside helps.”

“It helps me too.” She smiled at Theo. “Did you have a nightmare, little man?”

He surprised her by launching his weight in her directions, reaching for her with both arms. She threw her hands up to catch him, but of course his dad still had a firm grip on his legs.

Ethan put a hand on Theo’s chest, leveraging his weight upright again.

Fern’s hands were still up, hovering in the air in front of them as Theo began to fuss.

“Can I hold him?” she asked softly.

“Are you sure?” Ethan hesitated. “He looks like he’s about to cry again, and he’ll just about take your eardrum out if he goes full blast.”

“I’ll take my chances.” She put both hands around Theodore’s ribcage, and he leaned towards her again. This time, Ethan let him go. His full weight dropped into Ferns hands, surprisingly heavy. She brought him to her chest, resting the bulk of his weight on one upturned hip.

“You’re a natural,” Ethan said. Mixed emotions warred in his eyes as Teddy rested one chubby cheek on Fern’s shoulder.

“He’s easy to love,” she said without thinking.

Her cheeks went hot with embarrassment a moment later – but blushes weren’t visible on her bronze skin unless someone was really looking, and Ethan wasn’t. His eyes never seemed to fix on her face for more than a millisecond at a time.

“I can walk him around the garden for a while, if you’d like to rest.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” There was enough conviction in her voice that his eyes met hers. She held his gaze for one second, two – before he turned and looked at the wooden stairs that climbed the side of their two-story building.

“Would you mind if I add some sandpaper to the steps?”

“Sandpaper?” she repeated. The bulk of her attention was on the warm body in her arms, the infant who had molded his body to hers as if she were a place of comfort instead of a collection of straight lines and sharp collarbones. She cradled his body with one arm while her free hand rubbed circles on his back.

“I picked up some safety strips at the hardware store, but I wanted to check with you before putting them in. The steps are slick in the morning, and when it rains…”

“They’re even worse,” she finished. “I’m so sorry. I should have thought of that.”

“It’s okay. If it were just me, I wouldn’t need them. But carrying him up and down every day…”

“Of course. Please, install whatever you need.”

“They’re just stickers, really. It won’t take long.”

“There’s no rush.” She swayed back and forth, holding Theodore in both arms. “We’re happy out here with the finches.”

Ethan nodded and glanced up at the silver sky. It didn’t look like rain was imminent, but it could be hard to tell in Pualena.

“If it starts to drizzle, we’ll just be over there under the roof.”

“Okay,” he relented. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

His gaze fixed on her again, and the intensity of it made her freeze.

A moment later, he turned away and strode up the wooden stairs. He’d disappeared inside before she even realized that she was watching him go.

Fern shook her head, trying to clear it.

Holding Theo with both arms, she wandered up the side yard. The thick border of tropical plants shone a vibrant shade of green, still wet with morning dew.

As the sun slowly warmed the air through a thin layer of clouds, the hibiscus flowers began to open for the day. Her eyes skimmed the pinks and yellows in a leisurely way as she walked, still swaying Theo from side to side.

She paused to admire one of her favorites varieties, a hibiscus flower that started out deep crimson at the center, progressed to sunset orange, and brightened to gold at the edges of each petal.

She never stopped and admired the flowers that grew all around her, not really. They might get an admiring glance in passing, but she never just stood and looked at them. She had always felt more comfortable living her life in a state of perpetual motion, always doing something. always on to the next task.

Theodore’s weight in her arms gave her a sense of complete presence that she rarely found, even through yoga and meditation. His little chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and she could feel his warm breath on her collarbone. He was either asleep or deeply relaxed, and Fern’s heart beat steadily beneath him.

Her daily yoga and meditation practices had brought her some semblance of calm into her life, but this contentment that was settling into her bones was something else entirely.

She had never felt such a deep sense of peace. There was nowhere she wanted to go, nothing else that she would rather be doing.

With Theo in her arms, she could just… be.