3. Wade

three

wade

I'm grateful for people like my father, Hoyt, who are willing to step in when times are tough. Most people think "times are tough" means something financial when this isn't the case at all. After taking a week off to help Goldie settle in, which let's be honest, I didn't need to do because as Ms. Linda puts it, Goldie is among her people, I find myself inundated with school registration forms, most of which repeat each other.

How come I have to write my daughter's name and nickname repeatedly?

Shouldn't there be one main form?

School starts tomorrow and I still haven't finished the paperwork. According to my mom, these should've taken me an hour, but I'm dragging my feet.

Everyone knows why. Including me. I'm just unwilling to admit it.

I sign my name a half dozen or more times and put the last form in the pile. From where I sit at the table, I can see Goldie. She sits on her swing at an angle, allowing herself to pull one leg up while her toes push the swing slowly back and forth. She misses her mom, which isn't uncommon when she comes to visit, but this time even she knows things are different.

Ana was released from the hospital after two days. I ended up staying with her until her dad arrived, sleeping in the chair in her room. I had called my parents and asked them to come get Goldie. I didn't want Ana to be alone and I definitely didn't want Franco to show up. When Ana's father arrived, I pushed Ana out to the car and told her to call when she got back to Wisconsin, and then drove home wondering what the fuck happened. So many thoughts ran through my mind on the drive back and some still do. The shock I feel about the situation turns to anger each time I think about it.

I look down at the two notes on my kitchen table and groan. I'm happy I have the school landscaping job for another year, despite someone's failed attempt at getting me blacklisted. I get it, the principal hates me, but her hate is displaced. Not that she'd listen to anyone who told her as such. Aside from securing one of my biggest clients for another year, we have Meet Your Teacher Night tonight. And I know the unhappy principal will be there.

The real question is how long can I go without running into her?

"Forever," I mutter to the empty room.

With Magnolia Grove being a small town, you would think I'd run into my biggest hater every time I ventured outside or got off my zero-turn mower.

Nope.

The universe shines down on me and protects me from her wrath and I am forever grateful.

My front door opens, and my mom calls out.

"In here," I say as I scoot my chair back. My mom, Taryn, comes in with bags hanging from her arms.

"What's all this?" I ask as she sets them down on my table.

"School supplies and clothes."

"For?" I ask, even though I know who they're for.

"Goldie," she says with a shrug.

I roll my eyes.

Hard.

My mom doesn't miss a beat and starts unpacking each bag, placing the items on my table.

"Mom, she doesn't need all of this stuff."

"Yes, she does."

I love my parents. They have supported me ever since I broke the news to them about Ana being pregnant. They welcomed her into their home and treat her as if she's part of the family and not just Goldie's mom or my one-night, life-altering stand.

They absolutely adore Goldie and love being grandparents even though they weren't ready.

"Where's my granddaughter?"

"She's outside."

My mom brushes past me and goes to the back door. She opens it, and before I can count to five, my daughter is screeching at the top of her lungs and running toward the house. I'd understand the exuberance if they hadn't seen each other in a week or longer, but they saw each other yesterday and even though my parents live in town and not far from me, my mom and Goldie FaceTime at night.

Goldie comes into the house, kicks off her flip flops, and makes her way toward me. Her long, curly, chocolate colored hair with natural blonde highlights—thanks to her mom—is tied into a ponytail. I'm grateful Ana taught Goldie how to do this because I'm not that great at it, and I refuse to try the vacuum technique. Mostly because I'm afraid I'll damage her hair. The videos make it look simple but I'm still leery.

"Hi, Daddy," she says. She rests her head on my shoulder after she kisses my cheek and leans into me. I know she wants to go through everything her grandmother bought her, but she also wants to cuddle. I wrap my arm around her and give her a tight squeeze.

"How's your swing?"

She shrugs.

Ever since the night in question, Goldie has been clingier than usual. I'm not complaining, but I don't like that my daughter experienced some type of trauma or witnessed her mother going through what she did. Especially at the hands of her stepfather. The world is confusing enough for a seven-year-old. Goldie didn't need this as well.

"It looks like Grandma went shopping."

Goldie nods. "Do I have to go to school?"

"Yes," I say, tickling her sides. She lets out a sweet giggle and tickles me back.

"And I'll be there two days a week," my mom says. She put her name down as a class volunteer, which is something I would like to do, but my schedule doesn't allow for it.

"What if no one likes me?" Goldie asks. Her normally happy tone shifts to a sad one and it breaks my heart. There are a few kids Goldie's age that I know from my landscaping contracts but none of my friends have kids yet, and when Goldie's visiting, she's often with my parents doing whatever they can cram in before she has to go back to Jacksonville.

"Nonsense," my mom says as she taps the table. "Everyone is going to love you, and Ms. Matson is a fabulous teacher."

"How do you know?" Goldie asks her grandmother.

"Because we do yoga together, and I've heard through the grapevine."

Goldie laughs and shakes her head. "Grammie, you can't listen to everything Ms. Linda says. She's old."

I stifle a laugh. "Marigold, it's not nice to call people old."

"Well, she's not wrong," Mom adds. I roll my eyes at my mother. Here Ana and I are trying to teach our daughter impeccable manners, and my mother is encouraging questionable behavior. I have nothing else to say and direct Goldie to the slew of things my mother bought her.

"Wow, this is pretty neat," I say as I hold up the relic known as the Trapper Keeper. "I think Grandpa had one of these when he was a bit older than you."

"They're making a comeback," Mom says as she beckons Goldie toward her. She sits on her grandma's lap, and they go through everything, leaving the clothes for last. After a full fashion show, where my daughter declares every article of clothing her favorite, we pile into my mom's car and head to Mimi's Gasoline Grove for lunch.

Thankfully, only the locals and some out-of-towners who have been here before know the secret deep frying inside of Mimi's. She has the best catfish in all of Alabama. You can eat while the guys fill your gas tank, wash your windshield, and check your oil.

My nerves are on fire, to the point where I think everything—and I do mean everything—itches. It's a silly notion, especially since I took two showers before even getting dressed. With everything making me twitchy like I've got ants crawling all over me, it reminds me of summer camp when some prankster would bring itching powder into the cabin and sprinkle it all over our sleeping bags. Of course, this was a fear when your parents tell you you're going to summer camp and assure you nothing will go wrong.

It doesn't help that Goldie is probably feeding off my energy. She barely ate and told her mom via video chat before we left that she didn't need school and suggested we take her to Hollywood where she can become an actress. Only, Goldie didn't say Hollywood and instead used Dollywood. Ana and I did a stand-up job not laughing.

Before heading to the elementary school, I detour to the high school and check out the football field. Last winter, the school finally converted to a turf field, and while turf isn't my friend and could put me out of a job, I manage the grassy area around the field. During the install, the people hired didn't protect any of the surrounding area and left far too many dirt spots in what I considered a flawless green space.

"What are we doing here?" Marigold asks.

"I just need to check and make sure the grass is growing in a couple of spots."

After parking, Goldie climbs over the console and out my door, knowing I would've opened the door for her. She chose to wear a yellow dress for Meet Your Teacher Night, saying she wanted to impress Miss Willa. I told her it wasn't necessary but I'm also not going to tell her she can't wear what she wants. At least, not right now. Junior high and high school are a different story.

Goldie skips along and holds my hand as we make it over to the football field. When I crouch down to inspect the fullness of the regrowth, I'm pleased the boys haven't torn up the new grass with their cleats and more appreciative that Coach Lincoln is teaching the boys to have respect for grass.

"Daddy, can I play on the field?"

As much as I should tell her no, I don't and nod. She takes off running and then does a couple of cartwheels, followed by a flip. I pull out my phone, turn on the video camera, and ask her to do it again. She does, and I'm able to capture it all and send it to her mom.

(Text) Did you sign her up for gymnastics yet?

Not yet, but I will tomorrow.

Tell her I love her.

She loves you, Ana.

My heart breaks for Ana and while I'm grateful for this time with my daughter, I can't imagine what Ana's going through. In the blink of an eye, her world flipped upside down.

I let Goldie somersault and cartwheel her way to the end of the field and then herd her back to the truck. She seems to have a lot of energy now, which I'm hoping isn't a bad thing. She's such a sweet little girl, I want everyone to love her. Mostly, I want her to make friends and not feel out of place in Magnolia Grove. I don't know how long this is going to be her home, but until then, I need her to be happy.

Goldie and I hold hands as we face the elementary school. We stand there, next to the flagpole, both with fears. Hers is being the new kid. Mine is facing someone I once loved.

Don't lie to yourself, Wade.

I sigh heavily and give her hand a squeeze.

"Ready?"

"To go home? Yes!"

I look down at my daughter and smile.

People pass by us, chatting happily. Some say hi while others continue on their way.

"We gotta do this, kiddo."

Goldie sighs. "If you say so."

Surprisingly, it's Goldie who takes the first step. If she can do it, so can I. We follow behind another family and enter the school. I can't remember the last time I was inside the elementary school. It had to be when I left fifth grade. Even though I do all their landscaping there isn't ever a need to go inside.

And I know why.

It's standing in the middle of the atrium, with the early evening sunlight casting her in a heavenly glow. She smiles at every student and shakes hands with every parent. Every few seconds she tilts her head back and laughs or gives directions by pointing toward one of the halls.

I swallow hard as we approach, unsure if I even need to stop or if I'm supposed to. I'm steps away when I look down at the sheet of paper with Goldie's class assignment on it and then look into the blazing gaze from the intense green eyes of my ex, Lemon Walsh.

"Hey, Le-Lemon." I stumble over a name I've said a million times before. A name I've tried not to think about for the past eight years.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Ouch.