5. Wade

five

wade

Goldie and I sit in the parking lot of the elementary school, both staring at the building, each for different reasons. She misses her mom and her friends in Jacksonville. I don't blame her. Change is hard for anyone, but it's especially hard on little kids. Everyone always says how resilient they are, but the truth is, kids only show you what they think you want to see. I know she's struggling and I'm doing my best to make this an easy transition for our daughter, as is Ana even though she's back in Wisconsin.

I sigh heavily. Goldie looks at me and our eyes meet. She says nothing and focuses on the school.

"Is it that bad?"

Her little shoulder lifts. "Some of the boys pull my hair."

"Like this?" I tug lightly on one of her ringlets.

She shakes her head, causing all of her curls to move. "They pull on them hard."

I frown. "Want me to beat them up?" Wrong or not, this is the classic parent reaction. It's in our nature to protect our children and my fight is always ready before my flight.

"Mommy doesn't like that stuff," Goldie says quietly.

Right now, I feel like a complete shit for saying anything about fighting. Ana swears Goldie didn't see Franco hit her. But how would she know for sure?

"Marigold," I say her name softly. "When Mommy got hurt, did you see what happened?"

Her head turns slightly toward the window. "Pa pinches Mommy a lot."

"Pinches?"

Goldie nods. "Mommy always says ‘Stop that hurts' but he laughs and does it again. Sometimes Mommy would cry." She drags her hand down her cheek.

I reach over and unbuckle her seatbelt and then pull her toward me. Instantly, her head buries in the crook of my neck. Ana said it was one time, but clearly, it's been an ongoing situation. My arms tighten around my daughter in an attempt to protect her from everything.

"I'm sorry you saw Mommy get hurt," I tell her. I don't know why Franco did any of this or when it started, but hearing Goldie bear witness to any of it pisses me off. Never mind the fact that Franco earned himself the title of "Pa" because he's been in my daughter's life from the beginning, and this is how he acts. I hated the idea of Goldie calling him anything referencing a father figure role, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. He was there, playing the role.

Goldie and I stay like this until the last of the stragglers head into the school. I turn the truck off, reach for her bag, open the door, and get out without putting her down. That's Dad mastery in my book.

As soon as we're on the sidewalk, I crouch until her feet touch the ground. "The only reason I'm putting you down is so those mean boys don't tease you about your daddy carrying you."

She nods and I check her over to make sure all her tears are gone. Her wild mane of curls isn't unruly, thanks to Alani at A Touch of Sass showing me a long time ago how to care for my daughter's hair.

Goldie holds my hand as we walk into school. As teachers and other parents head to their classrooms, they say hi to us.

"Everyone knows you," Goldie says right before reaching the door to her room.

Again, I crouch so I can look into her bright blue eyes. "When you live in the same town your whole life, everyone knows everyone. Plus, I mow a lot of their yards." The last part I say with a chuckle. "And everyone is starting to know you."

"As the lawn boy's daughter?" Goldie laughs.

"You're a jokester, I see."

Standing, I put my hand on her shoulder and guide her into Ms. Matson's room. Brittany and I grew up together, right along with most of Magnolia.

"Good morning, Wade. Goldie."

"Hey, Britt . . . Uh, I mean Ms. Matson." Talk about weird, having to call your life-long friends by their last name.

With my hand still on Goldie's shoulder, I step closer to Brittany and lean in. "Seems some of the boys like to pull on her hair. I don't know which boys, but does the school still have the keep your hands to yourself rule?"

Brittany's eyes widen. "Yes, we very much do. I'll watch for it." She turns her gaze to Goldie. "Please let me know when it happens again and who it is."

"I don't want to tattle," Goldie says as she steps closer to me.

"It's not tattling when someone is hurting you," Brittany tells her. "If you can't tell me, you can tell Ms. Walsh too or any other teacher. Okay?"

Goldie nods. I hand her backpack to her and remind her that my mom will pick her up from school. I wait until she's at her desk before thanking Britt and making sure she has my number on hand, just in case.

As soon as I step into the hall, I hear my name, and flashbacks from high school flood my memories. There was one too many times when a stern voice bellowed, and I had to tuck tail to the principal's office. I turn and find Jean, the school's secretary, coming toward me.

"Shit," I mutter, only to realize I said it loud enough for another kid to hear me. I fully expect him to stick his hand out, as if he carries a swear jar with him, by the look he's giving me.

"Sorry."

He shrugs. "My dad says worse."

Lovely .

"Wade," Jean says again, this time out of breath. "You're a hard man to track down."

Right away, I pull my phone from my back pocket and look at my missed calls. There are none. And like a petulant child I shake my phone back and forth to show her.

"I didn't miss a call."

Jean frowns, looks over her shoulder, and then shakes her head.

"Ah, I see." If someone else in the building was supposed to call, they didn't. I think Lemon would rather lie on a mound of fire ants than speak to me. Nothing hurts a man's ego when a woman they once loved—still love—asks if they know you. Especially after you spent a majority of your life following her around, carrying her books and backpack, holding her hand, and promising to marry her someday. But then, maybe it's a coping mechanism to deal with all my charm. Thinking she may have been flustered by me makes me smile.

"Wade?"

I startle and clear my throat. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Do you have time to till a garden bed for us today?" Jean asks.

Even though most of my schedule is memorized, I still open my calendar to look. Most of my day is green for my long-standing appointments. Purple for clients who booked two weeks out and blue for those who booked one week ago. Red is left for those like the school, who want me to fit them in or drop what I'm doing to service them.

"I'm not sure, Ms. Jean. I'm pretty booked. I can probably squeeze it in later in the week when I'm here to mow."

"We need it today." Her sigh is heavy and dramatic and matches the displeasing expression on her face.

I'm sorry, no one woke up this morning and decided the elementary school needed a garden tilled. No one in the school district works that damn fast.

"Look, I was out last week with the flu. Ms. Walsh was supposed to call you and set it up. I get it, she didn't. But we have fifth graders going outside tomorrow to plant carrots, lettuce, collards, kale, and who knows what else. This has been in the works since last year and I'm desperate." She gives me the prayer hands, but I'm still shaking my head.

"The earliest I could even consider it is this evening, and that's a big if. I'll need to check with my mom and see what their plans are for dinner and if they're okay with Goldie staying there." I'm totally blowing smoke because my parents will drop everything to spend time with Goldie. However, Lemon doesn't know this and needs to understand my time is valuable.

"I'll call your mom," Jean says.

"And my rate is time and a half after five." I've never charged overtime in my life, but because of Lemon, I'm doing it.

"That's fine. I'll authorize whatever you need, Wade. Just please tell me you can do it today."

"This evening," I tell her. "Show me where you want it."

Jean launches herself into my unsuspecting arms. Before I can awkwardly hug her back, she lets me go and all but pushes me toward the exit. On our way to the back of the school property, she talks about her husband, kids and grandchildren and how she's ready to retire but isn't ready to park her lawn chair in her front yard and be nosy like Linda. Funny how she thinks Linda became nosy after retirement. According to my grandma, Linda was born this way. Ironically, there isn't a soul in town who would change her.

Jean shows me where they want the garden. I have her stay there while I jog back to my truck for a handful of stakes and flagging tape, and then Jean and I mark off where I'm going to dig for them.

"Okay, this evening," I tell her.

"Thank you," she says again as we head toward the school. "Make sure you invoice us for all your time and those supplies you just used."

I won't but I tell her differently. "And my gas. Hell, I might even throw on fish fry since this will take up my dinner time."

"Do it," she says as she waves the statement away. "Let Ms. Walsh explain the abhorrent charges to the board."

While the idea sounds tantalizing, the thought of making Lemon sweat in front of the school board doesn't appeal to me. She already hates me for ruining her life, there's no need for me to ruin her career as well. For as long as I can remember, being a teacher and principal was what she wanted to do. I thought she'd teach for a handful of years before taking the leap into administration. I guess that all changed when things went south for us.

Me, I was always content being someone's lawn boy. Maybe that's why she broke things off.

Back in my truck, I press Ana's picture and hold the phone to my ear. I could use the handsfree option, but I don't want people listening in while I sit in the parking lot.

"Hey," she says when she answers.

"Hey," I say back and sigh.

"Everything good with Marigold?"

"Yeah, she's good. I'm worried about you though, Ana. Goldie said Franco was pinching you?"

The other end is quiet for a moment and then I hear Ana sniffle. "I thought it was nothing."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Off and on," she says. Without elaborating, I know she means the entirety of their rocky relationship.

"I'm going to ask again, has he ever hurt Marigold?"

"No," she says right away. "I would've left him had he hurt her."

But you let him hurt you?

I shake my head at the thought.

"At first, I thought it was innocent, that he was just being too rough, ya know? But then I realized he pinched because those marks were easier to hide. Then the pinching turned into squeezing . . ."

I press the tips of my fingers to the bridge of my nose in an attempt to even my breathing. I'm going to hurt this man if I ever see him. "You said he'd only hit you once when he put you in the hospital. Is this true?"

"Like that, yes," she says quietly.

"Ana . . ." Her name drags out. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was scared and embarrassed." She weeps. "I thought I could get him to stop and then he didn't, and it'd been going on for so long."

"Does your dad know all of this?"

She pauses.

"Ana, if you don't tell him, I will. We may not be together but you're the mother of my child. We're bonded for life. As her father, it's my duty to protect you. Please tell your dad. He needs to know in case Franco shows up there."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Ana. Franco does. I just need you to get better so we can figure things out for Goldie."

"I am," she says. "Thank you."

"You know the door is open if you want to come here. I know it's not a place you want to live, but everyone loves Goldie, and they'd love you too."

"Thanks, Wade. I'll think about it."

"Marigold will call you tonight," I tell her before we hang up.

I set my phone down into the console and start my truck up. I'm already late to my first job, which is Ms. Linda's. Thankfully, she won't rake me over the coals for being late, and if she does, I'll tell her how much I love her sweet tea and all will be right in Magnolia Grove again.