7. Wade

seven

wade

At six, I call it quits and head to my parents' house without digging up the garden for the elementary school. Ever since Goldie came to live with me, I've had to find some work-life balance and put her first. Life was definitely easier when she lived with her mom. I could work until the sun set and never had to worry about things like homework and bathtime. Now, my priorities are different. While I love my job and customers, my daughter needs me, and honestly, I need her. And if it wasn't for my parents, I'm not sure how I'd be able to do this. On nights like this, they feed her dinner and pack leftovers for me to take home.

After picking Goldie up from my parents', we head home. She seems much happier now than when I dropped her off at school. She skips along the paved path and bounds up the stairs to our porch. Goldie holds the screen door open for me while I slip the key into the lock and turn the handle.

"Can we get a dog?"

"No," I tell her automatically. I'm not home enough to care for a dog and it wouldn't be fair to him or her to spend all day in a crate. "How about a cat?"

Goldie's eyes widen. "For reals?"

I nod and set her bag down. "I think they're self-sufficient."

"What does that mean?"

"It means they can take care of themselves. For example, if I put a bunch of food out for it in the morning, the cat will probably eat a little bit here and there, saving some for dinner. Plus, they have a litter box, so we don't have to let them out all the time," I tell her as she follows me into the kitchen and heads right to the refrigerator. I'm about to ask her why when she pulls out the pitcher of sweet tea. "Can I have some?"

Nodding, I head to the cabinet and pull two glasses out, and then reach over her head to open the freezer. After dropping some ice cubes into the glasses, I steady the pitcher while she pours. Letting her grow up is hard. I want to give her some independence but I'm afraid of losing my little girl. She's been the best part of my life since the day she was born.

"Cats poo and pee in the house?"

"In a litter box," I say again. "And we clean it, but it'll be your chore."

Her nose scrunches and she shakes her head. "I'll take a dog instead."

"Right." I sigh and put the empty pitcher into the sink. "What do you say we take these to the porch?"

Goldie beams. She hands a glass to me and then leads us back to the front porch where two white rocking chairs wait. She takes the one on the far end, sitting down and sighing as if she had a hard day and busted her back in the blazing sun all day.

My yellow and white trimmed home with its wide porch sits along the Magnolia river. Ever since growing up on the river, it's where I always wanted to live. It's where I said I'd buy a house and remodel it to be perfect. The buying part was easy, but the remolding part is slow moving. Once winter hits, not that Alabama has a true winter, I'll pick a room and get something done. So far, I've done Goldie's room, mine, and the upstairs bathroom. It's just the two of us, and usually it's just me. I'm in no rush.

My parents live down the river from me and not far from the Sweet Magnolia B & B, which is owned by Ina Meyers whose granddaughter, Wren, recently moved to town to help run the establishment. According to my mother, Wren has been a game changer when it comes to business and has brought tourism back to Magnolia Grove.

"Grandma says you're going to take a fancy class at the B & B in a few weeks?"

Goldie nods. "It's going to teach me to be real southern," she says in thick drawl which will undoubtedly irk her mother.

I have no idea who is going to teach the class, but I can't imagine it'll be Ina or even Wren. Maybe they've tapped Ms. Linda to teach the youngsters, or my mother. Thoughts on the class give me pause. I remember going through cotillion classes when I was twelve. That was nothing short of a nightmare, made more so by my gushing mom when I had to wear a tux to the ball. The highlight of my pain and torture and the only saving grace of the night was my date—Lemon—who wore the most beautiful blue dress I had ever seen. Now that I'm an adult, I realize it wasn't the dress that was beautiful, it was her.

"You can be whatever you want to be, Goldie. No need to define yourself as a southern girl. Your mom isn't."

"I know," she says as her legs swing back and forth. "Grandma says all girls my age need etiquette."

My mom's right, but that can be taught at home.

"What else does Grandma say when you're with her?"

Goldie shrugs. "Not much unless she's on the phone and then she tells all her friends how you need a wife."

If I had sweet tea in my mouth I would've spat it across the porch. The last thing I need right now is a wife.

"I tell Grandma you don't need a wife because you have lots of lawn to mow."

"You're right," I say, laughing.

Goldie stops rocking and picks up her drink. "Can we make the kind of tea Ms. Linda does?"

Ms. Linda sets hers out in the morning and let's nature do its thing. "Sure, but not tomorrow."

"How come?"

"I have to get up really early and head over to your school."

"Why?"

"Well because the fifth-grade class is going to plant a garden and I need to dig up the ground for them. But it's going to be early, so Grandma will be here when you wake up." I'm very thankful my parents are close and my mom's willing to drop everything for Goldie.

"Why can't I go with you?"

"Do you want to be up before the sun?"

Goldie shakes her head slowly. "No thanks."

"Same, but it's either I go in early, or I won't get home until late tonight. I'd much rather spend this time with you instead of digging holes."

Her lips lift and then turn into a full-blown smile.

"You're my best girl, right?"

She nods and continues to smile.

The sound of a motorboat catches my attention, I look out toward the river and see Connie Lincoln coming around the bend. I look down at my watch and frown at the time. He's way later than normal.

"Hey Connie," I say as I walk toward him. "Late night?"

"Late all around," he says as he hands me my mail. We are one of the last towns in the country to still have mail delivery by boat. Men like Connie are a dying breed. Everyone wants to drive or have you pick your mail up at the post office.

"Sorry to hear that. Have yourself a good night."

"You too, Wade. Tell Miss Goldie I said hello."

"Hi, Connie," Goldie yells from the porch and waves her arm back and forth. Connie waves back and then motors toward my neighbors mailbox.

"How come you don't drive a boat?" Goldie asks when I sit back down.

"Because I drive a truck." I point toward my truck with the trailer attached to it. "And I think it would be funny if I showed up to mow someone's lawn in a boat."

Goldie laughs. "It would be very funny."

We stay on the porch for another thirty minutes and then head inside. Goldie heads to take a shower while I start a load of laundry. Before she moved in with me, I would do laundry every couple of days, but now it seems like it's an everyday, twice on Sunday's sort of thing. I'm not complaining because I love having my daughter here but damn my chore list has increased. Between this and grocery shopping, it's endless.

"Everything good?" I ask, knocking on the bathroom door. Goldie's at the age where she doesn't need her dad hovering. I know Ana does, but it's not something I can get on board with. I press my ear to the door and smile when I hear the shower curtain move.

"Yep," she yells loudly, through the rush of water.

"Did you get the shampoo out of your hair?"

"Yep," she says again.

I'm not well versed when it comes to curly hair and rely heavily on Ana and Alani's guidance. Having a salon to turn to when Ana isn't available is a godsend.

"And what about your feet, toes, pitters?"

Goldie laughs. "Yes, Dad. I got everything."

Satisfied with her responses, I take the laundry bucket and head into her room. Ana and I are big on co-parenting, and not undermining the other parent. We keep the same chore list at both homes and have the same expectations when it comes to school, extracurricular activities, and Goldie's general well-being. This works for us, not only as parents who aren't together, but also for Goldie. Having the same rules at each house is helpful to her.

She comes out of the bathroom, with her wet hair dripping down the back of her bathrobe. She hands me a towel. "Can you scrunch?"

"Sure can. Did you put all the products in?"

Goldie nods as I start soaking the excess water from her hair. "Can I get my hair cut?"

"Sure, but let's talk to Mom first, okay?"

"Okay. I think I need a trim."

"Do you know what a trim is?" I ask her.

Goldie looks at me, her eyes unreadable. I don't know if I've insulted her seven-year-old intelligence or confused her.

"I saw it on Mommy's phone. A girl gave herself a trim and Mommy said I can't ever cut my hair by myself."

"Listen to your mom," I say. "Please don't cut your hair. We'll talk to Mommy and see what she says about a trim."

Once I'm done, I excuse myself so she can get dressed. When I come back, she's sitting on the edge of bed with a book and comb on her lap. I hand her my phone, take the comb, and maneuver to sit behind her.

While I start combing through her hair, she FaceTimes her mom.

"Hi, Mommy!" Goldie's voice changes and it's not for the better. I know she misses Ana greatly. I'm thankful any bruising Ana had is gone now.

"Hey, sweetie. Is Daddy combing your hair?"

I lean to the side and wave the comb at her, and then back to my task.

"Mommy, when are you coming here?" Before Ana has a chance to answer, Goldie looks at me. "Mommy can come here, right?"

"Of course she can. Mommy knows this."

"Soon," Ana says. "I'll be there to visit soon."

"You can sleep in my room," Goldie tells her, even though I have a guest bedroom for Ana. "We can have a bunch of sleepovers."

"I can't wait. How was school?"

Goldie sighs. "It's okay. Daddy told my teacher about the mean boys pulling my hair. They did it again today. Can I get my hair cut?"

"Wait, what?" I ask, moving to the side again. "How come you didn't tell me?"

Goldie shrugs. "The boys still did it after I told."

"Yeah, that's not okay for them to do that," Ana says. "Your dad will go back in tomorrow and talk to the principal."

I will ?

"I don't like her either," Goldie says.

"How come?" Ana asks before I have a chance.

"She made me sit with the other kids in class at lunch time and some of them made fun of me."

Ana's gaze meets mine.

"I'll take care of it," I tell Ana, and then I look at our daughter. "You can tell me these things. No matter what. It's my job to protect you."

"And mine," Ana says. "But I don't like the idea of you wanting to cut your hair because of some boys. You have beautiful hair, Marigold, and changing your appearance to stop bullying could make things worse. Let Mommy and Daddy be your advocates. Okay?"

"What's adbo . . . what did you say?"

"Advocate," Ana says. "It's a fancy word for support. In this case it means Daddy will make sure things are taken care of at school."

Goldie nods. "Okay."

They continue to talk while I finish combing through Goldie's hair. When I'm done, she wraps her hair in a bonnet and crawls into bed, with her mom still on the phone. I snuggle in next to her and read, while Ana listens. By the time I'm at the end, Goldie's fast asleep.

Ana waits for me to get downstairs before she speaks. "I really do want to come and visit."

"The door's open, Ana. You know you have a room here, anytime."

"Right. I don't want Goldie to think I've abandoned her or don't want to spend time with her. I just need some time to heal."

"She doesn't think that and even if she did, I'd work to make sure she knows the truth."

Ana nods. "Okay. So, I think in two weeks."

"Perfect. Just let me know."

"I will." She sighs. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For just being this amazing guy and father. I hear these horror stories about baby daddies and each one makes me realize how lucky I am to have you in my life."

I smile at the compliment. "Ana, from the day you told me you were pregnant, I promised you I'd be there for our child. What kind of man would I be if I'm not there for her mother?"

She shrugs. "I'm just really grateful."

"So am I."