Chapter 2

2

Piper

Ihear my name reverberate against the walls. I've got lane three, my favorite lane. I know I've got this won. There's not a single voice in my head. From my own to my coach's. Honestly, I'm not even worried about what's at stake right now. To me, I'm just getting ready to do what I've become known for.

Swim.

Sometimes in life, when things pile up, it's easiest to break it all down into the simplest terms.

Right now, I'm just swimming.

I'm not battling for my name, my college. I'm not battling for the word that's been floated around…

(Hint: it's starts with the letter ‘O' and happens every four years… and, no, it's not an orgasm…)

I stay calm.

No need to think about the process of swimming. Or that most of these meets end up being won or lost by such small fractions of time that it seems impossible.

Nope.

This is just about swimming.

This is about me diving into the perfectly kept water and-

"Are you sleeping on the porch, Piper?"

I suck in a breath slowly. "No, Maryanne. I'm not sleeping on the porch. I'm resting my eyes. Enjoying a cup of coffee."

"Well, you sure are missing a show out there today."

I open my eyes and let out a sigh that's very audible.

Not that it'll matter to my neighbor.

Figures that after all the time I spent getting my life in order, buying a duplex, living in one half, renting out the other half - you know, making good decisions and all that after my dream of swimming went bye-bye - I would end up with a bird watching (more like bird obsessed) woman in her sixties, who openly admits she has not had sex or interest in a man since before the dawn of the internet age.

With that said, Maryanne Martovich means well. She pays her rent on time. She doesn't cause any damage to the house. And every now and again when I'm in a pinch, she's there to help me. Which means I am - at times - on the hook to listen to her ramble about what bird she saw today.

There's a two foot tall railing separating my porch from hers.

She stands there with a pair of binoculars around her neck like the cliché look of a librarian with glasses. She's also holding a pair of binoculars.

Before you ask and she explains how lenses work for an hour - one is for closer birds and the other is for ones really far away. That's not technical, but that's all you need to know.

"Talk to me, Maryanne," I say.

For her age, she throws her leg over the railing with ease. Like a professional wrestler climbing over the top rope into the ring.

"There's got to be a nest somewhere out back," Maryanne says. "A cardinal nest. I've never seen a cardinal so bright red before. It has to mean something, right?"

"I'm sure you'll look it up."

"That's my plan for today. And I want to find the nest. Not to disturb it though."

"Of course not," I say. I make a mental note to pull back on the sarcasm here. Maryanne Martovich is a good person. Just oddly obsessed with birds.

"Piper, if the nest crosses over the backyard…"

"Maryanne, you know it's okay to come onto our part of the yard," I say. "I appreciate you worrying. I promise you though, if the nest is on our side, you will have full access to it, okay? And I'll make sure Saxon stays away."

"Well, you don't need to do that," Maryanne says. "How about if he wants to see the nest, I need to be there to watch over him?"

"Perfect."

"You're a great person, Piper. I'm going to head out back again."

"Good luck," I say, crossing my right pointer and middle fingers.

Maryanne moves like a private investigator about to catch someone cheating on their spouse.

I shake my head and reach for my coffee mug.

I look at the pictures and text, then smile.

I LUV MOM

FROM SAXIN

With two stick figures. A beach ball. And a sun spitting fire down at me.

Such a perfect fitting Mother's Day gift from my son years ago.

Yes, he spelled his name wrong on the coffee mug, which made the gift all that much more perfect.

(And it also proved to me how much of a moron my ex was and still is… can't even supervise long enough to make sure our son spells his name right?)

What did I do when Saxon gave me the mug?

I did what any mother would do.

I loved it. And I still love it. It's my favorite coffee mug.

My coffee is cool now, which is awful.

I am not one of those iced coffee people. For me, coffee is meant to be tongue sizzling hot. Anything other than that and just give me a glass of water.

Well, just like that, my calm morning is officially over.

My twenty minutes to myself to think, sip coffee, and do whatever I want has come to an end with the whine of an alarm from my phone.

What's next on my agenda you might ask?

Dump the cool coffee. Wake up Saxon. Deal with his grumpy morning attitude since being ten years old is the hardest thing in life. Breakfast. Pack up. Get Saxon to school, then I get to work.

Now I can tell you that I don't dream of being in the kitchen, packing up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and having someone big and strong walk up behind me, touch my hips and flirt with the bottom of my shirt, then claw under my shirt, wanting to fondle my breasts for a second or two.

Or maybe that kitchen quickie… right?

(Not that I'm an expert on that… to me right now a kitchen quickie is heating up leftover meatloaf from the night before…)

To my absolute shock, Saxon shuffles into the kitchen on his own.

My first thought is that he's sick.

I race toward him and touch his forehead.

He groans and swats my hand away. "What are you doing?"

"You're awake on your own. You might have the flu."

"So funny," Saxon says. "Miss Maryanne woke me up. She's in our backyard calling out to some birds."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I kind of gave her permission."

"Can I have a cup of coffee?"

I laugh. "No."

Saxon looks up at me.

He looks so much like his father sometimes it irks me.

I'm the one who suffered through morning sickness. I'm the one who suffered through biweekly hospital trips because Saxon decided to sit on a nerve that made my right leg constantly go numb. I'm the one who was in labor with Saxon for over twenty-four hours only to end up having a C-section to bring my son into the world.

And what thanks do I get?

Saxon curls his lip at me.

The same way Hunter used to when he pissed me off and wanted to make a goofy face in the hopes that I would smile and instantly forgive him.

Somewhere inside my head and heart, I growl.

I lean down and kiss the top of Saxon's head.

His hair smells like sleep and a little like sweat.

As I start to pull back, Saxon wraps his arms around me for a hug.

A smile spreads across my face and I feel like I can cry.

"Hey," Saxon says, his head resting above my chest.

I can't believe how tall he's getting already. Then again, he gets his genes from a star swimmer and a star football player.

"Hey," I say.

"Since you think I have the flu…" Saxon fake coughs.

I laugh and back away from my son. "Nice try, kid. Pack up. You're going to school."

"I won't do anything. I'll just stay in bed all day. I swear!"

Saxon puts his hands together and makes the saddest, sweetest face possible.

I'm a breath away from letting the kid play hooky from school.

I hear a knocking on the back door.

It's Maryanne.

I twist the deadbolt and open the door.

"Piper, it's official," she calls out. "There's definitely a nest back here! I haven't found it yet, but I really think it's on your side. It might be in that planter you have hanging from the oak tree. Mind if I…"

"Go for it," I say. "Just please don't fall off a ladder on my side of the yard."

Maryanne laughs. "Oh, hey there, Saxon! Good morning!"

"Good morning, Miss Maryanne," Saxon says.

"Such a sweet boy," Maryanne says.

I nod and gently close the door on her.

I lock the door and spin around.

"Still want to stay home?" I ask my son.

Saxon rolls his eyes (another Hunter move). "I'd rather be at school than deal with the crazy bird lady."

Saxon stomps off, finding his normal morning attitude.

Just outside the door I hear Maryanne attempt to make some bird noises.

I nod.

Yeah… this is just a regular morning in my life.

What does a single mom who was once poised to be an Olympic swimming sensation do for a living…?

I park behind the large, kind of ugly, brown building like I always do.

I mean, this is an old gym with updates on the inside.

It's not some fancy pants gym with a million windows and an odd building shape.

The key to this place?

The pool.

Yes, that's right.

The former championship swimmer is a lifeguard.

Seems almost cliché and fitting, huh?

It works for me.

I more or less get to manage the pool and schedule.

Things tend to work around my life, which means it works around Saxon's life.

If I have to admit it - and keep the cliché going - the pool is my happy place when I'm not home with Saxon.

I walk through the back door and make pleasantries with Keith (the tech guy who keeps saying he's going to get in the pool but never does). I hip bump with the secretary. Dorothy is pushing eighty and works out more than anyone else I know. The hip bump thing is recent - she had a bad hip and went in for a replacement surgery. First day back on the job she insisted on smacking hips with me to prove her new hip was stronger than mine.

As I walk through the office door to head to the pool, Dorothy claps her hands. "Oh, yeah, I forgot. Piper. Brian is here. Looking for you. Something about the pool."

"He can find me," I call out.

Brian.

The director of the gym.

He had to have some fancy title.

As I get closer to the pool, the smell of the chlorine leaks into the air.

I take deep breaths and smile.

The smell brings back so many memories.

I use my key to open an EMPLOYEES ONLY side door.

The rush of humidity hits me and I feel right at home.

"Hey, Piper," Katie says to me.

Katie is one of the college kids that works at the gym. She's going for physical therapy. She's bright, bubbly, and has some really cool tattoos from her right elbow down to her wrist.

"Brian is looking for you," she whispers to me.

She points at the main pool office and there's Brian, sitting behind what is technically my desk.

"Go rotate with Jeff one more time," I say to Katie. "Then Jeff can go somewhere else."

"That works," Katie says. "Brian wants him to check the sauna. Apparently someone said it's not getting hot enough? Or that some other gym has one that gets hotter."

I roll my eyes.

I walk into the office and Brian jumps up to greet me.

"Save the handshakes and all that," I say. "When you visit it's never good news."

"Don't paint me as the angel of death here," Brian says with his too-white-of-a-smile.

When the guy grins you need sunglasses.

"Need you to rearrange some of the schedule," Brian says.

"Oh?"

"Need you to do it now. For today. Meaning in the next two hours…"

"For today? That's the aqua aerobics class. For the sixty-five plus."

"I know."

"You don't know, Brian. You can't just cancel that on them."

"No choice. You can send out-"

"Brian, half of them use cellphones with prepaid minute cards. They don't use apps. They don't have email."

"My hands are tied here."

"No, they're not. Something more lucrative has come your way. Let's be real."

"You have a lot of nerve talking to me the way you do," Brian says.

"And you don't have anyone with nearly half the experience I do. You need me more than I need you. What's going on with the pool?"

"There's a baseball player coming."

"What?"

"An injured baseball player. He's been rehabbing using a pool. He's in town and needs the pool."

"The entire pool?"

"Piper…"

"No, Brian. I'm sorry. A baseball player? Really? I can close lanes one through four from lap swimming. I'll have Keith send out a notification right now and have Dorothy tell everyone at the door."

"That's not good enough," Brian says.

"I'm not cancelling the aqua aerobics. Those ladies need it. They pay to be here, Brian."

Brian's jaw flexes.

I'm deep under his skin.

"You know what, Piper? You're the one who manages the pool. Why do I bother? You do what you feel you need to do. But listen carefully. This may not be a big deal to you, but for us, it is. There's a whole marketing aspect to it. Okay? So just do me a favor and play along."

"And who is this baseball player?"

"Cutter Buckley," Brian says.

I shrug.

Maybe I've heard the name in passing.

I'm not an avid baseball fan.

Brian takes a phone call and waves for me to exit my own office.

What a dick.

Now I'm in a bad mood while in my happy place.

So some baseball player is coming here to swim?

And… what… I'm supposed to be his personal lifeguard and babysit him?