Page 178 of The High Tide Club
“I’ll drive you,” Brooke said. “My car’s parked at my mom’s house, right around the corner.”
***
He kept staring down at the photo of Henry on the short walk to Marie’s house. “My son,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “Who is he? I mean, I saw him at the airport, for what, thirty minutes, and he wouldn’t even look at me for most of that time. Maybe you could catch me up on the first three years of his life. What’s he like?”
“He’s a funny little guy,” she said, ignoring the sarcasm. “He walked at exactly nine months. I thought he’d never sleep through the night. He loves to be read to. He has a favorite cartoon, this heinous Canadian kid, Caillou. He adores Caillou. He’s crazy smart, Pete. He asks a million questions. He’s a climber. He broke his arm climbing on a jungle gym in the spring. He’s almost potty trained, but I think he gets a subversive thrill from pooping in his pants at the most inappropriate times. Please talk to me,” she pleaded. “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me what to say.”
He gave her a long, steady look. “If you don’t already know what to say, then it’s goodbye.” He started to walk away, his long legs eating up concrete. He stopped suddenly and turned to her. “I’d like to keep the picture of our son, if that’s okay.”
“You’re really going back to Alaska without seeing him?” she asked.
He stopped walking.
“Henry’s at my mom’s house. Right up there.” She pointed at the two-story brick house two doors down from where they were standing.
“What if I want to do more than just see him occasionally?” Pete asked, his jaw still set in anger.
Brooke held her breath for a moment, wondering what that meant. “Are you talking about some kind of joint custody thing?”
Pete shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, I just learned I have a son five minutes ago. It’s gonna take time to figure this out.”
“Whatever you want,” Brooke said softly. “Henry needs a dad. He needs you in his life. I know that now. But I guess how that happens is up to you.”
They were standing on the front porch at Marie’s house. Brooke’s hand was on the doorknob. “Are you seriously thinking of taking the job out west?” She was holding her breath, waiting for him to say something, when the door opened.
“Hey,” Marie said, looking from her daughter to Pete. “I thought I heard voices out here.”
Brooke exhaled slowly. “Mom, this is… Henry’s dad. Pete, this is my mom, Marie.”
Marie smiled and held out her hand. “So good to finally meet you, Henry’s dad. FYI, Henry’s up from his nap. Do you two want to come inside?”
“Nice to meet you too,” Pete said, shaking her hand. “Could we, uh, have a minute or two in private?”
Marie closed the door softly, and Brooke felt herself sag against the frame. She realized with a start that this was the same doorstep where she’d gotten her first goodnight kiss after her first car date, at fifteen.
“Tell me what you want, Brooke,” Pete said, looking directly into her eyes. “And don’t make it just about Henry. Do you want me to stay?” He traced the scar on her cheek with a fingertip. “What happened here?”
“Another long story,” Brooke said. “Resulting from a near-fatal lack of good judgment. Could you please repeat that last question?”
“Do. You. Want. Me. To. Stay?”
This time she was ready with an answer. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Yeah, I think it would be good if you could stick around to see what happens next. Do you think maybe you could kiss me now? Like, for old times’ sake?”
He put a hand on either side of her face and did as she asked, kissing her with a sweet intensity that left her aching for everything she’d missed.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll move to the coast. We’ll figure us out. And the dad thing.”
“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Brooke said.
The door opened a crack, and they hastily pulled apart. Henry stepped onto the porch, dressed in his favorite SpongeBob T-shirt and a sagging pair of pull-ups. “I pooped,” he announced proudly.
Brooke scooped up her son and handed him over to Pete. “About that dad thing…”
Epilogue
October 2018
Moonlight dappled the water, and a stiff wind rattled the fronds of palm trees and swirled sand around the ankles of the five women standing at the water’s edge.
