Page 47 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
The waitress arrived with our food, ending our adult conversation. Instead of grown-up talk, we spent the rest of the meal fielding kid questions from Coby. Thanks to my son’s interrogation, I learned that Hunter was not afraid of sharks, he had never been to the moon, and his favorite color was blue.
After Hunter paid the
lunch bill, we took the short drive down Main Street to the community pond.
“Stay back from the water!” I called to Coby as he ran across the grass toward his favorite fishing rock.
“Okay, Mommy!” he shouted over his shoulder.
“Cool spot,” Hunter said as we walked. “Does all of this water come from the river?”
“Yeah. It was built back in the fifties. The town dug the pond and then a channel to feed the water from the Jamison. They stock it with fish—”
“Come on, you guys!” Coby yelled.
Hunter and I both laughed and picked up our pace. I hurried to get Coby set up with his fishing pole while Hunter got out his camera. Casting out the line for Coby, I stepped back so Hunter could capture a few pictures without me in the shot.
Once he was done with the photos, Hunter took over casting for Coby. Cast after cast, we didn’t say much until Coby caught a fish and our trio broke out into cheers. I used my phone to take a video of Coby reeling it in with Hunter standing proudly at his side.
“Smile for a picture.” I did a photo burst of Coby and Hunter before they unhooked the fish and set it free.
“That was fun!” Coby cheered.
“It sure was. Do you want to stay longer or are you all done?”
“Um.” His eyebrows came together as he considered his answer. “All done fishing. When we get home, can Hunter watch Cars wif me?”
Hunter smiled. “I don’t have any other plans.”
I smiled back. “Then let’s go watch Cars.”
Coby squealed and raced back to the car.
“I can hang with him if you want to get ahead on your painting,” Hunter offered as we walked to catch up.
“Thank you, but that’s okay. I’ll just do it tonight when he’s asleep. I haven’t gotten to spend much quality time with him this week and a movie with some popcorn is more important.”
Hunter’s steps slowed, a strange look on his face. It was the same look he’d given Coby the first time he’d seen my son by the vending machines. Puzzled wasn’t the right word to describe it, though his eyebrows were knitted in the middle. Awestruck, maybe?
“What?”
“Nothing.” His face relaxed into a grin. “It’s just, he’s a lucky kid. You’re a good mom.”
I’d been keeping track of Hunter’s compliments.
That one just hit the top of the chart.
“Thank you.”
Hunter jogged ahead to load Coby in the car, and with his back to me, I hop-skipped my next three steps. I worried daily that I was being a good mom to Coby—I probably always would—but Hunter’s compliment was enough to banish those insecurities for today.
Reaching the car just as Hunter was closing Coby’s door, I tossed the fishing pole in the back. By the time I closed the hatch, Hunter was just getting into the driver’s seat. “You know, I can drive. This is my car.”
“Blondie, don’t pretend to protest when we both know you like to ride shotgun with me at the wheel. I saw that smile when you handed over your keys for me to drive up to the lake last week.”
He had me there.
So I just smiled and got in the passenger seat. I was buckling my seat belt when my phone rang in my lap.
