Cookie Cutter Page 26

“I brought you some cookies.” I sit down on the bed with her.

  She’s so big. When did she get so big? Ally takes one but doesn’t eat it right away. She simply stares it like she’s waiting for it to say something.

  “Ally,” I begin, because there’s really nowhere else to start with this conversation.

  She doesn’t look up. I’m kind of glad.

  “Your father and I aren’t perfect. We’re full of a whole lot of not knowing what we’re doing when it comes to you.”

  She looks up now and I barely recognize my baby anymore. She’s still my little girl, though.

  “Babies don’t come with instruction manuals,” I say. “But you need to always remember, we could never, ever hate you.”

  “But you do hate each other.”

  I’m not sure how to tell her the ins and outs of my emotions when it comes to James, so I try to be honest with her as simply as I can.

  “How your father and I feel about each other right now has nothing to do with the way we both feel about you. If nothing else, know that.”

  I search for better words but nothing comes to me. If I say too much, I might lose her attention, if I don’t say enough, she’ll probably resent me. There’s no way to know the right thing to do here so I leave the plate, I kiss her forehead then I get up to go.

  “Mom?” she calls to me with the voice I remember from when she was younger. I twist my body to see her expression matches the voice.

  “It wasn’t me,” she says and her eyes are hoping I believe her.

  My mouth falls open to say something but I’m at a loss.

  “I didn’t . . .” She takes a huge breath. “Blake took the CD.”

  “What?”

  Oh thank God.

  I sit back down.

  “I didn’t even know it until the manager stopped me and pulled it out of my purse. By then, he was gone.” She eyes her cookie again. “I’m so stupid.”

  Tears fill her eyes again and this time, I pull her close and hold her and squeeze her until she feels my love.

  “Sometimes it takes a couple of mistakes to learn from them I guess.” I admit.

  I just hope she learned this time. Please let her learn. I squeeze her harder then I pull us apart to kiss her cheek. She sniffles and wipes her nose with the sleeve of her shirt.

  “Is that what happened with you and Dad?”

  “What?”

  “Was I a mistake?”

  And now I’m the one that can’t pull back on the tears.

  “Oh, honey. No.”

  “The other night---”

  I shake my head at her. “Ally, your dad and I might be really mad at each other right now. In fact yeah,” I nod, “we’re definitely mad at each other. And he might not be the right person for me, or even visa versa, but you are the single best thing that has ever happened to me. Do you understand?”

  She nods but can’t speak. I know the feeling.

  “I know he’s a jerk,” she finally says. “But I don’t want him to hate me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you sweetie.” I assure my daughter.

  I don’t know much about who James is anymore but I know this. I have to.

  “He just needs to find a way to communicate with you better, that’s all.”

  I hug her to me again and we sit there like that for a little while, rocking.

  “Mom?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “He cheated on you with Miss Meg?”

  “Mmm hmm.” It’s all I can do to not cry again. Not because I found out my ex-husband slept with my best friend but visa versa, and because our daughter knows it. There’s nothing like the disappointment a child feels in the two people they’re supposed to be able to count on no matter what. She breathes in and sniffs hard.

  “That’s messed up.”

  “Yeah it is.” I wipe the last of the tears away from the side of my face.

  “Mom?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you think you could ever love him again?”

  I need to handle this delicately, but honestly. “I thought, for a long time that maybe I could. I wanted to, but honestly, no, honey, I don’t think so. I’m sorry.”

  She sits up and now we’re facing each other again. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at me.

  “You like Mr. Blackwood, don’t you?”

  I hadn’t thought about how I would deal with Ally and what’s happening between Carter and me. He’s temporary. I’ve already told myself that but Ally’s young. She shouldn’t have to do temporary. I could pretend it’s not important. That we’re just friends. But in the end, I decide to give her what I would hope she’d give me if I were asking her questions about a boy. The truth.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She scoots over and gives me a hug. A real live, Ally hug. And she whispers into my ear.

  “Good.”

  * * *

  Later on, when I’m in my own room, exhausted from the events of the evening, I find my phone and check my messages. Which I have none of, but there is a text. It’s from Carter and I remember how abrupt our afternoon was cut short. I open the text, excited to hear from him until I read that he’s “had to take off” and “will explain later”.

  Take off? Explain later?

  “What does that even mean?”

  Who am I talking to?

  I call him but it goes straight to voice mail. I check the time and see that it’s not that late. Not when we’re talking about the all-nighter house flipper anyway. I get out of bed, walk into the front room and peek across the street to see if his lights are on. They’re not. I try him again but I’m taken to voice mail again.

  I try his phone twice more as I walk across the street and am completely unaware of what I’m doing until I find myself dialing and listening at his door to see if I can hear it ringing inside his house. Maybe he’s hurt and can’t answer. I have officially watched too many episodes of Dateline.

  “He’s not home, sweets,” Naked Paul calls from across the street, which I should have gathered by the fact that his truck isn’t in his driveway. I suppose I was too busy acting like a crazy person to notice.

  I slip my phone into my pajama bottoms and head back across the street.

  “Any idea where he went?”

  He shakes his head. “Left in a hurry though.”

  “Thanks, Paul.” I smile and try to appear in control of my emotions.

  He waves and heads inside then I look back to see if Alex is home but her car is missing as well. Once upon a time I would have run to Meg’s house and cried on her shoulder. Not anymore. Never again. Maybe it’s time to get the Rocky Road out. And Gone with the Wind.

  * * *

  Saturday morning and I feel a bit refreshed, for lack of a better word. There have been no more texts from Carter to explain his cryptic text but I did miss a few calls from him. When I check my messages, I get an error message instead. Something else to look into. I haven’t been able to get him live when I call, either, which is extremely infuriating. Instead of dwelling, I redirect my frustration by focusing on the cookies I’ve officially committed to baking.

  Baking always helps.

  I get Ally up and take her to the store with me. She thinks I’m a genius by the way, for accepting the baking opportunities.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t do this sooner.”

  She’s joking but there’s also a serious tone to her statement and suddenly, I don’t know either. I must admit, I’m having the best time spending time with Ally and doing what I love but whenever I pull into the driveway or leave and see the empty driveway belonging to Carter, my heart sinks just a little bit. So many questions flood my mind. Why would he leave like that? Why wouldn’t he tell me he was leaving? Why text me if he’s not going to answer his stupid phone?

  I nearly drop one of the bags I’m carrying when my cell phone rings. I can’t quite maneuver my way through getting my phone out of my purse without spilling everything in my hands all over
the walkway so I run – as fast as I can with five bags in my arms.

  “Get the door, Ally!” I yell and she does.

  When I get inside, I practically throw the bags onto the counter, fumble through my purse to find the phone and then finally . . . finally I find it and slide the bar at the bottom to answer.

  “Hello?”

  Nothing. I check the caller ID and it still says Carter but it also says, CALL ENDED.

  “Hello?” I call out again out of sheer denial but there’s no one there. I check the voicemail again but get that stupid, crappy error message, again.

  I try him back but nothing. I look across the street, despite the fact that I know he’s not there. This is when I notice for the first time today that there’s a FOR SALE sign up in his yard and despite the fact that I knew he was pretty much done with his renovation and that this would happen eventually, I didn’t think it would happen so fast.

  I close the front door and turn to see my daughter, prepping our baking area. It’s enough to distract me from wondering if I’ll ever see Carter again.

  * * *

  Sunday comes and goes in a haze of baking and running Ally around. When I check my phone, I see a missed call or two from Carter but nothing else. When I try him back, I get nothing but endless rings. Once, I think he answered but the connection was horrible and all I got out of him was a few broken sentences before the call ended.

  I’m sleepless at night, thinking of everything that’s been going on lately. Not just Carter but Ally, the baking, my job and where it’s going, and lastly, James. On Monday morning, I make the unlikely decision to call in sick. Luckily, Mark doesn’t have anything urgent going on or I’d feel extremely guilty about that.

  After I drop Ally off at school and she promises to call or text me if anything changes with dance practice, I head for the Social Security services building downtown, because aside from getting my license renewed on time, there’s another ID card that needs updating. The traffic is bad but I pass the time by playing music and trying hard not to think about what Carter might be doing right now, or where he went to in such a hurry. I know I’m not supposed to text and drive but peeking down to see if he’s responded since I last checked while I’m waiting at a stop light surely doesn’t count. Right? Nothing. Serves me right for looking.

  I get to the downtown parking garage. I haven’t exactly reached out to Carter since he called and didn’t leave a message so after I park, I try him again. When I get to the fifth ring, I decide to be an adult and text him. Call me. My finger hovers over the send button for a few minutes. My heart races. After I press it, as an afterthought, and because I feel more daring than I have in a very long time, I add another text, using words similar to what he used when he asked me out forever ago.

  Say yes, Carter.

  I smile despite the fact there’s an unknown here. I kind of enjoy the unknown with Carter. I kind of hate it too. I slide the phone into my purse, take a deep breath in and go inside to finish up what I came to take care of.

  * * *

  Quite frankly, government agencies have never been my favorite to deal with. About mid-afternoon, when I’m finally done with all the form filling out and signing and what-not at the Social Security services building, I drive home.

  I’m not going to check my phone until I’m home. I refuse to come off desperate with Carter, even if I’m the only one that knows it. When I turn down my street, there’s still no sign of Carter or his truck, but there is something odd going on in his yard. I nearly run up over the curb to my house gawking at it as I pull up. Once I regain control of the vehicle and park it in the driveway, I step out, slowly. I look up and down our street then I walk across the road.

  The FOR SALE sign is now laying on its side. It taunts me and I cannot get my feet to leave Carter’s front yard. It is bad enough he put it up for sale but someone bought it, that fast?

  “What the fuck?” I breathe out, asking no one – maybe the sky, and completely not caring who hears me or what they might think of my vulgar expletive. I half expect the clouds to respond with some dramatic flair like a clap of thunder or a flash of lightning and when it doesn’t, part of me wants to curse some more. All I can do is stand there, glaring at the wooden post that sits in front of the home that’s now finished – I guess it is finished.

  My heart sinks and the pain stings through my chest worse than any heartache I’ve felt in my life. I sit there and wonder where the time went since he first showed up on my doorstep, wanting to borrow a hammer. Why did I let him and all his boyish charms into my life? When exactly was it that I fell so hard for this man? Wonderfully, unexpectedly, and so unforgivingly.

  A smooth voice answers my silent questions, from behind me.

  “I can explain that.”

  Chapter 20. Carter

  “You gonna turn around, Iris?”

  She doesn’t move when I say her name. That’s not encouraging. When I flew back home, I hoped to beat the realtor to the punch and stop by her place to tell her what’s going on. As I pulled up to the house and saw her standing there, staring at the FOR SALE sign I took down today, I knew I was screwed. Her shoulders rise and fall. She’s trying to steady her breathing, which means she’s trying to compose herself before facing me – which means she’s pissed. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I try to lighten what’s heavy between us.

  “Calling Mrs. Alden.”

  She turns slowly.

  My breath catches in the back of my throat when she looks up at me and I see the hurt staring back at me.

  “I’m---”

  “It’s Benning, actually,” she says. The tone in her voice smarts, I’m not gonna lie.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  But still, I try to cover that fact up with some sarcasm. “Did you get married since I left, Iris? That’s a little sudden, don’t you think?”

  As far-fetched as that sounds when I say it out loud, I can’t help but wonder. Iris is, after all, a surprising kind of woman. When she doesn’t say anything, I’ll admit it, I think I might be on to something but then I see the lips twitch – ever so slightly.

  “It’s my maiden name,” she says with a sly smile.

  And I can breathe at last, out of sheer relief. “Well played.”

  Iris gives her bottom lip a slight bite before saying anything else. When she does, she takes the sting away. “It’s good see you, Carter.”

  She tilts her head like she’s trying to figure something out, but there’s not much to know about me right now. I’m just glad to be here. For now.

  “Why’d you change your name?” I ask her before she can start questioning me.

  She shrugs and in true Iris fashion, she lays it all out for me. “Half the reason I kept it after the divorce was because I didn’t want Ally to have to explain to all her friends why she had one name but her mother has another.”

  Fair enough.

  “And the other half?”

  “I don’t . . .” She stops. “It felt . . . safe,” she says. “Keeping James’ last name always made me think maybe there was a chance that things would normalize for us; that maybe we’d end up back together some day, a full family, and everything would be . . .”

  “Back to the way it was,” I finish for her, and she nods.

  “But . . .?” I prod. I want to know what else she’s thinking.

  I also don’t want to know, but most of me, wants to know. She hesitates, but not for long. “I don’t want back to the way it was, anymore.”

  I breathe the heaviest sigh of relief on this side of the world. I like that response. Hell, I love that response so I go for the gold, because I have to know. I push some hair out of her face and behind her ear.

  “What do you want, Iris?”

  She looks up at me, her brown eyes soft, honest. “I want you.”

  The sides of my mouth pull into a smile I couldn't ignore even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. I bend down and slip a hand behind her neck.

&n
bsp; “What a great answer.”

  I kiss her for the goodbye I missed, and the hello we’re having. I kiss her for every moment I’ve known her – and for the hope of knowing her for the rest of my life. For the first time since things began to go sour for me over in California, I’m grateful for every mishap, mistake, mis-step, mix-up, fuck up, and bad decision I ever made.

  They brought me to Iris.

  It doesn’t get any better than this.

  “Do you want to tell me why you left?” she asks when the kiss ends and just like that, my moment of bliss without talk of the weekend has passed. But I know she deserves the story.

  “Let’s go inside.” I pull at her hand and she follows.

  It feels just like Frank said.

  Home.

  At the kitchen counter, I tell her about the call I got while I was at her house the other day. About my Dad’s status and my brother’s misguided loyalty to the firm. I explain the situation, and the guilt, and how although my father condition is looking good currently, the next time, we might not be so lucky.

  “So your options are; break your father’s frail heart, literally, or go home and what?”

  “Run the firm.” I finish what she doesn’t want to say any more than I do. “Provided I could get a reinstatement.”

  “I didn’t know you could do that.”

  “It’s rare but it happens.”

  Iris nods. I knew she’d understand, that’s who she is. She’d never ask me to stay.

  “When do you go back?”

  Here’s the true test. I breathe in and let it go. Then I tell her, “I’m not.”

  Iris’s eyes grow big, startled. Perplexed.

  “I don’t understand,” she says, so I explain it as best I can.

  “I had a long talk with my brother. I told him about building houses, and fixing things . . . and you.”

  “Me?”

  I nod. “Mmmm Hmmm. I told him how incredibly relentless you’ve been with my heart.”

  She breathes in deep but doesn’t let it out.

  “Iris my dad doesn’t need me; not like he thinks he does. And my brother might not be the smartest when it comes to running a business, but I’m just a phone call away. And, lucky for him,” I bounce my eyebrows a couple of times, “I do consultancy work.”