In an instant, all the tension seemed to leave Cal’s face. So it really was the clinic itself that troubled him. She assumed most people would be worried about someone coming to their home and invading their personal space. But Cal seemed to be fine with the idea. He just didn’t want to be here. Finally, the man answered. “I think that would be best. Thank you.”
“Not a problem,” April said. She was barely able to suppress her excitement. Something about both the boy and his father put her immediately at ease. It didn’t seem to matter that she would be going to an isolated home outside of town with a single man who lived alone with a child. Cal was all green flags, as far as she could tell. She ruffled Owen’s hair and smiled down at him while he fixed it. “I guess I’ll be seeing you in a few days,” she said. Then, to Cal, she said, “Just let the front desk know which day and time works best for you, and I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER 4
CAL
Cal could tell Owen was feeling better when the kid became borderline insufferable. For the first couple days, Owen was quiet, resting and eating very small meals. After twenty-four hours, he was finally able to hold down some food and water. Forty-eight hours after beginning his course of antibiotics, he was talking up a storm. Much to Cal’s chagrin, most of it was about April.
One morning, Owen snuck out of his bedroom while Cal was making his breakfast and asked, “Is April coming today?” He actually looked excited.
“No,” Cal answered his son with a laugh. “It’s only been one day, chief. She’ll be here the day after tomorrow.”
Owen pouted and shuffled slowly back into his room.
“It’ll go by so fast,” Cal assured him. Unfortunately, Cal believed it himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he had entertained guests. Even after comforting himself that this was a house call only, that it wasn’t like this was going to be a socialcall, he couldn’t convince himself that there wasn’t a ton of work to be done before she arrived.
He stirred the oatmeal he was making for Owen and added the extra brown sugar he usually denied the boy, saying it wasn’t good for him to have that much. Right now, all he cared about was that Owen was eating and holding down his food. A little extra sugar didn’t give him a moment’s hesitation.
Cooking in the cabin was second nature to him, by now. He had a white, antique, wood-burning stove that worked better than any electric one he’d ever had. His sink was old but deep and wide—easy to wash large stock pots in after making preserves that would last through the winter. Maybe the porcelain was chipped in places, but it had worked fine and never given him any trouble. The walls were bare wood, nothing fancy. The dining table was pretty well beat up compared to others he had seen in his life.
But Cal’s cabin was cozy and warm. It had sheltered them through winters and felt like the safest place in the world. He had always been proud of his cabin in the woods. It was the best home he could have built for his son, who was happy, intelligent, and well adjusted, in his opinion. All of a sudden, though, he was ashamed of his own home. Because of some nurse? It made no sense. Cal resolved to not care what she thought of his cabin. He would go about his day exactly the way he normally did and not worry himself about what some random woman thought of his housekeeping.
He brought Owen a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice. The boy was sitting up in bed, flipping through his favorite picture book. He looked like a little adult, and Cal was so proud of him. If Owen was what April was really coming to see, Cal hadnothing to worry about. Owen was, beyond a doubt, the best kid in town, bar none.
“Do you want to try some oatmeal?” Cal asked, setting the orange juice on the nightstand.
Owen raised his eyebrows at his father. “Does it have extra brown sugar?”
“Obviously.” Cal grinned. “You don’t think I would have forgotten the extra sugar, do you?”
“Yes,” Owen answered while Cal pretended to be offended. “You always say no.”
“This time’s different,” Cal said. “This time you need to get better.” He handed the bowl of oatmeal to Owen, who took an extra small test bite. “As long as you’re eating, I’m happy.”
Owen cracked a mischievous grin. “I should get sick more,” he said.
Cal leaned over and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Don’t you dare. We’re not going back to that clinic just so you can have more sugar.”
Instead of the pout Cal expected, Owen stuffed another bite of oatmeal in his mouth and asked, “Did you feed Georgie today?”
Cal shook his head. “I thought you might like to feed her when you’ve finished your breakfast.”
Owen narrowed his eyes.
Cal didn’t wait for Owen to respond. “So, you’d better finish that up. Then, we can go pick out a carrot.”
Owen started stuffing spoonfuls into his mouth, and Cal was sure he was going to make himself sick just from eating too fast.
“Slow down there, chief,” he said. “You have to hold it down. Georgie will be OK until you’re done. She’s a mom, remember? She’ll understand that we have to get you better first.”
For the most part, Cal was pretty good at predicting the little things his son would say, do, or the random questions he would ask. But this time, he was caught off guard when Owen muttered, “I wish I had a mom,” and Cal’s heart broke to hear it.
The truth was, Cal would have loved a partner to raise his son with. Of course he would. But he had already chosen her, won her, and lost her. The pain of going through that had driven him to avoid any more close relationships. Owen was the last one he allowed himself. He was terrified of losing another person he loved. His solution to that predicament was to avoid loving another person. Then the loss would never happen. It was a ridiculous strategy—he knew it was—but he couldn’t help it. He was a person with strong instincts, and it was too hard to go against those instincts, even if they seemed ridiculous.
But was it fair to deprive Owen of something so essential as a mother simply because Cal didn’t want to get hurt again? He couldn’t answer that question honestly without admitting something he didn’t want to admit. So, he focused on encouraging Owen to finish his breakfast, taking his dishes when he was done, and getting him dressed to go feed the rabbits.
Owen was too quiet while he chose his carrot, and Cal felt bad that he hadn’t been able to shake the awful way the boy’s confession had made him feel. Clearly, Owen had noticed, and Cal wished he hadn’t. A boy his age should feel comfortable voicing his concerns, wishes, and dissatisfactions without fear of judgment or too much consequence. Cal’s efforts to hide how he felt had clearly failed. He wished he was better at it, but if he washonest, he had always been the kind of guy who wore his heart on his sleeve.
