Chapter 27
It was nearing four o’clock that afternoon when Travis and Liv got back to their hotel. Liv immediately vanished into her room, saying she was going to get some sleep before dinner, though they had made no plans for dinner at the time. Travis took a shower to wash the afternoon sweat off and then he reclined on his double bed to call his son.
“Daddy!” Tristan yelled into the phone. “A’nt Chissie buy me spa’k’er!”
Travis smiled, as he always did when hearing his son’s voice over the phone. “She bought you a what?”
“Spa’k’er!”
“What’s a spa’k’er?”
“Long stick! Pretty colors! Hot! Don’t touch spa’k’er!”
Travis sat up quickly. “Wait...you mean a sparkler? You light it with fire and it gets all bright and sparkly and you get it from the fireworks store?”
“Yup! Spa’k’er!”
Travis’ blood ran cold. I’m going to kill A’nt Chissie! “Can I speak to Aunt Christy for a moment, please?”
“A’nt Chissie! Daddy talk to you!”
Christy came over the phone. “Yes, Mr. Overprotective?”
“You gave my two-year-old son a sparkler?! Are you out of your mind? He could get hurt!”
Christy laughed. “Relax, Travis. We’re not letting him wave them around. You know Joe. He’s just as cautious as you are, and he is a fireman. We took the kids out to Joe’s parents’ house for the day and passed a fireworks booth on the way. We let the kids pick out the colors, but they had to sit on the deck with Grand-Mommy and Grand-Daddy to just watch. Joe had about six fire extinguishers around him the whole time. And it was just sparklers, stuck in the ground when lit. No roman candles or big boomers.”
Travis pressed a palm to his racing heart and tried to calm his breathing.
Christy said, “You know, if you don’t trust me to keep my own nephew safe…”
“No, no, it’s not that,” Travis said. “I’m sorry, Christy. I do trust you. It’s just that...that he’s my son, and--”
“I know,” Christy said softly. “I’ll take good care of him while you’re gone. I promise, okay?”
"I really am sorry, Christy," he repeated. "I know I get carried away sometimes."
"Eh, don't sweat it," she said. "I'll let you get back to him, but first...I need some clarification on something. Who is Shosie? And why am I calling her right after his bath?"
Travis grinned at the far wall. "That would be Josie, and if you do forget to call her...well, actually, don't worry about that. Trist won't let you forget."
"Um...okay," Christy said uncertainly. "Well, here's Tristan again."
“Daddy?” Tristan said, and this time he didn’t yell.
“Yes, Little Man?”
“Daddy come home?”
“Tomorrow,” Travis said. “One bath and one sleep, I promise.”
“Daddy bring Shosie home?” Tristan asked in an oddly gentle tone for him. “Miss Daddy. Miss Shosie, Daddy.”
“I miss you, too, Tristan,” he said to his son. “And Aunt Christy will let you call Shosie later, okay?”
“Bring Shosie home, Daddy,” Tristan insisted.
Travis sighed. How was he to explain a funeral to a two-year-old, when it took six months to get him to understand a wedding? And even after all that, he’d still been confused. “Tristan,” Travis began, “I can’t bring Shosie home with me. She has to stay with her family. Her grandfather died. She’s very sad right now and needs to be with her grandmother.”
“Died? What died?”
“Shosie’s grandfather went to see God and Jesus in Heaven,” Travis said patiently. How did other parents explain this stuff? Did they wait until the kids were older? Did they sugar-coat it? Travis didn’t know. All he could do was what he knew. And honestly worked best with Tristan.
“Shosie see God?”
“No, Tristan. Shosie didn’t go to Heaven with her grandfather. She’ll be home in a few days. In four, maybe five, baths, okay?”
Tristan didn’t speak for a moment, but then he said, “Daddy bring Shosie home. I stay A’nt Chissie. Daddy bring Shosie home four baths. P’omise?”
Travis sighed quietly. “Tristan, I can’t bring Shosie home. I’m sorry, Little Man, but she has to stay with her mommy and daddy and grandmother, and I will be home tomorrow so we can watch the fireworks over the river before we go to the beach.”
"Shosie come to beach?"
"Sorry, buddy, but it's just you and me."
Tristan said, “Daddy stay with Shosie. Make Shosie happy, not sad. Bring Shosie home happy. Then go to beach.”
With a small smile, Travis asked, “And how am I supposed to make Shosie happy again?”
“Give Shosie cookie,” Tristan said decisively. “I happy with cookie. And give Shosie hug. Hug make Mommy happy. Hug, big cookie. What make you happy, Daddy?”
Travis laughed to himself. His Little Man was too young to be this smart and understanding. “I like hugs and cookies, too.”
“Give Shosie hug and cookie. Big, big cookie,” Tristan said. “Make Shosie happy.”
“I will see what I can do,” Travis said. “But I am still coming home tomorrow. And Shosie will still be home in four baths.”
“Daddy not listen,” Tristan said stubbornly. “Open ears, Daddy. Bring Shosie home, too.”
“Tristan, all I can promise is that I will give Shosie a hug and a cookie, okay? I cannot bring her home.”
Tristan huffed, and Travis could almost see him rolling his eyes like Arielle does. “Okay...give Shosie hug and cookie. I call her! She happy with cookie, okay? P’omise?”
Travis glanced at his watch. He had roughly two hours to take a cookie to Josie before the bath call. “Yeah, I promise. Shosie will have a hug and a cookie when you call her, and she will be happy.”
"Big cookie."
"Yes," Travis chuckled. "The biggest cookie I can find."
“Okay,” Tristan said. “I eat hot dog, more spa’kler, and take bath. Shosie happy!”
Laughing now, Travis said, “Okay...Shosie will be happy when you call.”
“Love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too, Little Man,” Travis said, his heart near to bursting, and a thud came through the phone as Tristan dropped it -- bad habit of his -- and Christy came back on the line.
“Sooo...you’ve gotta give Shosie a hug and a cookie before bath, right?” Christy asked, a snicker in her voice.
“Don’t make fun,” Travis said, “And don’t give him an early bath. I’ve got to find a cookie big enough to make Shosie happy and figure out where she is at the moment.”
“The joys of parenting,” Christy said. “I remember separating one hundred green M&M’s from a dozen bags for my daughter’s 100 Days of School celebration. But I got a hug and a kiss for my efforts.”
Travis thought about what Josie said to him in that tree. “Just put off that bath for as long as possible.”
“We do have a ton of sparklers we can light,” Christy said. “I might even convince Tristan that they’re prettier after the sun goes down.”
“Yeah...good luck with that,” Travis said. “I’ll call you later when it’s bedtime.”
“Well...if you’re busy eating cookies and sharing hugs at the time, don’t stop just to say goodnight. You can call us in the morning...or late morning.”
“Goodbye, Christy,” Travis said, thinking, You’re too much like your sister. And Christy sang, “Goodbye, Travis...have fun eating cookies.” And she hung up.
With a weary breath, Travis dropped his head back against the headboard. The things I do for that boy. For a few minutes in his mind, he formulated a plan. Damn, Arielle’s starting to rub off on me.
Okay...cookie -- no, BIG cookie, find out where Josie used to live here in town if she's not still at her grandmother's, drop off the cookie, try for a casual hug, make sure she needs to be chipper when Trist called later, and be back in time for dinner. No problem.
Except...where the hell was he supposed to get a cookie big enough to make a two-year-old happy, and where the hell did Josie’s parents live?
He picked up the hotel phone and called Liv’s room. “I’m not waking you up from your nap, am I?” he asked when she answered.
“No,” she said heavily. “Too wound up to sleep.”
“Just wondering what you wanted to do about dinner,” he said, working his way toward the true reason for his call.
“I think I’ll just order from the kitchen here,” she said. “You can go out or order in, or do whatever.”
Well, that messed up the last part of his plan, but that was okay. He’d make do. “Actually, I need to run out and take care of a few things,” he said to her, and she asked, “What do you have to take care of in Conway? You’ve been here twice in your lifetime.”
So, Travis explained his conversation with Tristan. “I can look up Hannah’s address, I guess,” he told Liv, “but I don’t even know where to begin to look for a giant cookie, and it has to be a cookie. You know how Trist is. He’s willing to compromise, but if it’s not exactly what he had planned, then it just isn’t good enough.”
“Sounds like his mother,” Liv said, laughter in her voice. “I know Hannah’s address, and you should be able to find one of those cookie cakes at a grocery store bakery section. You know what this means, right?”
“No, what?”
Livie snickered into the phone. “What happened the last time you tried to make a woman happy?”
“What do you mean -- oh. Right.” The result of that endeavor was the reason he was about to go searching for a giant cookie. “Well, I’m not going to sleep with her,” he said resolutely. “I’m just trying to make Tristan happy. That’s it.”
“You don’t want Josie to be happy, too?”
“Yes, but--”
Livie laughed. “I’ll text you Hannah’s address, and I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Check out time is eleven o’clock. Try not to be late.” Then she hung up, and a few minutes later, his cell phone buzzed with the address.
Travis stared at the text, procrastinating his errand. If he showed up at Josie’s door tonight, then what would she think? That he was, after all he said to her, willing to take her up on that treehouse promise? Which, in all honesty, sounded like a damn good way to spend the night, but he made a promise to himself three years ago when Arielle showed him the pink plus sign on her pregnancy test. No more casual flings with women. The next time he had sex, it would be for all the right reasons.
I won’t sleep with her tonight, he told himself as he gathered his keys and wallet. She gets a cookie and a hug. A big cookie. A small hug. He won’t put himself into a situation that would warrant any further touching. Definitely no kissing. They weren't far enough into a relationship for sex.
A quick in and out. Oh, and she’d probably be at her parents’ house by now anyway, so Hannah and her father would be there. That took care of that issue. Problem solved. Josie wouldn’t try to seduce him with her daddy around...right?
Nah, she respected her parents too much to attempt anything like that. Travis was saved. Not that he wasn’t tempted, but not here, not now. And not for the wrong reasons.
With that in mind, he found a nearby grocery store, bought the only giant cookie cake on the shelf, and entered the address into his gps to find Josie’s childhood home. But when he pulled up outside of a pink, Victorian-style house and saw only Josie’s car in the drive, he started sweating.
Please let Hannah or Justin be home...hell, I’ll take a brother or sister. Even Bianca... Because if it was only Josie in there…
Cookie, small hug, smile, explain about Tristan...no sex…
Even if she changed her mind...no sex. Even if she changed her mind and turns into the Princess and tries her tricks on me...no sex. Even if she's been crying...definitely no sex that way. I won’t do that again.
With every step up to the porch, passing elegant rose bushes lining the front of the house, Travis chanted mutely to himself. No sex...no sex...with Josie...silky blonde hair falling over her naked shoulders, green eyes shining up at him, the way her body could bend and arch…that star tattoo, those coconuts...
Shit...No Sex, dammit!
He hefted the cookie box in one hand and pushed the doorbell with the other. Through the door, he could hear Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ In The Wind” playing. Nice. Travis had always been a Dylan fan. Not many singers nowadays could breath a soul into a song like Bob.
The door swung open, making Bob’s voice louder, and Josie stood there, wearing the shirt and shorts from earlier, but her hair was knotted on top of her head, and she had a smudge of something black on her chin and dust on her clothes. But she smiled beautifully as she said, “Travis, what brings you here? Did you bring pizza?”
And Travis mentally said, I’m not here to sleep with you.
*****
Just ten minutes before Travis showed up at her doorstep, Josie finished a strenuous yoga routine of alternating Sun and Moon Salutations, and she dropped to the middle of her mat, breathing with focus and staring at the boxes she already packed. It was a lot. How did I accumulate so much stuff? And where was she going to put it all when she got back to Memphis? Her apartment wasn’t big enough.
“I’ll just have to put it in storage,” she said to herself. Maybe later, she’d have time to go through it better and figure out what to keep and what to donate.
The last of Lou Reed’s Transformer album ended, and Josie wearily dragged herself over to the old turntable she dug out of her parents’ closet. She gingerly removed the vinyl record and slid it back into its sleeve before flipping through Grandpa’s collection to find another album to listen to. It soothed her heart, letting the music play as she worked. Her grandfather hadn’t been just a random buyer of vinyl records. There were some rare and rather valuable pieces here. That Transformer album was worth a pretty penny to the right enthusiast. Not to mention the Bob Dylan record she plucked from the box and placed on the player.
Grandpa knew good music when he heard it. His record collection was diverse, ranging from early country-western to British pop from the eighties. Josie had been swimming through the records for the last week, in Memphis and bringing them with her when she returned on Saturday. The music helped so much. Music always had when times got rough. Learning to play the guitar helped her through the hardest -- and best -- summerof her life, the one when her dad fell in love with Hannah and she first met Travis. Music was her band-aid.
And listening to the music her grandfather loved made Josie's sorrow easier to bear.
As the great Mr. Dylan belted out, "Blowin’ In The Wind," the doorbell rang. Josie hopped up to peer through a window. There, behind her car, was a shiny, brand-spanking- new, red truck.
She smiled. Travis.
Trotting down the stairs, Josie could see his silhouette through the frosted glass of the front door. He shifted from side to side, holding a flat box in one hand. She paused a moment to check her reflection in the hall mirror. Ugh...oh, well. Josie smoothed a flyway strand of hair from her hasty knot and opened the door. “Travis...what brings you here? Did you bring pizza?”
He blinked at her, frozen for a moment, and then he shoved the box at her and said, “Oh, um, not pizza. That’s from Tristan. Cookies make everyone feel better, he thinks.”
Josie quirked a small frowned as she smiled and took the box. Through the clear plastic hole in the lid, she saw a giant chocolate cookie with the words, Happy Birthday, written in blue icing. “Um...thanks. It’s not my birthday, you know.”
“It’s the only one they had,” he explained, shifting his weight nervously again. “I had to explain to Trist that your grandfather passed away and won’t be home for a while. It’s his way of trying to make you happy again.”
She smoothed her palm over the plastic. “He’s so sweet.” She looked up at him. “And you’re sweet for bringing it over. Want to come in?”
“Um...thanks, but no,” he said, backing away. “I’m sure you’re busy, and--”
“I’m not doing anything important,” Josie said easily and moved over. “Please...come inside for a while. Where’s Livie?”
“Still resting,” he said, peering into her house warily. “Where’s your mom and dad?”
“They’re staying with Grandma tonight,” Josie answered, and his cheeks turned a shade paler.
“And your brother and sisters?” he asked, his voice cracking.
Josie eyed him curiously. “They went to the lake with Kim and Mark and the cousins, to get away from town for a few days. It’s hotter than hell out there. Come inside, Travis.”
“I just...I don’t…” He blinked up into her eyes again. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
He opened his mouth again, but in the silence of his pause, Bob Dylan finished “Blowin’ In The Wind” and the needle emitted out a slight, familiar static before sliding into “Girl From The North Country.” And Travis got a weird look on his face. “Is that...a record I’m hearing?”
Josie glanced behind her up the stairway. “Yeah...it was my grandpa’s.”
“‘The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan’?” he asked, stepping toward her again and following her gaze upstairs.
“Yup...his second album. Why?”
He looked at her again. “Are you serious? Is it original?”
“Yeah…”
“With the original sleeve?”
Now Josie smiled. “Yes.” If she couldn’t get Travis into her house, then maybe Bob and her grandpa can. “Want to see it? I also inherited a couple of others you might be interested in seeing.”
“What others?”
“Lou Reed’s Transformer album, a few Carter Family albums, some Beatles, some old swing records...and one God Save The Queen record that I’m almost too scared to play for fear of scratching it.”
He stepped closer again. “Are you shitting me? Your grandfather had all those?”
“Apparently he had good taste in music,” she said and backed up from the door with a grin. “Want to come inside now?”
His eyes drifted up the stairs again. “Yeah...I do.”
I thought so, she said to herself and closed the door behind him. Thanks, Grandpa...music cures almost anything, doesn’t it?
Up the stairs and in her room, Travis followed her...or rather the croon of Bob's voice. Travis stopped in front of her record player, staring down at the black, rotating vinyl with a look of pure awe. "That...is incredible. I have all his records but that one. I had to get it on cd.”
Josie put the cookie on the bed and reached down for the record’s sleeve. “Here...it’s yours.”
“What? Are you crazy? Do you know how much that is worth?”
She shrugged and thrust the cover into his hands. “I like Bob, but you’re obviously a bigger fan. Grandpa would want you to have it.”
As if he had been handed the crown jewels, Travis gingerly held the cover as Bob finished “Girl From the North Country” and moved on to the next song. “Josie…”
“I insist,” she said. “And no more arguments.”
“I...I…” He raised his gaze to her. “Thank you.”
She smiled back, tilting her head. “You’re welcome.”
With a slow inhale, he carefully set the cover on the bed next to the cookie and looked around her room. “So...this is where you grew up, huh?”
Josie looked around, sadness filling her since her nights in the room were limited now. “Some of it. Before Daddy married Hannah, we lived in a condo Savannah. My room there was nothing like this.”
He walked over to her dresser, studying the pictures stuck to the mirror that she hadn’t gotten around to removing yet. “You had a pretty good life after that, didn’t you?” He seemed especially interested in the prom pictures from her junior and senior years in high school. She had gone with dates both times, but the boys back then had always been more like friends than boyfriends. Every boy since meeting Travis had been that way to her.
“I was happy,” she answered him. “Still am. But things change. They always do.”
His eyes strayed to the boxes piled up alongside one wall. “Yeah...I noticed. Moving more stuff?”
Josie opened the top of the cookie and picked off a chunk. “The twins have shared a room all their lives, but it’s time for them to have their own space. Jak is moving into this room, and I think Violet will move into his.”
He turned to her. “And where will you sleep when you come home?”
“The couch in the office downstairs has a fold-out bed. I’ll use that.”
Now his gaze strayed to the brass rail bed that had graced this room since Hannah’s grandparents lived here. “Are you taking the bed with you, too?”
Odd question. Josie said, “I’m not sure. It’s almost a sacrilege to take it. That bed has never moved from this room in over eighty years. I think it was a wedding present to Hannah’s grandmother, maybe? Then her father slept in it, and Hannah and Daddy before they remodeled the attic for their own room...it belongs here, but Jak is kind of picky about that kind of thing. I don’t know what Hannah will say if he decides he doesn’t want it.”
“Four generations have slept in that bed?” he asked, moving over to smooth his palm over the slightly dented, tarnished brass.
She had no idea where this subject had come from, but in a fit of mischievousness, she grinned and said, “Yup...a lot of babies were made there.” His hand snatched back to his side, and Josie laughed. “The mattress is only about five years old though,” she added, and he visibly relaxed. Then he grinned back at her.
“You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?”
“You make it so easy,” she replied blithely.
HIs beautiful brown eyes seared into her for a long while. Josie boldly stared back, only the corner of the brass bed and its foot rails separating them. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again today,” he said tensely.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you either,” she returned.
“Tristan insisted.”
“I like the way Tristan insists,” she said, a soft smile curving her lips. “He’s a smart little dude.”
“Sneaky.”
“Adorable.”
“Stubborn.”
“Enthusiastic.”
“He loves you, you know,” Travis said.
Josie nodded. “As I do him.”
Travis’ fingers closed in a fist by his side. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“I wasn’t going to ask,” she said, leaning a thigh against the mattress.
“Were you going to insist?”
Her laugh came out on its own. “No, Travis. I wasn’t going to insist. You’re free to leave whenever you please.”
His eyes darkened. “I don’t want to leave either.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” she said softly.
“Then I guess I’ll stay for a little while.”
Josie tore off another piece of the cookie and stuck in her mouth, chewing slowly. When she looked up at him again, he was watching her. “Well…” she said, “Since sex is out of the question, want to help me pack?”
He smiled. “Sure, Josie...I’d like that.”
“Alright then,” she said, pulling a stack of folded boxes from under her bed. “Dust, packing tape and the mystery corner of my closet...sounds like a party. You get the closet.”
*****