“We’re all so very different.”
“That’s true.” He glanced toward the house.
“Nathan is getting me a drink,” she said. She pressed down the mud on the patch and hoped the grass would grow over the nice little indent she’d created. Once done, she stood and glanced up at her father. He was always so much taller than her. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s not a nice way of saying hi to your father.”
She chuckled. “Dad, in the past four years of me living here, you’ve rarely come around for a visit. What gives?”
He sighed. “I was just looking forward to visiting with my daughter. Is that such a shock?”
“Not a shock. You normally have better things to do.”
“Now you’re being hurtful.”
“I’m telling you the truth. It sucks, doesn’t it?” She reached down, picked up the now-dead leaves, and carried them toward the compost bin. She was doing everything she could for the environment. Composting, avoiding plastics, eating healthy. Nathan liked to do his part for the planet as well. It was their little adventure. For every plastic not bought, or at least recycled, was another that didn’t end up in landfills or the ocean. One day her son wanted to be a pirate, but a good one. The kind that went around helping sea life out of man-made products. It was where he was going to find himself a nice mermaid and marry her.
It was one of her son’s many dreams and as usual, she didn’t have the heart to tell him mermaids didn’t actually exist. She hoped he’d go to high school, see a sweetheart who she’d hate, and they’d take it from there.
“Grandpa!” Nathan let out a squeal as he ran out of the house. Of course, he didn’t pay any attention to the lemonade he spilled over the side of the glass.
Tabitha took both glasses out of her son’s hands, laughing at how little was in them as he threw himself at Tiny.
Her father wrapped his arms around him and held him close. This moment was always a double-edged sword for her. She loved that Tiny had gotten over his issues with Nathan, but at the same time, it reminded her of how he wasn’t accepted in the early years of his life. She doubted he would be if it was left to other club members. This was why Angel deserved the right to be the President’s wife. She was an amazing woman.
There was a time she truly thought Angel was a little too weak to play the role by Lash’s side. Now, though, she saw the inner strength in the other woman and was glad for it. Even her own mother hadn’t been quite so accommodating with Nathan. Still, that was for her to know, not Nathan.
“You’re dirty.”
“I’ve been gardening.”
“Your mom’s got you out here gardening?”
“Yep. We’ve got to make it all look pretty so the bees come. We’re helping the bees.”
Tabitha chuckled. “And you’re doing a wonderful job. I’m going to go and fill up our glasses. Head around the back for me. You know I don’t like you out here all alone.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Nathan wriggled out of Tiny’s arms, made a dash for his little gardening bag, and headed toward the fence. He reached the string, gave it a tug, and the gate opened.
She walked over, locking it before heading into the house. Her father followed close behind.
“This must be a very important visit if I’m going to have your company for a lot longer than a few minutes. I’m going to fire up the grill. You want something?”
“Is it real meat or that fake stuff?”
She laughed again. Ever since she and Daisy agreed to not eat meat, she’d never gone back. Of course, there were plenty of options at the supermarket. Nathan happened to love them as well, so she never bought actual meat.
“It’s the fake stuff that you love.” A couple of years ago, Angel got fed up with all the guys complaining about how difficult she and Daisy were being. At a clubhouse cookout, she served them all plant-meat, and well, they were all shocked into loving it. Of course, Adam, the British member, said he could tell the difference. They all knew he was lying.
Tiny snorted. “I’d love to stay.”
“Great, I’ve got potato salad and macaroni salad as well. Both are going to be delicious.” She headed to the kitchen, putting the glasses into the bowl of water and washing them. She always kept a bowl full, ready to wash anything.
Having an accident-prone son, she was always cleaning up his messes. Again, it wasn’t something she minded doing. She’d also learned to have a medical kit of Band-Aids and antibacterial wipes just in case. He liked to scrape his knees, knock up his elbows, and the worst was bruising his cheek from falling down on a toy. That one had scared the hell out of her.
Tiny pulled out a chair at the table. She filled up three glasses, handing one to her father before taking the other out to the small table for Nathan, who drank it in a few gulps and disappeared again back into one of the flower beds.
From the kitchen, she could keep an eye on him.
She’d drained the potatoes for the salad and had allowed them to cool down while she’d been out in the garden. Taking out some celery, herbs, and dressing ingredients, she got to chopping them up as Tiny sat at the chair.
“Dad, you may as well come out with it, whatever it is.”
“Simon.”
She paused in her cutting. “What about him?”
“He’s been seen.”
“Of course he has.” In the past five years, there had been a few rare sightings of the man who’d crushed her heart. She tried not to think of just how painful that moment had been when he’d walked away from her. She didn’t want to think about it or remember it. That night would forever be one of the worst of her existence.
She finished chopping, putting her ingredients into a bowl. Angel was all about the measuring, whereas she liked to just go with the flow. No measuring. Going by eye and taste. She added the mayonnaise, a few dashes of vinegar, and her personal favorite, some pickles, which she’d diced up.
She poured all the potatoes into a bowl and gave it a nice big stir, making sure everything was evenly covered.
It looked lovely and she took a bite. Closing her eyes, she was happy.
Next, the macaroni salad.
“Honey, are you even going to listen to me?”
She went to the fridge, finding the rest of the ingredients for the next salad, and paused to look at him. “Why do I need to listen to you? So he’s been seen again. There’s nothing you guys are going to do about it. The first year he was gone, I begged you to go and find him, and you refused.”
“It wasn’t like that. We were still dealing with the fallout of him killing—”
“Don’t say his name.” She held up her hand for him to stop.
“Honey, have you ever considered going to therapy?”
She burst out laughing. “When I go and talk to a bunch of people I don’t know to tell them about my pain? No, thank you.”
“You’ve never spoken to anyone about what happened.”
“Because I don’t need to. I don’t need to do any of this.” She put the tomatoes and cucumbers on the counter.
After pulling out a fresh bowl, along with the jar of olives, she got to work chopping, trying to ignore the pain in her body.