A Heart of Time (3 page)

This isn’t happening.
This can’t be real. Someone please tell me this isn’t real. Everything inside of me is screaming with an alarm of panic. My mind doesn’t understand what I’m about to do. My mind doesn’t know how to say goodbye to the love of my life. I shouldn’t have to say goodbye. I can’t.

“Ellie,” I say sweetly as if my calm, soothing voice will pull her back to me. “You don’t understand, baby. I can’t do this. Life. I can’t do this without you.” My words in the form of a plea go unheard, unanswered, ignored by God, Ellie, and anyone and anything that was ever supposed to support me. This isn’t fair.
This isn’t fair
. “Ellie, I need you. We need you. Please, come back.”

CHAPTER TWO

I’m pacing in
circles around the living room, desperately searching for a neon blue backpack. How can something that bright just disappear? God, she’s going to be late for her first day of kindergarten and I will have already failed before the school year begins. “Olive?” I call out. “Have you seen your backpack?”

I yank up the cushions on the couch, knowing the bag can’t exactly fit under here but I’m running out of places to look. I’m freaking out right now. That’s what this is. I’m definitely freaking out because I’m not ready to send her to school. She’s too young. She’s not ready. She won’t want to let go of me. I should just homeschool her—maybe that would be best, but then I’d have to quit working with AJ, and he’d kill me if I did that. Not to mention that Olive and I would both starve.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” Olive asks, in her squeaky little voice. I turn around, dropping the cushion down. “Did you lose something?” She walks toward me with her backpack firmly perched on her shoulders, lunch bag in hand and wearing a smile that tells me she’s not nervous to leave me. It’s me who doesn’t want to let go of
her
, not the other way around. Having her with me for these last five years has been my lifeline...my way to keep a piece of Ellie near me. My heart aches for a brief minute as I stare through her, imagining what this moment would be like if Ellie were here. Would Ellie be crying? Probably, but she’d also be excited for Olive, and she would help me be brave as we send our little girl off to her first day of kindergarten. At least I know she would approve of the eye-blinding blue backpack. It was her favorite color, too.

“Nope, I didn’t lose anything. I was just straightening up.”

“No,” she croons with a toothy smile. “You were looking for my backpack.” I swear there is a twenty-year-old living inside of my five-year-old. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’m going to be okay today. And so will you. I made you lunch and breakfast. And I plugged your phone into the charger because the battery bar turned red.”

I kneel down and open my arms up, waiting for her to run to me like she always does. “You made me lunch and breakfast?” I ask as I tighten my arms around her tiny body.

“Yup. I made you cereal for breakfast and bread and mayonnaise for lunch. Now you won’t have to make lunch by yourself today.” A tiny breath escapes her lips and her eyes look at me with as much seriousness as a five-year-old could muster up. “You told me yesterday that you would be sad not having anyone to help you make lunch while I’m at school, and I didn’t want you to be sad.”

My chest tightens a little more. “You are the most thoughtful little girl in the world, Olive. Thank you for making me meals.” Her wet lips press against my cheek and her hands squeeze against my back.

“We’re going to miss the bus,” she says. I look up at the clock, seeing we have five minutes to get to the bus stop down the street, so I scoop her up and head out the door. I don’t want to let her go. I’ve kept her by my side for five years. And to show for that, she’s probably the only five-year-old who could install a carpet with her eyes closed. Every day has been a “bring-your-child-to-work day” and I’ve loved it. Today will be the first job without her next to me in five years.

By the time we reach the end of the driveway, AJ is pulling in. His window is down and his head is craned out of the window. “Is my big girl finally going to school today?” he shouts over.

“Uncle AJ!” she shouts, wriggling herself free from my arms so she can run to his truck. “I’m going to school!”

AJ throws the truck into park, hops out and swings his arms around Olive. It’s seconds before she’s sitting on his shoulders. “You are going to have the best day, little girl.” He tickles her senselessly until she’s hanging upside down and completely out of breath.

“We’re going to miss the bus,” I tell him.

“Well, Mr. Serious Pants said I have to put you down,” AJ says in a mockingly deep voice. “Can’t miss the bus on your first day, Ollie-Lolly.” With one last giggle, Olive runs back to my side, slipping her hand into mine.

“Come’on, Daddy,” she drawls.

“I’ll be back in twenty,” I tell AJ.

“I’m heading right over to the job site. Just meet me over there when you’re ready,” AJ says. I give him a quick nod and continue toward the bus stop. “Hey, Hunt.”

I look back at AJ as we continue to walk. “Yeah?”

“She’s going to be great, bro. Don’t worry.” AJ is a man of many words, but most of them are filled with humor, sarcasm, or things I don’t need to hear. It makes up for my serious disposition, but when he says something from the heart, it means a lot.

“Thank you,” I say, waving over my head.

“I’m excited,” Olive says as we approach the bus stop.

“I’m going to miss you today,” I tell her, taking in the scene of a half dozen moms and what must be ten kids.
What if the bus driver doesn’t see her get on?

“It’s just kindergarten,” she whispers into my ear.

I chuckle against her cheek and place her down. She’s quick to take off, throwing her backpack to the ground so she can join the other kids running across the grassy area. She doesn’t know any of them but she doesn’t care. Olive makes friends with everyone she meets, just like Ellie did. I could learn a thing or two from my intelligent daughter.

“Hi there,” one of the moms says as she approaches me with her hand outstretched. “Are you new to the neighborhood?”

I clear my throat from what feels like a gummy substance lodged between my tongue and tonsils.
Keep your shit together, Hunter.
“Yeah, ah, Olive and I just moved in a few weeks ago,” I manage to get out while shaking her hand—her warm, inviting, and surprisingly strong hand.

“Oh, you’re the new neighbors in the yellow house?” she says, pointing down in the direction we walked from. I don’t look to where she’s pointing, though, since the wind blowing through her long, auburn hair seems to have caught my attention.

“Yes, Ma’am, we are.”
Ma’am? Really? Smooth.

She chuckles quietly. “I’m Charlotte Drake. Welcome!” With an awkward pause because I can’t figure out how to say my name, she continues, “Well, I’m sure you and your wife will be happy here. This is a wonderful neighborhood to raise a family as you can clearly see.” She emphasizes her statement by looking back at all the children playing.

My wife
…my wife who should be here with us today, but isn’t. And just like that, I’m reminded how nothing about this day is as it should be. A pain forms in my stomach at yet another thought of what can never be. I don’t know how many important events in Olive’s life will be stolen from Ellie…from us as a family, but with as many as I can count so far, it is still as heartbreaking every time we experience another first. Ellie would have been so proud of Olive today…to see what an amazing little girl she is already becoming.

Charlotte’s words are innocent, but they pack a punch harder than I’ve felt in a while. It’s not like I haven’t gotten the single dad questions before, but today I didn’t need a reminder that our family is broken. I was also hoping a new neighborhood would mean a fresh start, a life without sympathetic looks and the outpouring offers of help. Although appreciated, I wish everyone would give me the benefit of the doubt and realize I can handle things. At least, I say I can handle things, although some things I’m still not great at.

“It’s just Olive and me, actually,” I say, offering her this peephole of information—information I’m only giving because I know it won’t remain hidden for long here anyway. My response causes her to loosen her grip and slide her hand out from mine.

“Oh,” she groans, her captivating lake-blue eyes squinting tightly as if she wants to punish herself for accusing me of having a normal life. “A divorce. They’re horrible. I just went through one myself. At least the asshole left me the house.” She lets out a loud sigh and covers her face with her hands. “Sorry. TMI.” Her eyes for a brief moment and she drops her hands down by her sides. “Anyway, it’s been a long summer, and I was starting to feel like the only one in this neighborhood among the fifty other happily married couples. You know, we should start a divorcee club here. Right? We should. That should be a thing.”

Her rambling is humorous and so are her assumptions of me being divorced. I have, in fact, tried to convince myself over the past five years that I’ve been going through a horrible divorce. I have even tried to make myself believe I hate Ellie and this was my only option. But in no world could I ever hate her. “I’m actually not divorced,” I say. “My wife and I had a great marriage.” Charlotte looks dazed for only a second before her pretty eyes grow wide. The meaning of “had a great marriage” and not being divorced must have clicked in her head.

“Oh my God,” she breathes. Placing her hand over my shoulder, she pulls in a sharp breath and asks, “Did your wife—did she—?”
There’s no beating around the bush with this one.

Again, I have to do
the
nod and force my lips into a straight line across my face, hoping she doesn’t force out any further details. I’m not sure if it’s normal or not, but even though an entire five years has passed, it doesn’t matter how many times this question has been asked, everything inside of me still aches the same way it did that night I had to say goodbye. After this long, I think it’s safe to say this pain will never go away but I don’t think it should, and I’m not sure I want it to. Ellie’s missing out on the life we were supposed to live together. I get to live it and she doesn’t. I
should
feel the pain for her. “She’s no longer with us,” I say, looking past her, watching Olive’s unbreakable smile as she holds an invisible microphone up to her lips and belts out the new Taylor Swift song she’s had me playing for her on repeat.

When I refocus my attention on Charlotte, leaving the moment of despair behind me, I find her with her hands clasped over her heart. “That little girl is lucky to have you,” she says. “You’re a good man. I hope you know that.”

I’m a good man for taking care of my daughter? She turns around and calls her daughter over, then Olive, too. Her daughter looks like she might be a bit older than Olive, but probably no more than a year. Both girls come running and Charlotte kneels down in front of them. “Lana, today is Olive’s first day of school. Will you sit with her on the bus?”

“Mom,” Lana says, exasperated. “We’re already new best friends.” Lana giggles and snatches up Olive’s hand. “Olive is so funny.”

“Yeah, we’re already friends, and you know what?” Olive says with delight. “We live right across the street from each other. Isn’t that great, Daddy?” I look up at Charlotte, wondering why she failed to mention living across from the “new neighbors.” I guess maybe it is because we’ve been hermits since we moved in, and with the car in the garage, we haven’t been out front much.

“That’s great, girls. I’m so glad,” Charlotte says.

The yellow monster coming to steal my daughter catches my eye and I know now that I have to come to terms with letting her go. “The bus is coming,” I tell them. The sinking pit hits the bottom of my stomach as the bus comes to a screeching halt. I’m supposed to let Olive climb onto this contraption that some random person is driving and let her go off, alone, to God knows where.
I can’t do this
. I grab Olive and hold her against me, running my fingers through her blond curls. It takes all the courage I can conjure to say, “You’re going to have so much fun today, and I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back. Okay?” I place a kiss on her cheek and squeeze her a little harder.

She kisses me back and pulls her bag over her shoulders. “Don’t forget to eat your breakfast,” is the last thing she says before making the hike up the three mountainous steps of the bus. My throat is tight and my heart is pounding, but I have to control myself—if not for Olive’s sake, then for the fact that I’m surrounded by six smiling women. Why are they all looking at me the way they are? And why do I feel like a little girl whose balloon just popped?

I watch through the windows of the bus as Olive plops down in the second seat. She’s so tiny, I can only see the top of her head above the windowsill. I can’t see her face. I can’t tell if she’s scared or happy. She has to be happy.
She has to be
. As the bus door closes, her hand slowly pokes up above her head and she waves—this slow, unsure wave.
Shit...that does it.
I’m done. I turn around, avoiding goodbyes, as well as the staring faces of all the moms looking at me like I’m crazy, and I jog down the hill toward the house.