Southern Sunshine (Southern 8)

"Did you do the back also?" he asks, and my eyes roam the backyard again, hoping to see Hazel there, but I don’t.

"We did around the deck," I tell him. “But that deck in the back is rotten. I’m surprised no one has gone through it."

"Shit,” he says. “That’s what I thought when I saw it." He nods at me and turns to walk away.

"Hey, Grandpa." I stop him, and he looks over at me. “What’s the story with Sofia?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"How old is she?" I ask, and he shrugs.

"Why wouldn’t her father be here?" I ask. “If his daughter is here, why isn’t he?"

I stand here, and he crosses his arms over his chest, looking at me. “I don’t know, Reed," he answers me. “What I do know is that little girl is a spitfire. Got on the horse for the first time today, and I swear to God. She looked over at me, she tucked in tight, and she was ready to go race him. She’s got country in her." He smiles proudly. "Pops would be proud,” he says, turning to walk back to the house.

I walk out of the barn, seeing my mother there. “Hey, Mom," I say. “Is Hazel around?"

"Um, I think she left." She looks around. “Have you met Sofia?"

"Yeah," I say, looking around.

"She called me Mrs. Princess," my mother says, putting her hand around my waist. I look down at her and put my hand around her. "It’s so good having you home." I don’t say anything to her because right now, my mind is at a house five minutes from here.

Chapter 14

Hazel

I walk out of the yard as fast as I can without it looking like I’m fleeing a crime scene. I smile at people as we walk out with Sofia's hand in mine. "Come on,” I say to her, helping her get into the truck. I am not going to lie; the whole time, I thought Reed was going to come running and stop me. The fear that he makes a scene is too much to think about. I buckle her in and get into the truck and drive away. My eyes go to the rearview mirror to see if Reed is chasing the car.

I’m so nervous I’m shaking, and when I pull up in the driveway, I stop and look at the flower bed. “What in the dickens?” I say, seeing that all the weeds are gone. I put the truck in park, my eyes just looking at where the five-foot weeds were before we left. “Who?" I say, getting out of the truck and looking at it again to make sure my eyes are not playing tricks on me. Sofia knocks on the back window, and I walk over and open the door for her.

"You forgot me,” she huffs out, and I just shake my head.

"Never,” I say, and she walks ahead of me and stops.

"You did it, Mom,” she says. “You cleaned all the fucking weeds."

"Don’t say that." I point at her. “That is a bad word."

"I’m hungry," she says, walking up the front steps. I follow her and look over to see that fresh earth was put down also along with mulch. "Can you make me an egg to dig?"

She can never remember over easy. “Yeah,” I say, ignoring all the questions spinning around in my head. "Go wash your hands,” I say when I walk into the house and close the door behind me. She kicks off her rubber boots and leaves them at the front door. “You need a bath,” I say, seeing her legs are dusty. “Let’s get you a quick shower, and I’ll make food after."

She walks up the stairs and undresses while I start the shower. She gets in, and I walk into the bedroom and sit on the bed for a second. My legs are still shaky from today. “It was not a good idea," I tell myself. “You’re playing with fire." But seeing her with her cousins and with Billy, it was everything. The tears come now. When I was younger, it was my dream to be a part of a big family. It was everything I wished for. Now don’t get me wrong, I loved my family. I loved that it was just Pops and me. But on Sundays, when we would go, I would wonder what it would be like.

"Momma." I hear her yelling. “I’m clean."

I wipe the tears away and walk back into the bathroom and dry her off. "There you go,” I say, and she puts on her clothes. "Now, let’s go eat."

She nods at me and walks down in front of me. She walks over to the kitchen table, grabbing her coloring book and coloring while I make her something to eat.

"Momma, did you ride horses?" she asks, and I look over at her.