Birthday Girl

I laugh under my breath and shift into higher gear as we charge down the road. “Go for it.”

We listen to two songs on the way home, entering town, and taking a shortcut past the railroad bridge on the river to our right.

“Wow, look at that,” she says.

I sl

ow the truck and follow her gaze to the right, out her passenger side window, and see the river has risen considerably. Instead of the normal twenty feet of clearance between the bridge and the water, the water now rushes like a threat just below the bottom of the bridge. Thankfully, the rain has slowed, so it shouldn’t get any higher.

I step on the gas again, taking us home.

“That was fun,” she said. “Today, I mean.”

I raise my eyebrows and glance at her.

“I mean…” She blinks, correcting herself. “I don’t mean it was fun. I mean, I hope you didn’t get set behind or lose any money, but…” She inhales and exhales, turning her eyes back out her window. “A couple times I nearly felt like my life was almost in danger.”

She sounds entirely too pleased about that, too, and I can tell by her tone that she’s smiling.

“And that’s fun?” I question.

She turns her eyes back out the front windshield and shrugs, amusement pulling at the corner of her mouth.

I chuckle. “Yeah, it was fun. Thanks for helping. I’ll be sure to let you know when the next storm’s about to roll in, so you can get in on the action.”

“Cool.”

I continue driving down the highway and into our quiet town, turning left and then a sharp right into my neighborhood, content for the first time today. She’s a good kid. I hope Cole doesn’t screw it up, because I can already tell this is the kind of girl who would make a good mother and work by your side, building a life instead of draining you dry.

And for some reason it pleases me that she enjoyed herself today. No one in my family ever took much interest—or pride—in what I do for a living. My mother loves me, of course, as did my dad before he died, but they pushed so hard for me to go to college, and that was the plan until Cole came along.

It was always a disappointment that I stayed in this town and worked a job they thought required more brawn than brains.

When I started Lawson Construction, though—my own business—and built my own home, they still always looked at me like they wanted better but knew it was useless to say anything. They’d given up.

It wasn’t that they hated what I did or were unhappy with the man I’ve become. They mourned my missed opportunities and still worried about their son’s happiness. What they didn’t realize, though, is that I have my own son now and his happiness comes first.

And I actually love a lot of things about what I do. I get hours of fresh air every day, the sun, exercise…. It’s a good life. I sleep well at night. It’s nice to see someone else enjoy it like I do.

“My day is ruined now,” Jordan says. “Nothing will beat that.”

“Beat what?” I reply. “Getting doused in the rain?”

“And playing in the mud.”

I grin, shaking my head as I turn into my driveway. “That’s not playing in the mud.”

She turns to me. “Oh, you mean mudding? Is that why your truck looks all nasty?”

I scoff and turn off the car, shooting her a look. “Kid, if you can tell what color the paint is, then you’re not using your truck right. You got that?”

She rolls her eyes and opens her car door. We both hop out and make our way to the porch.

Come to think of it, if she didn’t mind getting wet and dirty today, she’d probably love mudding. I haven’t been in a long time. My truck only looks nasty because I never wash it. That’s not natural.

“Have you ever taken Cole?” she asks, climbing the steps.

“A few times while he was growing up, yeah.”