Tumble (Dogwood Lane 1)

While I serve up two bowls of spaghetti, Mia fills two glasses with ice water. Just as I’m carrying the food to the table, the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it,” Mia calls, hustling toward the door.

“Look out the window and see who it is before you . . .” I don’t get to finish the sentence before I hear Haley’s voice. In a few moments she and Mia come around the corner. “We were just going to eat. Want some?”

“What are we having?” she asks, looking at the table and wrinkling her nose. “Did you use jarred sauce again?”

“I’m out of your frozen fancy homemade stuff.”

“So that’s a yes to the jarred?”

I take my seat across from Mia and give my cousin a look. “Take it or leave it. I don’t care either way. But now you can make your own plate.”

“Fine, fine.” She serves herself while Mia gets her a drink, and a few seconds later, we’re finally in our seats. “Who is saying grace?”

Mia smiles. “Me.” She rattles off a simple prayer she’s used since she could pray. “Amen.”

“Amen,” we say.

The breakfast nook fills with the sound of silverware clattering against ceramic. We eat in peace for a while before I catch Haley looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

“What?” I ask, dipping my bread in the sauce.

“If you said to someone you needed a break, what would that mean?”

I look at my daughter. She’s busy making sure her spaghetti and garlic bread don’t touch. “You’re just going to dip it anyway. Why are you wasting your time?”

“Because it’ll be soggy if it sits there.” She looks at me like I’m stupid. “If I dip it, the bread is still nice and crunchy.”

A glimpse of the upcoming teenage years brushes through my mind, and I have a hard time not just taking her to her room and locking the door now. Before I can get too far with that line of thought, Haley speaks.

“So?” she asks. “What would it mean?”

“It would mean I didn’t want to see them for a while,” I say.

“Why?”

“That would depend.” I take a sip of water. “I’m guessing someone said that to you?”

“John, and I liked him.” She moans. “I thought he was The One—”

“No offense,” Mia interrupts. “But you thought Harry was The One too. And before him it was Noah.”

I tip my fork toward Mia. “And who was the hippie? What was his name?”

“Joel,” Mia says through a mouthful of spaghetti.

Haley winces. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Mia. And don’t remember everything either. You’re like an elephant.”

Mia giggles, stabbing her fork in the middle of the pile of spaghetti in her bowl. “Can I be excused? Remembering Joel the Hippie made me lose my appetite.”

“What are you talking about? You liked him.” Haley laughs.

Mia holds her hand so I can’t see her lips. “I know,” she whispers loud enough for me to hear. “But I really want to go watch TV.” She drops her hand and looks at me. “Please, Dad?”

I survey her bowl. “You can be excused, but get a shower before you do anything else. You smell like cereal from the fish.”

“Got it,” she says, scooting her chair back. “Thanks, Dad. Bye, Haley.”

“Bye, rascal. See you at church in the morning.”

Mia’s footsteps ascend the stairs as I take another bite of dinner. Haley pushes her food around her plate.

I shouldn’t ask her what’s wrong—it’ll devolve into a therapy session, and I really don’t want to figure out her problems. I have my hands full with mine. It’s strange how having a smile on your face as you cook dinner can be construed as a problem, but that’s reality for you.

I’ve worked my ass off to create a safe, happy life for Mia. She eats all the colors of a rainbow on most days. I took the bumper out of her crib when she was a baby because I read an article that said kids can get their faces into the padding and suffocate. She’s had swim lessons, and I don’t bring people in her life who aren’t good for her. Except Penn, of course, but he’s a good guy at heart.

The only thing I can’t get around is my Achilles’ heel. The chink in my armor. The one thing that screws me all up every time: Neely.

The day I accompanied Matt to her house to apologize was the start of a connection that’s never waned. Sure, it wasn’t romantic when it started—we were kids. And now we haven’t seen each other for years. But the same feeling, a sense of balance, came rushing back as soon as I saw her.

I’ve always been a little rough around the edges. Reserved in a lot of ways. I always wonder what people want out of me, but I’ve never had that thought with Neely. When she’s around, I feel like me. Like it’s okay to be me. That she understands it and, whether she likes it or not, accepts it. No one else has ever made me feel that way. Not even my parents.