Give & Take (Redbeard Cove #2)

34. Raphael

Chapter 34

Raphael

T he oven timer dings, and Aurora, who’s been sitting cross-legged in front of it as rapt as if it were a movie, jumps up, tearing over to the living room. “Nova!” she yells. “It’s time!!”

It’s a week later, and we’re practicing our baking skills for Lana’s birthday next Wednesday.

The summer’s almost over.

“Time to pull it out of the oven,” I say. I’ve been working on teaching the girls that restraint I used to be so good at. But maybe because I suck at it now I haven’t been a good teacher.

“It still has to cool,” Nova says wisely.

“But this is a test cake!” Aurora said. “Raph said we could test it in the middle!”

“Nova’s right,” I say, pulling on the polka dotted oven mitts and taking out the cake. “We still have to let it cool.”

Nova sticks her tongue out at her sister. “Hey!” I say. “Aurora’s right too, this is a test cake, so we get to see if it tastes good before we ice it. And because of that”—I point to Nova’s mouth—“Aurora gets the first taste.”

“No fair!” Nova says.

“Extremely fair,” I say.

We debate the level of insult involved in sticking out tongues versus calling people names, which leads to a discussion about the morality of not considering a person’s whole story when forming a judgment on them. I think we all learn a few things, and by the time I look at the clock next, it’s time to try out the birthday cake.

This is our test run for Lana’s birthday cake. The real one we’re putting together next week, on her actual birthday.

“Remember we’re going to have to get things going the minute your mom walks out the door next week.”

Nova rattles off our list of respective responsibilities. She’s going to bring the backpack with the special cake pans and fondant material she’s hidden in her closet. Aurora’s going to bring the bag of decorations hidden in hers. We’re going to make and assemble the cake all morning, and decorate in the afternoon. Then Mac is going to drive Lana home from work, with some excuse he hasn’t come up with yet but Cal assures me is going to be good.

And then…surprise!

“Are you sure she’s going to like this?” I ask Nova as I stuff my mouth with outrageously delicious fluffy vanilla cake.

“I don’t know why you keep asking me. You’re the grownup.”

“Yeah but you know your mom best. She really doesn’t seem like she does well with surprises.”

“She loved the breakfast in bed for mother’s day!” Aurora reminds her sister.

“I guess, but it wasn’t really a surprise since the smoke alarm went off.”

“What about the day we defrosted the freezer?” I ask.

“Ugh that day sucked. It was so much work,” Nova says.

“But she was happy, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah she was so happy!” Nova says, cake crumbs arcing from her mouth.

I look at the girls with a level of affection I don’t think I’ve ever reached before, and I fucking love these kids.

My hands are kind of sweaty.

“Are you okay?” Nova asks, seeing me wipe them on my jeans.

“Totally,” I say. “Although I have to ask you guys something.”

“If we want to go to the trampoline park tomorrow?” Aurora asks, face lighting up.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Nova reminds her sister. “Raph doesn’t work on Saturdays.”

“But he’s been hanging out with us every weekend!”

I rub my chest. No better segue, I guess.

“What I wanted to ask you guys is…and this is hypothetical. Do you know what that means?”

“You told us lots of times,” Aurora says. “Whenever we talk about questions with no answers.”

Right, one of our favorite games—talking about philosophical quandaries while we walk to the beach or drive places in the car. Did I already say I love these kids?

“Right,” I say. “Okay, so you know how I’m your nanny just for the summer?”

Aurora nods sadly, “And the summer’s almost over.”

“There are two weeks left,” I remind her.

Nova’s looking at me suspiciously.

“Hypothetically, how would you feel if I…didn’t leave at the end of the summer?”

Aurora’s jaw drops and she jumps off her bar stool, nearly tumbling to the ground. I catch her by the back of the shirt.

“It’s hypa-thetical,” Nova says, sounding annoyed. “That means it’s not real.”

As I set Aurora down, I look over at Lana’s older girl. At who I’ve come to feel is like our older girl. Nova misses nothing. She may be a little crabby, sure, but that’s because she worries about things all the time. What could possibly go wrong? What she can control to try to make nothing go wrong. She’s whip-smart, and has a huge heart under that crusty exterior.

But right now, the crusty exterior is looming large. Her little fists are curled on the counter, almost as if she’s angry.

“You’re not staying,” she says. “So why would you even ask us that?”

My chest hurts. That’s the thing—as much as I want to, I don’t know if I’m staying. Not because I don’t want to—I’m setting everything in my life up so I can. But because I don’t know if I can convince Lana it’s the best thing for us .

Even though I’m going to die trying. Or at least never give up. It’ll be a war of attrition.

Until she tells me to stop.

“Nova,” I say, pulling a clinging Aurora up and onto her stool again. “And Aurora.” I look at them both. “This summer has been the best summer of my whole life.”

“Mine too!” Aurora says excitedly, not picking up on Nova’s tenseness.

“I have…fallen in love with this town, with you guys, and…” Well fuck, I didn’t mean to do this, but here I am. “And your mom.”

Nova’s eyes snap to mine. “Love?”

“I love you too, Raph!” Aurora exclaims, gleefully nearly falling off her stool again. I hold her up with a hand squeezed on her little shoulder. But my eyes remain on Nova.

This is tricky territory, and I didn’t mean to be so baldly obvious. I was just going to test the waters with the girls just like we’re testing this cake. But I should have known Nova would see right through me.

“I care about you guys, and I would love to figure out a way to stay here. So I’m asking how you’d feel about that,” I say.

Nova shrugs. But her arms are tense, just like her fists.

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to,” I say, even though the words feel like tiny daggers. “All feelings are valid here. I’m just wondering. But…” I run a hand over my hair. Shit. I should have run this by Lana first. Except Lana would have said a hard no, and then I’d be leaving the girls out of it, when this is their family .

Fuck me. I suddenly understand what it’s like to be Lana, with all her millions of worried thoughts.

Or Nova.

“I saw you guys kissing,” Nova says.

Aurora screws up her little face.

My stomach screws up just the same. “Oh?” I say, not giving anything away in case she’s bluffing. But we have been getting sloppy lately. I can’t help it, I’m weak when it comes to Lana. If she’s in the room with me, I need to be near her. If she’s looking at me, I’m already looking at her.

What I just said to the girls is true—I love Lana.

I’m in love with her, and I think I’ve known it since the minute she looked down her nose at me in that concession line. It’s that sixth sense I’ve got. That intuition. It never fucking lies.

“When we were at the dirt track last weekend watching Chris,” Nova says. “You guys left us with Shelby and you said you were getting French fries and I forgot to tell you I was thirsty so I ran after you even though Shelby was calling me and?—”

She goes pink in the face.

Fuck. I remember that. We did go to the concession. We just took a tiny detour. I pulled her around the side of the building, out of sight of everyone else, or so I thought. I leaned her up against the wall and whispered in her ear I wanted to?—“

I clear my throat.

“I’m sorry, Nova. I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

“See what?” Aurora asks, clearly confused.

“Raph has kissing feelings for Mom. ”

Aurora blinks.

“So,” I say, wiping at my jaw. “You don’t like that, Nova?”

“I don’t like that you guys are pretending we’re a family, when you’re leaving!”

The last words come out in a shout, and Nova jumps off the stool, thundering from the room.

I look over at Aurora, my hand over my mouth now.

She blinks. Then she smiles. “Are you going to be my daddy now? I already have one, but I like you better.”

“Aurora!” I grimace. “You can’t say that, honey.”

“Oh.” She looks chagrinned. Upset, even. She looks down as if ashamed. It’s the same look she gets when she thinks she’s in trouble.

“No,” I say reaching over and scooping her up. “Oh no, sweetheart, I take that back. You can say whatever you want. Your feelings are important, and…I’d love to be your daddy, sweetheart. But your real daddy is always going to be a part of your life, okay?”

She’s quiet a moment, then says in a wobbly voice, “But you play with us. And you make Mommy so happy. Our real daddy just makes Mommy mad. And sad sometimes.”

I hold my chin over her head, clasping her tight. “We’ll have to work on that, won’t we?”

I feel her nod. “He’s okay. He just makes a lot of mistakes. But I make mistakes too.”

“We all do, sweetheart, trust me.” Like maybe attempting this conversation.

“Can I try some more cake now?” she asks.

I laugh softly. “Yeah. You can have this big piece”—I cut off a smallish portion of the cake and stick it on her plate—“while I go talk to your sister, okay?”

Aurora climbs over to her chair. “Fank youuuuu!” she sings.

If she’s singing a thank you, I know at least I haven’t fucked up too badly with one out of two.

Nova grunts in response to my knock on her door, which I’m not sure means come in or stay out, so I clarify, “I’m coming in, okay?”

This time I get a “Do what you want.”

I close my eyes, then open them again. I love this girl, with all her thorns. She’s unreadable, and yet sometimes I feel like I can read her like a book.

Just like her Mom.

“Hey,” I say when I open the door.

Nova’s sitting on the edge of her bed, her back to me. She’s ripping a brush through a doll’s hair, cursing, possibly, under her breath.

“I didn’t know you had any dolls you liked to play with still,” I say, surprised. She likes to act like she doesn’t care about toys, even though she’s still of that age where she loves to play. Unless she sees a friend who doesn’t. Then it’s all mature talk about whatever eight year olds who think they’re mature talk about.

She tosses the doll aside. It thuds against the wall, landing on its head. “I don’t.”

I grimace, saying a silent apology to the doll. Then I go over and pick her up from where she lies upside down on her head, and sit her on the windowsill.

I can see Nova’s face now. Her eyes are red. I’ve very rarely seen Nova cry, but she’s on the verge now.

You did this.

Nova asks, standing up. “She doesn’t like that spot,” she says, forgetting she doesn’t play with dolls. She goes back to her bed, tucking her into the blanket next to her pillow.

I run my hand over my hair. There’s a chair in the room, but it’s behind Nova. So I settle for leaning against the wall. “Can I sit?” I ask.

Nova shrugs.

I settle on the floor.

“So, Nova?—”

“Whatever you’re going to say,” she says, whirling on me, “make sure you tell me the truth. I’m almost nine and I can tell the difference between a truth and a lie.”

She’s nine in November, but she’s right.

“Have you ever thought of being a lawyer?”

Nova glowers at me.

Her mom’s probably asked her the same thing.

I run my hand over my jaw. “Nova, I didn’t mean to upset you back there. Maybe this doesn’t make sense—I’m not sure it does to me now—but I was trying to see what your feelings were about what I’ve been thinking about. You’re right, as of right now, I’m not staying here.”

Nova lets out a little scoff. She stuffs her hands under her legs, then picks at something on the floor with her toe.

“But I’d really like to change that.”

Her eyes briefly meet mine, before disappearing under her lashes again.

“I know you guys have a life here, just the three of you. And I know you’re protective of your mom. I’d never get in the way of any of that. But you’re right, I do have kissing feelings for your mom.”

I want to kiss her all the damn time.

“But more than that, I have big, big feelings about you and your mom and Aurora all together. But Nova, those are my feelings. And your mom, she won’t do anything she doesn’t think aren’t in your best interests. Or mine.”

I’m not sure Nova’s getting it. I need to know that whatever happens, if I can’t stay—and even the thought sends a knife into my gut—Nova won’t blame her mom. I won’t have them resenting her for acting in everyone’s best interests.

“Your mom—she thinks very carefully about things, and she’s usually right. I trust her completely. So I need you to as well. No matter what happens, I want you to listen to her, okay?”

Nova pinches her lips.

“Be kind to her, and know that she loves you so much. Forget me, I?—”

“Forget you?” Nova looks aghast. Then furious. “You’re my best friend, Raphael. I can’t just forget you.”

Now this I wasn’t expecting. This makes me stunned.

“I don’t have many other friends. Tiffany told me she doesn’t want to play dolls anymore, and I’m a baby. Maisley says her mom doesn’t like my mom, so I stopped being friends with her. You’re the only one who listens to me and likes the stuff I do and I’m going back to school and you’re gonna be gone. Then you ask us if we want you to stay when you’re not staying! You’re not even going to be here for four days!”

I told Lana last week I’d need a couple of days off at the beginning of next week. I told her it was a meeting I couldn’t miss with my advisors. I considered telling her what I was doing, but just like I haven’t told her I’ve finished my dissertation, I want it to be a surprise. One less thing in the way of us being here.

She’d just said of course, and Mac covered her shifts for her.

I promised her I’d be back for her birthday on Wednesday.

“You better not be planning anything,” she said, though she couldn’t meet my eye when I asked her if she wanted us not to celebrate it at all.

I hear a patter at the door. Aurora is there, still licking cake crumbs off her lips.

“Go away!” Nova snaps.

Aurora pouts, not upset—she’s used to her sister—but at me.

I stand up. “How about she sits outside the door with a book while she waits for us, okay?” I ask Nova.

Nova huffs. A tear streaks down her cheek. But she’s not saying no, which is how this usually goes when she’s upset. Aurora’s allowed to stay near her while we talk through things if she’s not within a certain radius.

I point Aurora to her room to get a book and she skips away.

“Can I sit next to you?” I ask Nova.

Nova shrugs .

I sit down, giving her a few inches of space. Close enough she can lean on me if she wants or avoid me if she prefers.

“Nova, you’re right. We’re not the only decision-makers in this house. We’re not even the main one. The main one’s your mom, and I’m going to have to talk to her about what happened today.” I hear footsteps freeze behind us, and turn to see Aurora clutching a giant Richard Scarry book, looking alarmed. “Not about the cake, that’s still a surprise.”

“Phew!” says Aurora.

“She’s reading now,” I whisper to Nova once I turn back. “She won’t listen in.”

Nova hunches over, still working at the floor with her foot like she’s very interested in the level of buff on the wood floors.

“Nova, no matter what happens with me and your mom, and me in Redbeard Cove, I want you to know that we’re friends now, and that’s never going to change. Even if I live far away from you, we’re going to talk all the time. We can be pen pals.”

“What’s a pen pal?”

I explain the ancient tradition of writing letters. I can count the number of letters I’ve written in my life on one hand, but the idea of exchanging letters with these kids as they grow up is both heart clenching and heart fucking wrenching. I want to see them grow up. I want to be a part of their lives.

But I don’t control that.

“And you can call me anytime you need from your mom’s phone. Whenever you want to play the unanswerable question game. Whenever you want to tell me about the friend you really really want to stay friends with even though you had a big fight. Whenever you need anything at all, sweetheart. I’m your friend, okay?”

Nova looks up at me, her lip wobbling for the first time since I’ve known her. “But you’re going to have your own family one day.”

Is it weird that feels like a gut punch? I mean, maybe, but it seems weird she’d say that, too. Like someone might have told her that.

Someone like Lana.

Their mom’s already had this conversation with them. Of course she has. She’s the best mother in the world, she’d be thinking of them first. She’s told them I’m leaving. She’s been preparing them for it. If she’s said something like that to them, it might mean they’ve asked her if I can stay.

Or maybe only Nova has.

I run my hand through my hair, my stomach in knots. “It’s really hard to know what the future holds, Nova.” It’s hard to get the words out. Until…it’s not. I straighten up, dipping my chin, and lowering my voice. “But it’s my solemn promise to you—an unbreakable oath of no return—that we will be friends as long as we both shall breathe, okay?”

Nova’s lips curl up. “You remembered?”

I was badly quoting a book I read to her a few weeks ago. Or started reading to her before she proclaimed me too slow and finished it herself. She carried it around with her for a full week rereading it at least twice. Even now it sits on her bedside table, tattered and worn .

“Of course I remembered Lady White Snail of Thunderdome.”

Nova slaps her head. “Whitnail of Thomberone.”

I shrug. “Same diff.”

She glares at me, and my damn heart swells three sizes. Then, to my utter shock, Nova Bloor throws her arms around me, and says “ Thank you ,” so softly I hardly hear. Or breathe.

Then she’s up, declaring we need to start our test runs of the icing before Lana gets home.

And I know, no matter what happens, the kids at least, are all right.