Cheryl Harper - Saving The Single Dad

“Oh, since Dad’s out of town?” Parker asked as he yanked hard on Riley’s T-shirt. “Don’t be so rude.” That order made him sound like his father, too.

“No, because I’ve missed you. I talked to your mother and she wanted to make sure I told you that she’s headed back home to Sweetwater soon.” Christina wasn’t sure why she said it, but she wanted it to be true.

Riley was shaking her head as she looked up from her phone. “Don’t buy it, Parker. She knows you’re still a waste. Mom won’t be back until you’re out of the house. I’ll have to wait until then to see her again. We talked about it on the phone.”

“You got to talk to her?” Parker’s lip trembled, but he didn’t let a tear fall. Instead, he balled up a fist and punched his sister in the arm. “Shut up. Dad told me not to listen to a word you say.”

“No, thanks to your beloved aunt, neither of us can talk to Mom.” Riley snarled and rubbed the spot before marching away.

Christina wrapped her arm tightly around Parker’s shoulders and leaned down to murmur, “Your dad gave you good advice, Parks. Older sisters, they like to torment their younger brothers. Ignore her right now. Eventually, they grow out of it.” Leanne had always told her kids that “Aunt Chris” might as well have been her baby sister. Christina offered him her fist to bump. When he returned the bump, she blew up her hand before pressing kisses all over his cheeks. “Us young ones have to stick together.”

“Sure thing, Aunt Chris. Just for that, she can do her own chores.” Parker hitched up his backpack and looked over his shoulder at the bus waiting to take them home. Something had changed in his eyes, some of the joy was gone. Did he believe Riley was telling the truth about Leanne’s distance being Christina’s fault? What could she do about it if he did? “Unless you’re giving us a ride, we better go. Diane gets mad if she has to come pick us up. Missing the bus leads to slamming doors, so...”

Diane? That was the weirdest thing about Brett’s family. He was all Mr. America and everything, but his mother insisted her grandkids call her by her first name. She also dressed like a college freshman and had a gambling problem. How had he turned out so well?

“Aunt Chris won’t be driving us anywhere, Parker,” Riley drawled. “She’s got no car. Everyone in town’s talking about it.” And her mother. Christina tried to catch Riley’s shoulder, but the girl was already trotting toward the bus. She presented a hard shell, but Christina had lived inside the same lie for too long not to recognize it.

Riley was too young to be having to put up with the gossip and disappointment of a messed-up family.

Since she’d never been able to fix similar problems for herself, Christina wasn’t sure how to address it.

Parker’s anxious frown was enough to convince Christina to let things go for one more day. She grabbed his hand and jogged across the yard, swinging his hand like they used to do on the way to the park. His laugh made this whole nightmare worthwhile.

“Do me a favor. Get on the bus and hang out the window. I want to take your picture.” Christina waved her phone, and then pressed a kiss on Parker’s forehead. “I’ll catch you on the flip side.”

Parker rolled his eyes as he did every time she said it, clambered up the steps, and then popped his head out the bus window. Riley was in the seat behind him, her eyes glued to whatever was on her phone.

Christina called, “Love you like pepperoni pizza.”

Parker answered, “Love you like chocolate ice cream.” She snapped the picture in time to get his happy grin. Then the bus driver closed the doors and pulled away from the curb.

Before she could make herself crazy by weighing whether it was a good idea to humor Leanne or not, Christina quickly typed up a text.

Parker and Riley are headed home from school. Seem well.

She attached the photo and hit Send, then stood there staring at her phone, waiting for the answer, until the school yard was empty. When it was clear Leanne wasn’t going to respond, Christina shoved her phone back in her pocket and headed for the bar where she’d worked until Leanne left town.

The money had been so much better there, but she’d never be able to make it into work from the cabin she’d “inherited” from her father. The Braswells had lived outside of Sweetwater ever since they’d made it over the mountains. The mule had probably broken down right there. Her mother had refused to stay there when he went to prison, and years of neglect had done nothing to improve the place. Over the years, the cabin had been updated here and there, but it was only a roof over her head. She’d had dreams of moving into town, getting one of the apartments springing up around the edges.

Now she’d have to buy a car.

As she walked into the Branch, she had her spiel all worked out. Instead of waiting for her to launch into it, the owner, a tough cookie named Sharon, snapped, “You’ll work for tips.” Late afternoon was a slow time for the large open building that served beer for the fishermen, white wine for their wives and a plain, tasty menu with reasonable prices. If the campground diner had plenty of charm, thanks to the natural beauty outside the large windows, the Branch had space. That was about it. Of course, after the sun went down, the crowd got rowdier and neon lit up the walls.

When she was young, Christina had loved it.

Now she was certain she didn’t want to know why the floor was so sticky.

“I’ll work for tips.” Grateful, Christina caught the apron and said, “And a ride home at the end of the night.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes. “Fine. I better stop drinking.” She waved her usual mug of root beer and cackled like she’d made the most original joke in history.

Sharon never drank. But she owned a bar. Nothing Christina had ever done had convinced Sharon to tell her how that disconnect happened, not that it mattered. After a few dumb choices as a teenager, Christina was pretty firmly up on the no-alcohol bandwagon herself.

When she considered how nice it would be to have an escape at the moment, it was easier to understand Leanne’s struggle.

“Better limber up your slappin’ hand. The crowd seems restless lately, what with winter looming.” Sharon handed her an order pad, a tray, and pointed her at a dark corner. “Haven’t cleared the last table yet. While we’re slow, see if you can make some progress. Any money you find is yours.”

Since the bar wouldn’t pick up for a couple of hours, there was no rush, but Christina was happier working than sitting around worrying about Leanne. After she finished clearing the table, which, judging by the leftovers and the generous tip, had come from tourists with a nice-sized bankroll, Christina caught the burger basket Sharon slid down the bar. “Better eat while you can. Keep up your strength.”

Instead of arguing or offering her the tip money, which would have covered the most popular item on Sharon’s menu, Christina took a bite of the greasy burger and sighed. Sometimes, life could get her down, but junk food renewed her spirits.

“Hear you’re having a rough go.” Sharon wiped the glasses at her elbow in assembly line fashion before stacking them. “You gonna pull out of it soon? I didn’t hold your job, but I’ll toss the new girl out if you’re coming back full-time.”

“Unless you’re running a shuttle, I better stay out at the campground for now,” Christina said slowly.

Sharon leaned against the counter. “Pretty girl like you, you could do better than either that place or this one. Find you a nice, decent man, settle down.”

“I’ve seen how far that gets a pretty girl, Sharon. I’ll keep working, thanks.” Christina shoveled french fries in her mouth and tried not to think of her mother or Leanne, or even the dumb things she’d done to try to make some man love her enough.