Page 71 of Single Chance

Chance

By the time I got home from work, it was nearly six thirty p.m. My daughter hadn’t come home from school yet, but shehaddeigned to send me a curt message saying she was at Kinsley’s house.

I was pulling out the ingredients for homemade chicken tortilla soup when Rowan came down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Welcome home,” she said. She’d changed from work clothes into leggings and a sweatshirt, and her hair was tousled. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted a deep navy blue. She looked adorably sleepy. I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to be able to crawl into bed next to her and pull her into my body for a late-afternoon snooze…and maybe more. If I were in bed with her, definitely more.

I shook off the inappropriate thoughts, turned back to the counter, and slid the cutting board toward me. I turned on the heat under the big soup pot. “Did you get a nap?”

She’d looked about to drop by late afternoon, so I’d suggested she go home early and rest. That she’d taken my suggestion to leave work told me how exhausted she must’ve been.

“I passed out. Thanks again for letting me leave early, boss.”

“Not your boss,” I said, smiling in spite of my mood.

“Is Sam home yet?”

My smile dropped. I took out the carrots and began slicing them in an even, therapeutic rhythm. “She went to Kinsley’s house. I checked her phone’s location and verified it.”

“That’s the girl who befriended her when you first moved to town, right?”

“That’s right. They haven’t gotten together for months.”

“She told me about her when we were baking. Kinsley’s not one of the mean girls?”

I shook my head.

“This is a positive thing,” Rowan said.

“She’s avoiding home and me. How is that positive?”

Rowan touched my shoulder. She pulled her hand away too soon for my liking. “She has a lot to sort through. She’s found a friend to help her.”

I’d been admittedly too upset to consider that truth until now. “If I remember right, Kinsley has a really young sibling, like two or three years old. So maybe there’s some common ground there. Parents too old to be having babies.”

“Thirty-six is not too old,” Rowan said with a half laugh. “What can I do to help with dinner? Onions?” She gestured to the one I’d set out.

“Sure.” I handed her a second knife and cutting board. “Thirty-six is a lot older than you.”

“Seven years? That’s nothing.”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” I said. “My daughter probably sees it as her old man knocked up a girl in her twenties.”

“Stop, Chance. Sam is probably more concerned about how a baby will affectherlife. You know how teenagers are.”

“Everything revolves around them.”

“Spot on. I won’t pretend to know your daughter well, but if she’s like other fourteen-year-olds, she hasn’t stopped to think how this could be affectingyouemotionally.”

“Right.” I considered that as I added oil to the hot pan. “I did the same thing—defaulted to my own feelings, I guess.”

“Of course you did. That’s what we humans do,” she said as she chopped the onion.

“I need to dad up. Think about what she’s going through. Damn.” I seemed to be fucking up as a parent repeatedly. “I appreciate having your perspective. It helps. You seem able to understand my daughter better than I can, and you just met her.”

“She’s not my daughter. It’s easier from the outside,” she said modestly. She set the bowl of diced onion next to the stove for me. “What else can I do?”

I remembered the cornbread mix in the pantry and turned on the oven. “If you mix the cornbread, I’ll get the rest of the soup ingredients ready.”

---