Page 27 of Gideon's Gratitude

“What other flavors of milkshakes are there?”

I glimpsed Archer in the back seat looking comfortable.

Riley met his gaze briefly in the rearview mirror. “Cotton candy, amaretto, banana cream pie, apple pie, blueberry, blackberry, blue raspberry, pineapple, coconut cream pie, and about a dozen more. Probably strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla as well. And I think marshmallow. I think there’s also one that has like three flavors combined. That was too sweet for me.”

All those flavors made my teeth ache, but I’d have one all the same. My one treat. My way to stay connected to my grandparents.

And what would they think of the mess I’m in? Divorced, unemployed, never seeing my kids…not a pretty sight.

I gazed out the window at the passing trees, as well as the occasional houses, as we sped into Mission City proper.

The sun was below the tree lines, and the gloaming had set in. Night would soon be upon us.

The fluorescents would hurt my eyes, but I wasn’t driving. And if it meant more time spent with Archer, the discomfort would be worth it.

Snippets of the conversation drifted over me. Surrounded me. Comforted me. The discussion appeared centered on food. With Fifties’ menu being so expansive, this conversation could go on for a while. Neither of my companions appeared bothered by my silence, so I let nature work her stillness into my soul.

As we hit Cedar Street, the houses became more frequent. Eventually we passed the townhomes that’d been put up in the past ten years.

I’d bought a townhome with Leo when he finished his residency and the prospect of a substantial salary became a reality. We left behind the one-bedroom condo we’d lived in during our entire married life and moved into a three-bedroom home with space for the kids. Kids who followed quickly.

We’d waited patiently for almost fourteen years to start our family, wanting Leo secure in his job first. Parenthood had come easy for us. Siblings whose single mother could no longer care for them.

After a mental collapse, she realized she was harming her kids. Unable to care for them, she turned them over to Child Protective Services. She picked us to raise her children. Heartened by our fourteen-year relationship. Awed by Leo’s profession.

We offered to keep her in the kids’ lives, but she declined.

I hadn’t understood the decision at the time. Wanting what was best for them? Sure. Walking away forever? Couldn’t fathom it.

Now, as I video chatted with the children for half an hour twice a month, I understood. Every time I did it, a small part of me died. I was being ripped into pieces. Shredded. Gutted. How much less painful would it be if I stopped? Didn’t put them or myself through the charade? Walked out of their lives forever?

I still harbored the dream I could be part of their lives again. A dream, sure, but a small burning flame in my gut.

Riley turned the truck left onto the main drag through town.

“My hotel is one block back that way, right?” Archer indicated behind him, clearly trying to get his bearings.

“That’s right.” She injected enthusiasm into the words. “You’ll be a local in no time.”

She pulled into Fifties’s parking lot.

Archer was the first to get out.

Riley was slower.

Was she doing that to cover for me since I couldn’t leap gracefully? I eased myself out of the seat and my feet touched the ground lightly. No jarring meant less pain.

“Can’t wait to grab a shake.” Riley grinned. Again, more enthusiasm. Even at the end of the day, she was unflaggingly upbeat. Or she was putting on a show for us. For Archer in particular. Hard to say.

Sarabeth, the server, greeted us at the door with a huge smile. “Riley, great to see you. For three?”

Riley shook her head. “Nah, for two. I’m grabbing something to go. Gotta get home to Samson.”

The other woman nodded, her blonde ponytail swinging. “Yeah, he wouldn’t be a patient one.” She pivoted to the Archer and me. “Grab a booth where you can. We’re pretty busy tonight. A few people don’t have power yet. Quite a storm last night.” She returned her attention to Riley. “What can I get you?”

The two women huddled over a menu, so I turned my attention back to Archer, who was eying the booths in the front with the neon lighting. I grasped the lawyer’s elbow and gestured toward the back.

Archer nodded, and we headed that way.

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