Page 38 of Mountain Daddy

He leans into me, warm and solid and mine. “I love you, Mama.”

“I love you too, baby. More than all the stars.”

It's our thing. Our ritual. The way we say how much we love each other.

The mountains rise around us like guardians. This place makes me feel like we're untouchable here.

But there’s work to be done. We pack up. Say goodbye to the ducks. Head over to my bakery.

Sunday afternoons at Sugar and Spice are my favorite. Slow days. Families walk in. No one’s in a rush. No one’s hurling abuses for quicker service.

Once at the bakery, Chleo sits at the corner table with his coloring books. I prep for tomorrow.

It’s not much, my bread and butter.

Just a small storefront with a good coffee machine and mismatched chairs.

But it's mine.

Every crooked tile, every hand-painted sign, every recipe I perfected. All mine.

“Mama, can I help with the cookies?” Chleo abandons his dinosaur coloring page.

“Wash your hands first.”

He drags the step stool to the sink. Makes a production of scrubbing his little fingers. I watch him with love. And like every time, it’s followed with terror.

He's smart. Too smart sometimes. Last week he asked why we don't have any pictures of his daddy.

I told him some families are just mamas and babies because the daddies are away. I hated lying, but he accepted it with five-year-old trust.

He asked where he was. Where away was. I pretended I heard the doorbell ring.

It terrifies me.

I hate lying to the kid.

But what else is a woman to do?

Those questions will get harder, I know. And those eyes—God, those eyes—will start demanding real answers.

But until then, I try to make time stop. Try to not think. Try to take it one day at a time.

“All clean!” He presents his hands for inspection.

“Perfect. You can help me roll the snickerdoodles.”

We work in comfortable silence, flour dusting everything within a three-foot radius of Chleo. He's careful with the dough, tongue poking out in concentration.

“Mrs. Patterson says I'm a good helper,” he tells me.

“You are the best helper.”

“She says her grandson in Denver is my age, but he doesn't know how to crack eggs.”

“Everyone learns different things.”

“Did my daddy know how to crack eggs?”

---