Page 51 of One Bride for Three Single Dads

When did I stop worrying? It was a big part of my life. Anastasia gave me the boy. She didn’t have to. Tennessee law would have let her keep him if she had wanted him.

She didn’t.

I did ask for him, but I didn’t really know what taking care of him meant. Amber helped out, which was a relief, but only because I was so terrified of screwing it up.

When he was a baby everybody told me what an easygoing infant he was, but that didn’t keep me from being panicked all the time. I kept his crib right next to my bed, just in case he woke up. I had a hard time working, because what if something happened? What if I wasn’t there?

How do people manage it? Knowing that they are responsible for another life 100 percent of the time?

It’s insane, when you think about it, that anybody can have that much responsibility.

And yet, other people seem to think it’s no big deal at all!

Worry, worry, worry. There was a time when that was most of my waking hours.

Suddenly, now I realize it evaporated somewhere along the way.

It’s her. Right? It must be her.

“Come on, slowpoke,” she smiles at me, brushing a tendril of hair from her forehead that has gotten stuck to her with the foggy, wet air.

“Right, right…” I smile back.

She climbs into the bus and I climb in behind her, catching her ankle gently in my fingers. She pauses and twists back to look at me, a quizzical smile on her face. We try not to be too affectionate when the kids are around. And here they are.

But I want her to know something.

I hope she can see it in my face.

She waits a moment, squinting slightly. Then her face changes. She softens. I could see she was a little bit irritated at me a moment ago, but now she almost seems to nod.

Okay. That’s all I needed.

Chapter 22

JOLENE

Ihope this doesn’t insult anybody, but Ireland looks almost the same as Tennessee.

What was I expecting? Well, something different. Something new.

They have sheep and hillsides. We have sheep and hillsides. They have rain and mist. We have rain and mist.

They have totally remote spaces. Wow. Well, we do too.

Some things, maybe, are a bit different. After about an hour and a half drive on the wrong side of the road the whole time, we end up getting close to a place called “County Kerry” because they say words in the opposite order here sometimes.

It’s beautiful, for sure. And a little eerie, maybe. As we drive over the rolling hills, sometimes there are abandoned houses. No big deal, but these houses look a thousand years old. Abandoned houses in Tennessee are maybe a hundred and fifty years old. These are made out of giant slabs of stone. Sometimes only one wall will be standing, with one empty window that you can see the landscape through.

Nobody talks in the van. The situation gradually seeps through us.

Here we are, on the other side of the world.

As I watch, more foreign details accumulate. There are wildflowers, but nothing like I recognize. They sort of look like chicory, but not. I hear the driver call them “daisies” and they are definitely not daisies. Not daisies I ever saw. I mean almost. But not quite.

Along the highway, there’s the occasional billboard, but we gradually get to places where there are fewer people. Fewer billboards. And the odd thing is, the signs are all a little bit different. It’s kilometers per hour, not miles per hour. Still that same highway-sign-color green, though.

I realize there are no telephone poles. That’s funny. I haven’t seen a telephone pole or electrical pole in the longest time. Do they have power out here?

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