Two by Two(38)

"I don't have time to work out."

"Of course you have time. You can go first thing in the morning. That's when all the moms do it."

"I'm not a mom."

"I hate to break it to you but lately? You kind of are."

"You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better."

"I call 'em like I see 'em. And you and I both know a little exercise  wouldn't hurt you. You're looking a little soft these days."

"I'm in shape."

"Of course you are. If round is a shape, I mean."

"You're a real peach, you know that?"





On Friday morning, I stood in front of the mirror, thinking that maybe  Marge had a point about starting to exercise again. But not,  unfortunately, today.

I had things to do, and while I watched London and brought her to art  class, I spent the rest of my time putting together a time line for  Taglieri's campaign, with the thought that day care was most likely off  the table.

Much of it I could do from home; getting the permits, scouting  locations, and getting appropriate releases meant time in and out of the  car and lots of driving. As long as I spread it out over a period of  days, I didn't think London would be too bothered by it at all.

When I'd spoken to Vivian, I'd said as much to her. I could hear the  relief in her voice and for the first time in years, we spent more than  half an hour on the phone simply talking. I'd missed that, and I had the  sense that she'd missed it, too, and even though she ended up arriving  home a little later than she'd wanted, she laughed and smiled, even  flirted with me, and in the bedroom, she was both sexy and passionate,  something I'd been craving, something that left me certain that she  still cared for me.

In the morning, her good mood persisted. Before she left for yoga, she  made breakfast for London and me, and asked if we were planning to visit  my parents.

"If you are, can you wait for me? I'd like to come."

When I assured her we would, she kissed me goodbye and I felt the light  flicker of her tongue against my lips. In the ensuing glow-and with my  mind flashing back to the night before-I had no doubts as to the reasons  I'd married her in the first place.





While we waited for Vivian to return, London and I went to the park,  where we followed a nature trail that led to the golf course. Years ago,  an Eagle Scout fulfilling his service project had mounted small plaques  near various trees listing both their common and scientific names. At  each of them, I read the information to London and would point out the  bark or the leaves, pretending I knew far more than I did. She would  repeat the words-Quercus virginiana or Eucalyptus viminalis-and even  though I knew I'd forget pretty much everything by the time I returned  to the car, while on the trail I felt a little smarter than usual.

But London stayed smart. Back home, I made sandwiches and while we were  eating on the back porch, she pointed to a massive tree in the backyard.  "That's a Carya ovata!" she exclaimed.

"That one?" I asked, not bothering to hide my amazement.

She nodded. "Shagbark hickory."

"How do you know?"

"Because you showed me," she said, gazing up at me. "Remember?"

Not even slightly, I thought. To me, it had reverted to being a tree. "I think you're right."

"I am right."

"I trust you."

She took a drink of milk. "When's Mommy getting home?"

I checked my watch. "Pretty soon."

"And then we're going to Nana and Papa's?"

"That's the plan."

"I want to bake today. Cupcakes again."

"I'm sure Nana will love that."

"Will Auntie Marge and Auntie Liz be there?"

"I hope so."

"Okay. I'd better bring Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles. I'm sure they'll want to say hi."

"I'm sure."

She chewed her sandwich. "Hey Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad I get to stay with you."

"What do you mean?"

"Mommy told me that I'm not going to day care. She said you could work and take care of me at the same time."

"She did?"

She nodded. "She told me this morning."

"She's right, but you might have to be in the car with me while I get my stuff done."

"Can I bring my Barbies? Or Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles?"

"Of course," I said.         

     



 

"Okay. It'll still be fun then."

I smiled. "I'm glad."

"When you were little, did you go to day care?"

"No. Auntie Marge watched me."

"And Auntie Liz?"

"No. Auntie Liz wasn't around yet."

"Oh," she said. She took another couple of bites of her sandwich, her  head turning from side to side as if taking in the world one sense at a  time. I watched her, thinking about how beautiful she was, not caring  whether I was biased at all.

"Daddy! There's a giant bird in the tree!" she cried. When she pointed, I  spotted the bird. It was chocolate brown with white head feathers  glowing in the sunlight. As I stared, it spread its wings before tucking  them back in.

"That's a bald eagle," I told her in amazement. In all the years I'd  lived in Charlotte, I'd only seen one twice. I was struck by a sense of  wonder, a recurring theme during our weeks together. Staring at my  daughter, I suddenly understood how much had changed between London and  me. Because I'd become comfortable in my role as the primary caregiver,  London had become more comfortable with me, and all at once, the thought  of being separated from her for hours on end once school began made my  heart ache in a way I hadn't expected. That I loved London had never  been in question; what I now understood was that I liked her, too, not  only as my daughter, but as the young girl I'd only recently come to  know.

It might have been that thought, or maybe it had something to do with  how the week had gone, but whatever the reason, I felt unusually  tranquil, almost entirely at peace. I'd been down and now I was heading  back up, and though I acknowledged that the feeling might be a fleeting  one-I was old enough to know that much-it was as real as the sun.  Watching London's rapt expression as she stared at the eagle, I wondered  if she would remember this experience, or if she knew how I felt about  our newfound closeness. But it didn't really matter. It was enough to  feel it myself and by the time the eagle flew away, I held on to the  image, knowing it would stay with me forever.





CHAPTER 12





Bad Weather on the Horizon


In February 2004-I'd been out of college for almost two years, and had  been seeing Emily almost as long-I went to visit my parents on the  weekend. Already, the habit of seeing them had been firmly established  by then. Normally, Emily would join me, but for reasons lost to time,  she couldn't make it that weekend and I was on my own.

When I arrived, my dad was working on my mom's car, not the Mustang. His  head was under the hood and I saw that he was adding a quart of oil.

"Glad to see you're taking care of your better half's car," I said, half joking, to which my dad nodded.

"Have to. Gonna snow this week. I already have the winter survival kit  in the backseat. I wouldn't want your mom to have to get it out of the  trunk in case she gets stuck on the roads."

"It's not going to snow," I said. The temperature was already  springlike; I was wearing a T-shirt and had actually debated wearing  shorts to their house.

He squinted at me from under the hood. "Have you been watching the weather?"

"I heard something about it on the radio, but you know weather guys. They're wrong more often than they're right."

"My knees say it's going to snow, too."

"It's almost seventy degrees!"

"Suit yourself. I'm going to need some help wrapping the pipes after I  finish up here. You'll be around to pitch in like the old days?"

My dad, I should say, had always been that type of guy. If a hurricane  was expected to hit the Carolina coast, my dad would spend days clearing  debris from the yard, moving things to the garage, and closing up the  shutters, despite the fact Charlotte was nearly two hundred miles from  the coast. "You weren't around when Hugo hit in 1989," he would tell  Marge and me. "Charlotte might as well have been Dorothy's farmhouse.  Whole city practically blew away."

"Yeah, I'll be here," I said to him. "But you're wasting your time. It's not going to snow."

I went inside and visited with my mom for a while; when my father came  in and motioned toward me an hour later, I knew what he expected. I  helped without complaint, but even when I watched him start to work on  his own car, I didn't take his cautions to heart. And even if I had, I  wouldn't have had the slightest idea what might be included in a  winter-survival kit. That's what I told myself later, anyway, but the  real reason I wasn't ready for what came next was that, at that age, I  thought I was smarter than he was.         

     



 

As late as Tuesday afternoon, the temperature was still inching toward  sixty degrees; on Wednesday, despite the clouds rolling in, the  temperature nearly hit fifty and I'd forgotten completely about my dad's  warning. On Thursday, however, the storm smashed into Charlotte with a  fury: It began to snow, lightly at first, and then more heavily. By the  time I was driving to work, the snow was accumulating on the highways.  Schools were closed for the day, and only half the people made it to the  agency. The snow continued to fall, and when I left work in  midafternoon, the roads were nearly impassable. Hundreds of motorists  ended up skidding off the highway, myself included, amidst a snowfall of  more than a foot in a city with only a few snowplows available. By  nightfall, the city of Charlotte had come to a standstill.