Two by Two(69)

After viewing the animals of North America and the aviary, the four of  us had lunch. Despite a steady stream of snacking during the previous  four hours, Bodhi managed to finish a plate of chicken nuggets and  fries, along with a chocolate milkshake. London consumed about a third  as much, but for her that was a lot. Neither Emily nor I were hungry,  both of us opting for a bottle of water.         

     



 

"Can we go see the lions now?" Bodhi asked.

"Not until we put on more sunscreen," Emily answered, and the kids popped out of their seats. Again, Emily slathered them up.

"You're very good at remembering that. I forget every time."

"You never saw David's extended family. They lived in the Outback-like  the Outback, Outback-and you could have measured the depth of their  wrinkles with a wooden ruler. A lot of people here get too much sun, but  seeing those relatives at our wedding really made an impression on me. I  barely leave the house without sunscreen these days."

"That's why you have the skin of a twenty-year-old."

"Ha! Nice try! But a lovely thought nonetheless."

I was tempted to explain that I was sincere, but opted instead to start gathering our food trays.

"Who's ready to head to Africa?" I asked.

I admit that I found the Africa part of the zoo more to my liking.  Growing up, I'd seen alligators in the Cape Fear River, muskrats and  beavers, all sorts of birds-including that majestic bald eagle-and even a  bear. When I was a kid in Charlotte, across the street from my  elementary school, a bear was spotted crossing the road and eventually  ended up in the branches of an oak tree. It was a juvenile bear and  while the sighting was definitely uncommon, everyone knew that bears  weren't really that rare in North Carolina. The largest black bear on  record, in fact, was killed in Craven County. The point is, the animals  of North America that we'd seen earlier didn't strike me as terribly  exotic.

Never once, however, had I spotted a zebra or giraffe, or a chimpanzee;  I'd never come face-to-face with baboons, or elephants either. Maybe I'd  seen them at the circus-my family went to the circus every year when it  was in town-but seeing the animals in a setting that was somewhat  reminiscent of the wilds of Africa was enough to make even the kids stop  and stare for a while. Handing London my phone, she took more than a  hundred photos, which added to her excitement.

Because we took our time, we didn't finish up at the zoo until late  afternoon. By the time we trekked back to the car, the kids were  trailing behind us.

"It's like the tortoise and the hare," I said to Emily.

"Except the hares back there probably ran three times as far as we walked."

"Well, at least they'll sleep well."

"I just hope that Bodhi doesn't fall asleep in the car. If he naps for two hours, he'll be awake until midnight."

"I didn't think about that," I said, suddenly concerned about London's  schedule as well. "Kind of like remembering to bring sunscreen. Or  bringing snacks for the trip. Obviously, I'm a work in progress when it  comes to child rearing on my own."

"We're all works in progress," she said. "It's the definition of being a parent."

"You seem to know what you're doing."

"Sometimes," she said. "Not always. This week when Bodhi was sick, I  couldn't decide whether to baby him, or treat his cold like an everyday  occurrence."

"I know how my parents would have reacted," I said. "Unless I was  bleeding profusely or had broken bones protruding from my skin or a  fever high enough to fry my brain, they would have shrugged and told me  to tough it out."

"And yet, you turned out just fine. Which means that maybe I was too  soft on Bodhi. Maybe he'll learn to like being sick because it gets him  special treatment."

"Why is it so hard to be a really good parent?"

"You don't have to be a really good parent," she said. "All you have to do is be good enough."

As I pondered her words, I realized why my parents and Marge had liked Emily so much. Like them, Emily was wise.





CHAPTER 19





Finding My Own Way


It was the wedding in Chapel Hill that cemented my resolve to see Emily  again. By the time the cake had been cut and the bouquet had been  tossed, Emily and I had danced to more songs than I could keep track of.  When the band took a break, we stepped out on the balcony for a breath  of fresh air. Above us, a big orange moon hung low in the sky, and I  could see Emily staring at it with the same sense of wonder I felt.

"I wonder why it's orange," I mused aloud. To my surprise, I heard Emily answer.

"When the moon is low in the sky, the light scatters because it has to  pass through more layers of the atmosphere than when it's overhead. By  the time the light reaches our eyes, the blue, green, and purple parts  of the spectrum have scattered, leaving only yellow, orange, and red  visible to us."         

     



 

"How do you know that?" I marveled, turning to her.

"My dad explained it to me every time we saw one of these," she said,  nodding at the glowing orb hovering over the horizon. "I guess over  time, it just stuck."

"I'm still impressed."

"Don't be. If you ask me anything else about the night sky other than  the location of the Big Dipper, I wouldn't be able to help you. For  instance, I know that one or two of those stars out there are probably  planets, but I couldn't tell you which ones they are."

Scanning the sky, I pointed. "That one over there, right above the tree? That's Venus."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's brighter than the stars."

She squinted. "Are you sure?"

"No," I admitted and she laughed. "But my dad told me that. He used to  wake me in the middle of the night so the two of us could watch meteor  showers."

A nostalgic smile crossed her face. "My dad did that with me, too," she  said. "And whenever we went camping, he'd stay up with Jess and me for  hours, and we'd watch for falling stars."

"Jess?"

"My older sister. Do you have any siblings?"

"I have an older sister, too. Marge." I tried to picture Emily as a  girl, with her family. "I'm having a hard time imagining you camping."

She knitted her brows. "Why?"

"I don't know," I said. "I guess maybe because you strike me as more of a city girl."

"What does that mean?'

"You know …  coffee shops, poetry readings, art galleries, joining protests, voting socialist."

She laughed. "One thing's for sure-you don't know me at all."

"Well," I said, gathering my courage, "I'd like to know you better. What do you like to do for fun?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

Her gaze left me feeling a bit flustered. "If your idea of fun is  skydiving or shooting apples off my head with a bow and arrow, then the  only reason I'm asking is for the sake of conversation."

"But if it's dinner and a movie … " She arched an eyebrow.

"That's more my style."

She brought a hand to her chin and slowly shook her head. "No …  dinner  and a movie is just too …  clichéd," she said finally. "How about a hike?"

"A hike?" Eyeing her stiletto heels, I had trouble picturing her outdoors, communing with nature.

"Yeah," she said. "How about Crowders Mountain? We can follow the Rocktop Trail."

"I've never been there," I said. In fact, I'd never heard of it.

"Then it's a date," she said. "How about next Saturday?"

I looked at her, suddenly wondering whether I'd asked her out or if  she'd asked me, or even whether it really mattered. Because I could  already tell that Emily was extraordinary, and I knew without a doubt  that I wanted to get to know her better.





On Sunday, when I had spare time, I worked on the third commercial and  shipped it off to the editor, which took less time than I thought it  would. It had to take little time, since the rest of my day was spent  with London.

It may not be politically correct to say, but the fact that London was  going to school made my life better, too. As much as I loved my  daughter, Sunday wore me out and I was looking forward to heading to  work, if only because it seemed somehow easier than entertaining a  five-year-old for sixteen straight hours.

My good mood, however, ended even before I got to the office on Monday  morning. I'd just dropped London off when I fielded a call from  Taglieri, asking if it was possible for me to swing by his office.

Half an hour later, I was sitting across from him in his office. His  jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up; on his desk were messy  piles of what I assumed to be ongoing cases.

"Thanks for making time this morning," he said. "I connected with  Vivian's attorney on Friday. I wanted to get a sense of her and see if  there was a way to make all of this proceed as smoothly as possible."