“Just checking.”
“I vaguely remember you responding likewise,” I say quietly. “Did you mean it?”
She leans over and kisses me again. “I meant it,” she says softly.
“If you two will quit making cow eyes at one another, we can finish this up!” Mr. Jacobson yells. Bess gets busy hammering, laughing softly to herself. We work until lunch time, then come down from the roof when Mr. Jacobson gets a phone call. Bess practically dances in place as she waits for him to finish talking.
“That was Jake,” he says as he blinks his eyes hard.
“And?”
“Eight pounds two ounces,” he says. “Healthy little girl.” He sniffles. “Mom is doing just fine.”
I wrap my arm around Bess’s shoulders and pull her against me. She melts into my side like she used to, and it feels so damn good.
“Her name is Poppy Jane,” the old man says as he puffs out his chest. “But I’m only allowed to say it if I use both names.”
Bess grins at me and then gives Mr. Jacobson a spontaneous hug. “Congratulations!”
He snif
fles again and gives her a quick pat on the back. “Yeah, well… It’s supposed to rain tonight,” Mr. Jacobson says. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”
Bess looks at me and laughs. Then she looks at Mr. Jacobson. “If it’s going to rain, does that mean you can open up the game room?”
Mr. Jacobson pretends to think about it. “I reckon that might be all right,” he says. He points to all the trash on the ground. “Y’all get this cleaned up.”
Then he walks away, whistling as he starts walking back to the big house.
I rub my eyes and groan. “I can’t stop seeing him naked in my head,” I say.
His hearing must be keener than I thought because he yells back, “Stop talking about my dick!”
Bess laughs, I laugh, and we work together to clean up all the trash. Then we walk up to the big house, where we find Aaron sitting on the porch with Kerry-Anne as they talk quietly together. I walk past them without disturbing them, and we go inside where there is utter chaos as Pop tries to feed all the little ones at once. He has Hank and Erik as well as Miles. He holds a bottle for Miles with one hand as he spreads food onto trays for the other two.
“Don’t just stand there,” he says gruffly. “Make yourselves useful.”
Bess scoops up Miles and takes his bottle, and she goes into the living room to sit and rock him while he finishes.
“Is it always like this?” I ask over the noise.
“No,” he replies equally loudly. “Sometimes it’s shitty.” He leans close to Hank and sniffs. “Speaking of which…” He raises his eyebrows at me, but I dash out the door before he can tag me in.
40
Bess
The game room was one of the highlights of summer when we were kids. We didn’t get to use it often—only when it rained—but it was always a favorite. Mr. Jacobson would go to the bank and get buckets of quarters so people could exchange their dollars. Then he would use all the money he took in on the games to have cookouts for the people who visited the complex.
Stepping into the building is a lot like stepping back in time. And just like the last time I walked through the door, Eli is holding my hand and grinning. He points to the ping pong table. “You were playing that the first time I saw you. You were kicking Aaron’s ass.”
Aaron pipes up from behind us. “Hey!” he cries. “I’m right here, ya know.”
Eli turns to face him. “You were shit at ping pong,” he says.
Aaron acknowledges his comment with a tilt of his head. “Not all of us are cutthroat like Bess when it comes to games,” he says, glaring at me playfully.
“I can’t help it if I like to win,” I retort. “Nor can I help it that you’re a sore loser.”