Here at Last (8 page)

As I
reflected on
the events of the day,
I
was
grateful for my
good
health and
for the work that I loved
because
, together, they
gave
my life
some
semblance of
stability. I sure didn’t have it in the relationship department. First, there had been
David
. Then, there
had been
the unlikely possibility of
JT. I smiled to myself and was relieved that
JT and I had never dated
.
That
would’ve been a disaster.

Still
, I
couldn’t get over the fact that I
had finally met
H
im
i
n Chicago
. What
was
the
statistical probability
of that?

I stayed in the tub until the water
bec
a
me tepid
. Then, I stood up and to
we
l
e
d off before
stepping out
onto the carpet
and
putting on a robe. I went into my bedroom and pulled
on some thick socks before walking out to the kitchen to forage
in the refrigerator
.

I was expecting a call from Rhonda when m
y cell
phone rang
, but I didn’t recognize the number
. “Hello?”

“Hi,” said a man’s voice. “
Sophia
?”

“Yes?”

“Hi. This is
Nicholas
. We met today?”
He sounded hopeful.

My heart jumped a little, but I
quell
ed
it quickly.
“
Of course
. How are you?”

“Okay,” he said, “but, somehow, I ended up with your scarf.”

“
Really?
” I
stopped fishing around in the refrigerator and stood up
.
“
How did that happen?”

“I do
n’t
know.
I found it in my briefcase. It must have
slid
inside
when
you tossed it on
the table. I
found
it when I returned to my office.”

I was curious.
“How did you get my
cell
number?”

He hesitated. “I Googled you. It was listed on a professional site as a secondary contact number.”

He was industrious, and I
had to laugh
.
“
That’s impressive.
I r
eally appreciate it. My
sister
gave me that scarf, and I’d hate to lose it. Can I pick it up from you?”

“Sure
,” he
paused
, “
o
r
I could drop it off for you.”

“No,” I told him.
“
D
on’t go to any
more
trouble
.
”

“It’s no trouble
.
Uh
–
m
y daughter has a cold. Since tomorrow’s Saturday,
I’ll be
at
home with her
all day
if you want to come by
.”

“
That
’s fine
.
How about
11 a.m
.
?
”

“That’s great.”

He gave me his address
, and
we hung up. I stood for a moment in the stillness of the kitchen and thought about what an interesting day this had become. Then, I returned to trying to figure out what I would have for dinner.

Chapter 1
0

On Saturday morning, I drove
to
Nicholas
’s
townhouse in Oak Park
, an
older
Chicago suburb
with mature trees and landscaping. It seemed very peaceful and was far enough away from the hubbub of the city to keep it that way.
After
I pulled into the driveway and parked the car
,
I walked
up the steps to
the
front porch and
rang the doorbell
.
Nicholas
appeared a moment later, opening
the door with
h
is daughter crying in the background.

“
Hi,” he said, seeming a little harried
.
“
Do you have
a minute?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Come on in
.
”
He handed me my scarf, and I glanced at it before slipping it into my purse.

“Thanks for cleaning it,” I said a little surprised.

“No problem.”

I followed him through the foyer and into the living room
where his daughter was wailing loudly.

“I’m sorry about this,” he called out over his shoulder. “It’s okay,
Hannah
. I’m right here.”
Nicholas
walked over to
a little dark-haired girl
and picked her up in his arms. “
Hannah
, this is
Sophia
. Can you say hello?”

Hannah
looked all of about four years old
and had
big brown eyes like
her
father
’s
. She
quieted down
a little and looked at me with
fresh
tears
on her red cheeks.

“Hello,
Hannah
. It’s nice to meet you. Your daddy tells me you have a cold.
A
re you feeling
better
today?”

Hannah
didn’t say anything but continued look
ing
at me shyly. “She’s
still
not feeling very well
,” he said
.
“
I really need to pu
t her down for a nap.
Can I get you a cup
of
tea?
It’s the least I can do after spilling your
s
on you yesterday.”

I was still feeling a little chilly
, and tea sounded good
. “
Sure
. Maybe I’ll use
the
restroom while you’re putting her
to bed.
” He nodded, and I
followed him
down the hallway
.

“It’s in here,” he motioned toward the
bathroom.

“Thanks,” I said while he conti
nued to the end of the hall
and into Hannah’s room
.

When I
stepped into the bathroom, I was overcome
by the scent of fruit punch. Apparently, it was one of
Hannah
’s favorites.
There
was fruit punch soap in a dispenser by the sink and a big jug of fruit punch bubble bath on the floor beside the tub. I lifted the toilet lid, which had a
furry
pink cover, and sat down survey
ing
the room. Bright p
ink and lavender towels hung from
a
towel bar
by the tub
, and there was one
Snoopy
hand towel that hung by the sink. I washed
up a moment later
and used
the Snoopy towel
before stepping out of the bathroom and
reentering
the living room where
I sat on the sofa and waited.

A few minutes later,
Hannah’s bedroom
door
closed
quietly, and
Nicholas
rejoined me in the living room
and sat down
.
H
e looked tired.

“Oh,” he said. “Tea.”

“That’s okay. I’ll be happy to get it if you can tell me where it is.”

“We can go into the kitchen."
He stood, and I
followed him. He
took two mugs out and set them down on the counter by the sink. Then,
he filled
them with
water and put them into the microwave and turned it on.
At his urging, I opened
a cabinet
to find
several kinds of organic tea. I chose mint, and he
picked
Earl Grey. Moments later, the microwave had done its work, and he
removed
t
w
o steaming cups of water. We
placed
our tea bags in
to
the mugs
and sat down at the small round table in the kitchen. There was a half-eaten bowl of
Fruit Loops
sitting in front of me, and
Nicholas
apologized
, picking
it up
sliding
it
on
to
the counter
top behind
him.

“It gets a little crazy around here sometimes,” he said.

“That’s okay,” I told him. “It’s like that for all of my friends who have kids.”

“I’m sure they handle it better than I do,” he said,
carefully sipping
his hot tea. He hesitated for a moment. “I lost my wife 13 months ago to leukemia. I don’t make a very good mother.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling a little surprised. “Does anyone help you with
Hannah
?”

He nodded. “My sister
Lydia
and her husband
Darrell
live
nearby.
Lydia
helps out when she can
, but she has kids of her own
.
My parents
try
, but they’re in Florida
.”

What I had originally anticipated would be the quick
retrieval
of my scarf turned into
a
two-hour conversation about
Hannah
and her mother
Rachel
.
Rachel
and
Nicholas
had
met at work
and
married when
she was
3
6, and he was 37
. She had always wanted children, and they had tried for a
few
years until they were finally able to conceive with the help of a fertility clinic. 
Hannah
Marie was born at 7 lbs. 6 oz.
with
a head full of jet black hair just like her mother’s.

Rachel
had been diagnosed with leukemia when she was a
child
but had beaten it
the
first
time
. Not long after
Hannah
had been born,
the
leukemia
had returned
. The doctors,
Nicholas
told me,
had
not
been
optimistic about her chances. T
wo
years later, she passed away.

I knew that being a single parent was difficult. I had seen some of my friends go through it. Suddenly, one parent had to
become the
primary
bread winner, take
care of
the finances, make most or all of the decisions
, and be responsible for
part-
time or
full-time childcare
depending on how involved the ex-spouse was
if there was an ex
.
Single parenthood i
s not for the
weak
, and I deeply admired my friends
who
had
excelled at it
.

I heard Nicholas say,
“
I’m sorry
–
I’ve been doing all
of
the talking here.
” He changed the topic away from himself. "
How
’
s the burn on your
hand
?”