Child Of Divorce
"I told you I could go by myself!" Kate complained loudly, kicking sand up in Grant's general direction.
He wiped his glasses tiredly against his shirt, still in his work clothes though he had full intentions of participating in the festival.
The eight-year-old's ongoing tantrum had been set off by her father's sudden appearance at the Harvest Festival, just as the huge iron stewpot had been brought out to simmer. Over the chatter of villagers and the screeching gulls, her shrill voice pierced the air.
"Aha… it's so nice to be here with my family." Grant sighed to a neighboring farmer, Todd, oddly at peace with the angry little girl beside him.
"Fine! If you're going to be here, I'll go and play with Hugh!" She screeched before stomping off, soft blue dress flapping violently in a sudden gust of wind from off the water.
"Are you… okay?" The farmer asked softly, setting a hand on Hugh's slumped shoulders.
"Just tired," he replied with a faint smile, "but I will be fine. I do it all for her," he gestured toward the rude little girl, perfect braids bobbing up and down as she tossed an old soccer ball back and forth with Wally's boy.
The young farmer couldn't quite understand where the man was coming from. Couldn't understand at all, actually. How Grant managed to wake up even earlier than the farmers in town, catch a bus in the next town over, ride into the city, work all day, and then come home tired only to be beaten down by his bratty kid. It seemed like it would be Hell.
But there he was, smiling tiredly at his daughter, closing his eyes slowly and letting an ocean breeze and the smell of fresh stew wash over him. His starched work shirts, his ironed tie, polished shoes. The only even remotely unkempt about his appearance were the heavy, dark circles beneath his eyes.
"I wish her mother could be here..."
The divorce wasn't even two years past, and every chance she got Kate would loudly remind her father that "this is why Mom left!" and "why didn't you just let her take me?!"
Samantha had been a stay-at-home mother, which was good since Grant seemed to spend more time at work in the city than at home. Everyone assumed that was why she left in the end.
Though why in the world she left her daughter with Grant, nobody could guess.
"Ah, they're adding the final ingredients… you should go. You always have something from your crop to add," Grant suggested quietly, eyes drifting off toward the vague line where sea met sky.
As the farmer trotted off, Grant took in a deep breath.
An egg, a piece of toast, and porridge in the mornings. That was what he left for her, and every night when he came home it was sitting in the fridge, untouched plastic draped neatly over the delicate ceramic bowl.
Rice, soup, and a piece of fruit or sliced cucumber for lunch. Sometimes yogurt drink pouches or puddings, too. At least those were taken out the door with her when she walked to school.
Ruby always brought over dinner for her in the evenings, sometimes even stayed to play checkers with her, or talk about school.
She used to say her favorite color was red, though actually she hated it. She just said that because it was her mother's favorite color. Hers was actually blue.
She always said she wanted to be a writer when she grew up, though now she rarely spoke two words to him without mentioning her mother.
They had their differences, but Kate idolized Samantha...
"Dad! Hugh's dad wants to know if you're coming to the culture festival at school," Kate shouted from a good twenty feet away, surrounded by Wally, Chris, and Hugh.
A different sort of family. Happier, maybe. More complete.
She'd latched on to them since the divorce.
"It's next friday!" Hugh added, not bothering to move any closer than Kate had.
"I-" Grant's reply was cut short by Vesta's booming voice.
"Let's eat everyone! I'm famished!"
And with those words, the crowd gathered quickly around the Harvest Pot, pressing up against the low stone barrier built to keep people several feet away from the bubbling, superheated vat.
"A-hem! As Mayor of Mineral Town, and Official Event Supervisor, I-" Thomas started, clearly offended that Vesta had usurped his status as Stew Keeper.
"Oh hush up and eat some already!" Vesta laughed, whole body shaking with the force of it.
Celia stood quietly by the huge woman's side, smiling demurely as Thomas climbed the ladder to start spooning out bowls of the festive stew.
Grant winced at a sudden memory.
...
"You could learn a lot from Celia, Katherine," Samantha chided, gripping Kate's hand firmly.
"But MOM, I don't WANNA be like Celia!"
"Honey, you just don't know how to act like a lady. Here, put your hands in your lap-"
"No no no!"
"Katherine, listen to me!"
"Mooom! No!"
...
"Here, Dad," a small voice offered from below his field of vision, startling him out of his trance.
"Hm?"
"This is stew. From Ruby," she grumbled, refusing to make eye contact.
Chris might have lectured her on her behavior again, she looked so red in the ears. To be honest he didn't mind the temper Kate had developed since Samantha left. He couldn't help her through it, being gone so much. It was good that friends could...
"Thank you, Kate."
"Hey Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Let me go alone next time."
"Alright."
If she had been any younger, she might have reached out to hold his hand. Or grabbed his sleeve. Instead they ate their soup in silence, staring out at the ocean as the sun began to set.
He said a small prayer for a better year, and smiled. It was good.
The stew was good.