"Mom! Have you seen the box with my Strawberry Shortcakes in it?"
"No, honey. Not yet."
"It can't really be my room unless my Strawberry Shortcakes are in it."
"I know. Maybe it hasn't been brought in yet. We'll just keep looking. You know that Uncle Seth has an eagle eye." She runs back up to the room that is awaiting fruit-scented toys to make it officially hers. I sigh heavily, blowing the hair out of my eyes as I do. There will be hell to pay - and soon - if those dolls aren't found. Between the boxes we brought from Dad's house across town, the boxes the movers brought from storage in Oregon, and the supplies we bought to make this first night in our newly bought house possible, I'll be lucky if we find toilet paper in this mess.
It's been a long, box-filled month. Tabitha and I made it to Forks in one piece. However, the drive that usually takes me four and a half hours with a sleeping Shortcake took me seven hours with a wide awake Shortcake. One hour for every hundred questions. Don't forget two potty breaks and lunch. But we got here.
We stayed with Dad and Sue for two weeks before I decided that we needed our own house.
I mean, I love them both, Dad and Sue. I really, really do. And there is no doubt that Tabitha was in Grandchild Nirvana. I was having a hard time, though. It's the first time I've been home for any real length of time since Riley died, and my parents just can't stop themselves from lavishing me with all of the help and sympathy they couldn't give me when I was still an obvious wreck. It's endearing. It's loving. It's driving me fucking crazy.
And it wasn't just that compassionate pair. Their door was never closed. Seth came around two or three times a week to see his Cake. Leah and Jake and their two kids, River and Skye, dropped by with great frequency "just to check in." Just to check up on me, more like. At least Tab got to play with her cousins. Paul came with them once or twice, but the family atmosphere was just too much for him. Paul has never been great with kids, not even when he was one. Emmett and Rose, who are married now - never saw that coming, by the way - visited a few times to see me. They took me out to dinner so I could, in their words, have some time away from being mommy and get in touch with Bella. They meant well. I suspect it was Rose's idea, since Em would try to steal Tabitha if he thought he could outrun my father's gun. Alice came by every day. Nothing could stop her. Edward even came over a couple of times just to chat. It was too much. Not my house, not my place to uninvite any of them, but I needed more space, more control, more privacy, more time with my daughter. Tabitha needed some normalcy and boundaries.
So we found a new house. Well, new to us. It's actually quite… a hot mess, to be honest. Seth, who at twenty-six is the most in-demand contractor in Forks, thinks I've lost my damn mind. My dad just shook his head. Sue had kittens the first time she walked in the place. To be fair, the screen door did fall off. But I like it. Tab likes it. We need a project, and this place is definitely a project. We've already replaced some windows and given it a top to bottom cleaning. It needs a paint job, indoors and out. Paint is faded and some wallpaper is peeling. Some of the walls are paneled, for God's sake. The floors need to be completely redone. The yard needs to be tamed. The screen door needs to be replaced. And, sweet Lord, the basement. Okay, fine. It's a dingy dump. But the roof and foundation are good. We can work with this.
"What am I looking for?" Seth asks, coming in the door heavy laden with more boxes filled with God knows what, having only caught the tail end of my reply to Tabitha's plea.
"Shortcake's Shortcakes. They're AWOL at the moment."
"Would that be the box with the strawberry stickers on it?" He asks this with a twinkle in his eyes.
"It would," I reply in relief.
"Hey, Cake! Got something for you!" he yells out, completely satisfied to once again be the hero. Tab skids around the corner and spies the box holding her most treasured possessions in the arms of her uncle.
"Uncle Seth! You rock!" After a kiss on his cheek, she grabs the box and drags it back up to her room.
"You sure those stairs are safe enough for her to be banging up and down them like that?" my father asks.
"Dad-" Seth doesn't let me finish, noting my extreme frustration at yet one more paternal nitpick.
"It's all good, Charlie. I checked it all out. Most of the problems are cosmetic. Like I told you. Calm down. They're fine here, I promise."
"But the floors, and the walls, the fireplace needs work," Sue adds to the conversation about my house that apparently I am not participating in. She is not in favor of this move at this point in the renovation, to put it mildly.
"It's clean, though. The plumbing and electric are fine. All of that other stuff is in the works, Mom. Jasper is coming first thing in the morning to get started on the floors. No sense in finishing the walls before the floor is done."
"Wait," I say, finding my voice. "Jasper? Jasper Whitlock?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because you wanted to get started with the reno ASAP," Seth says slowly, as if to a small, dumb child.
"No, dumbass. I mean, why Jasper?"
"Oh, that's right. You don't know. He's the new co-owner I told you about. I needed help to grow the company; he had money. Worked out great."
"Huh." That is surprising to me. What's even more surprising is the fact that I didn't know. Seth never thinks to share small details, but Alice never told me. She doesn't talk about her ex that often. Have I fallen so out of touch with my old friends? I hadn't even realized Jasper was back in town. Last I heard, he was going for his Master's in architecture at UT Austin. I realize now that I haven't spoken to him since my wedding. He had just finished his five year bachelor's program. He was so excited. I wonder what happened.
"How have I not seen him? I've been back a month!"
"He stays busy, Bells," says a new but familiar voice.
"But still, Emmett. He could have come to say hi or something."
"You'll see him tomorrow. Now, where do these boxes go?"
When they're all gone, I feed my child Chinese food then put her to bed. Her room is as unfinished as the rest of the house, but her dolls are there so it's hers. It's all unfinished, but it's ours.
Ours.
Just Tabitha's and mine.
No Riley to be found. No memories of him tucking Tab into bed, or making breakfast on Sundays, or bitching when we ran out of coffee, or making love to me in every room but the baby's. No arguments, no make ups, no vacation planning, no cold days spent in front of the fire. No Riley.
I sit down on the shabby but clean floor in my new living room and have the first breakdown I've allowed myself to have since before we left our home in Oregon. My worst since Christmas Eve. I sit here on this floor across which he'll never walk, while his baby girl sleeps in a room in which he'll never read to her, in a house he'll never fill with his laugh, his smell, his dirty socks. For just a moment, I mourn my husband all over again. I mourn for my old life.
I cover my face with my hands wrapped in the bottom of my t-shirt. Leaning my forehead on my raised knees, I make an effort to keep the sobs wracking my body from waking my girl. And I cry. And cry. And then I stop. It doesn't matter that I'm sad, or scared, or lonely, or overwhelmed. It doesn't matter that I'm angry and confused and pretending to be more together than I really am. What matters is that pink pajama clad kid upstairs. She needs me to be together. She needs me to put on the smile and make it convincing. She needs me to somehow be happy. I hope this move, this house, this project to build a new life is a good choice. I hope it will be enough.
I push myself to go upstairs. It simply will not do to have my seriously too-perceptive child find me in a puffy-eyed heap on the floor in the morning. I creak my bathroom door open and get an eyeful of sweat and snot and a red, glassy gaze. I quickly wash my face, put on my nightgown, and crawl into my cold, empty bed. It was our bed. I fall asleep knowing that in the morning, I'll be ordering a new one.
I wake up sometime in the dark of night to the feeling of little toes curling on my leg and the sound of little sniffles in my ear.
"What's wrong, Shortcake?"
"It's not really my room yet. Not even with Strawberry in there with me."
"It will be soon, Tabs. I promise. We'll make it beautiful."
"I know," she sniffs. She's been so strong throughout this entire move.
"What's really the matter, baby?"
"I miss Daddy."
"Me, too." I'm not the only one who feels his absence here.
I awake again, this time with Tabitha's feet in my back, to the unholy sound of persistent banging on the front door. Loud. So loud that it has awakened me from a deep sleep, upstairs, with the bedroom door shut. Son of a bitch, it's 7:30 in the morning. If they wake my kid, there will be hell to pay.
Getting out of my bed and running down the stairs toward whatever brain damaged individual is about to feel my wrath, I realize I have on a short nightgown and nothing else. Please don't be a crazy, door-knocking, nighty-fetishist. Too late to do anything about it now, so I fling open the door.
"What the hell?!" We say it in unison but for different reasons. He because his scantily-clad friend from high school just startled the crap out of him, and me because I did not in any way, shape, or form expect to see Jasper Whitlock swinging a hammer toward me.
"Morning, Bella. Welcome back," he says once he's regained his composure. And lowered the hammer.
"Jasper!" I say excitedly, throwing myself at him in a hug. I don't know if it's because he's been on my mind a bit since yesterday, or if I'm just happy he's not a knocking fetishist. Maybe a little of both.
"Sorry it's so early. I didn't mean to wake you," he apologizes bashfully.
"Yeah, about that," I huff as I back away. "What in the world?"
"Seth said there was a lot to do. Thought I'd get started outside. Didnt think it would wake you up. Fixed the screen door, though."
"Oh, wow. Thanks. Come on in. I'll make some coffee. If I can find the coffee. Or the coffee maker," I laugh.
"Sure, sounds good. But, uh, Bella?"
"Yeah?"
"Gonna put some clothes on first?"
"OH! Oh, yeah. Yeah. Go scope out the place, and I'll go change." I rush up the stairs, only a little embarrassed. We all used to skinny dip in the ocean at night when were in high school. Who cares when you're drunk? It's a little different now.
Jasper looks the same. He's still got that shaggy light brown hair, bright blue-green eyes, lop-sided dimpled smile. He looks good. Really good in his well-worn black leather jacket, white tee, and jeans.. That's been his uniform for as long as I can remember. Same jacket. Same Jasper. But not. Not as wide open. But who am I to judge the man at 7:30 in the morning? Anyway, I'm not the same, either.
"You're lucky, mister," I scold as I enter the kitchen where he is leaning on the edge of the box-covered counter. "Tab is still asleep!"
"Good. So, what do I call her, anyway?" he seems truly puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
"Seth calls her Cake, Charlie calls her Shortcake, Sue calls her Tabitha. You just called her Tab. What should I call her? Cause, you know, by the looks of the little bit of the house I've seen, me and my crew will be here quite a lot for quite a while, Bella."
"Yeah, I figured. And she'll let you know what she wants you to call her. Start out with Tabitha. Never, never Tabby. She says she might be a witch, but she's not a cat. Cake is pretty much reserved for Seth, though."
"Good to know." He grows contemplative as I move around the kitchen looking for things that will give me coffee. "I mean it, Bella. Welcome back."
"Thanks. Hey. You didn't say welcome home like everyone else."
"No. No, I understand. You're back, but this isn't home again. Not yet."
"Sounds like you do understand. And you're right," I say softly, while triumphantly pulling my Keurig from a slightly bent box. "You're back, too. Want to tell me that story?"
"Not right now. But that coffee would be great."
Jasper thinks reviews are like hugs. Who doesn't want to hug Jasper?