I couldn’t recall if I’d ever babysat, but if I had, I’d never sat for a kid with half the energy of Jackson.
From the moment Bella left, it was like someone plugged him in and set him on high. I helped him dig a hole about three feet deep. Then we dug a moat around the hole. He grabbed the wall and turret-shaped sand molds he’d brought and we worked together, filling them with sand and placing them around the moat, sculpting a castle.
He was a blur of constant motion, constantly jumping up and running to the other side of the hole to inspect or fix something. Then he’d sprint back and collapse into the sand, deciding on the next piece to build.
He chattered constantly, talking about the castle and the water and dogs and his mom and crackers and just about everything else you might find in an encyclopedia. He laughed randomly at his own words and never once asked where his mother was or when she’d be back.
I envied his carefree attitude and joy at nearly every little thing we did.
After I don’t know how long, we walked down to the water to rinse the sand off of our arms and legs. He splashed me and I splashed him back. He giggled and dropped face first into the waves, popping back up and shaking the water off like a dog.
I laughed and shook my head.
“Are you trying to drown him?”
I turned around and Bella was standing behind us.
“No,” I said. “Just rinsing off.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t blame you,” she said, coming down next to me in the ankle deep water. “I’ve thought about it plenty of times.”
“I doubt that.”
Jackson jumped up and fell backwards into the water.
“You’re probably right,” she said, smiling at her son. “He can be awful cute.”
“You get your stuff done?” I asked.
Her smile broke a bit and she ran a hand through her hair. “Um, yeah. All done.”
Her cheeks were pink, not from the heat, and her ponytail was in disarray. Something was off, but I couldn’t place it.
“He didn’t drive you nuts, did he?” she asked.
“Not at all. We had fun.”
“He can be a handful.”
“He did most of the work,” I said. “I was an assistant.”
A wave rolled in and knocked Jackson off his feet. He bounced up and flexed his tiny muscles, roaring at the water.
She shook her head. “If only he had more confidence.”
I smiled. “He’s a fun kid.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Thank you. For saying that. And for watching him. And I keep having to thank you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes. I do,” she said. “You’ve bailed me out twice in two days.”
I wanted to tell her that playing with her son was as much fun as I’d had in months, but I was fearful of the questions that might bring out. But it was the truth. Playing with Jackson was the first time I’d stopped worrying since I’d left San Diego.
“So I’m gonna need to pay you back again,” she said.
“No, you don’t.”
“I want to,” she said, touching my elbow. “For two days we've invaded your life and you’ve been nothing but kind to me and to Jackson.” She hesitated and her hand fell away. “It’s been awhile since we’ve…had that.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I watched Jackson do jumping jacks, water spraying all around him.
“Would you like to come over and have dinner with us?” she asked. “Not hamburgers from a window. But a real dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t, but I’d like to and I’ll feel guilty if you don’t let me,” she said. “Plus, you live in a garage and I don’t think you’re doing a lot of cooking in there.”
I shook my head, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m off tonight,” she said. “And I’m a decent cook. I swear.”
I felt stuck. I wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t that I minded spending time with her or Jackson. I didn’t. I was enjoying their company. But I feared several hours in a confined place with anyone. Even I couldn’t do that much small talk.
“Please,” she said, touching my elbow again. “I’d really like to.”
Jackson got down on all fours and began barking at the waves, splashing around and bucking in the water. He was a very funny little boy.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll come for dinner.”