"To live will be an awfully big adventure." Peter Pan
Five years ago today, at almost one o'clock in the afternoon, 28-year-old Jonah Makes Peace grew up. On that day he had been sitting casually with his partner, on an iron beam some twelve stories up, eating his lunch and talking about the rowdy weekend they were planning with their girlfriends, when he had been ordered to the site office. He remembered his surprise and the feeling of unease as he and his partner had made their way down. Instinctively he had known this wasn't going to be good. They would never have hauled him down without there being a serious reason.
After shimmying down three stories of ironwork, they had entered the wire cage elevator for the rest of the journey, and he'd prepared himself, he thought, for whatever lay ahead. Minutes later, life as he knew it had come to a screeching halt, when he had learned his four-year-old daughter had been left orphaned when her mother died of a drug overdose. A daughter he'd had no idea even existed.
Now he here he sat, watching as a cast was put in place on that daughter's arm and wondering how he could ever have doubted Tasha was his daughter. A tomboy, she was every bit as fearless and fiercely competitive as he had been at that age. A dare to jump from the highest bar of one monkey bars apparatus to another several feet away had earned her a broken arm and a trip to the emergency room.
“You'll have to sign it, Dad,” she was saying as she watched layers of plaster being built upon layers of ace bandaging, her flaming red hair tousled around her elfin face. Then she looked at him with those piercing blue eyes. “Just don't write anything stupid.”
Staring sternly back at her with equally piercing blue eyes, he hid his grin beneath his hand as he rubbed it over the lower part of his face. It wouldn't do for her to know how amused he was now that his panic had worn off. Nope. She was definitely flesh of his flesh.
After her release from the emergency room, he drove them back to the hundred and twenty-year-old Queen Anne house where they lived in a roomy, upstairs, two-bedroom apartment. He had settled them there because it was in a safe neighborhood with good schools. Granted he paid more in rent than he would have in a traditional apartment complex, but the trade off was better security for his daughter, and that was uppermost in his mind. Nearly every decision he made anymore was made with her in mind.
As they entered the foyer and were about to climb the stairs, the door across from them opened and a young woman stepped out. Dressed comfortably in jeans and pale blue t-shirt, with her long, saucy, blonde pony tail, Roberta looked far younger than her twenty-nine years. Her wide, unusual tawny brown eyes were alight with sympathetic laughter as she met Jonah's gaze before turning them upon his daughter.
“Hello, Jonah. Hi, Tasha. I hear you had an adventure today.”
“Hi Roberta,” Jonah replied tiredly.
Tasha grinned and proudly held up her cast.
“Hi, Bertie! I almost made it to the other monkey bars!”
“I see that.”
“Do you want to sign it?”
“I'd be honored to.”
“Dad's already signed it. I wouldn't let him put anything stupid on it.”
Jonah rolled his eyes before looking down at Tasha in mock consternation.
“I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted to do that anyway,” Roberta assured her before once again turning her attention to her father. “How are you holding up?”
Jonah returned her smile with a resigned one of his own and relaxed the arm holding a stuffed pink camo backpack.
“I lost several years of my life today, but other than that I'm doing okay.”
She chuckled and relaxed back against the door frame. As always she was struck by his good looks. Taller than her own five foot four by several inches, he was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, except for those gorgeous blue eyes, and his previous life as an ironworker had left him with one hell of a body inside that dispatcher's uniform. Inwardly she sighed and wished, just once, she could see his hair loose from the perpetual pony tail, and that he saw her as more than a convenient babysitter.
“I've a big pot of spaghetti on the stove. Would you like to come in?”
Before Jonah could answer, Tasha looked up pleadingly and grabbed his hand.
“Oh, please, Dad? Bertie makes the best spaghetti!”
“I thought we were going to order pizza.”
“Bertie's spaghetti is lots better.” She pulled his on his hand. “Please, Dad?”
After a moment he looked back at Roberta and sighed in defeat.
“I guess we're accepting your invitation.” He looked down at his daughter. “We'll go upstairs and wash up first. Okay?”
“Alright!”
Grabbing her backpack from his hand, Tasha clamored the rest of the way up the stairs, leaving the two adults in her wake.
“About thirty minutes?” Jonah asked and Roberta nodded.
“Sounds perfect.”
After a last smile, he wearily followed his daughter.
An hour later, Jonah had to admit, Roberta did make great spaghetti. After setting down his fork he pushed the empty plate aside and took a drink of his soda as he listened to Tasha jabber away about her day. She was especially indignant when describing the aftermath of her fall when the boy who had dared her had laughed as the playground attendant had come running up.
“But I didn't cry,” she declared with great satisfaction. “No way was I gonna cry. He would have, though. I know it.”
Roberta laughing eyes met Jonah's as she praised Tasha's toughness, causing the little girl to beam in response.
“Are you finished with your supper, Tasha?” he asked, noting that she had spent far more time talking than eating, which was apparent by the amount of food remaining on her plate. The little girl took a huge bite of spaghetti then grinned as she chewed.
“I am now,” she declared after swallowing. The she looked up at Roberta. “Bertie, can I go watch a cartoon?”
“If it's okay with your father.”
Tasha turned her blue eyes pleadingly on her father, “Please?”
“For a few minutes. Then we have to go home. You have homework, remember?”
“I remember.”
“Do you need me to turn the DVD player on?” Roberta asked and Tasha shook her head as she slid down from the table.
“No, I remember how.”
“Which cartoon are you going to watch?”
“I like the old ones best,” the little girl paused. “They're not so sissy.” She cocked her consideringly. “I think, I think I'll watch, um, 'Power Rangers'!”
Jonah shook his head as she dashed from the room.
“I made the mistake of buying her 'Frozen' for her birthday last year. She's never let me forget it.”
Roberta chuckled and took a sip of her soda.
“She may appreciate it eventually. She's gotta grow up sometime.”
He smiled sadly, “I know. Just not so fast.”
She watched as he sat back and stretched, causing his worn Cedar Ridge FD t-shirt to mold itself to his impressive chest and she almost sighed aloud. The shirt reminded her of the first time she'd met them, four years ago when Jonah had rented the apartment upstairs shortly before beginning his job as a fireman for the city fire department. Her midnight shift work schedule as a licensed practical nurse with the local hospital and his daytime schedule had complimented each other and so she had offered to watch Tasha in the afternoons after school, an arrangement that continued to this day. She remembered the day when, after a close call while fighting a fire in a grain elevator, he had realized how close he had come to making Tasha a true orphan and applied for a transfer to the E-911 dispatch center. Not long after, he was hired and had been there ever since. When he had shared stories of his days as an ironworker “walking iron” high above the city streets, she had witnessed how much he had loved the job. But he had willingly given it up to give his daughter a more stable home and moved out of the city to attend the firefighter academy, eventually coming to work with the Cedar Ridge Fire Department. She knew the story of how he had come to have Tasha, and she knew how much he loved his daughter. By his own admission, he had been forced to grow up with Tasha's arrival in his life and he never regretted the loss of a moment of the life he would have still been living without her. She was now the shining light in his life, a fact that made Roberta love him all the more.
Suddenly, she realized that he had asked a question and was patiently awaiting her answer. She hoped her face wasn't as red as it felt and she coughed self consciously as she sat up straighter, glad he couldn't read her thoughts.
“I'm sorry, Jonah. My mind was elsewhere. What did you say?”
“I asked how your work is going.”
“It's going okay. Busy as ever.” She snapped her fingers as she remembered, “Which reminds me, I'm taking vacation over the school's spring break. You won't have to worry about finding another babysitter while Tasha is off from school.”
“You shouldn't do that, Roberta,” he objected. “You deserve a vacation from both of your jobs.”
“Taking care of Tasha is hardly a job. She's a delight and I love having her here. Having her full time for a few days will be a treat.”
Seeing her sincerity he acquiesced gratefully.
“Okay, I appreciate it and I know she'll enjoy it. I'll pay you double for your time, then.”
“You don't have to do that!”
“Yes, I do. It's the least I can do.” He grinned. “I know what you're in for!”
After helping her with the dishes, Jonah collected Tasha and they returned to their apartment. Later, after finishing her homework, taking her bath, and donning her pajamas, Tasha watched her father speculatively as he sat down at the foot of her twin bed, prepared to read more of “Alice in Wonderland” as part of their nightly ritual.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“I wish Bertie was my mom.”
Taken aback, Jonah gently closed the book, leaving one finger to mark the place where they had stopped the night before.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, other kids have moms and Bertie is already taking care of me. Why can't she be my mom for real?”
He found himself at a loss as to the best way to respond.
“To be your mom, honey, Roberta and I would have to be married and we don't have that kind of relationship.”
“Why?”
“We just don't.”
“Well, I think you should,” Tasha declared decisively. “We already live in the same house. Sorta.”
Jonah had never felt more inept and finally settled on that time honored parental standby.
“When you get older, you'll understand. Now,” He took a breath and opened the book. “Shall we continue with the story?”
Sometime later, once Tasha was asleep, Jonah sat in his recliner nursing his nightly glass of chocolate milk and let their conversation play over through his mind. He guessed he should have expected this at some point and, as he thought about it, he was surprised it had taken her this long to bring the matter up. It was only natural that she would want a mother, especially now that she was getting older. There was only so much a daddy could do and, thinking ahead to all those things girls needed to know as they became teenagers, he shuddered. The only thing worse than telling her about the birds and the bees would be explaining what a menstrual cycle was. Maybe he could pay Roberta extra to handle those chores for him.
He took a sip of his milk as his thoughts centered on Roberta. A man would have to be an idiot not to see what a great person she was. And how attractive. The thing was, since Tasha had entered his life he'd devoted his life to raising her. In five years he'd gone out with a woman no more than a handful of times and while he had the same urges as any other healthy male he'd worried about what kind of message it would send his daughter if he were to engage in casual relationships. He didn't want her to grow up thinking that casual relationships were okay. Hell, he'd kill the first boy that tried to introduce her to what "casual" meant.
As he thought more about it, he began to realize how much he'd come to depend on Roberta and, he was ashamed to admit, how badly he'd taken her for granted. Had he ever seriously thought about her as a woman rather than a friendly role she played in their lives?
He took a final drink of milk then, after setting the empty glass on the table beside him, he laid his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. Now that his attention had been drawn to her, he could see Roberta's image clearly in his mind. He could see her smile and hear her laugh. His lips quirked with humor when he thought about how cute she was when her little pink tongue would peek out from between her lips as she was concentrating on something she was doing. Then he remembered the times when he would catch fleeting shadows of sadness on her face before she banished them with her customary good humor. Had he really been so self absorbed that he refused to see them?
Maybe Tasha was right. Maybe it was time he paid attention to what was right in front of him, and not just because she wanted a mother. But also because he'd been alone for so long and he had a good friend, at the very least, in Roberta. Someone he could get to know better and spend time with away from their relationships with Tasha. He didn't know how he felt about becoming romantically involved but he realized that maybe he needed more of her and her friendship in his life. A life that had become too narrow and hyper-focused in the past few years.
Sighing, he stood and carried the glass into the kitchen where he rinsed it out and put it in the dishwasher, then made his way tiredly to bed, turning out the lights as he went.
The weeks passed and Roberta was mildly surprised by Jonah's increasingly friendly behavior. He'd always been cordial with her but this was different. He was warmer, more easy going, less...driven. There were no romantic overtures, much to her disappointment, but she was happy with the changes he seemed determined to make in their relationship.
On the Sunday after her cast had been removed, a day off for both Jonah and Roberta, they had taken Tasha to the zoo and returned to Roberta's apartment with pizza from a local pub well known for their excellent pepperoni pizzas. After dinner, they had enjoyed visiting and listening to Tasha enthuse over the animals and things she had learned that day. Then, Jonah and his daughter had disappeared upstairs so the little girl could get ready for bed.
Hours later, Roberta had joined him in what had become something of a ritual on the nights when she didn't have to work, sitting slouched, side by side on his couch, their stocking feet up on the coffee table, each holding a glass of chocolate milk. They were still chuckling over a funny story she had told him about a very spry, elderly patient whose one wish in life was to be twenty-one again so he could show the nurses what a good time really was. As it was, he had done his best.
“So, Roberta, tell me,” Jonah said after taking a drink of milk, “do you have one big wish in life?”
Her smile was suddenly wispy, a little uncertain.
“Yeah, I do.”
He waited, then, “So what is it?”
Her cheeks pinkened a bit as her eyes boldly met his twinkling ones.
“I wish I could see your hair down just once.”
His grin grew as he turned partially toward her.
“Yeah? Well, I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours. I don't think I've ever seen yours down, either.”
She eyed him consideringly for a moment before she sat up, set her glass on the coffee table, and reached for the barrette that held her hair in place at her nape. At the same time he set his own glass aside then pulled the rubber band from his, and they watched one another as his dark and her blonde tresses fell forward free of confinement. Slowly reaching up, she discovered his hair was thick and soft to the touch as it fell below his shoulders.
“It should be a crime to keep this pulled back.”
He used both hands to pull hers gently around her face.
“I could say the same thing,” he murmured, and their eyes met in wonder. For a moment they simply stared at one another before he leaned forward and their lips met in a light, exploratory kiss. Drawing back a bit, he watched as a slow smile spread across her face.
“It's about damn time,” was all she whispered before once again meeting him, this time with real passion.
Behind them, Tasha looked on, peeking with a smile of satisfaction from behind her bedroom door. Quietly she shut it closed before giving an arm pump of victory and returning to bed.
In the following days, Jonah and Roberta continued to explore this new dimension to their relationship. Ever mindful of their young witness, they refrained from any blatant shows of their desire for one another though their frustration was there in their eyes whenever they looked at each other, which was often. Tasha was obviously ecstatic over the change.
One morning, as he was rinsing out their breakfast dishes, he heard an odd sound followed by a thump coming from Tasha's room.
“Tasha?” he called, pausing as he was placing a plate in the dishwasher. “How's it going in there?”
When there was no response he wiped his hands on a dishtowel and made his way down the hall to Tasha's room.
“Tasha?”
Opening the door, his heart stopped in horror when he found her seizing violently on the floor. For a moment he was frozen before he rushed into the room and knelt down beside her. Her eyes were rolled back in her head and there was foam coming from her mouth.
“Ah, shit, no!”
Jumping back to his feet he ran for the phone and called 911. Then he ran to the front door.
“Roberta!” he yelled down the stairs. “I need your help! Now!”
Without waiting for a response he hurried back to his daughter's side where he hovered anxiously, uncertain what he should do. A few moments later, Roberta appeared, having just arrived home from work and changing into a nightgown. Jonah looked on as she ministered to Tasha as best she could until the paramedics finally arrived. Very shortly afterward, they loaded the still seizing little girl and her father into the ambulance and rushed for the hospital, sirens blaring.
The emergency room doctor was able to stop the seizure then had Tasha airlifted to Children's Hospital thirty miles away, where she remained unconscious as the morning wore on. Jonah waited, terrified, in the pediatric ICU waiting room where Roberta soon joined him. Very little was said between them as they sat, their hands holding tightly on to one another. The hospital volunteer that oversaw the waiting room eventually convinced them to eat a danish and drink a cup of coffee from the table where such refreshments were kept stocked. Finally the doctor arrived, looking tired but not too troubled, and they jumped to their feet as he approached.
“Mr. Makes Peace? I'm Doctor Higgins.”
The two men shook hands and Jonah introduced Roberta before the doctor urged them to take a seat and quickly joined them.
“Mr. Makes Peace, first off, your daughter is doing fine. While the EEG's continue to show some abnormal electrical activity in her brain, the tests show no sign of a tumor or anything of that nature.”
“Then what caused this?” Jonah asked.
“We don't know,” the doctor responded frankly. “Has she had any recent head injury or high fever?”
“No. She fell and broke her arm a few weeks ago but there wasn't any sign of head injury.”
The doctor considered for a moment.
“Sometimes this can happen for no apparent reason. It could be genetics or even from an injury when she was a baby.”
Jonah shook his head in frustration.
“Doctor, I have no records from before she was four-years-old. Her mother died of a drug overdose and for all I know she might have did drugs while she carried Tasha. Could something have happened then?”
The doctor nodded, “It's possible but its hard to say. What I can tell you is that right now your daughter is out of immediate danger. We'd like to keep her at least overnight and do a full neurological work up in the morning.”
Jonah nodded, “Yes, yes, of course.” Then he met the doctor's eyes. “When can we see her?”
“Give me a few minutes and I'll have someone come out for you.”
The two men again stood and shook hands and the doctor left. When Jonah sat back down, Roberta took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“That's good news.”
He nodded, “Yes, thankfully.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “God! I've never been so scared in my life!”
Turning her face up, she kissed his chin.
“I know. Neither have I.”
“I don't know what I'd do without her, Roberta.”
There was nothing she could say so she tightened her arms about him as they waited to see his daughter.
Tasha spent three days in the hospital undergoing tests before being released with anti-seizure medication and an appointment later that week with a pediatric neurologist. Showing the typical resilience of a child, she talked constantly on the way home about being in the hospital and how nice everyone had been.
“I even had all the ice cream I wanted,” she told them with a grin.
That night in celebration of her return home, Jonah prepared her favorite food, hot dogs, then the three of them watched her favorite movie, “Hook”, before he tucked her in for the night.
“I'm glad you're home,” he told her quietly as he sat on the side of her bed brushing fiery wisps of hair from her face.
Tasha nodded but remained quiet for a moment. Then she looked up at her father.
“I saw Granpa Makes Peace and Granpa Ryan.”
“Did you?
She nodded.
“When?”
“Before I woke up in the hospital.”
A chill ran through him at her matter of fact words. Both men, his Ojibwa grandfather and his Irish grandfather, had died before she was born.
“They wanted me to tell you something,” she continued then her eyes scrunched closed as she concentrated. “They said, 'You have done well, Little Gookooko'oo.'” Opening her eyes she asked, “What does 'Gookooko'oo' mean?”
Jonah felt tears gather in his eyes.
“It means 'owl'. It is what Granpa Makes Peace used to call me when I was your age.”
“Oh. Why?”
“He said that I was born with big eyes, like an owl.”
Tasha grinned up at him as she tried to imagine her father as a baby, then yawned.
“You better get some sleep now,” her father whispered before kissing her softly on her forehead. “I'll see you in the morning.”
She nodded then turned away onto her side as he stood up, turned out the light, and quietly closed the door behind him.
He found Roberta sitting on the couch holding a glass of chocolate milk. She motioned to a matching glass on the side table.
“I thought we might celebrate early.”
Dropping down beside her, he laid his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.
“What?” she asked and twisted around to face him.
“When I was walking iron I sometimes felt as if I were flying. I mean I was way up there, high above the ground with nothing but sky around me. But right now...”
She waited as he slowly shook his head.
“I am so damn lucky, Roberta. When Tasha first came to me I thought my world had ended. I had to give up a job I loved because it was too dangerous. Then I became a firemen, thinking I could make a good living at something less dangerous and still feed my adrenaline habit.” He turned his head and smiled. “But then I even had to give that up. And you know what?”
She smiled in return, “No, what?”
“I discovered a whole new world. One even better. That little girl,” he marveled, “she opened up a whole new universe for me and suddenly I knew what life is really all about.”
“And what is that?” she asked as she toyed with a lock of his hair.
“That there is nothing on this earth as precious to me as she is. She's given me purpose and joy, and shown me what unconditional love truly is.”
“She adores you.”
“No more than I adore her.”
Turning his head he gazed at her for a long moment.
“And she brought me you.”
Roberta's heart skipped a beat then began to thud.
“I'm sorry it took me so long to see what was staring me right in the face,” he told her, his voice low and husky. Then, sitting up, he removed the glass from her hand and placed it on the coffee table before turning back to her.
“We are already, for all intents and purposes, a family.” He cradled her face between his hands. “I think we should make it a legal family.”
Tears glistened in her eyes as he bent forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
“I think we should get married. I love you, Roberta. I think I loved you before I even really saw you and I want to keep on seeing you for the rest of our lives. Will you please marry me? Marry us?”
Reaching up she placed one hand over his and the other against his cheek as a tear ran down her cheek.
“In my heart, I already am,” she whispered then nodded, “Yes, of course I will.”
He kissed her again then nuzzled her nose with his own.
“You realize Tasha's going to want brothers and sisters,” he warned with a smile.
“I see no problem with that. How many do you want?”
“As many as you want to give me.”
She smiled in return as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Your best story that I've read so far! When I read that Jonah was sitting on a beam eating lunch 15 stories up, I immediately thought he was Iroquois. It was much later when you revealed that he was Ojibway one side and Irish on the other, resulting in Tasha's and his great looks. Cool.
Only two complaints: His lips quirked with humor? and I'll show you mind if you will show me yours. The first doesn't sound like a modifier a writer like you would use. And the second would be an overused cliché except for the way you used it… Tongue-in-cheek humor between Roberta and Jonah. Cool.
You reminded me of my grandmother Hull who always had prematurely salt-and-pepper gray hair that she kept wrapped up in a bun. But any evenings, after serving dinner to her large family and cleaning up the dishes she would take it down to its full waist length and lay it on the dining room table where she would brush it.
She wore her hair that long and that way until her death at 90 with Alzheimer's for five years.
I read the opening paragraphs. Your writing is exquisite. I/m not a big fan of fiction mainly because I haven't the talent to write it. You could be, and should be, a well-paid writer. Your words are almost like watching a movie. I'm just saying...
I wrote this novel several years ago, I self published and never had it to sell. I have decided to rewrite it and hope to get it published within a few months for people to be able to buy. I had a few copies and gave them to a few family members and
In this heartfelt romantic memoir, Harry and Elizabeth share their passions and feelings about the poignant events that brought them back together after being divorced and estranged for almost twenty years. Filled with emotion, suspense, and humor --
An intern architect at Ryan and Associates, Mateo Diaz has spent the last year learning his craft under the tutelage of partner Alex Ryan. Alex is the closest thing to family that Mateo has known since losing his own family years ago. But not even Al
Five years ago today, at almost one o'clock in the afternoon, 28-year-old Jonah Makes Peace grew up. On that day he had been sitting casually with his partner, on an iron beam some twelve stories up, eating his lunch and talking about the rowdy weekend they were planning with their girlfriends, when he had been ordered to the site office. He remembered his surprise and the feeling of unease as he and his partner had made their way down. Instinctively he had known this wasn't going to be good. They would never have hauled him down without there being a serious reason.
