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Adam doesn’t want the miniature version of my workman’s tool belt that I kneel to give him.
Thank fuck the axe hanging from it isn’t a real one like mine. He throws it straight at his dad’s head before collapsing onto the floor of this woodland clearing—a clearing that I can’t help thinking is my best work, chock full of chances for little kids to learn about my true love.
Not soccer.
I loved nature before I ever saved my first goal, and making this space with Adam toddling beside me all summer has been a good reminder. It has also been proof that I haven’t been part of a real team in forever. And that I missed it. Half of the chances I’ll leave behind here for kids to learn from are better after suggestions from Charles—no surprise when he’s a preschool teacher—but Ihavebeen surprised at how well we’ve worked together. Almost as surprised as how much I haven’t hated sharing the stables with a musician almost as noisy as Adam.
Who isn’t done yet with his meltdown.
He kicks and screams like I put that toy axe through his heart, and I don’t know why his dad smiles at that, but like all of Glynn Harber’s teachers, Charles is a professional at helping kids through trauma.
As for me?
I’m not an actual heartbreaker, but I do have three little sisters of my own who have me wrapped around their fingers,so Adam’s tears stab me straight through the chest, and Charles must notice.
“Honestly, you don’t need to worry,” he murmurs. “This is marvellous, Hayden.” He addresses Adam next, who shows no sign of stopping his kicking or screaming, and again, Charles is delighted. “Oh, you really are letting yourself feeleverything.”
He meets my eyes, and yeah, he’s truly happy about his son pitching a fit. He even copies it by flopping to the ground and doing some kicking and screaming all of his own.
“I don’t want Hayden to leave either!”
That rings out through the clearing, clear and strident.
What follows is even louder.
“Not after he made such a beautiful Forest School classroom for us.” He bangs curled fists on the ground, disturbing leaf matter that I’ve spread to soften Adam’s frequent trips and stumbles. Now Charles bellows, “He should stay here forever to run all of our nature sessions for us.”
Man, that doesn’t only echo. It lands like a punch, but here’s the real kicker—there is no way this school’s headmaster would create that job role for me.
Not with my track record.
Nope.
I’ve already scored one too many own goals. Besides, I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy through the end of this summer and well into autumn, even if none of those harvesting jobs will ever make the fortune my first career was meant to net me.
I don’t get to tell Charles any of that.
He hasn’t finished yelling.
“And I don’t only want Hayden to stay at Glynn Harber with us. I want Adam to tell me why he’s really screaming, only he can’t, can he?”
He glances his son’s way. Adam’s chest hitches but he’s definitely quieter, and so is the next question Charles asks him.
“You don’t have the vocabulary for how you’re feeling yet, do you, darling? The words. That’s why you’re so upset. Not with your lovely friend, Hayden. I wonder if all of this upset is about people leaving you. Because it started when the new foster babies arrived, didn’t it?”
Adam’s glance to the pram at the edge of the clearing is as good as a confession. So is his lower lip trembling as much as my hands do all too often lately, which I guess means yes. I can blame my trembles on chainsaw vibration. Charles guesses Adam’s reason, then mirrors an array of strong and painful feelings.
“You’re sad, and angry, and frustrated, but most of all, you’re frightened. I’m not surprised. Those pesky babies turned up with no warning and now both of your daddies have their hands full. That must feel like losing us, and you’ve lost people before, sweetheart, haven’t you? I bet losing Hayden too is a reminder. Right up here.” He taps his temple. “You missed people before who didn’t come back. You don’t want to miss him too, like you already miss having your daddies all to yourself. And missing people is?—”
“Really hard.”
“Yes,” Charles says gently. To me, the muppet who just sighed out that gusty confession. “Missing peopleishard, Hayden. It gets easier if you share those feelings.” He watches Adam while speaking. “And that takes practice, which is why I was delighted when he attached so strongly to you. You’re such a good role model.”
I don’t know about that, but Charles isn’t done yet.
“A man who is physicalandgentle? Who works hardandfinds time to share his vocation? I knew you’d be kind about saying goodbye. You didn’t just disappear. You explained and helped him through it. Showed him that he was worth takingcare of. He’ll tuck that memory away forever. Maybe model it one day himself. What a gift.”
Adam gets up from the leaf-strewn floor but stumbles, and maybe my first career wasn’t wasted. Even while kneeling, I’ve still got a goalkeeper’s long reach and quick-fire instincts. I catch him before he can fall, and Adam’s narrow chest still hitches against mine, but now he strokes my beard for comfort, like my sisters used to, and fuck my life, I could have a little weep myself instead of drying his tears with my shirtsleeve.
