Page 25 of Sterling Clay

Clay pauses, his spoon suspended over his oatmeal. “And what exactly does that costume look like?” Distracting himself, he shovels up a large scoop of his warm breakfast while waiting for Dutton’s answer.

“She wears a pink morph suit with a silver belt and a sparkling tiara. She also has a cool wand.” Dutton wields his spoon like the magic tool, twirling it through the air.

Proudly, I smile at Dutton who doesn’t appear to see me standing just outside the kitchen.

“Like a Power Ranger?” Clay looks up at Dutton, staring across the table at him.

“What’s a Power Ranger?”

Clay chuckles to himself before scooping up another large spoonful of oatmeal. “And what kind of powers does this princess have that makes her special?”

My shoulders relax when I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been, holding my breath over this conversation that could derail at any second. I remind myself once more that Clay isn’t Wesley.

“She can outrun her enemies and cast a spell on them. Plus, she has the power to disappear.”

“Like be invisible?” Clay’s brows lift, like he’s impressed by an animated character.

“More like she knows how to hide in all the best places. Like Mama taught me.”

Clay slowly lowers his spoon, hovering it just over his bowl and now is the time for me to make my presence known.

“How is the oatmeal?” I ask with false cheer, a ripple of anxiety rushing up my belly. I wish I had the superpower to wipe away Dutton’s memory. Chase away the ghosts and the past experiences that might haunt him forever.

Dutton shrugs. “Pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” Clay counters. “You told me it was perfect.”

Dutton lowers his head, scooping up a much smaller sample than Clay’s portion. “I’d give it an eight point seven-five-five.” A sheepish grin graces Dutton’s face, his face pink from his own cheekiness.

I chuckle at Dutton’s assessment while Clay’s spoon clatters against the inside of his bowl.

Dutton flinches at the sound but Clay winks. “I guess I’ll need to work on my presentation.”

“You do that,” Dutton softly commands, his voice light, relaxed, mimicking Clay’s. His smile grows but he fights it, exploring his limits with this man offering us a safe place to stay. Dutton is extending an olive branch, a hint of his innocent six-year-old sass, and I don’t want that twig to snap. He is fragile, hesitant when it comes to men, but I’d love for Clay to be a positive role model in his life. If only for the time being.

“Alrighty. Dutton, finish up. You need to get dressed and brush your teeth. Quick. Quick.” I clap my hands emphasizing my haste, knowing he’s about to turn into a sloth when I don’t want to be late for the appointment.

“I can take him to Miss Meredith’s.”

The suggestion has me pausing mid-clap while Dutton sits taller in his chair. His legs swing beneath the table, another tell that he’s comfortable sitting here. He isn’t waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop like I am. Like he’s had to live his life for most of his six years.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You aren’t asking, I’m offering. I typically swing by Curmudgeon Bakery before heading to the Seed & Soil. The She Shed is right down the block.”

While Clay had his reservations about Meredith’s child-care abilities, something that wasn’t his concern, I appreciated that he was uneasy, at least in theory. Meredith’s extra-curricular income-related activities were common knowledge, although the community liked to pretend it was a secret. I didn’t disapprove of her. In fact, she’d given me something to ease the tension, as she called it, knowing I was alone too often with Wesley out of town. Eventually, the Purple Pleaser became more stimulating than Wesley.

I hadn’t lived in Sterling Falls very long before I was initiated into the Sterlets, like starlets, an exclusive group of the female population in town. Under the guise of a book club, the members met twice monthly, once to discuss a book, which typically involved more wine drinking than discussion, and once to peruse Meredith’s new wares, which also involved copious amounts of wine.

I’d been honored to be included in the local tradition and secret society. Most women were welcoming and open to me joining their private group. As the club was held in Meredith’s home once a month, various locations taking the other dates, she’d been the one to invite me into this inner circle of women. However, I’d emotionally kept my distance within the group, afraid someone could read in my eyes what happened behind the closed doors in my home. Cautious that they’d see the lie I was living with Wesley. At first, I even feared they’d detect my failure as a mother. Like real moms could smell the fake ones.

Six years into Dutton’s life, I’ve grown more confident and comfortable with my role. And Meredith expressed an invitation to return to the Sterlets whenever I was ready, reminding me I deserve a night out to feel like a woman, not just a mother.

Calling Meredith was the first step of bravery I took returning here. Reaching out took courage because she knew my situation with Wesley. She’d once offered to help me move on.

It’s not that bad, I’d argue. Telling myself someone else always had it worse. My sister certainly had.

With another glance at Dutton, I softly smile. His eager face staring at me as if he asked me a question.