Chapter 3: The Things He Notices
1340 Words
Tuesday had dawned bright and sunny, threatening another scorching Florida day.
She loved mornings before the heat of the day settled over the land.
It still smelled sweet like dew and cut grass, and for just a little while, the whole world belonged to those awake enough to enjoy it.
Becca carried her coffee onto the back porch and stared at the chicken coop.
The frame was nearly complete.
One wall had been sided.
The roof truss leaned against the fence, waiting until the weekend.
She smiled.
“It’s actually starting to look like a coop.”
Her youngest appeared in the doorway. Still in her pajamas.
“Who are you talking to?”
Becca laughed.
“Myself.”
Her daughter glanced out back.
“Oh.”
She gave a small, serious nod.
“I do that too.”
A Busy Bakery Morning
By eight a.m., the smell of cinnamon rolls and freshly baked French bread filled the bakery.
Becca was frosting cupcakes when Linda elbowed on her.
“So…”
Becca didn’t even look up.
“No.”
“I didn’t ask anything yet.”
“You were about to.”
Linda grinned.
“I was.”
Becca laughed.
“What?”
“When are you going to bring Craig over when you’re not working?”
Becca nearly dropped her spatula.
“Linda.”
“What?”
“You know he’s real now.”
“I’ve known he’s real.”
“I just want to meet the man who makes you smile like you get paid to smile.”
Becca shook her head.
“He’s just… Craig.”
Linda smiled softly.
“Exactly.”
An Unexpected Conversation
Becca’s oldest daughter stopped by the bakery sometime after lunch to see her mother. School was close by.
“Mom?”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“I walked.”
“You should’ve called.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
She hugged her tightly.
“What’re you doing here?”
Daughter shrugged.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
Mom and daughter sat down at one of the small café tables near the front window.
Her daughter toyed with a cookie.
“Can I ask you something without you getting all weird?”
Becca scooted her chair back. “I’ll try.”
“You like Craig.”
Smiling, Becca nodded.
“I do.”
Her daughter bit her lip, struggling for words.
“You really like him.”
Breathing deeply, Becca nodded again.
“I do.”
There was no sense in beating around the bush anymore.
The girl looked out the window before speaking again.
“I like him too.”
Instant tears filled Becca’s eyes.
“You do?”
Daughter nodded again.
“He listens.”
Laughing softly, Becca shook her head.
“He must have Superman hearing or something.”
“He asks about school.”
“He remembers things I tell him.”
Long pause.
“And…”
She glanced up at her mother.
“He makes you happy.”
Breathing heavily, Becca swallowed thickly.
“I used to…”
Little hand slid across the table and grasped her mother’s.
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I’m not five anymore.”
Longer pause.
“I heard you.”
The entire bakery suddenly felt too small.
“I saw stuff.”
Becca pinched her eyes shut for a second.
“I tried so hard to protect you.”
“You did.”
Her daughter offered her another smile.
“But kids listen and see more than you think they do.”
A Different Kind of Man
Craig swung by after work that evening to finish up the roof supports.
Kids trailed outside to watch.
Her youngest brought him screws one at a time.
The middle child held the ladder.
Oldest sat on the porch swing, reading, but watching occasionally.
…it felt normal.
Craig climbed down carefully from the ladder.
“We should be ready to weatherproof now.”
The smallest child clapped.
“Can we get chickens tomorrow?”
Laughing, Craig climbed down off the roof.
“I think they would prefer if we built them a floor first.”
“Oh.”
Good point.” Becca handed him a cold bottle of water.
“Thanks.” Craig took a quick drink. Only then did he realize she was staring at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He raised a single eyebrow.
“No… it wasn’t.”
She smiled, teasing.
“I was just thinking.”
“You’re dangerous when you do that.”
“So, I’ve heard.”
Craig chuckled.
“What were you thinking?”
She hesitated.
But having decided honesty was the better route.
“My daughter said something today.”
Craig leaned against the open garage door, giving her his full attention.
“What did she say?”
“She said…” Her throat thickened, but she pressed on. “That she likes you because you make me happy.”
His eyes softened.
“I like making you happy.”
“I know.”
A breeze blew, causing leaves around them to rustle.
“She also said…”
Head down, Becca continued. “That she can’t remember me happy… before.”
Craig didn’t respond for a few seconds.
Instead, he stepped closer to her. Not close enough to touch. Just close enough so she didn’t feel alone with that memory.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t be.” She shook her head now.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“No…”
His thumb gently brushed her hand.
“But Mommy, I’m sorry that was your reality for so long.”
Craig wiped his eye, smiling through his own tears.
The Smallest Compliment
The sun was setting as everyone began cleaning up for the night.
Craig gathered his tools together.
“I should get going.”
“If you want.” Said no one ever.
He smiled that magical smile of hers.
“I would like that.”
“Oh, you don’t have other plans?”
He stared at her like she was obviously stupid.
“I did.”
She frowned, quirking an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Yeah. This.” He grinned as he hugged her from behind.
Cleaning up was simple.
Kids made a gigantic mess as usual.
Spaghetti.
Garlic bread.
Salad.
Milk got dumped.
Story took way too long to get told.
Eye roll could be seen from space.
Craig laughed at all the perfect moments.
He didn’t laugh because he wanted them to like him.
He laughed because he enjoyed spending time with them.
After dinner, everyone helped clear the table.
Craig reached for the dish towel.
“I’ll dry.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
He nodded, already smiling.
“But your dishwasher is clearly in need of more hands.”
She laughed.
“You’re impossible.”
Craig shrugged. “I’ve been told worse.”
Hands met while they worked beside each other.
Shoulders brushed slightly.
It was nothing.
But they didn’t move away.
Small things.
Tiny moments.
That to some may mean nothing.
But to Becca,
They were everything.
Because there was no expectation.
It wasn’t a demand.
It wasn’t wanting something in return.
It was simply two people comfortable in each other’s presence.
Late that night, after Craig had left and the dishes were finally put away,
Becca found herself staring out back at the chicken coop.
Lit from the porch light, it glowed in the evening.
It was far from extravagant.
It wasn’t perfect.
But together, just like her family,
It had been built one board at a time.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
With patience.
And most of all…
Without rushing.
She smiled quietly to herself.
Maybe love…
Wasn’t built in sweeping gestures…
Proclaimed from the rooftops.
Maybe love…
Wasn’t shown in grand gestures or declarations.
But in little things.
Remembered sandwiches.
Family dinners.
Kids laughing.
Shoulders brushing in a quiet kitchen.
And a man who noticed.
Because to him…
She’d never be one of those small things.
- Writer
