Chapter 98

Standing in Kimberly’s office, I remember the dejected looks on my daughters’ faces and ask, “There’s a family friendly event coming up, right? Do you think I could cover it? Do you think I could bring my two daughters?”

Kimberly looks up at me, away from her computer. “Trouble at home, Esther?”

I don’t want to get too personal. I doubt Kimberly wants me to either, but with a favor like this, I have to reveal some of what’s going on with me.

“The divorce hasn’t been easy on any of us,” I say. “The girls are taking it the worst. I’ve let them down so many times. I just want to take them somewhere they can have some fun.”

“And prove to them that you are still a good mom?” Kimberly asks.

I lower my head in disgrace. “Maybe that’s part of it.”

Kimberly nods sagely. “I’m divorced too, you know. It’s been a long time but I remember those days. I never thought my son would get over it.”

“Did he?” I ask.

“Eventually.”

“How?” I ask.

“Time. Some arguments. A lot of discussions. And a hell of a lot of patience.” Kimberly looks me over, then seems to decide something. “You are a good worker, Esther. Take your kids to the new fair in town. I’ve heard Miles Hamilton is going to be there doing photo-ops. Get an interview, and we’re square.”

“Thank you,” I say, relief flooding me.

“Things won’t be fixed overnight,” she says.

I know. But this is a good start.

The new fair in town is much like a carnival, with rides and food carts, many selling various versions of deep-fried foots. Deep-fried donuts. Deep-fried ice cream. Deep-fried apples.

In addition to the carnival flair, however, there’s also animals from the local farms, here to be judged and possibly sold.

The girls are amazed, their heads practically on a swivel, switching from looking at the bright lights of the rides to the baby goats and the horses. They can’t seem to decide where to look.

Eventually, we make our way over to the more educational stalls. The girls’ eyes immediately glaze over with boredom. Compared to the excitement of the rest of the fair, I suppose I understand. However, education is just as important as fun.

Especially since this is where Miles is doing his photo ops.

In celebration of the upcoming Arbor Day, Miles has taken to personally digging holes to plant more trees along the edge of the fairgrounds.

I find him, shovel in hand, sleeves rolled up, and dirt on his chin, halfway in a hole. Around him in a semi-circle are a slew of reporters and brownnosers, all looking to rub elbows with Miles, but none actually wanting to get their hands dirty.

Miles glances up, spots me and the girls. Throwing his shovel down, spade first, into the ground, he steps out of the hole he made and approaches us.

“Esther. Iris. Violet. Hello!”

I love that he’s remembered my daughters’ names.

Smiling at me, he says, “I didn’t know you’d be stopping by today.”

“The girls wanted to see the fair,” I reply. “And my editor thought it might be a good time for me to get a quote from you.”

Miles laughs. “You know me well enough by now, Esther. Can’t you just make something up?”

“I’m not that kind of journalist,” I tell him. “I need something real.”

“Alright, alright,” he says. He drops his gaze to the girls. “What do you think, Iris? Violet? Want to help me plant this tree? We just have to roll it into the hole and then cover it with dirt. That is, if your mom doesn’t mind you getting a little dirty.”

“It’s fine with me,” I say.

“Okay,” Violet agrees instantly.

Iris takes a minute longer. “If I have to…”

No one is forcing her to, but I suppose it’s easier for her to agree if she feel like they are. So I don’t call her on it.

Miles leads the girls over to the hole, where other volunteers are placing the tree. After the tree is set, Miles directs the girls to collect scoopfuls of dirt in their hands and pack it in around the base of the tree.

The girls get dirt on their knees, elbows, and under their fingernails, but their smiles make the inevitable pain of cleanup more bearable.

With Miles, they seem like they can enjoy themselves more, in ways they haven’t been able to show around me since the divorce.

I even catch Iris looking at Miles with a bit of wonder in her eyes, especially when the photographers ask the girls to join Miles in some pictures. They clear it with me first, but with my go ahead, Iris and Violet stand beside Miles in front of the tree they planted and smile for the camera.

After, Iris looks up at Miles and asks him, “Would you come to school with me?”

Miles tilts his head. “Is it career day?”

“None of the other kids will believe that I know you…” she says.

Miles places his hand on the top of her head. “Of course, Iris.”

Miles never had children of his own. Not yet, anyway. So he’s not totally sure what fatherly feelings are like. But looking at Iris and Violet, and after spending the afternoon with them, he’s starting to believe that he’s developing them.

The girls are so different from their mother, yet still possess similar qualities. Iris is headstrong and stubborn. Violet is sensitive and caring. Both of them are hard workers.

After planting one tree, they immediately want to plant another. And another. Miles’s muscles are starting to burn from so much digging, but he’s determined not to show them any weakness.

They want trees planted? They would have trees planted.

Miles would sooner work himself to exhaustion than disappoint them. Or their mother, who watches carefully from nearby.

So he digs and digs, and they plant and laugh and tease each other. Eventually, even Esther comes over to help scoop dirt on the last tree.

Miles knows she’s having some problems with her daughters, but in that moment, they all trade smiles and laughs. They look like a family.

“Representative Hamilton,” Miles’s assistant calls him away. He hates that he has to go. He kind of wants to stay and hang out with Esther and her daughters for a while longer.

Not wanting the moment to end too soon, Miles asks Esther and her daughters, “What are you ladies doing for dinner tonight?”

“We don’t have plans yet,” Esther replies.

“How would you like to share dinner with me?” Miles asks.

“All of us?” Iris asks.

“All of you,” Miles replies.

Esther looks at Iris and Violet, as if leaving the decision up to them.

“Can we have pizza?” Violet asks.

“Of course,” Miles says.

“Then, yes,” Violet says.

Iris isn’t so easily bought. It’s frustrating, watching her. With hope in her eyes, it’s clear she wants to join us, but she’s being so purposefully contrarian, that she probably feels like she has to decline.

Esther starts to worry her bottom lip with her teeth. Miles likes to see her lips red, but only after he’s kissed them that way. This anxiety just won’t do.

“You’d be doing me a great personal favor if you would accompany me,” he says to Iris.

She looks relieved at Miles’ having phrased it that way.

“Okay…” Iris eventually agrees.

Miles is pleased, but it’s looking up at Esther that has his heart soaring.

She looks so happy, a small hopeful smile on her face.

Miles will do whatever he needs to do to make sure it stays there.