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Summertime Lilies

By LM Karen

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Chapter 1
Brittany
I am speed walking to the elevator after a twelve-hour night shift in University Hospital’s oncology unit, trying to stay upright on my feet, when one of my direct reports catches me. This is both positive and negative—positive because the chatter helps keep me awake, negative because the chatter involves my employee complaining about her schedule.
Being a nurse is tough, but cancer patients are particularly challenging because they are long-term patients. We get to know them, we care for them through all the stages of their treatment, we celebrate with them when they go into remission, and we cry with their families if they lose their battle.
I happen to be a nurse manager at the Cancer Center, which is infinitely more difficult than just being a staff nurse. No one can prepare you for this role. I am basically the disciplinarian, therapist, mediator, encourager, and mother to a group of nurses who are both wonderful and enormously demanding. This has single-handedly been the most challenging experience of my life. I got my master’s in nursing as a single mother and that was cake compared to being a nurse manager in the Cancer Center. CAKE.
Trish, the girl riding the elevator down with me now, is new to the team. We lost one of our veterans to an outpatient clinic in town, and Trish is fresh out of school. She is energetic and excited to be here, but is having difficulty adjusting to a full-time job.
Working at the Cancer Center is a little different because we not only have a unit in the hospital, but we also have an outpatient clinic where patients come to receive treatments. We usually try to keep everyone on their same shifts, but because we cover two separate locations, in a pinch, a team might have to rotate on swing shifts. It is just that sort of a pinch that ended up with my employees working swing shifts for about a month due to flawed scheduling on another manager’s part.
I’m able to comfort Trish and get her to hang in there with us, assuring her night shift is temporary and occasional, not her new normal. I need to remember to put Trish on decaf beginning around 3:00 a.m. It is 7:00 a.m. now and she will never get to sleep judging by the caffeine shakes she’s displaying. I’ve only been able to get out a few words of encouragement through her anxious chatter. She’ll be useless next shift if she doesn’t get some sleep.
I nod along with Trish as we walk through the lobby and toward the employee parking deck, giving her the impression I am listening, when I catch sight of someone familiar. Turning for a better look, sure enough, my second cousin stands in the lobby and appears to be getting directions. I turn quickly so she won’t see me and proceed with Trish to the parking deck. Is that weird? I can’t be the only one who resorts to duck and run in awkward situations.
Lily Young is my second cousin on my mother’s side. We are the same age and grew up together until about middle school. Since then, we’ve avoided each other. I’m not entirely sure why. I think we just grew apart and then it got awkward. We didn’t hang out anymore, but we were still around each other at school and occasional family functions. She got married about five years ago, around the time I had my son. I went to a bridal shower for her and I jokingly asked if she was ready for a baby. She laughed and said, “I’ll do the married thing, you do the baby thing.” I couldn’t tell if she was slighting me because I had Grady without being married or if she was simply making a joke. Either way, I am sure we still have nothing in common and it’s best to avoid her.
I make it home safely, though I was dangerously close to napping during more than one red light. When I work nights, my son, Grady, sleeps overnight with my parents. They conveniently live around the corner from us, so they can get him up and ready for school. I hate not seeing him in the mornings when I get home, but he has to be ready and on the bus before I even walk in the house. It’s a huge blessing that my parents are so close and willing to help out.
Finally, after my twelve-hour shift, twenty-minute conversation with Trish, and a thirty-minute commute, I fall into my bed and let sleep take me. I don’t even take the time to put pajamas on. It feels like too much effort at this point, especially when Grady isn’t here.

***
Six incredibly short hours later I’m wakened by my blaring alarm, needing to get dressed and ready before Grady gets off the bus. Currently, that means I have an hour. After I hit the snooze button four times, I only have twenty minutes.
It’s worth it. I roll over and hit the snooze again, despite the fact that it will leave me with ten minutes to shower and get outside to meet the bus. I quickly pull on shorts and a t-shirt, and by the time I run a comb through my wet hair, I can hear the bus pulling into the cul-de-sac where my house is located. I rush out the front door so my arms are waiting when Grady jumps off the bus.
He runs right to me and showers my face with sticky kisses, and, for a moment, everything in life is perfect. The school year is almost over, then Grady will graduate kindergarten and move into first grade. I am all too aware that I have precious little of these bus reunions left.
“Mama! I missed you last night,” Grady tells me with his arms tight around my neck.
“I missed you too, Buddy,” I say sincerely, soaking in the feel of his small body against mine.
The bus pulls away and Grady lets me go. “Look, Mama, I colored you a picture!” he says, proudly presenting me with a piece of construction paper.
I take the picture and examine it closely with a discerning eye, making a show of examining it. It’s our house, a stick figure Grady on what I assume is his bike, and a stick figure me. My face blossoms into an impressed smile. “I love it, Grady, you did such a good job! I’m going to take this to work and put it up in my office.”
With exuberant energy, Grady bolts into the house and I follow, my head turning when I see something move out of the corner of my eye. The movement stops with a pickup truck laden with furniture in the adjoining driveway. The house next door just sold, so this must be a new neighbor moving in. I file this away with an errant hope that there will be a playmate for Grady, not catching sight of the new owner.
“What do you want for snack, Grady?” I ask as I follow Grady into the kitchen.
“Cookies,” he cheers enthusiastically with a hopeful smile.
I eye him knowingly with a smile playing on my lips. “How about I slice an apple and you can pretend they are cookies?”
“Okay.” He shrugs off his defeat as I hand him a juice drink and begin to slice his apple.
“Mom?” Grady starts simply from his barstool as I work on the kitchen counter facing him.
“Yes?”
“Do I have a daddy?” he asks innocently. My motions pause on the apple briefly in surprise before I collect my thoughts.
Grady’s daddy is something we have discussed at length on a number of occasions. At the end of the conversation, he seems satisfied, but then a few weeks or months later he comes back and asks the same question. I haven’t decided if this means he honestly doesn’t understand or if he’s hoping the answer might change.
"There is a man that helped Mama make you in her tummy, but no, you do not have a daddy,” I say with gentle certainty as I put his snack in front of him.
“Alison says everyone has a daddy,” Grady argues, seemingly confused.
I’ve been hearing about this Alison kid all year. Frankly, she sounds like a know-it-all.
“Well, if Mama ever gets married, you will have a daddy, but until then it’s just you and me, kid.” I move around the counter to ruffle his light brown hair, the same color as mine, and kiss his cheek. I continue to the kitchen table where he dumped his backpack to look at his folder from school. His daily assignments all have check marks, so that’s good. Next year he’ll start getting letter grades. Field day is Friday. I mentally check my schedule. I’m off Friday, so I should be able to make it.
The last day of school is coming up in a few weeks, so I will have to arrange some type of day camp for Grady while I’m working.
“Mama, can I go ride my bike?” Grady asks, having finished his apple slices with startling speed.
“Yes. Wear your helmet, and don’t leave the circle,” I remind him.
“I know,” he assures me as he bolts toward the garage. I follow him and lift the garage door, making sure he gets his helmet on.
“Be careful around the new neighbor’s house, Grady. Watch the truck, okay?” I warn again, eyeing the truck next door that has markedly less furniture in it now than it had before.
“I know,” he calls over his shoulder in little kid annoyance as he pedals away.
I open the blinds in the front windows and clean the kitchen quickly while keeping an eye on Grady outside. I am so thankful our neighborhood is quiet and that we have this tiny, little corner to ourselves.
Well, mostly to ourselves. I peer out the window at the neighbors moving in next door. I hope it’s a young couple. The two outside houses are retirees, who are great for keeping an eye out on the house and for Grady. I am in the middle, in the farthest corner from the outer road. The house in the middle next to mine has been a military family until recently when they were moved somewhere else and forced to sell.
I grab Grady’s water bottle, one for myself, and an apple before heading to the garage. I have a decent size one-story, brick, ranch-style home with a two-car garage in the front. Getting a house with a two-car garage is the best decision I have ever made. My car fits nicely in one half with my grill and Grady’s toys fitting nicely in the other half. I even have space to keep a chair setup so I can watch Grady while he plays.
I roll the grill out of the garage and fire it up, planning to cook some chicken for the next few dinners and lunches. As it heats, I head back into the house to prep the meat and simultaneously keep an eye on Grady. I head back out to the garage when I hear Grady’s excited voice. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of volume control yet, so he errs on the side of shouting most of the time. I come out of the garage shielding my eyes from the sun. A guy I’ve never seen before is kneeling next to Grady and they’re talking. New neighbor?
“Grady?” I call as I walk over to them.
“Mama, this is Matt. He’s our new neighbor,” Grady says with pride at having something important to share with me.
Matt stands as I approach. A baseball hat covers what I can tell is dark hair and blue eyes shine out from under the brim of the hat. The combination makes me catch my breath.
I put my hand out. “Nice to meet you, Matt. I’m Brittany. This is my son, Grady, whom apparently you’ve already met.”
“Nice to meet you, Brittany. Grady came over to introduce himself, although he told me he wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers,” he qualifies with a smile.
I let go of his hand and glance down at Grady who has already bored of the conversation and retrieved his bike to keep riding around the cul-de-sac.
“He’s always had a little trouble with that concept. I hope he didn’t bother you.” Grady is so friendly that sometimes I worry he can be an annoyance to people.
“Not at all. Nice break time,” Matt counters kindly.
He’s handsome, and he’s looking at me intensely. I forgo asking about his family in favor of getting out of there with my wits intact. “Well, it was nice to meet you. If you need anything, I’m just next door.”
“Thanks, Brittany. Nice to meet you too.” His friendly smile transforms his face and transfixes me for a half a second.
I shake myself and jog back over to my grill, finding it well heated. I run to the kitchen and grab the meat so I can get it going, almost plowing down Grady when I get back into the garage.
“Sorry, Grady, I need to get this stuff on the grill.”
“Have you seen my water?”
I point to his water bottle sitting beside my lawn chair. “Remember that not talking to strangers means not approaching people you don’t know.”
He looks at me as if he’s reminding me of something I forgot. “But you said I could talk to the neighbors.”
He has me there. “That’s true, you can talk to the neighbors, but if you don’t know someone, even if they look like a neighbor, you shouldn’t approach them. Okay? Not everyone is nice like Matt.”
“Okay,” he says with a frown as he works this out in his head. I have the distinct feeling we will have to have this conversation again. “I just wanted to know if there was anyone I could play with,” he pouts.
The military family that moved had three kids Grady could play with, and he was devastated when he learned they were moving away.
“Matt doesn’t have kids?” I ask casually, trying not to be interested.
“He isn’t even married,” Grady whines despondently. “He said it was just him, maybe a roommate. What’s a roommate?” he asks while plopping desolately into my lawn chair.
“A roommate is another person that lives with you and helps you pay bills,” I explain simply.
“Like a daddy?”
I frown. “No, a daddy would be a family.”
Grady still looks confused, but frankly I don’t know how to explain it any other way. “Hot dog or hamburger for dinner, Buddy?” Maybe changing the subject and avoiding this conversation altogether will distract him enough to make him drop it.
“Hot dog!” he shouts enthusiastically.
I chuckle, then tell him in a mild mommy voice, “Put away your bike and helmet, it’s almost ready.”
I tell him this now, even though I am just putting the food on, because it will take him at least another thirty minutes to get his bike from where he left it and wander back into the garage. Even if he’s done playing and I tell him it’s time to go in, he just has to play for another few minutes. Instead of rushing him all the time, sometimes I just let him do his thing and start prodding him a few minutes early.

***
After dinner, Grady helps me with the dishes before I get his bag packed for the evening. My mom will give him a bath when we get to her house, so I make sure I pack his Batman toiletry set. I take out his dirty stuff from yesterday and replace it with clean clothes.
“You almost ready, Buddy?” I call from his bedroom. Last I checked, he was in the living room coloring my dad a picture.
“Look at my picture, Mama.” I inspect the drawing with interest. It’s very similar to the one he gave me off the bus, except this one has a man stick figure in it.
“Who is this, Grady?” I ask pointing to the addition.
“That’s Matt.” He says this as if to say “duh Mom.”
I bite back a laugh at his tone. “I love it, Grady! Great picture. Pop is going to love it.”
I slip his backpack on his back and sling his small Spiderman duffle bag over my shoulder. “Come on, let’s get to Gram and Pop’s house.”
Since my parents live just around the corner, we usually walk to their house. It’s my final attempt to drain Grady’s of some of his energy before I drop him off for the night.
We exit through the garage, keeping the garage door up, and I don’t bother to lock the door to the kitchen. Grady waves frantically to Matt as we leave the driveway and enter the cul-de-sac. It seems Grady has taken a liking to our new neighbor. Hand in hand, Grady and I progress up the road toward my parent’s house. Matt drives down the street in a now empty truck, and Grady is beside himself when Matt beeps the horn for him as he waves.
As is our custom, Grady and I play “I spy” on our walk to my parents’ house. It’s been fun to watch him get better as we’ve played the game through the years. First, he picked the same things each walk. Now he is branching out and picking different colors and objects each time.
“Gram!” Grady calls and drops my hand to run full tilt at my mom. I’m sure her face mirrors mine when he does that with me.
“Grady! How was school today?” she asks with a big smile.
“Great! Look at what I drew!” He offers her his latest drawing proudly.
Mom inspects it and glances at me in curiosity when she notices an added man in the drawing.
“Grady, tell Gram who you met today,” I prompt.
“Matt. He’s our new neighbor. He’s moving in today and he beeped the horn at me while we were walking here. He might have a roommate,” he explains with excited authority.
Mom nods in understanding. “Well isn’t that nice, Grady. Go find Pop and give him a big hug.”
Mom hugs me while Grady trots away. “And how are you today?”
“Good. I grilled some chicken that I’m very excited to take in for lunch.” I say this pleasantly because in my life exciting things are meal preps and new sheets. “How was your day?”
“Good. Not much going on for us this week,” Mom says eyeing me curiously.
Unsure of the reason for her searching stare, I quickly move on. “I didn’t forget the Batman toiletries tonight, so he should have everything he needs. Thanks again,” I say giving her another hug.
Mom returns my hug, and we walk together into the house to catch up with Dad. I’ve always been close to my parents, but since having Grady, we have developed an even deeper relationship. They are quite literally my saving grace with their selfless care of Grady and myself.
After visiting with my parents and kissing Grady goodbye, I walk home and pack up for work. As I back out of the driveway, I spot Matt back with his truck laden down with more furniture. He waves, so I raise my hand to wave back. Then he pulls his sweat-soaked shirt off as he turns to head into his house. My car rolls slowly forward onto the street without assistance from the accelerator as I unwillingly gape at him, unable to bring my eyes away from his bare chest then retreating back. The new neighbor is hot. Really hot. Like, whoa.
Originally, I worried about Grady getting too attached, but now I’m a little concerned about myself.

***
Matt
After hauling in the last load, I take a look around at the mess. Boxes and furniture are everywhere, but at least everything is in. I ignore the mess and put my bed together, adding the brand-new sheets my Mom shoved at me last week when she heard I was moving. Bed made, I trudge through the mess to the shower, hoping the hot water will ease my aching muscles.
I order a pizza and eat it on the front porch, surveying the quiet, new neighborhood. As proud as I am to own a house, I’m equally glad I got it on a cul-de-sac. I glance at the house next door. It also doesn’t hurt that I have a cute neighbor.
Brittany.
Once again, my thoughts drift to her as they’ve had a tendency to do since I met her this afternoon. My heart stopped when I saw her waiting for the school bus with semi-wet hair, shorts, and a tank top. When that little, brown-haired boy with freckles launched himself at her, well, it was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
I’m pleased I got the chance to meet the fun, little guy and his cautious mother this afternoon when the boy rode directly over to my house on his bike. I just happened to notice Brittany didn’t have a ring on, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t with someone. I need to remember to keep my distance until I know for sure. Although, I can’t help thinking about how interested Grady was in my comment about possibly taking a roommate. Best not to focus on this at the moment. I switch to mentally making plans for the rest of the summer, loosing myself in decisions about updating the house.

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