BARE HUNTER

SANDY

“Timmy, say goodbye to Mrs. Evers. We have to go,” I pleaded.

As Timmy reluctantly put down his new favorite toy, a model airplane Mrs. Evers had brought down from the attic and dusted off for him.

“I love to see him enjoying that toy. Bobby has been gone for so long, it’s almost like watching him again when he was young,” she said with tears glistening in her pale, blue eyes.

“I’m glad you aren’t watching Timmy just to do me a favor. He loves you, you know?”

“Well, dear, the feeling is mutual. He’s become my buddy and I miss him when he’s not visiting. How are things going with that big hunk you’re seeing?”

“Oh, Doug? He’ll be happy you called him my big hunk!” I giggled.

“Well, Sandra, if you get tired of him, you know my number,” she teased.

“I’ll remember. Bye!”

Timmy copied me, “Bye, Mrs. Ever!”

“Hey, Tim-Tim, Doug is meeting us at Mickey D’s for dinner tonight. How does that sound?”

“No vetagles?”

“Nope. Just soda and garbage,” I announced.

“Yuck. Why do I have to eat garbage? Are we poor?”

“No, I mean, burgers and fries—that kind of garbage. Daddy isn’t the only one who can spoil you.”

“Whew. Good. I was scared.”

“You’re silly,” I teased, and he gave me one of his award-winning grins.

Doug was waiting for us in the parking lot, next to his Harley, looking every bit the big hunk Mrs. Evers said he was. He picked Timmy up in one thick arm and swung him around before grabbing my waist and pulling me in for a kiss.

Timmy weighed in on our PDA,“ Yuck. You two are silly.”

We collected our orders and found a place to sit near the play place. Timmy was way too excited about getting a soda to drink. I’d have to be careful how much garbage I let him get away with.  

Doug and I were still munching on fries when Timmy wanted to play. Since we were sitting right near the window, I let him be a big boy and play without us hovering over him. I wish I could hold back the hands of time, but next year Timmy would be getting on a school bus and spending the morning away from me every day.

“What’cha thinkin’ about?” Doug asked.

“Kindergarten. He’ll be going to school next year. I can’t believe it.”

“He’s a happy, friendly kid. He’ll do great with other kids his age.”

“I hope so. He’s ready. I’m just not sure I am,” I sighed.

Doug took my hand in his big, callused paw and kissed it. “I love you, Sandy.”

“Aw, I love you too, you big hunk,” I joked.

“Now I’m a big hunk?”

“According to Mrs. Evers, you are. She wants me to call her if I get tired of you.”

“Good to know the ladies still like me,” he grinned, rolling his mustache, Snidely Whiplash style, and said, “Maybe you need a new kid to keep you company when Timmy’s in school.”

“Don’t make me throw these fries at you. A baby? At our age?”

“Why not? You’re not too old, and you gotta admit you make cute kids.”

“No. Just. No. Sheesh!”

“Let’s talk about this later, in bed, when you can’t say no to me,” he joked.

I gave him the mom glare and called Timmy from the play place. He’d met another little boy, and they were whooping it up on the toddler musical notes together. Doug was right about one thing, though: Tim was a happy, friendly kid.

Doug revved his Harley a few extra times in the parking lot, thrilling Timmy. Then he followed us home, pulling his bike into the garage to discourage vandals or thieves.