Worth Fighting For. Molly O'Keefe

groaned and just laid her head on the counter, like a woman at the guillotine. “Would it kill you to date?”

      “Yes,” she said into the yellow Formica. “It would kill me.”

      “I’m being serious,” Gloria insisted, pulling Daphne up by the back of her shirt. “This Jonah fellow is a young man, single, apparently attractive—”

      “And leaving, Mom. He’s not sticking around. He’s probably already gone. Which wouldn’t matter because he’s the last person in the world I would date.”

      “Apparently every man within a thirty-mile radius shares that status.”

      “Mom—”

      “You didn’t even fight for Gabe Mitchell!”

      Daphne rolled her eyes. Her mother could not let go of the brief relationship she had with Gabe. “There was nothing to fight for, Mom. The man was in love with his ex-wife. What was I supposed to do?”

      Gloria’s face became a mix of pity and pleading and Daphne hated it. “You’re too young to spend your life covered in mud. You used to be so carefree and spontaneous. You used to be fun.”

      “I’m still fun, ask Helen.”

      “Grown-up fun. Sex fun.”

      Daphne groaned and held up her hand. “I am too busy to date. I am too busy for—” she dropped her voice, uncomfortable even saying the word “—sex fun. I am raising Helen and trying to expand my business—”

      “Excuses,” Gloria interrupted, her eyes flashing, her short brown hair practically bristling. Gloria had finally found love again with a high school English teacher who lived twenty miles away. They dated, went to movies, traveled. They weren’t married, didn’t live together and the relationship was, for Gloria, perfect.

      And that perfection gave her a license to harangue Daphne on the subject of second chances on a regular basis. “You’re too scared to even try.”

      A charged stillness filled Daphne, like the air before a lightning strike. Her mother was right. She was scared. Scared of being hurt. Of being rejected. Of being left behind all over again.

      “You are so beautiful and strong. Any man would be lucky to have you.” Her mother’s soft voice was tempting, but reality was reality and that’s where Daphne parked her butt these days.

      “You’re my mother, you are supposed to say that.” Daphne brushed crumbs from the counter into her hands, looking anywhere but at her mother. “But my track record speaks for itself.”

      “What does that mean?”

      “It means—” she swallowed, the words wedged behind her pride and reluctant to come out “—men don’t want me. Not permanently.” She dumped the crumbs in the garbage by the sink, wishing she could do the same with this conversation.

      “Oh my God!” Gloria cried, spinning Daphne around. “How can you say that?”

      “Well, for one, Dad—”

      “Your father wasn’t cut out to be a father. His leaving had nothing to do with you.”

      “I was seven, Mom. I went to bed and had a father but when I woke up he was gone. Trust me, that feels pretty personal. And Jake pretty much confirms it.”

      Gloria sighed. “Well, you barely gave Jake a chance to be a father. Or a husband.”

      “Jake wanted to leave,” Daphne insisted. “You think I pushed him out the door, but trust me, he doesn’t see it that way. I gave Jake his freedom.”

      They heard Helen’s footsteps upstairs, a signal to stop before she heard them.

      “Not every man leaves,” Gloria said.

      “You’re right,” Daphne agreed. “Just the ones I love.”

      Helen tromped in wearing a far more appropriate red T-shirt with a big yellow flower on the front, looking like the quirky funny seven-year-old she was, rather than a young hooker in training. “Mom, everybody in school wears shirts like that,” she said, grabbing her bulging book bag and brown bag lunch.

      “Everyone but you, Helen,” Daphne said sweetly, ushering her out the door toward the truck. “Everyone but you.”

      They drove down the driveway toward the road into town and Daphne unrolled her window, the morning finally warming up. The breeze, warm and smelling like pine and manure from Sven’s farm, curled through the cab.

      The For Sale sign was still posted and she hadn’t heard a word about her offer. She stuck her tongue out at the ramshackle old house as they drove by just to make herself feel better.

      “Hey, Mom, guess what I heard?” Helen asked, turning bright eyes to Daphne. Her still chubby cheeks were pink and the wind teased hair loose from her braid to whip it around her face. Daphne smiled, loving her daughter so much sometimes it was like a physical pain. Budding gossip columnist or no.

      “What did you hear?” she asked like a woman on the edge of her seat. She shouldn’t encourage this or Helen would turn out worse than Mom, but she was too darn cute not to.

      “Josie said Jonah moved into the inn and Josie was trying to spy on him but her mom caught her and made her do dishes with Chef Tim.”

      “Jonah moved into the inn?” Now Daphne really was on the edge of her seat.

      “That’s what Josie said yesterday on the playground.”

      “When did he move in?”

      “Yesterday morning. Josie said she watched him unpack his bags and talk on the phone. She said he talks on the phone a lot.”

      “How long is he staying?” Daphne asked and wished she didn’t care. She wished her cheeks weren’t hot at the mention of his name. Wished she could stop interrogating her seven-year-old as if she were the sole witness to a crime.

      “I don’t know,” Helen said. “I’ll ask Josie.”

      Daphne told herself that she was just curious about a man so utterly different from her. Still, she had to bite back a long list of questions she had about the man.

       When is he leaving?

       Why is he such a jerk?

       Why does he look so good in blue jeans?

       Is he married?

      “You want me to ask if he’s married?” Helen asked and Daphne nearly drove off the side of the road.

      “What?” Good God? Am I talking out loud? “Why?”

      “So, you can date. Josie said he’s really cute.” Helen waggled her eyebrows, something Daphne did as a joke and it was about a million times funnier on her seven-year-old daughter.

      “Have you been talking to Grandma?” Daphne demanded.

      “No,” Helen said. “I told you I was talking to Josie and she can totally find out if he’s married.”

      “Even if he was single, I’m not going to be dating him,” Daphne told her daughter in all seriousness, hoping to end this conversation.

      Helen harrumphed and looked out the window, pulling blond hair out of her eyes. Daphne had known that the little cocoon of Athens Organics, the country she’d created of Daphne and Helen, wouldn’t last forever. Helen was bound to get interested in things outside of the farm and her mother, but Daphne had never really suspected it would be her love life.

      “Is it because Daddy’s back?” Helen asked. “Is that why you don’t date anyone?”

      Oh God, Daphne had feared this would happen when Jake came back around. She’d suspected Helen would get her hopes up and start thinking that they’d be a family again. The divorce wasn’t