Life and Cherry Tomatoes

I smiled as I walked in to the kitchen and saw my youngest daughter, Jordan, trying to influence her baby brother to walk. Laughing, he clung to her fingers and took unsteady steps across the tiles.

"Hey Mommy," she greeted me. I ruffled my hand through her light brown curls.

"Hey Jo. Where's Sawyer?" I asked. She looked blank for a moment upon hearing her father's given name, but quickly recovered.

"Daddy's with Tara outside. They're in the water," she explained. I forced myself not to cringe. Was it insane, to worry that she enjoyed swimming so much?

Scooping my son off the floor and taking Jordan's hand, we walked down the many wooden steps that led to the wide sandy beach.

Jordan yelled at her father to get above the sound of the crashing water, and the baby-Charlie-joined her, yelling incomprehensively.

My eldest daughter and my husband finally looked up and ran over to join us. I watched as Tara collapsed on the beach, panting heavily. I could see in her bikini that at twelve, she was growing up faster than I'd like.

I set my son down to crawl as my husband approached. I giggled as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me too him, kissing me. His kiss still felt the same as it had that day on the river court: perfect.

"Mommy, that's gross," Jordan informed me primly.

"It is kind of gross, BJ, you're all wet," I complained. He ran one of his hands through my still long, wavy blonde hair.

"And now you are too," he said, stalling my complaints by again pressing his lips to mine.

"I don't want to be wet. I have to go out. Lucy thinks she's going into labour and I have to convince her she's not," I insisted.

"Lucy Scott, having a baby. My, kids do grow up fast. Anyway, stop your complaining," he said. Despite my protests, he swung me into his arms and began to run toward the ocean again.

"Sawyer Brian Scott! Put me down!" I yelled. He didn't. He ran into the ocean and dropped me when we were up to his waist. I gasped in shock as I made contact with the cold, salty water.

I quickly stood up and shook my hair to attempt to get the water out of it.

"You're evil. I'm never going to talk to you again," I promised. He laughed.

"You know, you look really hot when you're wet," he said. I rolled my eyes-despite thirteen years we'd been together, the three children we'd had, the life we'd made together, he was still the same boy he'd always been.

"You too," I admitted. He leaned down to kiss me again, and I made him give me a piggyback ride to get back to the kids.

Later that day, the five of us were together in the kitchen along with Aidan McFadden, who was Brooke's son and a few months younger than Tara. Charlie was in his highchair, being spoon fed by Sawyer. Jordan was setting the table, skipping back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room to collect napkins and cutlery. Aidan and Tara were helping me in the kitchen while joking with each other in their own private world.

The two of them helped me get dinner on the table and we all sat down, talking amicably. We'd always been a close family.

I chatted with Brooke when she came to pick up her son. She groaned about her daughter, seventeen year old Kylie, who'd been partying out of control lately.

At eight Sawyer put Charlie to bed, and at nine I took Jordan to bed, read her a story, talked about her day and kissed her goodnight.

Tara disappeared off to her room, so Sawyer and I began to take advantage of the time alone. It disgusted our children, how much we… went at it.

"Do you think we should have another kid, or call it quits at three?" he pondered.

"Maybe we can have another in about ten years. They're exhausting, BJ. And Jo already feels neglected," I responded.

"I was picking up on that today when I was with Tara. They're good kids. Do you ever notice that Jo looks exactly like Mom but is exactly like Jenny?" he asked. After a moment, he seemed to regret his words. For that same moment, I was picturing my sister with my happy family.

"Yeah," I said softly.

"You know, they're such good kids, and we're so happy, we should almost expect something bad to come along soon," he joked.

"I think we're past the worse," I said. For a moment my eyes fluttered closed and I couldn't help but remember it-the struggle, the pain.

"I hope so. Do you hear something?" he asked. I strained, and suddenly heard Tara's voice faintly call my name.

"I'm going to her room. I'll see you later," I said, kissing him one final time. He pulled me closer in to him on the couch and deepened the kiss. I forced myself to tear away from him to go find my daughter.

Tara was lying in her bed, reading a book which she put down when I entered. I went down and sat cross legged on the unused sector of her double bed.

"What's up?" I asked. Part of me was nervous-she'd begun to grow away from me.

"Can you tell me the story again?" she asked. I laughed in relief.

"Once upon a time there were two girls named Haley and Peyton. They were both married, but still very young. They were pregnant and were about to have babies for the first time. Haley had hers first. It was a boy, and she and her husband Nathan named him Sawyer Brian Scott. A week later, Peyton had her baby. She and her husband Jake named her Calista Brooklyn Jagielski.

"The two of them grew up together like siblings. Sawyer protected Callie from bad boys and bullies, like a big brother would. He was the most popular boy in school, and the best basketball player. She was a cheerleader. She was pretty and most people liked her. Sawyer thought he liked her big sister, Jenny, but then he kissed her and realized that he really loved Callie. Weeks later, by which time she realized she loved him too, he came and found her on the rivercourt. They sang to each other and then kissed for the first time. They stayed together for a little while, but then Callie got scared of what would happen to her best friend if they fell in love, so they broke it off. Then three months later she visited his cottage, and they… you know… So they stayed together. Then they got back to Tree Hill and Callie knew she was pregnant, so she got married to Sawyer even though they were only seventeen. Another month later she found out she wasn't pregnant but they decided to stay together anyway, and then eleven months later you were born," I finished. I loved telling the 'story'. She loved hearing it.

"But that's the censored version, right?" she asked. Memories spun through my head. It was the censored version. I'd left out what had really happened with Sawyer and Jenny. What had happened to Gavin John Scott's original father. All the times I'd so seriously considered leaving her father. The time Mark Delaurier had…

"I'm sorry, sweetie," I whispered.

"It's not your fault. It's not remotely your fault," she assured me.

"I know. But I can't help but wish…"

"Do you think he's my father?" she asked. I'd managed to avoid telling me my true feelings for twelve years. I'd hoped for another twelve years, but it was not to be.

"Yes, Tara. I think he is, biologically," I said. She paled, but seemed to agree. She looked nothing like Sawyer. Her hair was blonde like mine. Her eyes were like the ocean. Like his. The bastard that had almost ruined my life.

"I think so too," she whispered. She sat up, and I put my arms around her. My sweet little girl. She who had everything, yet at the same time lacked so much.

"Your Daddy will always be your Daddy, no matter what. He always promised me that," I said.

"I know. It's just so hard," she said. I nodded.

"He doesn't matter. He's nothing. It's too much for us to even think of him. He's not worth it. Not even a little bit," I said.

Somehow, amidst her grief and her tears, she managed to drift off to sleep.

I walked down the hall, looking left and right at all the family photographs as I passed them. When I got into my room, I changed into a lace nightie before hopping into bed and burying myself in covers, where I proceeded to cry my heart out.

Eventually Sawyer entered. He didn't hear my tears, muffled on the pillow, and he didn't notice anything amiss when he stripped down to his boxers and joined me on the bed, putting his arms around me and preparing to sleep.

"Squirt? What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly bewildered.

"I just talked to Tara about Mark. It's so hard, Sawyer," I sobbed.

"It is, but it shouldn't be. Mark shouldn't have the satisfaction of ruining our lives. He's just an asshole, and we haven't seen him in eleven years. Don't let him matter anymore," urged Sawyer. Underneath all my love and compassion for him, I couldn't help feeling resentful toward him. He could never understand.

In the morning, the world was considerably brighter. I woke up to a sun filled room, his arms still firmly around me. I knew in that moment, like I'd always known, that Sawyer would always be there for me. That he really was the love of my life, despite our impromptu shotgun wedding.

He awoke when I began to crawl out of bed. Together we went downstairs and began to brew coffee, enjoying the precious moments before the house was filled with our kids.

I began to flip enough pancakes at the stove when I heard a clicking noise behind me, and suddenly music began to flow through the room. I smiled when I instantly recognized 'our song'.

I turned around and walked over to him. He offered me his hand, sensing I was still slightly down.

"Now, my beautiful bride, would you care to dance?" he asked, laughing. I took his hand and he pulled me in to him.

"You do realize that I was your bride thirteen years ago?" I asked. I leaned up to kiss him.

"Yeah, but you're still beautiful," he said.

"You're trying so damn hard to get laid," I teased.

"Like I have to try," he joked. I disentangled one of my hands from his and lightly slapped him.

"You're so damn full of yourself. You know you're getting old?" I asked.

"We're the same age!"

"I beg to differ! There was a whole week with you and not me!" I protested. I sighed as the song ended.

"You're right. There was. Now, are you hungry?" he asked.

"Mm, yes, but not for pancakes," I said. I walked over to the fridge and pulled out a box the box of tomatoes we always had handy.

"I don't get your obsession with those," he said.

"How could you not? They're round, they're bit sized, they're juicy, they're tasty. They're red," I explained. I popped one in his mouth.

"What's not to love?" he asked. I smiled.

And thus my story finally ends, in the kitchen of my heart with the man I'll always love. Jenny would eventually find her dream man, Tara would eventually come to terms with who she is. My daughter Jordan would grow up to be a basketball player, my son would break tradition and never do the same. One day one of us would die off, and the other would be forced to brave the world alone, something seemingly impossible.

But now, for as long as possible, we'd brave it together.