Renata and the Fall from Grace

by Becky Doughty

  And she prayed. For the first time in a long time, she just talked to God. All day long, she carried on a conversation with him in her head, as though He was right there with her, standing over her shoulder, walking through the day with her. She knew He was, she'd always believed it in her head before, but for the first time in her life, she started to believe it in her heart; to live as though it were true. And there were times when she would pause, hold her breath, and listen quietly, certain she'd heard a still small voice whisper her name. It was the most comforting sensation she could imagine.

  The boys had forgiven her by that Sunday, which was a relief, because it was Mother's Day. Thanks to the rest of the family making sure they were armed to the gills with gifts, both store-bought and home-made for her, she was showered with love by the whole family, and she received it all with much gratitude.

  Tim must have forgiven her, too, because he texted her that following Friday, as usual, and said he'd be picking the boys up, unless she had other plans for them. He continued to come by at least once a week and do odd things around the outside of the house. Mowing the lawns, picking up after the dogs, replacing a section of the fencing between her house and the neighbor's where one of the boys had practiced his batting skills. Things had gone back to normal, or at least, their new version of normal.

  During the last week of May, Renata climbed behind the wheel of her Pilot, and backed the car out of the driveway and out onto the street. Other than taking the boys to school in the mornings, she'd driven it only three other times since the accident. She'd gone to the grocery store by herself once, but broke down in the freezer section in front of John's favorite Moose Tracks ice cream and had to abandon her half-full cart in the aisle. She'd picked Judah up early once; he'd come down with a fever. And a week ago, she'd dropped off Reuben's science project report for him because he'd left it sitting on the kitchen counter. She had no idea what it was even about; something he'd worked on with Tim. Others had used the car, though—Gia and Phoebe often picked up the boys with it because they both had tiny cars. She noticed there was a new sticker in the upper left hand corner of her windshield; someone had even taken it in for an oil change a few weeks ago. She'd have to find out who and thank them.

  Her doctor, a sixty-something year old man who'd delivered all four of her boys, and who'd also delivered the confirmation of each miscarriage, beamed at her as he strode back into the exam room where she waited.

  "Renata, this is wonderful. Wonderful! I'm not even going to reprimand you for not coming to see me sooner. Congratulations, my dear." It was the first time she'd seen Dr. Flynn since John's death, but she'd informed the nurse of the accident when she made the appointment so their visit wouldn't be any more awkward than absolutely necessary. He'd embraced her warmly as soon as he saw her, told her how terribly sorry he was for her loss, then got on with business. She loved him all the more for not making her cry.

  "What kind of support system do you have, my dear?" His question caught her off guard, mainly because she'd been expecting to have to give him information about diet and exercise and sleeping habits instead.

  "Oh. Well, my sisters. My grandparents live just down the block from me."

  "But no one could come with you today?" Renata frowned at his question. He seemed overly concerned about this.

  "Well, I haven't told anyone yet. I wanted to get past…."

  "Of course, of course." He nodded. "But you will tell them now?"

  She hesitated, suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to keep this her secret a little longer. It was her direct link to John and she wasn't ready to share it with anyone.

  "Renata, listen. I'm going to speak to you now as a friend who happens to be your doctor, not the other way around."

  She sighed, not wanting a lecture, but out of respect, she nodded.

  "This is not the time for you to withdraw. Every new baby is a precious gift, and in your case, your circumstances add a unique element to this particular gift. This is a time for celebration, for people to gather around you and help you prepare to welcome a new life into your family. I know you well enough to know that you're a strong, independent woman, and even though John's passing is a tragedy beyond measure, if you had to face tomorrow alone, you could and you would. But you don't have to. You have a family who loves you, four boys who depend on you, and a new baby coming who will only benefit from you asking for help." He crossed his arms and continued, not giving her a chance for rebuttal.

  "How are you doing financially? I know it's a personal question, but are you going to have to go back to work soon?"

  Renata shook her head, relieved all over again at John's foresight. "No. John had good life insurance. I'm set for several years, if I'm careful. Eventually, I'll have to think about it, but probably not until this one is in school, maybe even junior high."

  Dr. Flynn nodded sagely. "Excellent. Excellent. Good man, that John. I can't tell you how much that sets my mind at ease." He reached out and patted her knee. "Okay. So, as your doctor, I'm writing you a few prescriptions for prenatal vitamins and an ultrasound for next month before your next visit. As your friend, I'm writing you a prescription requiring you to tell your family about this baby before your next visit. That gives you almost a whole month. Got it?"

  Renata nodded. Fine. But for the next month, she would be like Mary, the mother of Jesus, keeping this secret in her heart and treasuring it for as long as she was able.

  ~ ~ ~

  When Renata pulled back into her driveway before noon, she grimaced to find Tim's truck parked out front. She didn't see him, though, so she got out, locked up her car, and made for the front door rather than going through the garage past John's truck.

  Just as she was sliding her key into the lock, Tim stepped out from around the side of the house and walked toward her, a ladder in one hand, a tool of some kind in the other. He was dressed in an old pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, flakes of paint sprinkling his shoulders and caught in his shaggy hair. He grinned when he saw her, a slow smile of surprise mingled with satisfaction, and she was shocked at the thoughts that went through her mind. About Tim. About how attractive he was. About how tight his shirt was. About how good it was to see him.

  "Renata. Good to see you."

  She stared at his chest, warmth flooding her face, unable to meet his eyes. Had she said that out loud or had he read her mind? "Hey, Tim." Her hands fumbled a little with the key, but she got the door unlocked and pushed it open, slipping inside before he could read any more of her other thoughts.

  "Get a grip, girl," she muttered, angry at herself for letting her mind wander.

  Angry at Tim for being here.

  Angry at John for not being here.

  Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. She tore open the door and stepped out into the bright sunshine again. Tim was up on the ladder in the driveway, scraping paint from the eaves, his arms overhead, one hand gripping the framework for balance, the other wielding the scraper. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, an uncontrolled fear for his safety rising up in her. She studied his tan work boots braced on the rungs of the ladder.

  "Did you take my car in for an oil change?" she asked, her tone harsh, abrupt.

  Tim turned around to look down at her, still holding onto the eave overhead, his other hand resting on the top of the ladder now. She stole a quick glance up at his face, but didn't like the way his posture enhanced his muscular frame, so she turned her gaze to her car, pointing at the sticker in the window.

  "I did."

  "When? Why?"

  "Last week. Because it needed it."

  "Who told you it needed it?" she asked, unable to argue that fact.

  "The old sticker in the window. It was supposed to be done in February."

  "Yes, well, I was a little busy in February," she snarled. Oh Renata, stop. Just stop and go back inside. What had happened to her buoyant mood of moments ago, and why was she lashing out at Tim again?r />
  Tim came down the ladder, slowly, carefully, then turned to face her, feet planted wide in challenge. He crossed his arms over his chest, putting his rather impressive biceps on display, making Renata think of the Mr. Clean guy. Except that Tim had lots of hair and a neatly-trimmed beard.

  She took an involuntary step backward, her hand waving behind her in search of the door knob. Tim seemed to realize how intimidating he looked. He uncrossed his arms, reached out to grip the ladder, and propped one foot on the bottom rung. He turned so he no longer faced her, but he tipped his head to look at her sideways.

  "I lost him, too, Renata."

  Hot tears welled up and over, tracking silently down her cheeks. She stood there, one hand on the door, one hand protectively across her belly, hating herself, missing John, wondering why she felt so much rage toward this man who had been nothing but a rock to her and her boys for three and a half long months now, whom she had spurned and spewed at time and time again, but who had remained steadfast and present. Her emotions toward him rankled her, made her want to lash out at him even more, send him running so she wouldn't have to deal with any of it.

  "Why are you here, Tim?" she finally asked, his name coming out more of a sob.

  "I'm prepping your eaves to paint them."

  "No, not what are you doing here. Why? Why do you keep coming back here? Why are you helping me?" It was her turn to cross her arms tightly over her chest, trying desperately to hold the pieces of her world together. Wasn't this supposed to get easier in time?

  "Because I want to." His voice cracked a little on the word 'want' but he didn't seem to notice. Renata did. She kept doggedly after him anyway.

  "But why? What makes you think we need you around here, huh?" She bit her lip hard, the pain goading her. "I don't need your charity, Tim. You don't owe us—or John, for that matter—anything."

  "Owe you?" Tim gripped the ladder so tightly it rattled against the driveway. "Charity? What in the world do you think I am, Renata?" He lifted the ladder off the ground a few inches and slammed it back down. Not hard, but enough to make some noise. Enough to make her flinch. "Did it ever once occur to you that I'm here because I love your family? John's family? He was my best friend, Renata. My best friend." He angrily swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "This isn't about owing anyone anything. It's what friends do for each other. What men do for their fallen brothers." She'd forgotten Tim had spent some time in Afghanistan. Because of exemplary performance and conduct, he'd been honorably discharged after his term of service was up. He'd even been injured at one point, and sent home for medical treatment, but he'd returned afterward to complete his term.

  He turned and took a step toward her, then another. He didn't raise his voice, but it got more and more intense the closer he got. She pressed her back to the door behind her. "If it had been me, if I was gone and he was here in my shoes, John would do the same thing for me. This is what he'd be doing for my fam—"

  "You don't have a family!" She pointed a finger at him, her voice rising with each word. "I wish it had been you! I wish it was him here with me right now, not you!"

  Tim was so close now she had to look up to meet his eyes. She jammed her finger into his chest as she cried out. "I need John, not you! I need my husband, not his best buddy. I need—" Her voice broke and she brought her hands up to cover her face, sobs tearing from deep down inside. "Oh God, I miss him so much."

  His arms came around her and she leaned into him. He held her like that only for a moment, then gently ushered her inside the house. Closing the door behind them, he pulled her up against him again and she let him. Eyes closed, she soaked in the comfort his big body offered her as he wrapped himself around her like a shield of protection against the world. For the first time since John's death, she gave in to the need to sob in someone's embrace, not caring what he thought of her, not caring what she thought of herself.

  Slowly, she eased her arms around his waist, imaging John holding her, imagining it was his chest she buried her face into, his head resting against the top of hers, his hand stroking her back. If she kept her eyes closed, if they didn't speak, maybe, just maybe, she could believe it for a few moments….

  No. She was not going to play those games. This was Tim, offering her whatever comfort he could, and perhaps even asking for a little from her in return. She would honor him and his friendship by not pretending otherwise.

  "I'm pregnant, Tim," she whispered, the relief of saying those words out loud making her knees buckle.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Painting the eaves seemed to take a lot longer than Renata thought it should have. Tim started coming by more often, a couple days a week, right after the boys left for school in the morning. He'd ask her how she was doing, if there was anything he could do for her, then he'd head outside to put in a few hours on the house.

  He was usually gone by noon, poking his head inside to let her know he was leaving, except for on Fridays when he'd pick up the boys. He began asking her to join them for the afternoon, or for dinner, at least, but she always turned him down. She still didn't have any desire to leave the house, not just because of her hair, but because she felt close to John in her home, close to the new baby growing in her belly. Besides, she knew her kids, especially Simon, loved the undivided attention Tim gave them. School would be out for summer soon, anyway, and she wasn't sure how involved he'd be after that.

  Tim, however, began accepting her invitation to join them for dessert at the end of the night, coming in with the boys and sliding unpretentiously into John's empty chair when Simon directed him to it. He didn't apologize to her for sitting there and she didn't feel that he should. She knew he wasn't trying to take John's place.

  They hadn't talked much since that day after her doctor's appointment, but Renata was shocked to realize how much of a relief it was that someone else knew her secret. An exchanged look, a question in his eyes, a new level of attentiveness whenever he was around.

  Neither Juliette nor Gia seemed to notice anything different about her, but Phoebe put a hand on her shoulder one Wednesday after dropping the boys off. "Ren, you look good. Your cheeks don't look so sunken in. Your eyes, they're brighter. I'm glad."

  "Thanks, Phoebe." Her sister was an artist, a woman whose job it was to study expressions and notice nuances. "I'm beginning to feel like tomorrow may come after all." She chuckled, then rephrased her thoughts. "Rather, I'm less afraid of it than I used to be."

  On the Tuesday before her ultrasound, Renata told her grandparents about the baby. They hugged her and wept with her, and promised to keep her secret until she'd had a chance to tell her sisters. They also offered to take the boys when she did.

  That Thursday, she called a G-FOURce, much to her sisters' surprise. She offered to cook, but Juliette insisted on bringing Chinese food from The Green Dragon to give her a night off. Phoebe showed up with two six-packs of fancy ginger ale in glass bottles, and Gia brought a batch of Granny G's cinnamon chocolate chip cookies.

  The house was clean, the lawn freshly mowed, thanks to Tim, and the air conditioned interior of the home was a refreshing contrast to the early evening heat of June.

  Renata hadn't had take-out Chinese food in months. She had to hold her breath when the cartons were popped open on the counter, the overwhelming aromas assaulting her hypersensitive nose. The nausea passed quickly, the way it usually did these days, and she filled her plate without mishap. They sat around chatting, this being the first G-FOURce they'd had since John's fall, at least that she knew about. She supposed it was entirely probable that her sisters had, in fact, met without her.

  After dinner, she transferred the cookies to a platter, and set them on the table, along with mugs and spoons and tea bags. While they waited for the teakettle to whistle, Gia officially opened the G-FOURce with the pledge, and when they released hands, fingers fluttering in the air over their heads, Renata giggled.

  The others looked at her curiou
sly, but Phoebe's eyes narrowed. "What's up with you, sister? There's something different about you."

  "You look amazing," Juliette agreed, now studying her, too.

  Renata stood, the teakettle just beginning to sputter. When she'd filled everyone's mugs and sat back down, she opted not to drag it out.

  "I'm pregnant," she said, swirling her Earl Grey teabag in her mug. "Four and a half months."

  The room went dead silent, spoons stilling, mouths open, eyes wide. Suddenly, Gia leapt out of her chair, jumped up and down a few times, squealing like a little girl at her birthday party, then circled the table to wrap Renata in a tremendous hug. "Oh Rennie! Rennie! I'm so happy!"

  Renata looked across at Juliette whose eyes glistened, her hands pressed to her smiling mouth, then at Phoebe, clutching her mug tightly, tears beginning to fill her eyes, too, and spilling over. The look on Phoebe's face was mixed with something else, and Renata felt the old twinge of doubt and resentment rearing its ugly head inside her, but she pushed it down. No, this was good news, and Dr. Flynn had been right. She needed her family now in ways she'd never dreamed she would.

  They talked for at least another hour, about how she was feeling, how the boys were holding up. Renata hadn't yet told them. She wanted to give them enough time to grieve their father before they had to make room for another Dixon, but she planned to tell them after her ultrasound when she could show them a picture.

  "Are you going to find out what you're having?" Gia asked the question on everyone's mind.

  "I still don't know," Renata admitted. "I'm hoping for a girl, of course, but this baby is such a miracle already, that I almost feel like I should just wait and be surprised, you know?"

  "Who's going with you?" Phoebe asked.