Just Perfection (The Perfection Series Book 4)

by Heather Guimond

  When we went to the appointment, Dr. Singer questioned both of us thoroughly as to Sammy’s behavior and development. He played with Sammy the entire time we talked. That was one of the reasons I liked and respected Dr. Singer so much. He truly loved treating children. He was always engaging our boy, talking to him. Even when he was trying to get information from us, Sammy was always his focus.

  After he was done with his questions, he asked to meet us in his office. I looked at Justin, a foreboding taking over. He nodded at me as if nothing were wrong and tried to pick Sammy up. As usual, Sammy wriggled around until Justin put him down. I took hold of his hand, and we walked back to Dr. Singer’s office.

  “Sit down,” he offered, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk.

  We took our seats slowly, both of us steeling ourselves for bad news. He gave Sammy a ball he had in his desk drawer while we spoke.

  “I think there’s some validity to what the doctor said during Sammy’s little trip to the ER. After speaking with you two, and examining him, I see the several signs that he may indeed have ASD. What level of the spectrum he may be on is hard to say at this point. I don’t think we can really evaluate that until he’s much older.”

  “But you didn’t examine him. You haven’t done any tests. How can you be sure?” I asked.

  “I did examine him. What do you think I was doing while we were talking? I was observing Sammy’s behavior and responses to the things I did. There’s no blood test to confirm the diagnosis, it’s all done by observation and obtaining a thorough history. I’m not a specialist in this area, but I think there’s enough evidence to suggest a comprehensive diagnostic evaluation. My staff can refer you to a nearby specialist who can make an official diagnosis.”

  My stomach twisted, and I looked at Justin. He sat there calmly, watching Sammy play with the ball. After a few beats, he looked up at Dr. Singer and nodded.

  “Okay. I’d like the referral. I expect whoever it is will confirm what you’ve already said, but it’s important to get an accurate diagnosis so we can help him the best we can.”

  “Exactly, Mr. Sever. He will have special needs, but don’t develop the mindset that your son is abnormal. He’s just different. He’s special like every other kid out there. Some have asthma, some have diabetes, some have allergies. There’s a whole gamut of things kids deal with daily. While your son may be autistic, there’s no reason to think he can’t grow up and live a normal life. You will probably need to make some minor adjustments in how you deal with him, but other than that, it’ll be business as usual.”

  Justin thanked him and stood, accepting the paperwork with the specialist’s information on it. I also stood, but my mouth had gone so dry, and I smiled tremulously at him.

  As soon as we were in the car, Justin whipped out his cell phone and made an appointment with the specialist. No other words were spoken the entire trip home. Once we finally got in the house and Sammy was settled down for a nap, Justin and I sat on the couch to talk.

  “I still don’t understand, Justin. I can’t see him as anything but a normal boy,” I said.

  “Peaches, he is a normal boy. He just happens to have special needs. You heard Dr. Singer. There’s no reason to see him any differently than we already do. We have to be more informed about who he is, honestly.”

  “But what does that really mean for his future? I’ve done some reading on autism, but I didn’t find anything which would help me understand how to help him.”

  “I suppose the specialist will help us with that. We have to wait to see what she says.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. You seem so accepting of this. I don’t understand how you can be,” I remarked.

  “I’ve been thinking about this longer than you have. Ever since my mom pointed out some of his unusual behaviors, I have been watching him and reading about potential causes. I guess I am more prepared to hear the diagnosis than you are.”

  I leaned back against the sofa and looked up at the ceiling.

  “I want to be able to accept it, but I don’t.”

  “You’ve always been great at denial, Mimi. You have to get your head around this, so you can continue to be there for him in the way he needs. Maybe if you do some more research, it will reassure you this is not the end of the world.”

  “You’re right,” I sighed.

  “When have I ever been wrong?” he said, leaning into me.

  “Plenty of times.” I rolled my eyes and smiled at him. “I just can’t think of one right now.”

  “That’s because there isn’t one.” He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me tight against his side. “It’s going to be okay, Peaches. Don’t let this throw you too much. Sammy needs you.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder and thought about it. Sammy did need me and living in denial sure wasn’t going to help him or me for that matter. I vowed to scour the internet for more information as soon as I got home.

  It felt good to lean on Justin. He still hadn’t brought up anything about my feelings for him. I guessed he’d decided to sweep it under the rug. The thought that I’d messed things up so royally and lost my chance with the best guy I knew since Vance made my eyes prickle with tears. Of course, this caused me to sniffle a little, which caught Justin’s attention. Fortunately, he misinterpreted the cause of my upset. He placed his hand under my chin and gently turned my face toward him.

  “Mimi, it’s really going to be fine. Sammy doesn’t have some terminal disease. He isn’t dying. He’s still the same boy you have always known and loved just like he is. He may not be what the outside world considers ‘normal’ but he’s our normal. One label isn’t going to change our life with him. If anything, we are going to be able to understand him better and do what’s right for him.”

  His dark eyes scanned my face, and I noticed his parted lips. My breathing began to accelerate at the idea if I only leaned forward a few millimeters, I could easily kiss that luscious mouth again. Without intending to, my body followed my thoughts, and I moved my head forward and gently pressed my lips to his. His other hand came up to cradle the side of my face as he kissed me back. It was gentle at first, soft little motions of our lips together, but it quickly turned as he slid his tongue into my mouth and deepened the kiss. We both unconsciously turned our bodies toward each other, and soon, I was laying back on the sofa cushions with his body draped over mine. He moved to angle into a better position and ground his hips against me. I couldn’t help my soft moan and kissed him harder while I explored the muscles of his shoulders and back. He moved down and placed lingering kisses on my neck and the part of my chest which was exposed by the collar of my shirt. Before I knew it, his hand came up to slide his palm over my breast. He squeezed it firmly before plucking at the hardening nipple beneath his fingers.

  Just as he slid his hand up to my throat and circled my neck like he had done before, we heard Sammy cry from the other room. Like a pitcher of ice water thrown over us, we bolted upright from our intimate position. Neither one of us looked at the other as we straightened our clothes. I ventured a peek in his direction as I smoothed my hair back into place, only to see him adjusting his pants over his crotch. I felt a few butterflies knowing I could cause that physical response in him.

  I jumped up quickly. “I’ll go get him.” As I moved to head toward Sammy’s room, Justin caught my hand, and I turned back to look at him. He gave me a long, serious look, but said nothing. I closed my eyes, interpreting his stare as an apology, then simply nodded my head. He dropped my hand, and I went to get our boy.

  Chapter Eight

  Unsurprisingly, the specialist, Dr. Kiplinger, confirmed Dr. Singer’s diagnosis. We were given a dizzying amount of information regarding Autism Spectrum Disorder, therapies, government services and support groups to name a few. It was hard to know where to start to get Sammy the treatment he needed.

  The first thing the doctor did was give us a referral to a qualified therapist who would evaluate Sammy’s abilities a
nd determine what therapies he needed. We learned about behavior therapy—which he needed, social behavior and communication skills—which was hard for us to understand that he could communicate any better given his age, and emotional issues. Those were the first areas we could identify where he needed assistance, but were warned not to be surprised if new ones arose as he grew older.

  It was a learning process for us all. I resumed caring for him regularly, coming over in the morning to make his breakfast and staying with him while Justin worked in his office. We both watched Sammy closely, looking for non-verbal cues wherever we could—what triggered his emotional outbursts and trying to find ways which would make him smile and come out of his shell. One of the things that made him happiest was playing with Snowflake, so I made sure to bring her with me every day.

  Over time, it became easier to discern Sammy’s trouble zones. We digested the information almost by osmosis, we both became so in tune to his moods and behaviors. I may have been reluctant to accept the initial diagnosis, but once there was no denying it, I threw myself into learning as much about ASD as I could to make his life easier. I felt guilty for all the times I had pushed a hug on him or carried him when he didn’t want me to. I’d had no clue how stressful it was for him to be held or even touched. In my desire to show him I loved him, I’d made his life harder. I found new and different ways to express it whether by the look on my face or praising him when he did the right thing. We learned to reduce Sammy’s tantrums by learning his triggers. We became more selective about introducing him to new people and tried to reduce his exposure to loud noises. Unfortunately, when I left every evening, it caused a meltdown. It was agony for me. I made sure to continue my yoga and meditation practices and even joined a parent’s support group to help me cope.

  One night, as I was leaving, Sammy had a particularly bad reaction. He wedged himself between me and the door and began to bang his head hard against it and wail loudly. The computer mouse he’d been holding went flying, striking me in the shoulder as his tantrum raged out of control. I did the only thing I could think of and sat down in front of him. He began to hit me on the head and shoulders. Going against everything I had learned about him so far, I wrapped him up with my arms and legs, cooing soft, soothing words to him, so he wouldn’t hurt himself anymore and hopefully calm down. It didn’t work at first. He began to thrash in my arms, screaming louder and hitting me more, but I held on tight until he went limp in my arms. I rocked him slowly, still whispering softly in his ear, until he eventually fell asleep. As I rose from our position on the floor, Sammy locked tight in my arms, I moved to take him to his room. When I turned, I saw Justin standing in the doorway with a strange look on his face. It seemed mixed with confusion and admiration.

  “How did you know what to do, Peaches?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered back, “I just wanted to stop him from hurting himself and grabbing him was my instant reaction. I don’t know if it was the right thing to do, but in this instance, it seems to have done the trick.”

  Justin came toward me and pulled the sleeping Sammy into his arms. He leaned down and kissed me lingeringly on the forehead before taking him to his room. Not knowing what else to do, I quietly made my way out of the house to my car. I spent the entire drive home pondering the event, praying I hadn’t done him any harm. My thoughts turned to Justin’s look at me and the tender kiss he placed on my forehead. I supposed the kiss was merely a way of saying thank you, but to me, the affection meant far more. I reminded myself that ship had sailed with Marina on it, no less, and tried to erase it from my mind. I couldn’t though. As I lay in bed that night, my thoughts were entirely on Justin and that small gesture.

  Things remained relatively peaceful for a few weeks. We fell into our new rhythm well, making sure Sammy’s schedule was rigid since one of the things we learned in all our observation was that he did much better when certain things happened at specific times. So, every day, I was at the house before seven a.m. and made sure his breakfast was ready when he woke up. Of course, being a child, he surprised me sometimes and was already awake when I got there. Those days we started off on the wrong foot, but I had every day fully planned out with certain activities, cartoons, and errands and rarely deviated from them. On those off mornings, we’d usually get back onto his schedule quickly enough, he was centered by lunchtime. I zealously protected his schedule, avoiding as many surprises or interruptions to his day as possible.

  Unfortunately, a big violator of the no surprises rule was Marina. Apparently, she was unhappy to learn I had returned to being Sammy’s full-time caregiver, and if you asked me, I thought she was suspicious something was going on between Justin and me. If only.

  Though Justin and I both had cautioned about her dropping by unannounced on more than one occasion, she simply refused to stop. She’d turn up any time of day, usually under the pretense of bringing lunch or a snack, but sometimes with toys for Sammy, all of which were age inappropriate for any kid, ASD or not. She even bought him a Nerf gun. A play weapon for a child who had only just had his first birthday. I made sure that one made it into the donation basket as soon as she left.

  One day, she showed up early in the morning while Justin was in the shower. I hadn’t slept much the night before. My feelings for Justin had been hammering away at me again, keeping me from sleep. I barely rolled out of bed in time to make it to his house by seven, so I was still wearing my typical sleepwear—a sweatshirt and a pair of men’s boxers—with my hair thrown up into a disheveled bun.

  As I opened the door for her, I had it on my tongue to waylay into her for showing up unplanned again. I was tired, I was grouchy, and I really resented the hell out of the woman. Before I could say anything though, she shoved a large baker’s box at me and marched past me into the house. Holding the box, I could smell the scent of apple fritters and devil’s food donuts rising from the box. They were some of Justin’s favorite goodies. However, we’d been experimenting with Sammy’s diet to see if there were any correlation between the types of food he ate and his good or bad days. One thing we removed from his diet long before was processed sugar. Any kind of sugar he consumed now was only of the naturally occurring variety which we also gave him sparingly.

  While I was trying to figure out a hiding spot for the treats before Sammy woke up, Marina demanded “Where is he?” I looked up in shock at the tone of her voice. It was a hissing, accusatory sound.

  “He, who?” I asked. “Justin is in the shower and Sammy is still in bed.”

  She looked me over from head to toe. “In the shower, huh?” she sneered.

  “Yes, Marina. He does it every morning,” I snarked back.

  “Hmph. By the looks of you, you should try that, too.”

  That did it. I wasn’t about to let this woman talk down to me when I’d been nothing but polite to her even though I wanted to claw her eyes out every time I saw her.

  “You know Marina, I was just about to. I was going to join Justin in the shower, like I do every morning.”

  I stomped past her and tossed her stupid donuts in the trash. I pulled the bag out of the can and tied it up tight ready to take it to the bin outside. Before I could step to the kitchen door though, she had her hand on my arm, dragging me back.

  Her face registered shock, her mouth dropping open then closing just as fast. She narrowed her cat eyes at me.

  “I knew it,” she spat. “I knew you’ve been here all this time looking for a way to get in between us. I’m just surprised he’d take some junkie for sex. I thought he had better sense than that. If you think that just because he fucked you that I’m letting him go, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  I shoved her hand off me. “Grow up, Marina. Nothing is going on between Justin and me except for being best friends and raising his son together.”

  “That’s right, Mimi. His son. Not yours. You need to sober up,” she stopped to snicker at her own joke, “and realize what’s going on here. Justin is mine whic
h means Sammy is mine. I intend to marry Justin—sooner rather than later—I just have to be a little more patient until he pops the question. No matter how hard you try that’s not going to change.”

  “I’m not going anywhere either, Marina, so you’d better get used to me. Sammy is also my son, and I will not disappear into the woodwork just because you think you might assume a more official title. If you two are that serious, you need to take more interest in Sammy and learn more about his needs. Develop your own bond with him. There’s room enough in his heart for both of us.”

  “Pfft. That child is hardly aware of what’s going on around him. He doesn’t notice anyone but that dog. He’s totally abnormal.”

  I was this close to wrapping my hands around her throat. Instead, I shoved her aside and walked out to the barrels. I was murderous. I wanted to go back in there and knock her on her twiggy ass, but I also knew I had invited her bitchiness by running off my mouth. I just couldn’t help myself. If I had to swallow my feelings day in and day out, it wasn’t surprising that something would gurgle up and out. Right?

  I dropped the bag into the container and hung my head. How on earth was I going to explain my behavior to Justin? Surely, she was in there, right now, confronting him with what I said. I’d said all along how I didn’t want to come between them, how I wanted him to be happy, and what had I just done? I didn’t know how I was going to get myself out of whatever hot water I was in with him. Surely, he’d feel much differently when I told him all the things she said in return. Unless, he really did plan on marrying her? If so, it’d break his heart to hear what she said about Sammy. I couldn’t just let that slide though. Sammy would not have a step-mother like that, not if I could do anything about it. I turned back toward the house, steeling myself for whatever awaited me inside. To my surprise, she was calmly sitting at the kitchen table while Justin was brewing coffee for them both. He turned to look at me.