by Rula Sinara
“But Eric has at least fifty pounds on you, Nina,” Ben pointed out. “If they give him painkillers that make him dizzy, or it rains and he slips with the crutches on the driveway, how are you gonna pick him up?” Ben insisted. “Plus, you said once they’re in, they may have to do more. Hope’s home with the kids. There’s no reason for me not to come.”
The least I can do for Zoe is be there for her parents for things like this.
“I agree with him, Nina,” Eric said. “I’m sure it’ll all go smoothly, but just in case, for your sake.”
“Fine,” Nina said.
“Is that what you’re getting into, Hope? Bone doctoring?” Eric asked.
“My parents own an orthopedic practice, yes. I’ll eventually join them.”
“Why ortho?” Ben asked.
Hope couldn’t answer, because for the first time in her life, the only answer she had sounded too pathetic to say out loud.
Because my parents expect me to be just like them.
CHAPTER TEN
Dear Diary,
Some kids at school were saying that being good means you’ll go to heaven or get presents from your parents—not from Santa, since we’re too old to believe in him. I know Mommy’s in heaven. Everyone says so. But if I go to hell for making her die, I’ll never see her again.
HOPE PICKED UP the pewter frame from the fireplace mantel in Ben’s house and held it closer for a better look. Zoe was so pretty. Judging by all the other photos Hope had seen on the inset shelves, she’d been great with the camera, too. Ben said she’d taken them all. That she’d been a photography major before quitting college. She certainly knew how to capture moments…and emotion. Hope picked up another photo of the three kids together, surrounded by flowers. She recognized the front steps to the house, where the picture was set up. In it, Maddie cradled a newborn Ryan. She was beaming. Hope’s chest ached. They’d lost more than just a beautiful person. They’d lost their glue, the one person who had held them all together despite Ben being so far away all the time.
I’m sorry for what happened to you, Zoe.
She heard Ryan gurgling through the baby monitor and waited a second to be sure he wasn’t waking up. Silence. Chad was also taking a nap. That little guy could harness energy like a wind turbine. She looked around the room to be sure she’d tidied up all the toys he’d been playing with. Here on out, she was setting rules for Chad picking up his own toys. If he had that much energy, he could direct it, use it for the greater good of mankind, like cleaning so she wouldn’t have to.
This nanny thing was giving her some perspective on parenting. No wonder her parents had set so many rules for her and given her so much structure. Kids were exhausting. And her mom always said that a parent never stops worrying, even when their children become parents themselves. She thought about the pain Nina and Eric were in over Zoe and how much they, and Ben, worried about Maddie, Chad and Ryan. She worried, too.
She wasn’t expecting Ben back from the hospital for some time, and with the boys in bed for naps, Maddie at school and everything tidied, she needed to do something other than take a nap herself. She didn’t feel comfortable doing that while on kid watch.
She tiptoed into Chad’s room, her room, and brought out one of the medical texts her dad had insisted she take along. So far, bringing them was proving to have been a big waste of luggage-weight fees. But if she dug into a few pages, then she wouldn’t have to lie if he asked if she’d done any reading.
She started to settle onto the couch, but then jumped up, remembering to set the kitchen timer. She didn’t want to miss Maddie’s bus, and it wouldn’t be too long now. Ben had reminded her at least five times that little kids by themselves at a bus corner were an invitation to kidnappers. For crying out loud. She didn’t need to be reminded of that, but he was Maddie’s father and had every right to say whatever he wanted. To set all the rules like hers had. She opened her book.
Orthopedic Surgery and Treatments for Athletes. It was bound to make time fly.
*
HOPE JOLTED WHEN the timer rang. She took a groggy few seconds to get her bearings. She’d fallen asleep before finishing a single page. Thank heavens she’d set the alarm.
She put away the book and hurried out onto the front porch, leaving the door cracked so that she could hear the boys if they got up. In several long minutes, the bus pulled up at the corner, only two houses down and close enough to watch her get off the bus. Maddie ran home, ducking her head to hide a shy smile behind her loose hair.
Hope waved with two hands as the bus’s gears shifted and it drove off with a high-pitched puff. “Hello, beautiful girl!”
Maddie lifted her head as she climbed the porch steps and smiled outright. Hope took her inside and locked the door behind them.
“How was school?”
Maddie shrugged and nodded simultaneously, slipping her backpack off her shoulders. Hope squatted in front of her and pushed a strand of hair off her face.
“How would you like it if I put a snack on the table while you do your homework, and then we can have some fun afterward?” She emphasized fun and was rewarded with an enthusiastic nod.
Babbling came through the baby monitor.
“Sounds as though somebody woke up happy. Would you like to help me change his diaper before starting homework?”
Maddie gave Hope a thumbs-up. Hope smiled.
Deal with what’s dealt, help the helpless and give laughter to the living.
A happy Maddie was a good sign and a relief.
“I bet you’re the greatest big sis and helper ever.”
Maddie stilled and her eyes widened, almost as if she’d seen a ghost, then another smile spread slowly across her face.
*
BEN’S BACK ACHED. He did his best to stretch it while waiting for the light to change. It didn’t help. Between sitting in the car and the hospital chairs, he was done. What he needed was sleeping kids, a quiet house, a hot shower and a firm mattress.
He’d called the house three times over the course of the afternoon and evening, each time letting Hope know that he’d be running later than expected. It turned out there was a lot to clean out of Eric’s knee. Then there was a pharmacy run, so that Nina wouldn’t have to leave Eric alone. For a military guy, the dude had no pain tolerance. That or Nina had spoiled it out of him over the years.
The entire day had brought back memories of Cooper’s surgery. The docs had managed to save his leg, but the therapy had been grueling. Coop had been the definition of stoic…until he’d reached his limit and turned to drinking. Everyone had their limits.
Ben was glad the kids were with Hope. Having someone around whom you trusted was an incredible stress reducer. Someone to lean on. Cooper had no one. It was why he’d joined the marines to begin with. It had given him a chance to be part of a group. A family.
Ben had people around who cared. And for now, at least, he had Hope, too.
He drove down his street, slowing before turning into his driveway. For a second, he thought he was seeing stage four of the Joneses’ electrical holiday fiasco reflecting in his windows. His gut tightened and his lower back twinged with the threat of a spasm. What the…?
“No way.”
He pulled up his driveway, slammed the car door behind him and stormed up to the house. He unlocked the front door.
It was a war zone. With music. So much for decompressing.
His pulse ratcheted up, and his throat constricted.
The cardboard box full of decorations that Nina had brought over had made its way out of the coat closet where he’d stashed it out of sight. The lack of a Christmas tree hadn’t slowed them down. Lights were strung all over the ficus tree in the far corner of the living room by the front window. Snow globes and figurines were on every surface. The kitchen counters were covered in artwork, most likely left there to dry, and the breakfast table held jars of finger paints set on protective sheets of foil.
Ben zeroed in on his target. Th
e source of music. The off-key thrum of the last string played still buzzed through him. His chest heaved.
Hope and his kids sat in a circle on the floor, Maddie and Chad on either side of Ryan’s bouncy seat. She held a guitar. Zoe’s guitar.
From the way Hope’s lips opened and closed as he stood there, she knew bad stuff was about to hit the fan.
“What are you doing with that guitar?” he said, his voice deep and slow in an effort to control himself.
Hope hesitated, looking at the children, then back at him. She leaned the guitar carefully against the sofa and got up. Maddie saddled up to Ryan and Chad. Her chin quivered, and she stared at Ben as if he’d grown horns.
“Don’t worry,” Hope said. “We were just about to start cleaning up. We were having fun, as promised, since everyone did what they were supposed to do. Maddie finished all her homework. Chad helped me—”
“Kids,” Ben snapped. “To your rooms. Maddie, take Ryan with you. Now.”
Maddie burst into tears and ran to her room, leaving her brothers behind. Hope fisted her hands at her sides. She glared at Ben before taking Ryan to his room.
“Why you mad, Daddy?” Chad asked, looking up.
Ben closed his eyes.
“I’m not mad at you. Just go to your room.”
“Chad, come here,” Hope said from the hall. He went to her. She whispered something in his ear, and he hurried off. She marched up to Ben, coming toe-to-toe with him and pointing after the kids.
“What has gotten into you? You upset them for no reason!”
“This is my house. I never gave anyone permission to do this,” he said, “and I never gave you permission to play my wife’s guitar. The bike was one thing. That was Eric’s fault. This?” His hands cut through the air. His lungs felt as though they were shrinking.
Zoe was everywhere.
And he’d let Hope into her home. He’d let a woman he was starting to have confusing feelings for into Zoe’s house. He’d let her control Zoe’s things. He was betraying Zoe. Betraying everyone, including himself.
Hope’s eyes darkened.
“If you don’t want me here, all you have to do is say so. But don’t you dare raise your voice at me.” She went to the end table, whipped Maddie’s pad off it and slapped it against his chest. He held it. Maddie’s handwriting was scrawled in the cursive she was learning at school.
We want a tree like Grandma has at her house.
Can you play Mommy’s guitar for us please? Like she used to.
The list went on. Maddie’s wants. Her needs. The look on her face when he’d walked in. How could he not see that? His jaw tightened and his eyes stung. And the look of disgust and disappointment on Hope’s face mutilated him. He’d screwed up. He’d failed his kids. He’d failed Zoe.
Hope pointed to the painted sheets drying on the table. Handprints and the thumbprint flowers.
“They made get well cards for their grandfather. Do you want to fault me for that?”
“The decorations… This was her thing… That was crossing the line.”
“And did you draw that line for yourself or for the kids?”
Ben curled his lips in. He wanted to fight. He wanted to explode. He was angry because Hope was right. Angry because he was so blind. And angry because it was so much easier to cope with anger than facing his failure as a husband and a parent.
But he had to keep everything and everyone in control, because how else could he keep them safe? He couldn’t risk letting his guard down again. The last time he did, the cost had been too high.
“They want to remember their mother and enjoy that memory,” Hope went on. “But they want permission from you. Permission to lift the weight and just be kids again. They’re looking to you to make sure that it’s okay to be happy again. That it won’t mean they don’t love or miss her.” Hope’s eyes welled with tears. “Maddie’s falling apart in her room. She’s going to think she made you mad because this was all her idea.”
He covered his face, digging his fingers into his scalp. He understood what Hope was saying. Maddie was going to regress because of him. Just when she was starting to get better, he’d gone and made her worse. He’d hurt her.
He turned away, confused and disoriented in his own home.
He braced his hands against the entry console and hung his head. It throbbed with the jabbing rhythm of artillery fire. Ryan’s crying could be heard without the monitor being on.
“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. His voice came out rough. “I can’t. I need to walk.”
“Go,” Hope said in a voice tinged with disappointment. “Just go.”
*
BEN HAD DONE more than walk. He’d run, pushing harder and harder. Not for the high, but because he wanted to feel drained. Purged. Punished.
It was late by the time he was back in the house. The street was still, and his neighbor’s lights had been turned off for the night. His house was quiet, but for the steady sound of Ryan breathing through the monitor and the whir of the heater kicking in. And although the decorations and lights were still in place, the ornaments that hadn’t been unpacked had been closed up and put away. A neat pile of their artwork on the end of the counter was the only evidence left of their painting mess.
Instead of relief, he was plagued with a feeling of abandonment. Hope lay sleeping, curled up in the corner of the couch with a pillow tucked under her head and her knees pulled up tight. Her arms were tucked behind them for warmth.
He took the throw off the armchair and covered her. He peeked in on the kids. Each one lay sleeping and probably having bad dreams about their dad, angry and yelling…or their mom dying. Or maybe Hope was right. They needed to remember, but because of him, they were enjoying time with their mom the only way they could.
In their dreams.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dear Diary,
I’m evil. I’m bad. Everyone hates me. Even Hope. Daddy got mad at her all because of me. I’m stupid and I ruin everything.
HOPE WOKE UP with a start. Why was she on the couch? She looked down at the afghan that had fallen off her shoulder and into her lap and knew she hadn’t taken it off the chair. She’d wanted everything in its place when Ben got back.
She put her hands to her cheeks and closed her eyes, remembering the night before. He’d been gone so long. She’d soothed Ryan and waited, tucked Chad in and sat at the edge of Maddie’s bed as she cried herself to sleep. She’d tried rubbing her back. She’d even tried to explain that everything would be okay. That her father was just tired. But Maddie hadn’t wanted to listen. She’d piled stuffed animals on top of herself and kept sobbing.
Hope got up, folded the afghan and laid it over the back of the armchair. Ben’s sneakers were by the door. When had he gotten in last night?
It didn’t matter, other than the fact that she was certain Maddie wouldn’t be up to going to school today. Hope didn’t have the authority to call her in sick. Ben would have to. She looked at her watch—6:00 a.m. She remembered from the planning for yesterday morning that the bus came around 7:30.
She tiptoed to the hall bathroom and eased the door shut as quietly as she could, then leaned her back against it. She wasn’t going to wake Maddie up. If Ben wanted to blame her for that, too, well, so be it.
But she knew one thing for sure. She wasn’t leaving. She couldn’t, even if all it would take was a phone call and a ticket, or just staying over at Nina’s. She wouldn’t, because of the children.
*
BEN ROLLED OVER to get the streak of morning sun out of his eyes, then bolted upright, cursing to himself as he looked at the digital clock by his bed. How in the world…? Maddie would have missed the bus. Who knew what trouble Chad had gotten into if he was already up, let alone how drenched Ryan would be.
Hope’s out there. He remembered the hell of last night and dropped his head back against the pillow, missing by an inch and hitting the headboard. He cursed again and got up, not sure if he was prepare
d to leave his room and face what had happened.
He grabbed a clean T-shirt from the drawer. The monitor he kept in his room was on. Unlike the alarm he’d apparently forgotten to set before crashing. Yet no noise had woken him. Was it because he subconsciously knew Hope was there? Had he let his guard down, let himself sleep in, because he trusted her with the kids?
Just like the day he’d returned from duty and let Zoe convince him that she’d take care of things because he was tired?
Voices carried from the kitchen. Happy voices reminiscent of mornings when he was on leave. Hope’s face, with those mesmerizing eyes full of knowing, understanding and rebellion, came to his mind. He tried forcing Zoe’s face to take its place. It didn’t work. What was happening to him?
The window shades had already been opened, and morning light gave a glow to everything in the room, including Hope’s hair as she bounced up and down to soothe a whimpering Ryan against her shoulder. Chad’s favorite superhero cereal bowl sat half empty on the table. The pediatrician had told Ben to get rid of the sugar in the house and revamp his shopping list. He still needed to do that. Chad was sitting in front of the TV watching a cartoon.
Maddie wasn’t there.
Hope, still soothing Ryan, set his bottle by the sink and turned just in time to catch Ben watching. Her face looked freshly washed, making her appear even younger than her knew her to be. Ten years younger than he was, he reminded himself.
“She’s in her room,” Hope said, reading his mind. “She refused to come out for breakfast. I didn’t think school—”
“You’re right.”
Hope swung sideways, making her skirt swish back and forth. Ryan did not seem happy. He gnawed on Hope’s pinkie finger with slobbery desperation.
“Ben, I think Ryan is cutting his first tooth,” Hope said. “Do you have any infant acetaminophen or ibuprofen? Or gel?”
Something shifted in Ben. Ryan was getting his first tooth. He hadn’t been around when Maddie and Chad cut theirs in, though he’d heard about the pain and sleepless nights from Zoe. He hadn’t been around for a lot of firsts, and it suddenly hit him. If he managed to start a new career, build a company so that he could support his family without reenlisting, he’d be around for all of Ryan’s firsts. This tooth was just the beginning.
