HeartStrings

by Savannah Kade

  A cat would be good company. The boys could clearly use a pet; Owen had run away to see the puppies. She didn't let her mind even consider that he'd gone to see the man.

  What was she thinking? She couldn't get a cat! She was a seamstress who worked from her own home. She'd seen what cats did to couches. She cringed just thinking about what one could do to a whole bolt of twenty-dollar-a-yard fabric.

  No cat.

  Just a mom, sitting in the hallway. She could practically hear Owen yelling at her that she'd ruined things with Craig. He'd called Aaron a butthead, then said Aaron was only three, so it was okay, but he had to stop.

  Sitting on the couch with Owen after Aaron had been put to bed, she'd stroked his head and tried to explain that sometimes things just didn't work out with adults. Owen pointed out that things didn't work out with his dad because his dad was an asshole. Though she'd let calling his brother a 'butthead' ride because Aaron wasn't around to hear it and Owen was clearly getting some things off his chest, she put her foot down about her six-year-old wielding 'asshole' like a brandish. Unfortunately, he'd done it well—good inflection and tone, and he'd applied it to the right person. His father was an asshole. There wasn't another word that really got the whole of Jason the same way. Calling him a jerk sounded like he didn't take out the trash or help with the household chores. Owen didn't even know the half of it.

  Owen used slightly calmer language about Brian, telling her that things didn't work out with him because he was bad, too. But Craig was good. Her son didn't accept that things 'didn't work out' when both people were good.

  Maybe that was why he was convinced the breakup was her fault. Though he had his head in her lap, it clearly wasn't what he wanted.

  Before bed, he'd been full-blown angry again. Maybe that was why she was sitting out here in the hallway. Maybe she was afraid he'd go out the window. And he might not go to Craig if he knew her ex was going to return him home. She had to keep an eye on him.

  She was, but his last words before bed were sticking with her. "Mrs. Vreeland says 'you get what you get and you don't get upset' or you choose 'you can be the change you wish to see.'"

  Shay had told him thank you, then kept it to herself that first grade philosophy lessons were not going to turn her life around. But Owen hadn't been done with that.

  "You're sad. You're upset, Mom. So you have to change." He'd looked at her wide-eyed, pleading with her to be some better person that she didn't know how to be. He'd repeated it as he climbed under his Spiderman comforter, "If you want things to change, you have to change, Mom."

  The dichotomy had made her smile at him and thank him again. But now as she sat in the hallway she wondered if her usually silent six-year-old had a point.

  Then she reminded herself that maybe he was mad because she had changed. She'd allowed Craig in. It had been an experiment—one that failed, surely—but an experiment. And it wasn't all bad. She and her boys had seen that not all men were bad people. But they were a unit. The three of them.

  Somewhere in the middle of the night she remembered to take the pregnancy test. If she hadn't had a heart attack from Owen going missing, then she wasn't going to have one from this.

  Still, the three-minute wait was the longest stretch of time since . . . Well, since that afternoon, but it didn't make the time go by any faster. Shay waited four minutes. She told herself it was because she wanted the test to be sure. But the real reason was because she was a wimp.

  It was one-thirty in the morning when she read the stick. Negative.

  Her lungs whooshed out, her shoulders sagged, her whole body slumped until she was sitting on the closed toilet lid. She hadn't been ready. Clearly, she could barely handle the two that she had. Chalking it up to stress—which she'd had a heaping ton of lately—she took the stick and the wrapper out to the kitchen trash, because it was the deepest. She buried it.

  Owen seemed to know a lot more than he was letting on. She didn't need him burdened with this, too. When she got back into the hallway, Shay nestled into the blankets and finally found some sleep.

  Until Owen shook her awake in the morning. "What are you doing out here, Mom?"

  She hugged him, still a little tight. "I missed you yesterday. I was so scared when you were gone."

  "You didn't have to."

  "It's what moms do." She countered as she climbed out of her little nest.

  "It's what good moms do." Owen told her as Aaron came out of the room behind him, rubbing his eyes. Shay's heart warmed at his words. He didn't hate her after all. Then Owen continued. "There are bad moms, too, you know. Just like there are good and bad dads."

  That was all he had to say about it. He was obviously lobbying hard for her and Craig to get back together. Shay only nodded in return and began fixing cereal.

  She'd gotten Craig's key back from Owen, debated returning it to Craig, then thought better of it. She went about packing lunches and fixing oatmeal that she seeded with chocolate chips. Then Owen was on the bus and she was driving Aaron to daycare. Just that was scary to her.

  She wanted to take the day off, hold them both close, but she couldn't. It wouldn't be right. So she was at home alone, sewing, when Kelsey came by. This time the other woman peeled her coat to stay a little while.

  "Hey, just wanted to check in. I won't overstay, I know you have work." She smiled and refused a drink when Shay offered.

  "Thank you for stopping by. It's a hard day."

  Kelsey nodded. "I figured. But you sent them both off? Didn't cry?"

  "Nope. I wanted to." Shay grinned. "But I didn't." It felt good to know that Kelsey was still her friend even if she wasn't still with Craig. It was unexpected and wonderful.

  "And?" Kelsey prompted, her hands clasped.

  "Oh! Not pregnant." Shay laughed this time. "So once I had Owen home and the test was negative, I started later in the night. Must have just been stress."

  "They say that can happen."

  "Yeah, well, it's a crap method if you ask me. There you are, all stressed out, so your body adds another one."

  They chatted a bit before Kelsey offered a hug Shay hadn't realized was sorely needed. Her baby bump—now practically a mountain—hit Shay as they embraced.

  Shay laughed, "I'm so glad that's just you and not me on that bandwagon."

  "That's the way it should be." Kelsey grinned before heading out the door and back to her hectic life.

  Somehow Shay made it through the rest of the day. She'd texted Craig that morning with the non-news. He'd only said "Thanks" several hours later.

  Owen climbed off the bus right at two p.m.—which was wonderful. Then he pushed right past her, marching into the townhouse—which was not. He resisted mom-time, then stayed quiet even through picking up Aaron, despite her entreaties to get him to talk. He resisted all questioning until dinner time when he asked if he could get off the bus at Craig's house the next day.

  "No, honey, you can't." She frowned.

  "Then when can I go?" His stubbornness was gaining traction. She'd not seen him like this before, but told herself both boys were acting out about the move. It would pass. But Owen didn't let it.

  When he was climbing into bed, he brought it up again. "Craig said I could go to his house whenever I wanted. Well, I want to go tomorrow."

  "You can't just go there. He's a grown man, he has a job. Lots of times he's not home." She stroked his head, but her oldest rolled away.

  "He'll be home tomorrow after school."

  "Did he tell you that?" She asked softly, this time keeping her hands to herself, no matter how much it made her heart hurt.

  "He will be."

  Not quite a real answer. But when she headed downstairs, she picked up her phone to call Craig.

  Then she set it back down. She didn't have the right to just call him up and ask what was going on. Then again, he didn't have the right to just tell her kid to stop by after school. She picked up her cell again, then set it down again. The third time she pus
hed the buttons too fast to let her brain talk her out of it. He answered on the fourth ring. Just when she thought he wouldn't.

  "Hello, Shay."

  His voice shouldn't still have the power to do that to her, but it always did. Even that first evening on the beach, she'd heard him before she saw him and the very sound of him had melted her. "Hi."

  "What can I help you with?" He was so matter-of-fact, she practically froze in the puddle she'd melted into. She'd crack any moment.

  So she bucked up and asked. "Owen just told me that you said he could come over any time."

  "He's up pretty late, isn't he?"

  "Yes, it's past his bedtime, but he was talking a lot finally, so I let him stay up."

  "He had a lot to say the other day." Craig commented.

  "Are you going to tell me what he told you? What you said to him?" She demanded. It irked her that he was calling her on letting her son stay up.

  "No. Not all of it."

  "He's my son, I have a right—"

  He interrupted, but wasn't mad. "Shay, he showed up inside my house, having used a key I gave you. I don't think my breaking a confidence he asked me to keep—when no one is hurt or in danger at all—is wise. He's my friend, I'm not going to betray that."

  "He's not your friend, Craig. He's six." She protested, wondering if he would interrupt her again. He didn't. This time he waited a full beat.

  "Shay, he's my friend. It's all I have left of it. He wanted me to teach him to play guitar, and I want to do it. Of course I told him he had to ask you for permission."

  "He didn't." She sighed, getting ready to apologize, but she didn't get the opportunity.

  "Of course not, Shay. He’s a six-year-old. Weren't you just telling me that? You don't trust me with anything where they’re concerned. Nothing. And that's the main problem."

  He was getting angry now. For some reason that made her wicked heart just a little glad. Contrarily, it irked her that he said that as though they could work it out.

  "Craig." This time she felt so very tired. "I'm their only line of defense. I protect them from abusive fathers. I keep them safe from the world. I'm all they have."

  "I know. But it's that way because you choose it. You did such a good job, they now have a good stable home, no bad fathers, and a better life ahead of them." He paused, his voice quiet, soft, resigned. "Congratulations. You only have fifteen years to go. Good luck."

  Then the phone clicked and she hung up, none the wiser.

  Chapter 41

  Craig fumbled in his wallet to pay the cabbie. It was damned expensive getting from downtown to out in the burbs. There was a card reader right there in the back seat. So why was he digging for cash?

  Well, probably for the same reason he'd taken a cab. Three beers in two hours was too many. He made TJ promise not to drive home. Yup, his brain was good, but not all there. Patting his pocket, he felt for keys, then had to pull them out. Even as he looked at them, he remembered, he hadn't driven, so his only key was a house key. The ring belonged to TJ. His friend would get home safe—if he still remembered his address after all the fine beer he'd consumed.

  It was also possible that TJ would have to remember his address in the morning, when he woke up in some strange woman's house. Maybe Craig would go fetch him. He didn't have anything better to do.

  He calculated what he thought was the right tip, then realized the little screen had done it for him. Good, he was on spot, then climbed out of the car and stood on the sidewalk, breathing in the night air, coming close to fully sober, then headed up his front walk.

  Once inside, he walked through the front hall, and turned to push the phone into the charger, checking that the volume was all the way up. He would want to hear the ring if TJ called in the morning.

  Only as he turned did he remember that he hadn't left the lights on. He would have blinked a few times to get it straight had he not spotted the cause sitting on his couch.

  "Why are you here?" He asked her point blank. He couldn't handle this tonight.

  "You don't sound happy to see me." Shay stayed put, her hands folded in her lap, her expression contrite.

  "I'm not."

  "Oh." She took a deep breath in reaching for her purse.

  It had to be the extra beer. He thought he'd breathed out the last of it on the sidewalk in the cold of night, but his mouth ran off without his brain. "Why would I be? You've managed to leave me so many times. In fact, you're so good at it that you can leave me when we aren't even together."

  Her eyebrows climbed. "Were you out drinking?"

  "Yes. But I'm not drunk. Just a shade past rock sober. Where are the boys?" He looked around the room as though expecting them to come out of the hallway, or for her to say she stashed them in his music room.

  "They're staying over at Kelsey and JD's."

  "A night off for Super-Mom? Wow." He walked past her and into the kitchen where he poured himself an ice water without offering her any.

  "Maybe this isn't the right time for this." She was standing now, her purse having made it into position over her shoulder.

  "Oh please!" He gestured wildly, "Don't go. Just get it out tonight so I don't have to wait for it tomorrow. I'm really anxious to hear how you came over just so you can leave again."

  Yeah, he was definitely a shade past sober, and she was eying him like she knew it. As he watched, she thought about something, but he had no idea how long it took, his timing was off.

  Eventually, she set the purse on the coffee table, but stayed on her feet. Following suit—and maybe so he didn't throw it against the wall and prove to her that he was a horrible, violent, child abuser—he set the water glass down and waited while she gathered whatever courage she needed.

  "I don't want to leave." She pushed out the words. When he didn't respond, she went further. "I want to stay with you."

  "You can't just waltz back in—"

  "I'm not. I want to fix this. Craig, you were right. I was right, too, but now I'm not." She stumbled.

  "You aren't making any sense, and I'm in no shape to unscramble it." He put his hands on the counter dividing the kitchen from the dining area. Keeping it between them helped him feel steady, as though anything could protect him from hurricane Shay. Any moment he'd be ripped to shreds.

  "I was right. I was my boys' only line of defense. Against horrible men. And you were right, too. I picked those men. I put my boys there. I didn't mean to, and I'm still trying to forgive myself for being a terrible idiot on those counts. But I got better. I saved myself and my boys. And I learned to fall in love with someone good."

  What the hell was she saying? He could feel the first sharp pains as his skin flayed.

  Shay kept at it. "And even though I changed, the way I acted didn't. You're right. I'm not the first line of defense for my boys anymore." She paused, looked to the side. "Or I am, but I'm not the only one. You were right there beside me, and I didn't know what to do with you. I treated you like I treated Jason and Brian. I didn't trust you with the boys when I could, and I still didn't when I should have. You have every right to hate me, Craig. I was awful."

  He nodded, but he couldn't ever seem to get himself to hate her, whether he had the right to or not. Those words didn't come out.

  "I don't know if you can give me another chance. And I don't know if I concede on smacking Aaron's hands. But I want to try. I want to trust you. I want you there with me. I love you. I really do."

  Words came then. "You can't just want to trust me Shay. You have to actually do it."

  "I know." She'd taken a step toward him, then stopped. "I do actually trust you. When you wouldn't tell me what Owen said to you when he ran away, I realized it didn't matter. That you wouldn't hold anything important from me, or that if you had to, you'd handle it. I've never had that thought before. Even with Zoe. She's an alarm system; she'll let me know if something goes wrong, but you can handle things."

  She looked frightened, but the corner of her mouth turned up
in a small smile.

  "He didn't run away." Craig had no idea why that was the thing he'd latched onto, but it was all the words he could form when his heart was starting to pound. He shouldn't have had the third beer. Hell, he shouldn't have had the first. "He ran here. There's a big difference. I know. Don't call it that to him."

  "Okay. You're right." She nodded. "I don't know how you're so good with them, but you are."

  "I'm not. I try to read up on it, but all the advice contradicts other advice." He shrugged, wondering when the conversation had turned surreal. Or if he'd had a lot more to drink than he remembered. "Mostly, I remember what it was like. That no one cared what I wanted and no one heard my voice. The band was the first time anyone ever cared what I thought, or thought I made a worthwhile contribution."

  "You make an unbelievable contribution to me. To my boys."

  "You can't just go shopping for a father for your kids." He told her, some part of him still keeping her at bay.

  "I'm not. Honestly, I'll back down on how you get Aaron to behave, because you do. Even when I can't. And I know he's far better off with you than without you." She turned away, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling. "That still sounds like I'm trying to get you back for them. But I want you for me." This time she looked right at him, every word a physical hit. "Each day without you is worse than the one before it. You're right about the boys, and you were right about me."

  All he could do was stare. "Where's the old Shay? Where's the woman who would rip me a new one for daring to suggest that I know something about her kid?"

  She laughed. "I sent her packing. I'm sorry I did that to you. My only excuse is that I've never met anyone like you. No one I've dated has even been in your stratosphere, Craig. I didn't know what to do with you, so I did what I always did, which was retreat and protect my boys."

  "Did?" The counter was holding him up now, his breathing was turning fast and shallow to match his heart rate.

  "She's gone. I trust you. I love you." She took a deep breath as though gearing up for something. It turned out to be another deep breath. "I want to be us again. I want you back."