by Grea Warner
“I know.” I shook my head, trying to still piece the series of events together. “Tell me what happened today.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and looked in the direction of which she fled.
“Start with the psychologist.” I picked up the dog and was at least able to calm one living thing down.
“You know the doc wanted me to sit in on this first session with the kids.”
“Yeah.”
“So, they answered all her questions. We talked a little ... about all kinds of stuff ... normal stuff. They said what they like to do and shared what makes them scared. Joel mentioned the nightmare and that he sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night. Sallie didn’t say much but, you know, that’s Sallie. I reinforced how proud we were of them. They both seemed okay ... good,” he corrected. “And they went to summer camp for a little bit and that went well, too.” He burst out a gust of air in obvious frustration of not knowing what went wrong. “I guess I’ll go talk with her.”
“Let her be for a sec,” I suggested, placing Lyric back down.
“Yeah?”
“Didn’t it help giving me space the other night?”
“That’s a female thing? She’s too young to be hormonal.” I resisted rolling my eyes, and he was kind of fortunate we were interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Picking it up, he looked at the screen and said, “It’s my sister—Teagan.”
“Bethany!” Joel called out my name with excitement. “Look. I got to the next board!”
I put my finger up to my smiling lips. Joel didn’t realize he was talking so loud with the headphones still in place. Ryan, who had just said hello to his sister, put his hand up to his other ear and started exiting the room. Lyric decided to follow him, and I went toward Joel.
Getting to the next board ... making a step forward ... doing something fun ... seemed like something we all needed to do. But as it turned out, Joel’s game seemed to sadly mimic the game of life the four of us were sloshing through. The next board proved even more challenging with scary mazes, which often led in the wrong direction or to a place you kept repeating and not being able to get out of.
When I saw Ryan reenter the family room, I should have been instantly aware of his distress by the look on his face, but it took me a moment. “Your son is trying to show me how to play this but—” I stopped and started again. “What’s wrong?”
Ryan tilted his head at Joel and tried a smile, which was not convincing at all. I touched the little boy’s shoulder and rose from the floor where we had been playing. He didn’t seem to mind my departure—he was too occupied trying to chase off the zombies.
Ryan and I walked to the opposite edge of the family room before he told me the news that his sister had obviously delivered over the phone. “My mom ... she needs surgery.”
“What? For what? What happened? We just saw her yesterday.”
“Yeah, and they didn’t say a word.” His sentence was coated in frustration. “They even knew before the ... right before the wedding.”
I hated that every time our upended marriage was discussed it was done with sadness and hesitation, but I pushed it aside and concentrated on the real concern—Ryan’s mom. “What’s wrong? Is she all right? What—” My breathing was partially erratic, and she wasn’t even my mom.
“She needs a pacemaker. I guess she’s been having some fainting spells. I don’t know ... Brady ...”
“Bradycardia,” I clarified and breathed a little easier. “Irregular ... slow heartbeat. My great uncle had that done. It seemed like a pretty routine procedure from what I heard. He’s still—maybe even more so—a real spitfire.”
“Oh, great. My mom could actually calm down.”
I partially chuckled. “Are you okay?’
“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m just a little pissed they didn’t say anything. And now Teagan is on my back to come out, and I’m sure Megan will be, too, especially because Dylan can’t go because of the harvesting conference they’re hosting. But I didn’t know. They thought Mom told me. Teagan said Mom’s trying not to make it a big deal, but she’s older, and I guess anything can happen with any surgery.”
“When is it? Wait ... the harvesting thing is soon, right?”
“Yeah. This week. Her surgery is Thursday.”
“This Thursday?” As he nodded to confirm, I asked, “You’re going, right?”
“No. I told her I couldn’t.”
“Why? You should.”
“You said it’s pretty routine.”
“It is. But it’s your mom, and your dad will need some support, maybe even at the farm.”
The tension that had been momentarily eased, revved slightly back up. “I can’t. I can’t take the kids.” He looked in Joel’s direction. “They can’t ... No. They don’t need to see people in a hospital or worried. Not now. Not with everything ... In fact, I don’t even want them to know.”
“Well, apples and trees.”
“What?” His eyebrows scrunched.
“An apple doesn’t fall far from a tree. You are doing the same thing your parents were doing with you—protecting their child by not telling them.”
“I’m an adult!”
“Okay.” I reached out and squeezed his hand in an effort to calm him. “I know you don’t lie to the kids, but I understand where you are coming from. I do.” We both knew those little ones had enough on their emotional plates. After a calming pause, I refocused on his eyes and reiterated my original thought. “I still think you should go.”
“Bethany.” He was back to exasperation quickly. “I just said—”
“You go.” I exaggerated the first word. “I’m here. I’ve got the kids. We’ll be fine. You go.”
He physically see-sawed around for a second or two as if his feet were mimicking the thoughts in his brain. Then he took a deep breath and said in the same indecisive way, “If I go, I’ll be there a couple days.”
“I’ll be here for a couple days. Well, even more.” I tried a smile that time for encouragement.
“Really? Yeah? You wanna do that?”
“Sure. It will help every—” I cut myself off, beginning to laugh at a sudden memory.
“What?” His scrunched brows showed his confusion.
“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before ... um, a while back. We were talking about the kids and then you started grilling me about my life goals.”
Ryan instantly shook his head, and I knew he, too, was remembering one of our most important conversations. It was when we were first becoming a couple. In fact, when I thought about it, it was probably that conversation that had pushed us from dating to knowing we were serious.
“I wasn’t grilling you about your life goals.” He tsked.
“Life goals is actually what you said!” I jovially bellowed.
“I ... I ...” What a guy.
“You wanted to know if I was worthy of letting yourself fall.” His intense, deep blue eyes burrowed with adoration as I spoke the truth. “It was big for me, too.” I smiled.
“How about heads I stay or tails I go?” he offered.
“No,” I denied him immediately—family was too important. “Go to Iowa. Be with your mom ... your dad ... your sisters. The kids and I will be here. We—"
“You’re leaving?” We both swung around to face Sallie, who had, unbeknownst to us, joined us from the hallway.
“Just ...” He looked at me for a second, as if to confirm, and then back to his daughter. “Just for a couple days. Okay?”
“Why?” Her one word was riddled with obvious trepidation, and I wondered how Ryan was going to handle not only her disposition but the answer itself.
“I’m going to see Grammy,” he answered truthfully in his most calm dad voice.
“I wanna go,” Sallie offered immediately.
“Uh ...” He hesitated only slightly. “Not this time.”
Again. “Why?”
“It’s not a regular farm
visit. It’s boring ... like business stuff,” he tacked on at the end, and I admired how he held on to his integrity of not lying.
“I’ll behave. I won’t get in the way,” Sallie instantly offered up, and before either of us could react, added, “I’m sorry about before.”
I’m not sure my eyes ever got that instantly watery. My heart broke for the little girl. She was obviously taking on so, so much. And it hadn’t dawned on me when I proposed the idea, how seeing a parent—their only remaining and always consistent one—leave for a faraway destination would confuse their psyche. Geez, us just going out for a couple hours on a Friday night had sent their emotions on a tailspin.
“Tink, sweetie ...” Ryan bent to his daughter’s height. “It’s ... I know you are. Bethany knows, too.” He looked up at me briefly, and I stroked the little girl’s golden hair. “You can’t come this time. I won’t be in Iowa for long. A couple night’s sleep. All right? You don’t want to miss day camp. There are so many activities. And you know Bethany will need help with Joel, right?”
If Sallie was anything, she was her brother’s boss—not that easygoing Joel ever acknowledged it. “He’s a handful.” Sallie’s eyes seemingly got big as she nodded and Ryan let out a legit chuckle. “Will you call us?”
“Of course.” After our Friday night out attempt, Ryan learned the importance of the kids at least hearing his voice. “I can even video chat with you. What do you think, my brave, smart little girl?”
“A couple night’s sleep? That means two and no more, right?” She wanted confirmation.
“Yeah. Yeah. Two.” He stood back up. “Let me work it out, but I still have two nights here and then two nights at Grammy and Pappy’s.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, and with her unpredictable behavior that late afternoon, I had no idea what to expect. Certainly not, “Will you be gone when the princess thing is?”
Ryan looked at me for confirmation—we hadn’t even gotten as far as when the premiere was before Sallie had run out of the room earlier. “I don’t know.” He said it tentatively because we both knew the topic was obviously a sour one with his little girl.
And I answered the same way. “It’s Thursday.” Recognizing that was the day of the actual surgery, I knew the definite answer. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” Pause. “Can we still go, Bethany?”
Ryan’s entire body seemed to instantly relax. He needed her to be his princess. He needed her to still have that innocence. “Yeah?” he asked hopefully, while rubbing the top of her head and looking at me.
“I’d love to if you want to.”
“Yeah,” she admitted shyly.
“Great. Yeah. I’ll see if my friend Willow will go with us then. She can help us dress up as princesses and”—I nodded across the room where Joel remained oblivious, taken in by his game—"we can embarrass Joel.”
I actually got a smile out of Sallie. “Okay. Daddy? I’ll make you proud.”
“Thanks, baby. You always do.”
***
It wasn’t until later that night when we actually had a moment to truly be alone again. Ryan had gotten on the phone with his siblings and then made travel arrangements. And then we had eaten dinner and played Frisbee in the backyard. Girls won, but I’m pretty sure normally extremely competitive Ryan missed a few easy catches on purpose in order to give his daughter a positive ending to the day. And Lyric didn’t help the boys’ side as Joel had hoped. The puppy, who usually rivaled Joel’s energy, seemed to tucker out quickly and wanted his water and comfy pillow. But the sweet dog deserved a break after running around in the California summer heat and being up with Joel the night before with another late-night awakening.
Finally, with the kids in bed, Ryan and I laid in each other’s arms on the family room sofa.
“You always thought I would be a tough negotiator.” I moved my index finger around his well-defined, T-shirt-covered chest. “I think Sallie is definitely one in the making with her ‘two and no more sleeps’ confirmation.” I let out a light chuckle.
I felt his head shake back and forth above mine. “She almost broke my heart and made me change my mind.”
“I know,” I consoled and then teased with my Ryan voice. “There’s no emotions in business negotiations, though.” I reiterated something he had told me a couple times regarding his job. Even though I knew he felt strongly about what he was trying to accomplish with every business deal, I understood how he had to keep feelings out of it.
“That is not how I sound.”
“How did you know I was pretending to be you?” I laughed lightly and looked up to meet his eyes. “I still think it’s good for you to go, though. And, what did I tell you about giving Sallie a little time to herself?”
“I know,” he admitted and softly touched my face with the back of his finger.
“Good call with using the big sis tactic on her, by the way.”
“Hmmmf, that’s because I just had mine pulling it on me.”
“I love every part of you.” I clarified as I sat up a little straighter, “Son, dad, brother, business exec, future husband ...”
“Ah, sheez, how was I so lucky to have you step on that stage that very first time?”
“Well, Mr. Mean,” I teased a nickname Willow had assigned Ryan when I had auditioned on Singer Spotlight. “I just hope when we do get married and you get asked, ‘Do you take this woman,’ you don’t echo the words you said to me when I was on that stage.”
“Huh?”
“‘It’s definitely a ‘no.’”
Ryan pushed out a burst of air and shook his head. “Lenay ...”
I placed my hands up to his cheeks and kissed him with a bit of hunger. “Yeah?” I questioned.
The nearly two weeks since our world got turned upside down had been terribly emotional and draining. We had been either falling asleep at different times or quickly out of pure exhaustion. I needed us—our closeness ... our connection ... in every which way.
“God, I want that so much right now.” He kissed me back with the same passion. With the appreciative groan I knew and loved, he started on the buttons of my top. When he stopped, I thought maybe he was going to say something about the color of my now-exposed white bra or a song he was thinking of like he sometimes did. But that wasn’t the case. He said, “You were never meant to be a singer.” It was a fact we both knew. “A phenomenal songwriter? Yes.” And then he added something even more emotional and much more important. “The love of my life? Without a doubt. Come on, upstairs ...” And he swung me into his magnificent strong arms and carried me to bed.
Chapter Eight
“Uh, Ryan?”
“Yeah?” He called out from our upstairs bedroom, where I knew he was finishing packing for his trip to Iowa.
“Come here a sec.”
“Okay ... be right down.”
I just stood and waited. I wasn’t sure if it was a big deal or not. But ... yeah. Uh ... yeah.
“What’s up?” He found me in the family room.
“Well, I think we know why Lyric hasn’t been quite himself.”
“Yeah? What? Why?”
I walked Ryan a few steps to a spot about maybe five feet from the patio door. Laying right there on the floor was doggie doo-doo. And a good amount of it.
“Awww, geez, what?” He jerked his head back a bit. “Lyric! Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Ry, he’s usually so good.”
Lyric knew his routine. He knew when and how to get us. He also was good at holding it in when our sometimes-chaotic lifestyles didn’t match up with his potty needs. That day had not been one of those, though. We had as normal of a day as we possibly could have. I went to work. Ryan brought the kids to camp and went to work himself. I picked up the kids, and Ryan returned for dinner. Normal as normal could be for the Thompsons and me.
“Lyric!”
“Ryan ...” I touched his arm. “He wasn’t feeling good. You know that. He wouldn�
��t do that inside. Look,” I said. “Look at the poop a little more carefully.”
Ryan took the additional step and saw what I had seen. “Oh.” Ryan scrunched up his nose. “Is that ...?
Not only was there a lot of it, but it also contained bits of ... LEGOs. As Ryan straightened back up, Lyric made his way into the room. He truly was such a good dog. He always came when he was called ... even when he knew he was in trouble. He slowly walked over to me but, I swear, looked wearily the whole time at Ryan. Dogs and humans. Humans and dogs. We really weren’t so different from one another—the feelings and emotions.
“Joel!” Ryan’s pause wasn’t even noteworthy. “Joel, come here!”
“K!” the younger Thompson responded from his bedroom, where he was supposed to be getting his things ready for summer camp the next day.
In the meantime, Ryan picked up Lyric and brought him over to where he left his deposit. The dog whimpered. Again, they are such smart creatures. The furry animal understood he had done wrong. But I knew he couldn’t help it.
“No!” Ryan forcefully told the dog. “No. No eating toys and no pooping in the house.”
He held him there a second. I don’t think Ryan was necessarily really mad. I think he simply wanted to teach the dog a lesson. And that was confirmed when he stood back up and gave Lyric a little ruffling of the hair on his head. Lyric readily lapped kisses on Ryan’s bare, chiseled face.
And then, Joel walked in. “I’m done. I was making an airplane picture for you,” he announced, unbeknownst to the doggie drama.
Ryan placed Lyric back on the floor and walked a few steps toward his son. “What was the reason—for the longest time—that I said we couldn’t get a puppy?” Joel’s eyes seemed to get big as his dad continued. “Come on, you know.”
“I didn’t clean my room.” Joel most definitely knew.
“Yep.” His voice punctuated. A mini staredown happened between the two as I reclaimed Lyric in my arms. “You know what happened, Joel? You know what happened to Lyric because you didn’t keep your room clean?” Ryan’s irritation was rising. “Guess what happened.”
