Goodbye Uncertainty

by Jacquelyn Ayres

  “Wait.” I pull away and wrap up the blanket to be washed. Ray rolls his eyes and holds his hand out again. We leave the room and head down the hall just in time to find his parents and the girls leaving.

  “Where are you guys going?” Ray asks.

  “To the inn. We’ll be gone until dinnertime.” Artie nods at us before they walk out.

  “Good. We can talk in the living room, then.” I start pulling him that way.

  “Uh, well, doncha think we’ll be more comfortable upstairs, babe?” He tugs my hips to bring me closer.

  “Ray, we have a lot to cover. We don’t need the distraction of a bed.” I play with the hair at the base of his neck.

  “Becs ... a bed has never been the cause of our distraction. It’s just been an accessory when available.” His forefinger lifts my chin gently. He leans down and caresses my lips with his.

  “Ray. Stop, please. I have so much to tell you.” I pull back slightly.

  “Ugh! Fine.” He groans and releases me.

  “I’ll be right back ... bathroom,” I add at the end.

  “Do you want something to drink?” he offers, heading toward the kitchen.

  “A glass of wine, please!” I call after him.

  “Water it is!” he calls back. I head into the bathroom to pee and clean up the spill in aisle OMG! “Baby—c’mon!” Ray pounds on the door.

  “Okay. Okay, geez!” I haven’t even had a moment to contemplate how I’m going to start this conversation. Of course, I’ve thought of different scenarios all week, but none of them matter now. The moment is here, and I need to rethink everything.

  “Becs!” Ray yells.

  “Christ, Ray—you’re so impatient!” I snap as I walk out of the bathroom.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles. “You okay?” He has that nervous look again. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply.

  “Bare feet, baby ... no shoes,” I remind him.

  “Yeah,” he sighs with a hint of apprehension as he grabs my hand. We head into the living room. The last time I was “here,” I was showing Ray the welts on my ass that Grayson gave me. I shake the memory away. Ray watches me intently. “Theme song?” he asks.

  “No. A memory. I’ll tell you about it in a few minutes,” I say and plop down next to him on the couch. “Ready?” I ask as he throws his arm around my shoulders.

  “Yep.” He takes a sip of his root beer. Eck ... I hate root beer!

  “Okay. I guess the only place to start is at the beginning.”

  “Usually how every story starts, baby.” He leans his head back.

  “Yeah, well, I need to warn you that you may get mad or upset during this story.” I look up at him. He furrows his brow in curiosity before nodding for me to begin.

  “Okay. So, last thing here—we were arguing in your truck on the way back to the inn, and we got into the accident.”

  “You—” he starts, but pauses and looks away. “They were about to pronounce you dead. I begged them to try once more. Thank God ... thank God they listened. I almost lost all three of you.” He touches my stomach. I look up at him. His eyes are filled with tears and pain. His chin quivers slightly.

  “You didn’t. I’m here. We’re here, and we’re fine.” I kiss him and brush away his fallen tears.

  “We were arguing because ...” he starts.

  “Because I woke up naked in bed with you and accused you of taking advantage of me,” I finish.

  “I did take advantage of you, Becs.” He’s barely audible.

  “I know. You slipped something into my drink. It wasn’t the first time, either,” I add.

  “How do you know? How do you know about the other times, too?” he asks, looking a bit shocked.

  “Well, I’m going to get to—wait! Did you just say times?” I sit forward and turn to him. He looks down. “Jesus, Ray!” I place my head in my hands. My knees steady my elbows to support the weight. “How many times?” I look straight ahead.

  “I don’t know, Becca. What does it matter? I’ll never do it again.” I feel his hand at my back. “I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “How many times, Ray?” I ask through my teeth. “If it’s too many to count ... how long?”

  “Just this past year. No more than once a month.” He sighs, sounding defeated.

  “I need a minute, please.” I get up.

  “Becs.” He goes to stand.

  “Please! One minute!” I snap angrily and head outside onto the porch.

  Why didn’t Grayson tell me it was more than twice? I wrap my arms around myself and have a good cry. I’m so mad I could scream. I could slap the pair of them! Ray for his atrocities, and Grayson for not telling me the whole truth. Why? Why would he push me to Ray, knowing what he did? I think back to our conversation for any hints. I remember the last thing he said about Ray:

  “Ray is a good man. You are lucky to have him. Sure, he loses his temper sometimes. Yes, he’s been aggressive, and he’s done a few other things that were not okay. He’s still a great guy and I don’t blame him for most of those behaviors. I can’t say I would’ve done any better. He loves you—stop questioning it!”

  What Ray did was really wrong. I’ve already forgiven him, but he had no hand in actually telling me how many times it happened when I let it go. I’m a bit confused as to where the line of fairness falls. I think back to my conversation with Melissa. I have hurt him and toyed with his emotions for five years—unbeknownst to me, of course, but that doesn’t lessen the weight of my part in all of this. He has been very good to Morgy and me. He’s tried his hardest to take care of me the best he could. Pushing him away now is not going to erase either of our past actions. We love each other. We’re getting ready to add twins to our very happy family. My pushing him away would only be letting the other shoe drop—destroying us both.

  “Okay,” I sigh out loud, wiping my tears away and taking in one last brisk-winter-air breath before I head in.

  Ray is sitting with his head in his hands, fisting his own hair.

  “Bare feet, baby ... no shoes.” I sit beside him and kiss his shoulder. His head shoots up and he looks at me, obviously shocked.

  “Becs?” He palms my face. “How can it be that easy? Don’t you want to scream at me? Slap me across the face? Something?” He searches my eyes.

  “Yeah, that moment kinda passed for me.” I half smile. “None of this has been easy for either of us. So no, it’s not that easy—but it doesn’t have to be that hard anymore, either.” I see a flicker in his eye. “So help me God, McNeil, unless you want me to slap you—no wisecracks!”

  He pulls an imaginary zipper across his lips. “I won’t mention that some things need to be hard, or where I’d like you to slap me.” His comment warrants an eye roll from me. My eyes refocus and close when I feel his lips on mine. “I love you, baby. God, I love you.” He kisses me again.

  “Okay. C’mon, let me tell you what happened,” I say with a sigh and pull away from him.

  “Er, okay.” He releases my face. I sit sideways on the couch and he mirrors me, just like a week ago in the new office.

  “Okay, so, truck spinning. My very next memory, I’m in my office figuring out wedding and crop schedules. Claudia’s begging me for more hours and Hazel’s trying to talk to me about slowing down.”

  “So, a typical day for you?” He smiles.

  “Yes, pretty much. Hazel tells me her nephew from England is coming in a few weeks.”

  “She has a nephew over there?” he asks and furrows his brow, looking as if he’s trying to remember.

  “No, Ray. It turned out to be Grayson. But my memories of Grayson as my husband had been wiped clear. As far as I knew, I was the widow of George Campbell.”

  “Wait, George Campbell ... from Grayson’s book? The wife beater?” he asks.

  “Yes! So remember now that all of my PTSD was altered for the next three months. There were even pictures of me badly beaten.” I hit his leg for emphasis.

  “
Hmm, that’s weird.”

  “Well, it’ll all make sense in the end.” I roll up my sleeves. “So, in walks Grayson, and it’s instant crazy attraction for both of us.” Ray clears his throat and shifts a bit. I squeeze his knee and continue to tell him how quickly and intensely Grayson and I fell for each other, and about Grayson cleaning up my war zone and going over my mortgage and the new POS as well as other new programs.

  “Becca, that son of a bitch took credit for what I did!” he snaps.

  “No, no. He told me later that you really did it all, and that you were cursing me out, too.” I give him an arched look.

  “You are the most unorganized person I’ve ever met in my life!” he states with exasperation.

  “Okay, well, yell at me later for it. Can I continue?” I ask.

  “Yeah, but I have a question first.”

  “What?”

  “Did you sleep with him?” I can see the internal battle going on within him.

  “He’s my husband, Ray.”

  “You didn’t know that though, right?”

  “Right.” I bite my lip.

  “How long did it take him to get you into bed?” His nose flares and I can’t help but giggle.

  “Less than a week.” Now his jawline twitches, and I really can’t stifle my giggling.

  “Stop laughing, Becca!” He swipes my knee with the back of his hand.

  “Ray, you do realize that my body was next to you in the hospital, right?” I try to stop.

  “You were subconsciously cheating on me.”

  “Technically, no, I was having sex with my husband.” I try to clarify again.

  “You didn’t know it was him, so technically, you were cheating on me subconsciously.” He raises his voice.

  “Well, subconsciously, I wasn’t aware that we were together. Ray, please, this is very silly.” I grab his hands. He pulls them away.

  “Did you sleep with Will?” His question is laced with anger.

  “No! Never! Not here or there!” I gasp with disgust. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “He said you did three years ago at one of your dancing events. He said it right after you kissed him at the bar!” he yells.

  “I never slept with him! How could you believe him for one minute?” Now I’m yelling too.

  “Because he doesn’t block shit out! How can I believe you?” He’s all teeth and stormy eyes.

  “I don’t know, Ray. What does your heart tell you?” I try to fight my tears back. “My heart is telling me I didn’t.”

  “Your heart also told you that you didn’t love me,” he says, and sighs.

  “No! No, that’s not true. I always knew I loved you. That’s why it killed me to see you with Michelle at the bar that night. By the way, how dare you yell at me for something I know in my heart of hearts that I did not do, during a time when you were sleeping with someone else?” He opens his mouth to say something, closes it, then opens it again. “You told me last week. We were sitting on the couch in the—”

  “New office in the barn,” he finishes my sentence. I gape at him. “Becca, I dreamt that last week.”

  “Ray, you were going over most of our memories?” I ask.

  “Yes ... wait, Becca, c’mon, that was just a dream.” He cocks his head in disbelief.

  “It was a dream for you, Ray, but you were visiting me in my subconscious!” I almost screech with excitement. “I can’t believe that was really you!” I hug him.

  “Holy shit, babe, that’s crazy! How is that even possible?” He pulls my face back to his.

  “I don’t know. Maybe Grayson did it—I’m not sure.”

  “Baby, Grayson wasn’t really there.”

  “Oh, but you were?” I quip. He grabs my right leg and hoists me so I’m straddling his lap and facing him.

  “I don’t want to fight, baby. It’s our first day together, and I feel like the more we talk, the more we’re falling apart.” He leans his head against my shoulder.

  “Well, it might get worse before it gets better, so buckle up.” I play with his hair.

  “No. Let’s just stop talking about all of this and move on.” He looks up.

  “No, Ray. I need to tell you what happened.”

  “Baby, I don’t really care. All I care about is that we’re here in each other’s arms and that we love each other,” he states passively.

  “Ray ... I care.” I look down, feeling disappointed. Why doesn’t he want to know “where I’ve been” the past three months? I’ve done a ton of research online about coma patients and what kind of things happen to them to see if anyone out there has had an experience like mine. The first thing people usually ask them is what they remember, if anything.

  “Hey. Hey.” He pulls my chin up gently. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m being selfish. Go ahead. I do care, I’m just ... I’m thinking with the wrong head right now. You’re on my lap, looking more beautiful than ever, sporting this hot new look.” He caresses my belly. “I’m sorry. Tell me.” He shakes my hips.

  I take in a deep breath. “Come on. I can talk and make lunch at the same time.” I get off of his lap and hold my hand out to him. We head out to the kitchen. Ray takes a seat at the table while I pull out plates, bread, and leftover meatloaf from last night.

  “So, Grayson hired you for the renovations because you were labeled the best architect in New England by Architectural Digest.”

  “Yeah? Boy, do I wish that were true! I’m definitely not the best. I’ve never even gotten an honorable mention,” he says with a hint of disappointment.

  “I think you are, baby—you do beautiful work! Your designs are awesome. You just need that one huge contract that will tell everybody else what I already know,” I say as I pan-fry the thick slices of meatloaf.

  “Thanks, babe, that’s sweet of you.”

  “It’s the truth. Anyway, I had no idea he had hired you. He just said an architect was coming. When you got there, you walked straight past him and pulled me into your arms.” I hand him his sandwich. “Beer?” I ask.

  “Yes.” He smiles, but grabs my arm as I turn away and pulls me onto his lap. “A kiss first, please.” Butterflies take flight. I lean forward and rub my lips barely against his, pulling back when he tries to capture them. “Stop.” There’s just something about the way he says that word. I lean in and let his mouth devour mine.

  “Okay. Okay—focus, McNeil.” I pull away.

  “Oh, I’m focused, baby.” He tugs my face back to his.

  “Focus on lunch.” I try to stand, but he holds me still.

  “Oh, baby, I am.” He bites down my neck.

  “Ray!” I smack his shoulder, laughing.

  “Oh? You’re not lunch?” He gives me a look of confusion. I shake my head.

  “Dessert?” His eyebrows arch.

  “You are insatiable!” I roll my eyes and climb off his lap to retrieve his beer. I bring it over with the sandwich.

  “This is good, baby,” he says with his mouth full. Reminds me of a twelve-year-old boy when he does that! I continue on with what happened that day in the office. Ray shifts in his seat and stares at the ceiling. He does have a good laugh at how he and Gray carried on. I get to the part about the binder and what he said, then go on to tell him about the next day—what Grayson did after he saw us kiss. “Could you feel all of this stuff, Becs?” he asks as I scoop ice cream onto our bowls of apple crisp.

  “Yes. Everything—butterflies in my belly, touch, scent. You name it, I felt it and experienced it as if it were all really happening.” I slide his dish in front of him.

  “How could he hurt you like that?” He winces.

  “To push me toward you.” I half smile.

  “Did it work?” He takes a bite and rolls his eyes upward—code for, Damn, this is good!

  “It did that day. I ran to you. We were in the living room here when I showed you the welts. That’s what I was thinking of earlier. That was the last time I was in your living room.”

  “
Our living room,” he corrects me.

  “So, you rubbed aloe on my bottom ... wait, why did you just roll your eyes at me?” I stop.

  “Forget it, Becca, just go on,” he says with a bit of irritation.

  “No.” I reach for his hand. “Tell me.”

  “Nothing. Just go on, please, babe.”

  I continue on about our day, then the kidnapping. He laughs about what I had said to them. I take in a deep breath then tell him about being woken up with the indecent proposal.

  “You agreed to that?” he asks in disbelief. I ignore him and carry on. He gets a satisfied smirk when I tell him about his early arrival, then about scrapping together. He pulls out his wallet and opens to the pictures. I look up at him in disbelief now—they’re the exact pictures, in the exact order. I go on with the story. “So you chose him over me ... with no regard to how it would hurt me? Wow, Becs.” He sits back in his chair, staring at me. I continue on, choosing once again to ignore his comment. “I wouldn’t do that—you’re not the jealous type!” he snaps when I talk about him plotting with Stacey. I get to us out in California and give him an edited version there. “You just dropped all communication with me?”

  “Please, just listen.” I grab his hand before I tell him what brought us back from the West Coast. The two times we saw each other at the hospital. The mall, the explosion, and the day he brought Annie. He looks away from me when I tell him about what he said—us being a team, and how he felt like we were divorcing. “Ray?”

  “What, baby?” He looks back to me.

  “I’m striking a lot of nerves, aren’t I?”

  He nods slightly and focuses on his bowl, slowly spinning it like a top. I place my hand on his to comfort him, but mostly to stop the annoying noise of the bowl against the tabletop.

  “It struck a lot of nerves for me, as well. I suppose I needed my nerves struck.” I look down, then back up. “I ... why did you stay? I don’t deserve you. You’re a great guy. You’re funny, smart, handsome, and successful—and did I mention hot?” He gives me a boyish grin. “Why me? I don’t understand it. You could have any girl you want.” I lift my hand when he opens his mouth. “I’m sorry, Ray. I’m sorry for all the times I made you feel alone.” He pulls my hand, guiding me up and over to him. I sit on his lap and encircle his shoulders and neck with my arms. He lays his head on the top of my chest.