Goodbye Uncertainty

by Jacquelyn Ayres

  Now come to bed, I miss you and I need help saying my prayers!

  Love you x 5,

  Becca

  11/14/03

  Dearest Husband,

  If my smile was any bigger, it would swallow my face! XXXXX Becca

  Becca Sweetheart,

  Please, darling, I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry. I promise. I will never do that again. Please forgive me ... please. I’m so in love with you. Please tell me I haven’t lost you. I will do anything. Tell me what I must do for your forgiveness.

  With a heavy heart,

  Grayson

  05/20/02

  Just time ... please. Becca

  What the hell did he do to her?! I search through the pile of notes to see if any of them indicate what happened. Nothing. Just all cutesy notes or inquiries about opinions on things. I put the lid on. My blood is boiling. Did he hurt her physically? Did he cheat on her? I shake my head. No way this dude cheated on her. Ugh ... Ray, just let it go! It was over ten years ago. Clearly she forgave him!

  It’s been three hours since I stepped into Grayson’s office. All I’ve managed to do is stare at the list of essentials for the design and build. How many rooms, which have king-sized beds, which have doubles. Office. Store. Kitchen. Three hours, a list, and a note I wish I never saw! Now I understand the phrase “curiosity killed the cat”! I get up and head over to the bookshelves. I take my time glancing over the inventory, waiting for something to scream, Pick me! Pick me! Nothing. Damn it! “Ugh ... forget it. I’m thinking too hard!” I say aloud and finally decide to leave the room.

  “Hey I was just coming up to get you.” Becca smiles at me from halfway up the stairs.

  “Ugh, baby, I’ve been staring at the goddamn walls for three hours!” I complain and throw my arm around her shoulders when I reach her. I kiss her hair and head down with her.

  “Can I help you, Ray?” She looks up and over to me.

  “No, you already told me what you’d like. I just need to catch the essence of something. If I’m gonna do this, I want to make it my baby.” I pull her to face me. “My services will be very expensive, Ms. James ... I hope they will exceed your expectations.”

  “I have no doubt they will. I don’t want you to hold back on anything, sweetie,” she says, then her eyes widen. She grabs my hand. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to feel this.” She places my palm against the side of her belly. We stand there and wait. The anticipation actually makes me feel a little verklempt. Liz never did this. I had to ask her. She was never thrilled about any of it. “Did you feel that?” she asks excitedly. I shake my head and feel disappointed. “Well, you’ll feel it soon. It’s just because they’re so little. Strong, though,” she adds, looking up. “I should only feel butterflies still, but that was definitely a field goal.” She’s glowing.

  A son? I wonder if there’s a boy in there. I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, the family has taken bets, but this is the first time I’ve really thought about it.

  “What?” Becca tilts her head sideways like she’s trying to figure me out.

  “Do you think we’re having a boy?” I plant both hands on her stomach.

  “Could be. Maybe it’s two boys,” she offers.

  “Two boys?” I repeat, lost in the wonder and awe.

  “McNeil, I see future sporting events flashing in your eyes.” Becca laughs and taps my face with her hand.

  “Sorry. I just ... I really want a boy.” I wince.

  “Me, too.” She leans up to kiss me. “Come, let’s take a walk outside. I want to show you the guesthouse and yard.” She pulls me along.

  “Do you want your coat, baby?” I offer before we head out the double glass doors.

  “No, it’s sixty degrees out, I’m good.” She slips on flip-flops.

  “So, Grayson, he, uh ... bounced a lot of ideas off of you?” I ask once we step out onto the outdoor patio. Jesus, this is sweet! It’s a large rectangular area with a high beamed ceiling, amber-colored textured wall, and fireplace. The dark cherrywood from the ceiling comes down in large posts. The outdoor seating has plush amber and rust-orange cushions. “Can we sit?” I ask and point to the sofa.

  “Yeah, sure,” she replies. We do so, and I wrap her in my arms. “So, to answer your question,” she says as she leans her head against my shoulder. “Yes. Grayson came to me about everything in his novels.”

  “Why? He did fine before he met you.”

  “Because I was blatantly honest with my opinions. He valued that. A lot of times, when you reach a certain level of success, you find that either people placate you or they don’t know enough about what you are doing to give you a proper opinion. That’s one of the things that drew Grayson to me in the first place.” She closes her eyes and a soft, amused smile crosses her face.

  “Care to share, babe?” I nip at her ear.

  “Hmm.” She snuggles in more. “I was working part-time at Barnes & Noble when I first met Grayson. He was there for a book signing. I had read his latest novel two days before, like I always did when an author was coming in. Well, the dust jacket didn’t have his picture, and I wasn’t impressed enough with the book to bother looking him up. So, when he approached me in the store, I was clueless as to who he was. Besides, he was like an hour early. As you can see from our house, Grayson either had his nose in a book or was in a bookstore buying another book. Hence the early arrival.” She shifts a bit, crossing her legs away from me.

  “Well, I was putting some new gardening books out, not even realizing he was kneeling down on the floor looking at several different gardening books. ‘Excuse me, can you help me?’ he called out. I said, ‘Sure!’ and walked over to where he was.”

  “I bet he took a double take when he glanced up at you.” I squeeze her.

  “Uh, I don’t know, why?” She shoots me a strange look.

  “Because, that’s exactly what I did when I walked into the girls’ classroom and saw you for the first time,” I say, and think back to that night. Christ, the moment I looked at her, my mouth went dry and my palms got sweaty. Sometimes she still affects me that way.

  “Oh.” She shrugs, oblivious to the compliment I just gave her. “Well, he asked me if I liked gardens. I said they were okay, then he asked if I would be interested in gardens and flowers. I said, ‘Not particularly.’ He said, ‘Fantastic! As a woman with no interest in gardening or gardens, which one of these do you find most appealing?’ I knelt down next to him to look at the books he had open. ‘This one,’ I said pointing to the French Country garden. ‘Why that one?’ he asked. ‘I don’t know ... it’s appealing.’ I shrugged and stood, but he pulled me back down. ‘No! Come here, please! What makes this appealing over all the rest?’ I looked again. ‘The design and the color scheme.’ ‘And do you have a flower that you find appealing, even though you’re not into them?’ He began writing in a notebook. ‘Um, hydrangeas.’ ‘Why?’ ‘I don’t know. I guess because they are full.’ ‘What color?’ he asked. ‘All of them, especially the ones with green.’ ‘Really ... that’s very interesting.’ I started to laugh. I thought he was very odd. ‘Aren’t they scentless?’ he continued to ask. ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, why is that appealing?’ He looked at me strangely. ‘The look is appealing.’ I shrugged again. ‘I like peonies, too ... they smell nice,’ I offered. ‘But you don’t buy the flowers or get excited about them?’ ‘No.’ ‘What do you do if someone sends them to you? Do you get excited then?’ ‘No. I appreciate them, but that’s about it.’ I didn’t move because he was furrowing his brow. ‘Well now, let me ask you this. Would a woman who is not particularly fond of flowers, such as yourself, be against or for receiving flowers at work?’ ‘Oh, that’s different. Always send them to work. Even if she hates them. It’s not about the flowers.’ I reached out and touched his arm for emphasis.

  “My manager came over and mentioned to me that they really needed help with the set-up for Grayson James. I said okay, then as he walked away, I mumbled, ‘H
o hum ... snore.’ Grayson jerked his head up from his notes. ‘Did you say ho hum snore in reference to Grayson James?’”

  I cut her off. “Ho hum snore is right! Jesus, I can’t believe he talked to you that long about fucking flowers knowing you had no interest in the topic!”

  “Yeah, you and me both!” she laughs. “So, anyway, I said yes. He asked me if I’ve even read any of his novels. I said, ‘I just read the new one two days ago.’ ‘You didn’t like it?’ He seemed shocked. ‘Well, it was written well enough. I just wasn’t fond of the heroine ... if you could even call her that.’ I rolled my eyes and got up. He shuffled all of his books together and stood as well. Or, towered, I should say—he was six-four.”

  “I’m not short!” I interject.

  “Didn’t say you were.” She smiles at me. “But he did have six inches on you.”

  “Not where it counts, baby.” I nip her ear again. She rolls her eyes at me and continues.

  “‘Well, why do you say that?’ he asked, following me. ‘I often wondered if Jessica knew how to even tie her shoes! And Garrett kept telling her how “strong” she was. Give me a break! Strong for what ... breathing?’ ‘Well, she was a bit of a damsel in distress,’ he offered. ‘Yeah, on crack! Even if a woman feels weak, she doesn’t broadcast it all the time! It’s pathetic! This guy wouldn’t know a strong woman if she smacked him in the face.’ I started putting the rest of the books away. ‘Well, what did you think of Garrett?’ he asked, handing me a book to shelve. ‘He was well-written and appealing, except that he fell for that brainless idiot. Kind of makes you wonder if he’s as brilliant as he’s written.’ I turned to him when he spoke again. ‘Well, I have a different view on the matter. I think most women want to be a damsel in distress and have a strong-minded guy come along!’ He seemed a bit on the offense. ‘Look, even if a woman wanted that, she wouldn’t broadcast it. Not a strong woman. It’s just my opinion as a woman. Sorry if you’re a big fan of his. What’s with all the questions about flowers? Research, or a girl?’ I changed the subject. I could tell I was infuriating him. The feeling was mutual. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it like he was thinking about it. He looked at me again and said, ‘Well, it was for research purposes, but now you’ve got me thinking of a girl I’d like to date. Do you suppose I should send her favorite flowers to her work?’ He picked up one of the books I dropped. ‘Oh yes, definitely. Good luck with her.’ I smiled and thought, And good luck to her! ‘Yes, I think I’ll need it.’ He turned away, then back to me. ‘By the way, I find you most helpful and infuriating all at once.’ ‘Well, I’m no Jessica, that’s for sure,’ was all I could say, otherwise I would’ve been fired. ‘No ... you most certainly are not, sweetheart.’”

  “Can you speed this up, baby?” I tap her leg impatiently.

  “Oh. Sorry.” She looks at me hesitantly. I nod.

  “So, needless to say, I sort of flipped out on him because he touched my face when he called me sweetheart. We baited each other back and forth ‘til my manager came over to see what the problem was. Grayson assured him that everything was fine. My manager sent me to lunch. I said to Grayson before I left, ‘You should have Mr. James sign your book, From one pompous ass to another!’ And I walked away. When I came back from lunch, there was a hydrangea arrangement on the counter behind the register. I was told it was for me. I looked at the card and it said, Because it’s not about the flowers! Under your spell – The Pompous Ass. I glanced around the store and finally locked eyes with him. He was at the table signing books. He picked up one of his books and mouthed Want one? then imitated signing it. I picked up a trash can, pointed to it, and mouthed Full as I shrugged.”

  “That must’ve pissed him off!” I would’ve been pissed.

  “No ... he actually laughed.” She smiles at the memory.

  “And so began his stalking?” I ask.

  “Yep ... Derek tell you?”

  “Yeah. Well, now that I know you won’t placate me, maybe I can pick your brain about the renovations,” I say with a sigh.

  “Sure. What’s going on?” She snuggles in to me, crossing her legs toward mine.

  “I know I was only at it for three hours, but I can’t seem to get an idea about anything. I want this to represent both of us, but I can’t come up with a way to incorporate us.” I blather on like an idiot.

  “Well, first things first, don’t rush the thought. It will come to you. I told your dad to put the check in so you won’t have to worry about that. Take your time.” She yawns as the end of her statement.

  “How much did you tell him?” A budget in mind will definitely help me.

  “Um ... I wasn’t sure, so I told him three million. Is that a good amount to start out with?” Wow! She just said ‘three million’ like it was nothing.

  “Do you have a cap?” I ask, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

  “Well, try not to go past ten.”

  I feel sweat form at my brow.

  “Becs, when’s the last time you met with your finance guy?” I rub my palm back and forth on my knee to dry off the sweat.

  “Um, last month,” she says after much thought.

  “Last month ... while you were in a coma?” I’m snarky. I can’t help it.

  She laughs and shakes her head. “No, I meant August.”

  “And you can comfortably put ten million into this project?” I unwrap her from my arm.

  “Well, it’s never comfortable putting ten million into anything,” she states, looking at me wearily, “but I can do it if need be.” I’m pretty sure she can sense me wanting to flip my switch.

  “I need to go for a walk.” I jump up.

  “Shall I wait here?” She uncrosses her legs and shifts forward, looking up at me.

  “Um, yeah ... I’ll be back in a few,” I say.

  “I love you, Ray.”

  “I know.” Half smile.

  “You take good care of me,” she says, as I hold up my hand for her to stop.

  “Baby, please ... ten minutes.” I run my hand through my hair and head off.

  I resist the urge to fight an invisible opponent as I walk away. I pass the pool and guesthouse, ending up in the garden. It’s extensive and obviously professionally maintained. I’d bet my eyes it’s a fucking French Country garden! “All right, focus, McNeil!” I snap at myself. I hate that she has all this money. More than that, I hate that I knew nothing about it. I’m used to the girl who clips coupons and cuts corners to save a buck. The first night I met her, she was worried about going over her budget! Now she cuts me a check for three million like it’s fucking pocket change?!

  “Ray,” she sighs, walking up behind me.

  “Becs, I told you I need a few minutes.” She never friggin’ listens!

  “I know you did, but I think this is something we need to sort out together. Come sit on the bench with me, baby.” She grabs my hand and we sit on the white wrought iron bench. “Ray, none of this changes me. Who I am, who you fell in love with. All of this,” she waves around, “this is not me.”

  “Becs, it is you. Everything says you. I walked into this house this morning and got hit in the face with your essence.” I stand up and pace.

  “Ray. Yes, I decorated the house.” She inhales deeply to either gather the right words or gain some patience for me. “But this,” she says, waving around again, “this is Grayson. The money is Grayson’s.”

  “The money is yours, whether or not Grayson’s the one who brought it. It’s yours now, and you kept it from me! And everybody else, for that matter. You kept us in the dark about it!” I seethe. I’m trying so hard to “get over” her hiding all of this, but it’s a battle I fear I’m losing.

  “Why does it matter?” She stands and raises her voice as well. “The money is not who I am!”

  “I can’t compete with all of this, Becca! I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to!” And there it is: my insecurity, once again smacking us both in the face. Becca stands there, staring at me. Her n
ostrils flare to hold back her tears—unsuccessfully, I might add. She shakes her head and turns to walk away.

  “No! No, I won’t let you do this to us!” She turns back and walks toward me. “Listen to me, you stubborn, thick-headed son of a bitch!” She’s all teeth and tears. I feel I should prepare to duck at any moment. “First of all, what you said is insulting to me! Grayson didn’t win me with his money, and it’s certainly not the reason he managed to keep me! To say that suggests you don’t really know me at all!”

  “Becs ... baby, I know you.” I reach for her. She pulls away from me.

  “Then you would know what it means to me.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “What it would mean to me to see you put your heart and soul into these renovations. It sounds silly.” She puts her hand up to keep me quiet. “Ray, if someone else did it, it would be a big square with rooms. It may look nice, but I won’t feel anything from it. I know when you design it, the talent will be wrapped with love. I know I will feel the essence of us. Yes, technically Grayson is supplying the money, but he couldn’t do what you do. Something like this, he could only pay someone to try to capture ‘us.’ But you, you are molding it all from scratch ... it’s all you, coming from your heart. The sky’s the limit, baby. I want you to put everything you’ve got into this. It’s yours, too. I am not your employer, I’m your partner. The money is only a tool, it can’t compare to or compete with you! Please stop letting it affect you like this.

  “Ray,” she says, holding me at arm’s length, “do the renovations. When it’s done, I’ll put the rest of the money in a trust for Morgan to have when she reaches a certain age, as well as this home. I don’t want this money coming between us. I don’t need the money. I need you.”

  Her chin quivers, and her eyes are that gorgeous blue-green they turn when she cries. She licks her lips before she bites the bottom one. I pull it away from her teeth and hook my index finger under her chin to raise her mouth up to mine. I nudge her lips with mine reluctantly, overwhelmed by her words. I’ve waited five years for such affirmation of her love. Bare feet ... bare feet, I chant to myself, slowly deepening the kiss with a slip of my tongue.