“You left him alone in your apartment?” she asked. “Who knows what he could have gotten into while you—”
“Stop it, Lydia.” Matt cut her off. “He’s fine. He is fine.”
“Did he come looking for me in the middle of the night?” she asked, her throat going dry at what the answer might be.
“Of course he did, because you always let him,” Matt said. His voice softened a bit as he continued, “But I knew he was in a new and different place, and he was probably a little scared, especially when you weren’t around. So I let him sleep in my bed with me. Okay?”
Relief surged through her. She felt her entire body relax. “Yes. Thank you, Matt. Thank you. I know you don’t agree with that. But he probably was scared, and you—”
“I know you hate me, Lydia,” Matt said brusquely, “but I think you forget sometimes that no matter what, whatever goes on between you and me, I do love our son. And that I’m better to him than you apparently think I’m capable of being.”
She couldn’t deny the last part was the truth. “I know you love our son. That's the one thing about you I could never fault.” She paused before adding, “I don't like you, Matt, but I don’t hate you. I hated being married to you. Those are different things.”
He snorted. “Whatever. You want to talk to him?”
“Yes, please.”
She could hear Matt walk over to Andy and say, “Hey buddy, Mama’s on the phone. Here, say hi. Say hi to Mama.”
She could hear the sweet, heavy breathing of her toddler as Matt was holding the phone up to his little ear. “Say hi to Mama,” Matt urged again.
“Mama,” Andy finally repeated.
“Hi, baby!” Lydia gushed. “It’s Mama! Hi sweetheart!”
“Mama?” Andy sounded confused at the sound of her voice coming through the phone. “Mama?”
“She’s on the phone,” she could hear Matt tell him. “She’s talking to you on the phone.”
“I love you, baby,” Lydia cooed. “I love you. Have fun with Daddy, Mama will be home tomorrow. I’ll be back soon, I promise. I love you.”
“Mama,” Andy repeated.
“Mama loves you,” she said.
Matt got back on the phone. “I think he’s confused.”
“I think you’re right,” she agreed. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. When I call to check in later, you shouldn’t put him on again. I don’t want to upset him. I want him to enjoy being with you.”
“You do?” Matt couldn’t help shooting back.
“You are his father,” she said, annoyed. “Of course I want him to enjoy being with you. Now who thinks less of whom?”
“Whatever,” Matt said dismissively, his usual retort. “You don’t have to check in every few hours, you know. I can take care of him, and I’ll call you if I need to or have a question.”
“How are you doing with him, with understanding him?” Lydia asked carefully. Andy only had a few words in his vocabulary: Mama, Dada, no, yah (yes), up, down, dere (there), dis (this), won (want), mick (milk), tee (tree), and Emmo (Elmo). His hearing had been tested and the results were normal. The pediatricians, ENTs, and specialists had no valid explanation for his speech delay, other than chalking it up to that “it’s fairly common these days” and “with help and time would likely work itself out”. This was not enough of an answer for Lydia; but after that, instead of tying herself into knots trying to figure out the cause of the problem, she threw her energies into how to resolve it, determined to get Andy whatever help he needed.
Right away, Lydia knew something was going on. She had her son evaluated for speech services by the county, and he qualified with flying colors. Beginning the day after his second birthday, a speech therapist came to the house to work with him three times a week. When Andy turned three the following April, and his county services officially switched to Childhood Special Education instead of Early Intervention, he had to be evaluated all over again, but still qualified to receive speech three times a week; and Christie, the new therapist that the county had appointed, started her journey with him. Christie was wonderful with him, and Lydia felt he was in good hands.
But still so few words. Sometimes Andy would just look up at Lydia with such obvious defeat in his eyes—it was beyond heartbreaking. Sometimes he acted out, and hit or threw things across the room out of frustration. Christie, who was a very warm, patient, and experienced speech therapist, thought that Andy was very bright; she believed that everything was building up in his little brain, and would likely just come pouring out one day. When he began preschool in September, his teachers seemed to adore him, and claimed he was well-liked by the other children despite his being unable to speak and communicate on their level. So, between Lydia, Christie, and his two teachers, they all worked continually to help the little boy, hoping and praying, and absolutely otherwise treating him like any other little boy.
Matt, regrettably, was not on the same page. He often got quickly aggravated when he was unable to figure Andy out. Getting frustrated was understandable, but his lack of patience was scathingly obvious and, to Lydia, infuriating and unacceptable. She would get angry at Matt and tear into him—it became an endless cycle with them. To her, that had been the quiet, unofficial beginning of the end of their marriage. When Matt couldn’t find proper tolerance for his own son’s disability, she felt whatever love or good feelings she’d had left just bleed right out of her. The lack of understanding and patience that Matt exhibited began to mirror the lack of any goodness and patience that Lydia felt towards him. Soon, there was just nothing left, except for negative feelings, on both sides.
Now, Lydia asked Matt as calmly as she could, “You’re being extra patient with him, right? Please tell me you are?”
“Jesus. You don’t have to beg me to be nice to our son,” Matt practically snarled.
“Um, past experiences show me that yeah, unfortunately, I do,” Lydia snapped back.
“You know…” Matt took a deep breath, exhaled it loudly. “Look, I’m being patient with him. It’s fucking frustrating, I won’t lie. But I’m trying, I really am. And we’re doing fine, he's fine. We’ve been having a good time. I’m going to take him to the park for the day, okay? Does that meet your approval?”
“Of course it does,” she said, her voice flat. “Please remember to bring a drink and a snack to the park with you, he’ll get hungry and thirsty.”
“I know, I will. Just go and have your weekend,” he said. “Alright?”
“Alright. Goodbye.”
“Bye.” Matt hung up quickly.
Lydia stood there, holding the phone in her hand, willing herself to remain calm. She took a few deep breaths, slowly in, slowly out, eyes closed, searching for a happy place. Sam’s handsome face popped into her mind.
Her eyes snapped open again as the previous night’s conversation came flooding back to her. She mulled over the things he'd revealed to her, then quickly did the math: if he and Chelsea had gotten married at twenty-two, then they both had been only twenty-four when she died. If he had just turned thirty-five the week before, then he had been a widower for over a decade. Which was probably why he seemed to be alright with it. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he had been through. And he seemed so… normal. Grounded. Self-assured. Friendly. Funny. He was certainly more together than she was at that point, that was for sure.
She turned on the water in the shower, peeled off her pajamas, and brushed her teeth while she waited for the water to get to the right temperature. When she stepped into the shower, the water was perfect, and she welcomed how it beat down on her. She loved when hotels had good water pressure.
She got ready quickly, feeling an urgency to get outside, as if she needed to take a walk through that thicket of trees, breathe in fresh air, and clear her mind. Within half an hour, she was fully made up and dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved turquoise T-shirt. She unceremoniously dumped the contents of her small black handbag from the night before ba
ck into her big brown leather bag, grabbed her coat, and headed for the dining room to get some coffee and something to eat.
The hallway on the second floor was quiet, but when she descended the grand main staircase to the first floor, she could hear that the lobby was bustling with activity. People were milling around, checking in at the front desk, talking, laughing, and the sounds echoed off the high walls and marble floors. She made her way to her destination, the only thing on her mind the desperate need for a caffeine infusion.
She entered the dining room and went straight to the small buffet table where she saw several silver pots and porcelain cups. She made herself a cup of coffee and sipped it immediately, then looked around, careful not to spill her precious beverage. Many people were seated at tables, enjoying the huge buffet style brunch. She went over to a pastry table, found a beautiful looking blueberry muffin, and headed for the back doors that led to the stone patio and terrace.
Out in the open, she lifted her face to the sun and deeply, gratefully breathed in the crisp, cool air. The sun’s rays kissed her skin and the breeze stirred her hair. She figured it was about sixty-five degrees, and perhaps would get a bit warmer by ceremony time. Perfect weather for a wedding, she thought. Good for them.
There were several people who’d had the same idea as her, to enjoy the fall morning outdoors and take in the picturesque views. She smiled placidly at some faces she recognized from the dinner the night before as she made her way over to an empty stone bench by the steps. She set down her coffee, her muffin, and slid her pocketbook off her shoulder, placing it on the ground by her feet. Shrugging out of her coat, she laid it across the bench, welcoming the sun’s warmth on her. After digging through her bag, she found her sunglasses and put them on.
She sat peacefully, admiring the scenery that Mother Nature had provided. It was a truly magnificent morning. She sipped some more coffee and felt the fog slowly dissipate from her brain. She tore off a piece of the muffin top and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm.” She couldn’t help but moan aloud. It was quite possibly one of the best blueberry muffins she’d ever tasted.
“That good, huh?”
She twisted around and looked up. There was Sam, smiling down at her, his face glistening with sweat, spots of his navy tank top sticking to his torso. She noticed defined muscles in his arms, shoulders, and legs, and was grateful she had her sunglasses on so he couldn’t follow her eyes as they greedily slid over him. He didn’t have a bulky, overly muscular build, but a taut, lean frame that appealed to her. She quickly brought her wandering gaze back up to his face and smiled. “Hey! Hi.” Only then did she pull off her sunglasses, not wanting to be impolite.
“Good morning.” He was panting slightly, still catching his breath.
“Do you run every morning?” she asked, realizing this was how she’d first seen him the previous day in the lobby.
“Yup,” he nodded. “Unless there’s ice or heavy snow, I’m out. Six or seven days a week.”
“That’s dedication,” she said, impressed.
“Well, I need to do it,” he said plainly, without a hint of vanity or conceit. “It’s good for me. In ten different ways.”
“I only run when I’m chasing my son,” she quipped.
He laughed at that and wiped at the sides of his face with his fingers. “I was just going inside, but I noticed you over here. Thought I'd say hello.”
“You saw me all the way over here?” she asked, realizing he must have come up to the patio from the staircase on the left side, the far side, opposite of where she was.
“That hair,” he said, grinning. “Kind of hard to miss. Especially in the sun.”
Her hand flew to her head unconsciously. “Yeah, the red really comes out in the sun,” she noted. “I always think of it as auburn, but not when I’m outside, I guess.” She tried not to stare at him, but felt like she was appraising him with new eyes, knowing all she knew about him now. It had altered her initial perception of him. She'd thought him to be carefree, playful, easygoing, lighthearted, a man who'd offer her a leaf he'd caught from the sky… but being aware of what he’d been through, and seemed to be on the other side of now, made her more appreciative of who he was. And the fact that he’d shared such confidences with her, that he’d opened himself to her without reserve, made her only more interested in him. People who were so open mystified and intrigued her, since she'd never been that way herself.
Sam wrapped the thin cord of his earbuds around his iPod. “Is that your breakfast?”
“Yeah, just something light. I’m going to take a walk, and then I’m having lunch with my friends in—” Lydia quickly checked her watch “—an hour and a half. I was just desperate for coffee.”
“Gotcha. I’m actually desperate for some water. That’s why I came this way, figured I’d grab a bottle from the dining room on my way back upstairs.” He smiled down at her, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Well, I’m glad I ran into you. But I don’t want you to catch me downwind, or you might not want to talk to me ever again. I really need to go take a shower.”
She chuckled. “Okay. Um… I’ll see you later?” The words came out a bit more shyly then she’d intended them to. She bit her bottom lip.
Sam’s dark eyes focused on her mouth, then darted back up to her eyes. His grin was slightly flirtatious. “Count on it,” he assured her, and turned to go back into the hotel through the dining room doors.
Lydia put her sunglasses back on and took a deep breath. She finished her coffee and muffin slowly, thinking about this man who’d appeared out of nowhere and made such an impression on her. She didn’t want to admit the effect he had on her, both physically and emotionally; after twenty-four hours, how could it be that strong? She wanted to chalk it up to just a quick infatuation with a gorgeous man who was being nice to her… she chuckled at herself in reproach. Nice try, Lydia. She wasn’t some foolish teenager, she knew exactly what it was she was feeling. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
She deposited her empty coffee cup on a table next to the dining room doors, then put on her coat, slung her bag over her shoulder, and headed for the front desk. Two female employees were there, and she smiled at them.
“Good morning,” one woman replied. “How can I assist you?”
“I want to go for a walk outside,” Lydia said. “Could I possibly just leave my bag here with you while I do that? I’ll be back for it in about an hour.”
“Of course you can,” the woman said with a smile. She took Lydia’s bag. “It’ll be safe with us, I assure you.”
“Thank you very much,” Lydia smiled back. She retraced her steps, heading through the dining room to the glass French doors, out to the patio, and skipped down the stone staircase. Smiling, she headed for the walking path that had been cut through the trees along the perimeter of the estate. Towards what would feel like heaven on earth.
* * *
Lydia got back to the lobby with ten minutes to spare. She retrieved her bag from the front desk, then went to the ladies’ room to comb her wind-tousled hair and touch up her makeup. She felt clearer, energized, and just altogether better after her long trek outdoors. She had found unthinkable serenity under the trees, lost in the calm tranquility and happy to be outside on such a gorgeous day. It was the best she had felt in weeks.
She went back out to the lobby, took a seat on a tan leather couch near the front desk, and waited for her friends to arrive.
She wasn’t waiting for more than a minute when she saw Donna enter through the huge main entrance, following the valet who wheeled her suitcase into the lobby. Lydia felt a tremendous smile spread on her face and her heart soar.
“Wow, they’ll let anyone in this place, huh?” Lydia wisecracked loudly.
Donna’s head turned and she spotted Lydia. “Ahhh!!!” she screeched with elation, rushing over to her friend.
Lydia stood up in time for Donna to get to her and grab her in a tight, rocking hug. The
re was a lot more of Donna to hug; she might have gained sixty pounds since college graduation. But Lydia couldn’t care less; she was up a good thirty since then herself.
“God it’s good to see you,” Donna said. She stood back and swept her long mass of kinky black curls away from her face to fully inspect her friend. Her Massachusetts accent was sharp as ever as she proclaimed, “You look great! Divorce agrees with you.”
Lydia couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks. Can I help you with your things?”
“That’s sweet of you, but this is it. I have to check in—the valet not only took my bag, he even took my dress for me. This is some fancy place Mel found.”
“It’s really beautiful here,” Lydia agreed. “The rooms, the furniture, the grounds, all of it. Truly breathtaking. I've been loving it.”
“Can’t wait to see it all. So let me check in, and you wait and keep an eye out for Kathryn,” Donna said.
“Works for me,” Lydia replied. She turned to retake her seat on the leather couch, but caught sight of Kathryn slowly descending the main, grand staircase. Her tall, skinny frame hadn’t changed much, but her chestnut brown hair had been professionally straightened since the old days. “Hey, she’s already here. Kathryn!”
Kathryn spotted her two friends and a huge smile lit up her face. She hurried to them immediately, hugging one, then the other. “Oh my God,” she said joyfully. “I can’t believe it’s really you guys. It’s just been too long!”
“Are you checked in already?” Donna asked her.
“Yeah, I got here half an hour ago, so I already went up and settled in. This place is gorgeous!”
“Speaking of gorgeous, you look fantastic!” Lydia said. She noticed soft lines around Kathryn’s soft blue eyes that she hadn't seen before, the only obvious sign of aging. She wondered if she, too, looked any older to her friends.
“You stayed skinny, you beeyotch,” Donna cracked to Kathryn. “Didn’t you get the memo about getting fat after you’ve been married and had kids?”
Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love) Page 10
