by Leah Atwood
And just like that, he’d slipped into his negative thought patterns. Why was it so hard to keep his mind from wandering there? How could he move forward with his thoughts held ransom?
That’s why I’m going home. Mom will know how to help. She always knows the right thing to say and do.
Weatherton came into view, and a new round of nerves erupted in his stomach. A few years ago he would have prayed, but not anymore. God had better things to do than help a loser like him.
Odd, how he never questioned God’s existence and why He hadn’t prevented Mike’s death. He couldn’t bring himself to deny His presence, nor blame God for the tragedy. Sometimes things happened, and sometimes they happened because of the actions of others. In Mike’s case, he was on that helicopter because Jared had made the decision to goof off and get hurt as a result.
Man, he wished he could shut off his brain sometimes. A lot of times.
He pulled into the driveway of his childhood home, glad that it hadn’t left the family when Mom moved to New Mexico. Going home to the house he’d grown up in had a calming effect that he didn’t imagine would exist in an unfamiliar dwelling. Here, his memories of more innocent times could wrap him in a comforting balm.
His mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Mrs. McCade, Jase’s mom, lived next door, and he thought about walking to her house, but she’d be on the phone with his mom as soon as he left. He wanted to surprise his mom, and Mrs. McCade, bless her heart, would ruin that. Chances were, she’d already seen him sitting in the driveway. When Cara became her daughter-in-law, she’d adopted Jared as a second son as well. She’d even sent him care packages during his deployment and encouraging notes when he’d come home.
He grabbed his phone and dialed his mom.
The line connected, and he heard static for several seconds before she answered. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hi, Mom.” He glanced out the windows. “What are you doing?”
“Coming home from a shopping trip in Cheyenne with Cara. How was the wedding?”
“It was nice.” He knew she’d want details, but he could tell her later in person. “When will you be home?”
“In about fifteen minutes, but I have to run out at four to pick my car up from the shop. I dropped it off this morning for new tires. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something, but it can wait until later.” A smile curled his lips. He’d get to see his mom and sister in minutes. “Give me a call when you get home.”
“I sure will. I love you. Talk to you soon.”
“Love you, too.” See you soon.
While he waited, he scrolled through his social media accounts, quickly got bored, then sent Evan and Wyatt each a text letting them know he’d made it home. He chuckled, suddenly amused at the contact he kept with his closest friends. How many grown men let each other know they’d arrived somewhere safely? But they weren’t merely friends—they were family.
Sixteen minutes later, he saw Cara’s car coming down the road. The moment they saw his truck sitting there, she sped up. Right before they came to the driveway, Cara must have slammed on the brakes, and after she slowed down, she jerked into the driveway.
He climbed down from his truck’s cab, crossed his arms and leaned casually against its tailgate. When his mom and sister’s squeals assailed him as they were jumping out of the car, he couldn’t keep his cool. A broad grin spread across his face, and he opened his arms to simultaneous hugs.
His mom stepped away, wiped away a tear, and then tweaked his cheek. “Why didn’t you say you were here?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“That you did.” She hugged him again. “Feel free to pull off that surprise anytime you want to.”
Cara tugged on his sleeve. “How long are you home for?”
He drew a long breath before answering. “For the rest of August.”
“For real?” Cara’s eyes widened, and she looped an arm through his. “I really get to see you for more than a few days?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Enough standing around.” His mom winked. “Help me carry my bags in the house, and I’ll fix you something to eat.”
Cara didn’t leave his side as they walked to her car. “You have to come spend some time at the Bar M. Jase and Tate will want to see you.”
“Of course.” He reached for the bags his mom handed him and saw they were all from a baby store. “What’s all this?”
When no one answered, he glanced from his mom to Cara and tilted his head. “You?”
She shook her head. A shadow clouded her eyes. “No. Lanie, Tate’s wife. We’re hosting a shower for her next week.”
“I’m sorry.” His heart sank with the reminder he wasn’t the only one who’d experienced hardships.
After a miscarriage last year, Cara had only recently decided she was ready to try again. She didn’t talk about it much with him, but he’d heard the pain in her voice the few times she had.
“It’s okay. I’m happy for Lanie, and since we both live at Bar M now, I’ll be able to get my baby fix anytime.” Her smile was a bit too forced for his liking.
He carried the bags to the house and waited for his mom to unlock the door. Once inside, he deposited the load on the counter and inhaled deeply. The house smelled like a freshly baked apple pie with extra cinnamon added—the scent he always associated with home. Even during the years Cara lived here alone, the aroma never left. Granted, his sister could bake a pie to please the harshest critic, so no artificial scents were needed during her residency.
Mom opened the freezer and peered inside before pulling out a pack of ground beef. “I’ll make shepherd’s pie if that sounds good to you.”
“You know it’s my favorite.” He laid a kiss on her cheek. “And no one makes it like you.”
Two hours later, after he’d gone with Cara to pick up their mother’s car and brought it home, he sat down at the table to eat. Savored two heaping portions of the shepherd’s pie. His mom had made homemade biscuits to go with dinner, and although his stomach was full, he grabbed another from the basket.
As he sliced one in half and then slathered it with butter, he felt two pairs of eyes on him and raised his head to see his mom and sister staring at him. He dropped the biscuit to his plate. “What?”
“I’m glad you’re home.” His mom took the napkin from her lap and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. She gave him that smile that said I love you, but we have to talk. “But you’ve never come home for this long, and I see the shadows in your eyes.”
A quick glance at Cara’s face told him she agreed with their mom. Had they talked about him in the kitchen or was it that obvious?
The time to come clean faced him head on. This was why’d he’d come home, wasn’t it? To confide in them and lean on them for support. To break away from his downward spiral and find his way back.
He suddenly lost interest in the biscuit, pushed the plate away, and gulped down the remainder of his water. His hand shook, causing the glass to rattle when he set it down. “I’m not okay, and I need your help.”
Chapter Four
Sybil pulled her shirt up several inches to examine her stomach in the mirror. Those who didn’t know she was pregnant wouldn’t think twice about the small bulge if they even noticed it. She curved her arm and held it in front of her, imagined what she’d look like six months from now.
A terrified shiver shot through her. What did she know about babies and raising children? Very little. She couldn’t keep this child. Her head screamed adoption, but her heart whispered keep. It wasn’t fair to this baby growing inside of her to be stuck with a clueless mom. The little one deserved better.
Three weeks later when her doctor confirmed her pregnancy, Sybil still tried to wrap her mind around it. Life had changed forever. Even if she gave up the child, she’d always wonder how he or she was. And if she kept the baby? Whew. She collapsed on the bed. Raising a child on
her own overwhelmed her too much to think about.
She dreaded her appointment tomorrow. Her blood pressure had been high for the first time in her life at her initial checkup. Subsequently, she had to go in weekly for monitoring. At this rate, she’d run out of sick days by the third trimester and have to use her personal days and vacation time for all her appointments.
Her phone vibrated, and she checked the text message then frowned. Liz backed out of going with her tomorrow because she “had better things to do.” Go figure. Why did I even bother asking her? Her so-called best friend had avoided her since the birthday celebration that Sybil had to leave. Was Liz mad about that or weirded out by the pregnancy? Who knew with her.
At least the morning sickness didn’t bother her much anymore. She’d lost five pounds in two weeks, but after that, she’d felt much better. The biggest issue she faced now was a smell aversion to random scents. She never knew what would set it off, but the nausea rarely turned into vomiting now, for which she was grateful.
Reluctantly, she left the sanctuary of her bedroom and went to find food to eat for dinner. Her phone vibrated again. Though tempted to ignore it, lest it was Liz with another snarky reply, she snuck a glance at the screen, relieved to see the message came from Rysa.
—Any plans for tonight?
A hot bath and a big bowl of ice cream. She rolled her eyes at herself then sent a reply. —Not really. Why?
—The new Greek place opened this week, and I hear they have a killer souvlaki. Want to go?
Did she want to? Not really, but Rysa was the only friend from the group that hadn’t treated her differently since she’d told them about the pregnancy. She didn’t want to risk alienating her. Maybe she could compromise?
—Do they offer carry-out?
—I think so. If you’re too tired to go, I don’t mind bringing it to you.
Sybil burst into tears. Hormones had already turned her into an emotional wreck at times, and Rysa wouldn’t understand how much her kindness meant. —That would be great. I’ll pay you back when you get here.
—No worries. See you in an hour-ish.
A smile stretched Sybil’s lips, something that hadn’t happened too often lately. She went to her room and changed into a comfortable pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, then pulled her hair into a messy bun. She slipped her feet into a pair of bunny slippers Jayla had given her as a gag gift for Christmas last year, but the joke was on Jayla. Turned out, the slippers felt like heaven, even if they looked ridiculous. But unlike with the rest of her friends, Sybil didn’t have to be her best at all times around Rysa, who didn’t care what she wore or how she dressed or if a hair was out of place.
The freedom of imperfection made spending time with Rysa more enjoyable than with her other friends. The last several weeks had opened Sybil’s eyes to their true personalities and caused hours of introspection about her choice of friends. She rubbed her stomach. Maybe I’m growing up a little right along with you, huh, baby?
She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face to liven her body, then used a dab of makeup remover to clear the smudged mascara from under her eyes. She clucked her tongue when she looked at her reflection. Not perfect by any means, but presentable.
Her house was a mess, a result of her increased tiredness. She performed a quick run-through, gathering empty cups to put in the sink, then collecting miscellaneous papers and pieces of mail and stacking them in a pile to sort through later. She closed the blinds and curtains to keep the sun from peeking in and shining a light on the layers of dust on her furniture.
This weekend, she’d get her house in order once and for all. With the sickness gone and no work on Saturdays and Sundays, surely, she’d be able to muster the energy to catch up on the housework and her laundry. One more day wouldn’t matter.
Sitting in her recliner, taking a break until Rysa showed up, she flipped through a book about what to expect while pregnant. She’d picked it up from the used bookstore after the second doctor’s appointment when she’d started to come out of denial. Last night was the first time she’d read beyond the back cover.
She read three pages before setting the book aside and pressing a palm to her stomach. “Don’t worry, baby. I can’t keep you, but I’ll do everything in my power to bring you into this world safely.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. Love for this tiny fetus, no bigger than a peach at this stage, overcame her, but she didn’t know what to do with it. She’d never experienced a love like it. Had she ever experienced love at all?
For all she’d done wrong in life, she vowed to get this right. Her baby would be born and handed over in love to a family who knew how to love.
As she stood to get a tissue from the bathroom, the doorbell rang.
“It’s me,” she heard Rysa call from outside.
Sybil used her shirt as a substitute tissue and wiped her eyes as she walked to the door. “Coming.”
When she opened the door, Rysa held up a brown paper bag. “If it tastes as good as it smells, they deserve every glowing review on Yelp they’ve gotten.”
“It does smell great. Thank you.” Emotion got the better of her, and unbidden tears sprung again.
“Uh oh.” Rysa entered the house and pressed a hand to Sybil’s back, guiding her to the table, and then set down the bag. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s silly.”
“If it’s making you cry, it’s not silly.” Rysa pulled a napkin from the bag and handed it to her.
Sybil sniffled, wiped her eyes, then sniffled again. “It feels like the others have written me off, but you’ve gone out of her way to be kind.”
“That’s what friends do.” Rysa wrapped her in a hug. “The others are sowing their oats, and I think your pregnancy has them freaked out and thinking about the consequences of their lifestyle. They’ll come around, and if not, that’s their problem.” She let go of her, backed up a step, and winked. “Between you and me, I’m not sure it would be that big of a loss.”
She broke out in a dry smile. “Sometimes I wonder.”
“They aren’t bad people—they just have to mature in their own time.” Rysa shrugged. “Most of them. at least.”
“Why are you different?”
“I know what it’s like to need a friend.” Shadows darkened Rysa’s eyes, but in a split second her eyes returned to their clover green hue. She smiled and pulled multiple containers from the bag. “And you, my friend, are in need. Let’s eat while it’s still warm.”
The battle not to cry again was a hard-fought win. “What did you get?”
“Two of the souvlaki platters that come with a Greek salad and hummus.” Opening a box, Rysa waved it in front of Sybil. “And this is fried kibbe. I’ve never had it, but the lady in front of me said it was a must-try.”
“I’m so hungry.” She grabbed two water bottles from the refrigerator and returned to the pub-style table. “I’ve eaten so much this week, I think I’ve made up for those two weeks I couldn’t.”
“You’re eating for two now, it’s allowed.” Rysa rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell my boss I said that. He’ll give you a lecture on the exact number of extra calories you should be eating.”
Sybil’s laugh bounced off the walls. “I wish your office took my insurance. I’d much rather have you as my nurse than that fuddy-duddy at Dr. Foster’s office.”
“You’re not the only one who’s said that, but Dr. Foster is a fantastic OB. My boss refers some of his high-risk patients to him.”
“That’s good to know.” She stepped up on the chair rung and took a seat. “I have another appointment tomorrow to check my blood pressure.”
“What time?” Rysa stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork. “I have off and can come with you, if you’d like.”
“Eleven. You’d do that? Liz was supposed to come, but she backed out.” She pursed her lips, tamping down the annoyance. “I know I could do it on my own, but…”
“Hey, I understand. We all need
someone. Even Moses needed Aaron and Hur to help him win a battle.”
“Huh? Who are Moses and Aaron?”
“No one. Don’t worry about it.” Rysa’s countenance changed, as though a brick wall had been erected to shield off any further questions.
The behavior struck Sybil as odd and uncharacteristic for Rysa. Whoever Moses and Aaron were, they must have brought grief to her life at some point. Sybil let it go and nibbled at the rice underneath the chicken. She’d start with the bland flavor first to test out her stomach. “You don’t have to come.”
Rysa’s normal, happy, disposition returned. “I don’t mind. Besides, I like to spy on other doctors and see how they run their offices.”
Her response brought Sybil a hearty chuckle. “And what would you do with that information? You’ve told me a hundred times at least that Dr. Mel is set in his ways.”
“He is.” Rysa grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying.”
Sybil forked a piece of chicken, put it in her mouth. Her taste buds awakened and savored the seasoned poultry. “This is fantastic. Make me a promise that you won’t let me eat it every day.”
“All right, but only if you don’t let me have one of these every day.” Rysa followed her statement by dipping the fried kibbe in tzatziki sauce and taking another bite.
“It’s a deal.” She finished the meal, feeling lighter than she had in weeks despite her full stomach.
For a short time, her emotional baggage had disappeared, and she’d been able to relax. Even pregnancy thoughts had disappeared.
“One last treat.” Rysa pulled a final box from the bag she’d set aside.
Sybil’s eyes widened, and she glanced her stomach. “I can’t eat another bite.”
“That’s okay.” Rysa’s eyes twinkled. “We’ll just have to sit and chat until you’re ready to enjoy coffee and baklava.”
