Four Meaningful Words

by A. M. Guilliams

  She didn’t even bother to seem interested. Half the time she twirled her hair around her finger, the other half she stared down at her nails. At least she had dressed the part in her pleated skirts and pale-colored button-down shirts. Her lawyer no doubt had something to do with making her look like an innocent person who’d made a bad decision.

  I’d have bought that if the doctors didn’t confirm the months of neglect based on the child’s weight loss and bruises. The x-rays told another story all together. Some bones were fractured while others showed signs of healing. She’d put her son through hell, the least she could do was show an ounce of regret and compassion for the life she’d tarnished.

  When her lawyer came to me on the third day of the trial to ask for a deal, I’d politely declined based on her lack of caring alone. I’d witnessed it, and surely the jury had as well. Hopefully, they would decide to throw the book at her. I’d be happy with that. Someone like her also needed to never have another child for as long as she lived. She didn’t deserve the life that she’d created. Her son deserved better than her.

  Part of me wanted to go to the gym and blow off steam.

  The other part of me knew that Liz and I’d made plans for a lazy night in watching movies.

  I just wasn’t in the mood to sit there and watch mindless entertainment.

  I wasn’t going to be good company tonight.

  I hated on today of all days that the case had put me in such a mood.

  She took that next step and reached out to someone. I should’ve been congratulating her, not feeling as though I could pound someone into the ground for the wrath I felt.

  Forgoing returning to the office, I got into my car and headed in the direction of home. I took the long route to try to lose some of the tension in my shoulders and mask my emotions. Liz was observant to a fault, and I didn’t want to overshadow her first therapy session with how I was feeling. I’d tell her tomorrow or the next day when I was calm enough to not scream or want to break something against the wall.

  Pulling into the driveway, I shut off the engine and gripped the steering wheel as tight as I could, taking deep breaths. When I felt some of the tension dissipate, I grabbed my briefcase and got out of the car.

  I entered the house and saw Liz turn around in the kitchen, and her smile fell when she saw me. She knew something was wrong.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as she walked toward me to greet me.

  I dropped the briefcase to the floor and wrapped my arms around her.

  “I am now,” I said as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

  We held each other in the doorway for a long moment before she pulled back. Her hands moved to the back of my head as she scanned my eyes for a hint of what was wrong.

  “It was a tough day,” I admitted, hoping to leave it at that. I was more interested in hearing about her day.

  “Come inside and get comfortable. I ordered a pizza, and it should be here in about a half hour,” she said as she pulled out of our embrace. She grabbed my hand, linking our fingers together as she led me through the house and downstairs into the den.

  She led me over to the couch and gently pushed me down. She sat in my lap, straddling me, as she began to loosen the knot in my tie.

  “Kick off your shoes and tell me about your day,” she insisted.

  “I want to hear about your day more,” I admitted, praying she’d let her concern for me go and tell me how her session went.

  “My day was good. Got lots of writing done, got some admin work done on my website and social media, went to the grocery store, did some laundry, had my first appointment, and came home. Now tell me what’s bothering you,” she demanded as she pulled my tie from my shirt and tossed it behind her.

  “It doesn’t matter. You had a big day. How was your appointment?”

  “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll tell you about my appointment, and then you tell me about why you’re deflecting,” she countered. She knew me too well. Seventeen years together would do that to you.

  Nodding, I agreed.

  “The appointment was good. After getting some background information about me, she let me begin anywhere I wanted to about why I was there. I thought it’d be awkward, but something about her made me feel at ease. I can’t put my finger on what it was, but I just opened up to her without a problem, which is unusual for me.”

  “Do you want to talk about what you talked about with her?”

  “We already have. I talked to her about the lists I made and how I planned on fixing what I felt like I failed at in the past two years. I told her about the guilt I felt about not being able to have children. She gave me some information about support groups in the surrounding areas. I think it may be a good idea, but I’m going to sit on it a bit more.”

  “I’m glad you had a good appointment. How often is she recommending you see her?”

  “Every two weeks. Now it’s your turn to spill. Out with it, Mr. Black.”

  Taking a deep breath, I told her about the way the case affected me today.

  “That woman. She makes me angry, and I haven’t even met her. I wouldn’t want to either. That poor little boy. How much longer does the case have before the trial ends?”

  “We give closing arguments on Tuesday.”

  “You’re going to do amazing. You’ll get justice for that little boy, I know it.”

  “Thank you for your faith in me. After today, I just felt defeated and angry. There are so many couples who would love to have a child, and then there’s this woman who is given such a gift and she abuses him.”

  “The only thing you can do is give a kick-ass closing argument, and pray the jury sees the evidence for what it is,” she assured me.

  “I know,” I replied, wrapping my arms around her back and pulling her in for a hug.

  I was taking in her warmth when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll go get the pizza. You go change. I’ll make our plates and meet you back here in a few. We’ve got pizza to devour and movies to watch,” she laughed as she got up from my lap and left the room with a pep in her step.

  Chapter 15

  Elizabeth

  The past two weeks had been a whirlwind. Surprisingly, I loved my new schedule. Cass got used to it a few days ago and even mentioned how she’d seen fewer grays in her hair since she wasn’t working around the clock.

  Austin and I had been talking every night. Some nights we’d catch ourselves staying up later than he was used to because we were so lost in conversation that we lost track of time.

  Slowly, I started to believe him when he said I shouldn’t feel guilty about not being able to carry a child. I’d still love to have a family, but after researching all the options and hearing how upset Austin was about the little boy who’d been abused, I felt that we should start the process sooner rather than later.

  While we hadn’t resolved all our issues, we could still discuss which option we should choose.

  I had my second appointment today with Dr. Easterly, and we discussed the second topic on the list I’d made. Our losses. It was hard to talk about how I felt like a failure and less of a woman, but after our hour-long session, I felt better now that I’d talked to her.

  Tonight, when Austin got home, I would lay it all out for him. While we’d had a couple of carefree weeks that consisted of happy conversations, we had to get to the nitty-gritty part of why I fell apart in order for us both to heal.

  When Austin arrived home, something was terribly wrong. He wasn’t smiling. His shoulders were tense. His mouth was in a thin line.

  We ate the soup I’d prepared in silence. I wanted him to open up in his own time. I’d put my conversation on the back burner for the time being, until I got to the bottom of what ailed him.

  I cleaned up dinner, and he left the room. A few moments later the shower turned on. Hopefully he’d be ready to talk when he came downstairs.

  He came down a half hour later in a pair of basketball shorts and water trickli
ng down his chest.

  “I’m sorry for my mood. Today wasn’t a good day,” he confessed as he pulled me in for a hug.

  “How can I help?” I asked, wrapping my arms around him and rubbing his back with my right hand.

  “You are helping. This right here helps more than you know.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  He pulled back and stared down at me.

  “She’s gone,” he whispered.

  “Who’s gone?” Did someone die? Was someone missing?

  “The mother of the little boy. She died today in prison,” he confessed.

  My heart hurt for that little boy. The jury only deliberated for three hours before coming back and issuing a guilty verdict for felony child abuse. She’d spend the next ten years in prison. Or she would have if she hadn’t died.

  “How?”

  “Criminals in prison don’t like child abusers. Someone found out why she was there and a fight started. She was beaten to death before the guards could get the fight broken up,” he revealed.

  Good God. That was a horrible way to go. Not that she didn’t deserve the wrath of God to come down on her, but she didn’t deserve to be beaten in such a horrific way.

  “What will happen to the little boy?”

  “He’ll be a ward of the state. With no other family to claim him, he’ll remain in foster care until he’s eighteen.”

  No.

  That was heartbreaking.

  He deserved a family. A real family.

  Not to be passed around from home to home until he aged out of the system.

  “Where’s he at now?”

  “A group home. There weren’t any families available to take him.”

  “We could take him. Right?”

  “There’s a process.”

  “Let’s start it.”

  “You’re sure that’s what you’d want to do?”

  “Why not? We want to be parents. This little boy needs a home. We have the space and the love in our hearts to give him an amazing life.”

  “We can fill out the application online. I know a little bit about the process. It can take anywhere from three to six months for us to become licensed foster parents. And we aren’t guaranteed to get him, Liz. I need you to know that right now. I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” he warned as we went upstairs in my office to fill out the application.

  “I know. I just feel like we can do this. We can love the children who come into our home, even if it’s just temporary. I’ve heard too many times that people are only in it for the money they get to house the child. I don’t want the kids who would potentially come here to feel like it’s just another house for them. I would want them to feel like they have a home to come home to.”

  “Then let’s do it. As long as you’re sure it’s not too soon. We haven’t resolved much. We’re getting there, but we aren’t fully there.”

  “I had a good session today. I cried, but it was for the greater good.”

  “What’s that mean? How are your tears something that could be considered a great thing?”

  “We talked about loss today. We talked about how neither of us really healed from each miscarriage or both failed adoptions. We talked about how you and I lost our way after the last adoption attempt,” I admitted as I searched for the application online.

  “I see,” he said. He always seemed to shut down when I mentioned any of the miscarriages or the adoptions.

  “Austin, we didn’t talk about how we felt after our losses. We just masked our pain by trying again or shutting each other out. After that first miscarriage, I felt like I’d failed our child and you. I thought it was my fault even when I was told it wasn’t. My mind grasped the truth, but my heart took a long time to catch up. Especially after the second, third, and fourth. All of them did a number on my body, but my mind was worse off. I wanted those babies more than anything, and there was nothing I could do. I felt hopeless and helpless. And when we decided to try for an open adoption, I felt like we were on the right track, but that turned out to be another failure I couldn’t control.”

  “You’re an amazing woman. You’re so strong. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to upset you with my grief, so I processed every loss on my own. I dealt with the pain on my own because seeing yours and trying to help you was more important than saying my heart broke for you and our children we’d never know. I wanted to make you laugh and smile, but that didn’t seem like the right thing to do when we were both so sad and hurt. I just didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know how to handle that. I’ve always known how to help you and I didn’t know how then. I felt like a failure too. I felt like I failed in protecting the four of you. So many what-ifs ran through my head. What if I did more housework so you could rest more? What if we had waited to try again instead of rushing into it? What if I’d put you in some sort of bubble? It was all too much for me to think about, so I focused on you and trying to make you feel better and find a way to laugh and smile again.”

  “You didn’t fail any of us. If anything, you were the rock that held together the cracked pieces of my mind. You helped ease my worry and fear with just a touch of your hand. You did way more than you could imagine. This last time though, I reverted into myself because I didn’t want to face the possibility of not hearing the pitter-patter of tiny feet in the house, or having the laughter of a child fill the rooms in a house too big for just the two of us. I’d thought we’d already be parents by now. I felt my biological clock ticking and every miscarriage made me possessed with the need to have a child,” I told him as I turned in my computer chair to face him where he stood beside me.

  “We’ll have children in this house. You’re meant to be a mother and you’ll be one,” he said, leaning down and kissing my forehead.

  I felt freer than I had in the past two weeks. Talking about the babies we’d never know was hard, but it felt like another brick wall had crumbled and we were making the best progress.

  “This is seriously the application?” I asked after we filled in our information and answered a few questions about the age range for children and the amount we’d like to have within the home.

  “That’s the preliminary application. We’ll still have to give financial reports and physicals. Plus, there’s home visits and orientations we’ll have to attend.”

  I hadn’t realized the process was so in-depth, but I loved that they were so thorough in how they selected the foster parents. If only they could sense the real reasons some of these people were foster parents in the first place.

  We hit submit on our application and I pulled him down for a hug. Grateful that I had a husband who understood just what I needed.

  “You sure we aren’t rushing into this?”

  “Do you plan to ask for divorce again anytime soon?” I joked.

  “Nope. You’re not allowed to say that awful word ever again. You’re officially stuck with me, I’m afraid. Even if you ask for a divorce, I’m not letting you go. We’re going to be stuck to each other like glue for the rest of our lives,” he said as he pulled me up from the chair and spun me around.

  I’d stick to him any day of the week, forever. Here was to the second beginning to our happily ever after.

  “I love you, Liz,” Austin said as he set me on my feet.

  “I love you back,” I replied before pulling him in for a kiss.

  The feel of his lips on mine sent tingles down my spine.

  I wanted this man. I needed this man more than my next breath.

  He deepened the kiss and pulled me into him until I was flush with his body.

  His hands trailed down my back slowly, causing goose bumps to rise on my entire body. He reached the curve of my ass and hoisted me up. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I nipped his bottom lip with my teeth, causing him to let out a hiss and moan.

  He carried me across the hall, his lips never leaving mine.

  The tip of his tongue traced my lip, and I opened my mouth to let him
inside.

  He moaned into my mouth, and I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling it. I wanted him more than I ever had.

  We reach our bedroom, and he kicked the door open then shut it, and tossed me onto the bed.

  I let out a giggle as I bounced then laid flat on the bed.

  “Are you ready to be devoured, Mrs. Black?”

  More than he’d ever know.

  He took off his clothes in a flash, and I took the brief moment to take in the sexiness of my husband.

  He had a muscular build from going to the gym consistently since we’d left high school. His washboard abs were my favorite thing to touch aside from his hands. They were just too sexy not to run my fingers across.

  “I’m so ready, Austin. Now get over here,” I demanded as I pulled my top over my head and my leggings and panties off before he made it over to the bed.

  Tossing them aside, he crawled on top of me, his hands on either side of my head, and stared down at me.

  “I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he said as he slowly brought his mouth down to mine.

  “Believe it,” I whispered before he crashed his lips onto mine.

  He kissed me with need and pent-up passion. We hadn’t made love since the night before I’d left. He’d been patient with me, almost too patient, but that ended tonight.

  His lips moved against mine as he rested his body on top of mine. I felt the hardness of his erection right where I wanted it to be. If he moved his hips just a little, he’d be inside of me.

  I pulled away from the kiss, breathless, the way he’d always managed to leave me.

  “Make love to me, Austin,” I pleaded.