Mom and I went to them and sure enough, there it was, unscathed. I threw my arms around Dad, hugging him tightly. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
“Good thing Grampy found that, or it would have been squashed under that great big old tire. It would have been toast!” Megan asserted comically. The child had Kat’s sense of humor. We all laughed, now that we could.
He hugged me back. “No problem kid, just glad we found it,” he said.
Even though I wouldn’t have wanted to go through losing the ring again, I felt fortunate to have that moment with my father. I could tell it made him feel as good as it did me, relying on him, having him come through. I think I may have been a daddy’s girl for an hour.
She Talks To Angels
Later that evening at Gram’s, Mom was in the back of the house, putting Megan down for bed, Gram and I in the living room, her hospital bed placed there so she could get her sunshine through the large picture windows. I pulled the shades as night completely fell upon us.
Over the past couple weeks, Gram grew less conversational, ate very little, and lost interest in the things she used to look forward to, like watching The Price Is Right and The Young and the Restless, her must-sees. She would get so fired up over The Young and the Restless, she talked to the screen as if they could hear her every word.
The old-school television set hadn’t changed. It looked the same as when Kat and I used to spend nearly every weekend with her. Our Friday night ritual, we watched The Dukes of Hazzard.
And wrestling. I loved wrestling, a self-proclaimed Hulkamaniac. I must have got that from Gram, too. She used to watch it way back in the fifties, when Verne Gagne wrestled. She talked to them through the television screen, also, with her fist doubled up, telling them what to do and how to do it. I loved her chutzpah.
It disheartened me, watching her fade away. Although her wit and charm remained fully intact, she was simply ready to go.
“Harley, I didn’t know you were here,” she said, stirring from her slumber.
“Sorry, Gram. I didn’t mean to wake you.” I took a seat beside her on the bed. She reached for my hand.
“Trust me, I get enough sleep, honey.” She rubbed my left hand. Feeling my ring, she pulled it up to her eyes marveling. “That boy must really love you. I dare say I’ve never seen such a ring.”
“He does, Gram. And sometimes I don’t know why. I’m not the easiest person in the world to love.”
“I loved you from the moment I felt you kick inside your mother’s tummy. People just have to understand you, Harley. Come to know you are your own person, and you make your own way in life. Sometimes that’s hard for people to love, when they can’t make you do what they want you to.”
“I used to make my own way in life, but I kind of feel like I’m just rolling along right now, Gram. Like I have no clue what I want. I have a job, a fiancé, and a real chance at a future. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
She laughed knowingly. “You’re ambitious, always have been. One thing about ambition, it leaves you wanting more, and that’s okay. If that’s who you are, you have to embrace it, honey.”
“But I have to start living responsibly at some point. I don’t need to wake up to my eightieth birthday, alone and destitute, because I flaked around all my life, even if I had a good time doing it,” I softly rebuked, making something between a statement and a question.
“Says who, your mother? Ask her how many times she listened to me. I told her not to marry your father,” Gram said. “And I never listened to my mother, either. That’s the way of it, life. It’s a journey. We all have to find our own path.”
“Was it about a man?” I smiled. “The thing your mother told you, that you didn’t listen to?”
“It’s always about a man.” She smiled back at me. “My mother wanted me to marry Harvey Wilkes. His family owned the surplus store. They did quite well for themselves, for folks around here, anyway. Harvey was hot on my heels and your great-grandmother thought I was plum crazy to turn him away. I would have been set for life, she said. And oh boy, did I ever make her mad when I married your grandfather. Who’s that cartoon character, with the steam coming out the top of his head?”
“Yosemite Sam.”
“That’s what my mother looked like.” She chuckled with the memory. “Your grandfather’s family didn’t have much, they were as poor as us. And she was sure I had ruined my life.” Gram reflected, “My life with your grandpa wasn’t easy. We didn’t know where our next meal was coming from a lot of the time. We married right before the Depression and had eleven kids to boot. I worked all the time it seems. I cleaned and cooked at my house, and everybody else’s. But the thing to remember, the thing I could not make my mother understand, I loved your grandfather. That made all the difference in the world.”
“How did you know you loved him, Gramps?”
“The way I felt when I was with him. The things he did to me when he wasn’t even touching me at all. Just being near him, filled me up inside.” She breathed in deep, exhaling. “And those feelings kind of fade through the years. They peak and valley, coming and going, then the real stuff kicks in, and you truly find out if you love one another.”
She sighed before continuing, “Sometimes you think you’ve grown apart or made the wrong decision. But then you watch him, sitting across the table, the same place he’s sat for the past fifty years, having his coffee and reading the newspaper. And you remember all those old feelings, realizing you wouldn’t trade him for anything. We had sixty-two years together. I’ve been without him for ten, and I’m ready to be with him again,” she said, her eyes watering.
“You will, Gram.” I squeezed her hand. “Do you remember the time you told me never to expect anything from a man?” I quoted her words, “‘You can love them and love them and love them, but don’t ever expect anything from them.’ What did you mean by that? Because I have a lot of expectations.” I smiled.
“I was probably mad at your grandfather because he didn’t take out the trash.” She laughed. “No, honey, what I meant, don’t go trying to change him. We’re fixers, us women, by nature. We want to fix everything, make it better. You can’t fall in love with a man for who he is, and then expect him to change. Just love him, and if he’s worth his salt, he’ll give you what you need and be the man you need him to be.” She tapped my left hand. “I’m surprised...to see you wearing a ring.”
“Did you ever get so caught up in something, so involved, you couldn’t back out?” I asked. “You convince yourself it’s the best thing to do, then everything inside you starts to doubt that?”
“I believe they call that cold feet. And yes, I think everyone goes through that,” she consoled.
“But I feel that way, the way you said Grandpa made you feel. I feel that, Gram,” I admitted desperately.
“Well, then, why the long face?”
I could hear Mom’s footsteps coming down the hallway. “Miah makes me feel that way,” I whispered, holding onto her hand for dear life.
“Oh, honey, that makes me happy. I always liked him.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Mom asked light-heartedly, approaching us.
I looked at Gram; she winked at me. I kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, Gram. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Harley-girl,” she replied, mocking Jeremiah’s nickname for me. She was so cool, always my go-to for advice. I told her everything. The one person I could confess to, even the deepest secrets of my soul.
“See you in the morning, Gram.” I hugged Mom in passing, before curling up beside Megan in Gram’s bedroom.
Gram passed that night. I like to think Gramps heard her tell me she was ready to be with him and came calling, sweeping her off her feet in the afterlife, as he did here on earth. Four of their children had passed before them, and I remember Gram lamenting how watching her children die was most unnatural, the hardest thing she ever lived through. I hoped they were all together now, once again.
I couldn’t believe she was gone, in absolution. It was bittersweet, longing for her presence, yet relieved she didn’t have to lie in that bed anymore.
My heart ached for Mom. How strange to have both of your parents gone, departed from the earth. We grow up with them our entire lives, never knowing what it’s like to be without them, and then one day they’re gone, just like that. And we’re left here, to make sense of it, to wrap our minds around it.
Claw Foot Tub
Jeremiah grew stronger on his way to a full recovery. I convinced Kat to allow me to keep Megan in tow at all times while I stayed with him the past week, as I had not returned to him alone since our incident in the weight room. I was sure to end up unfaithful to Xander if I spent any more time with him, alone. And wouldn’t you know, Megan just loved him. What was it about the LeBeau girls and Jeremiah Johnson? As the last week came to a close, I made preparations to head back to the city. My work and Xander expected me.
I quietly opened the front door to Jeremiah’s house, stepping inside. Maybe I would find him asleep, and I could gather my things and leave. Once inside the door, I turned around and there he slept, as I hoped, only with a twist, as always with him. Megan lay curled up on his chest. My heart felt like pudding, absolutely mushy with the scene. There is nothing sexier than a man with his child. Not that Megan was his, but obviously they bonded. And it made him that much more desirable, I had assumed that impossible.
Coloring books and crayons scattered on the coffee table, along with remnants of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and juice boxes. Dora the Explorer sounded from the television set. It looked like they had quite the time. He lay on his back, and right smack dab in the middle of his chest he held the sweetest little thing in the world, Megan, covered with a blanket. Jeremiah’s hand rested on her back, his nails sparkling with bright red nail polish. That was Megan’s new thing, fingernail polish. I covered my mouth, giggling as Kat came charging through the door. I grabbed her, hugging her tightly, hoping to quench any loud words from escaping her mouth, as I spun her in their direction.
“Aw!” she whispered.
“Look at his nails.” I snickered. Kat cracked up laughing, waking them.
She walked to Megan, scooping her off Jeremiah’s chest. “Come on munchkin. Nice nails. I hear all the Marines are doing it.” He playfully grabbed her leg, pulling himself into a seated position. Kat kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for keeping her.”
“Any time.” He yawned.
Kat walked back to me with Megan in her arms. “Give Aunt Harley kisses.”
“Wait!” Megan interjected, jumping down from Kat’s embrace. She ran to Jeremiah. “What about my picture, the one I did for you?” Pulling her artwork from the coloring book, revealing a toad, she colored for him. Kat and I giggled at the big green frog, elbowing each other. “This is what he used to look like before Aunt Harley kissed him, turning him into a handsome prince,” she explained.
“This girl has some imagination.” He playfully ran his hand over the top of her head. “We better put that one on the fridge, don’t ya think?”
“Yeah!” She quickly made her way to the refrigerator, proudly hanging the picture with magnets. Jeremiah looked at his fingernails, shook his head, and smiled.
Megan returned to him with a big hug. He reciprocated, putting his arms around her. She ran back to me and did the same. “Love you, Aunt Harley.”
“I love you, too, sweet thing.”
Taking Kat’s hand, she said, “See you later, Uncle Miah.” Jeremiah was quite a mouthful for a five-year old, but since when had she advanced from Miah to Uncle Miah?
Kat gave me a peck on the cheek, grinning in her mischievous little way. “A girl can wish,” she said, quickly scurrying Megan out the door.
Painfully aware I remained alone with him, I blurted, “I’m just here to pack my things. I’m going to take everything to Kat’s, and leave from there in the morning. You’re fine to stay by yourself tonight, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. You’re welcome to stay. There’s no sense in packing to go over there, and pack it up again in the morning.” He stood from the sofa. I had no reply. “Do whatever you need to do, Harley,” he dismissed, running his fingers through his hair, leaving the room.
“I will do what I need to do,” I muttered under my breath, making my way upstairs to the spare bedroom, where I began packing my things. I pulled the drawers from the dresser, hurriedly dumping their contents into my suitcase. Six-hours, I reminded myself, referring to my time back to the city.
I heard the water running in the bathroom down the hall. Assured he was taking a shower, I hastily carried my suitcases, as many as I could at a time, and loaded them into Charlene. “‘Do whatever you need to do, Harley,’ that’s what he said,” I talked to Charlene, just a car to some, a confidant to me. “Running his fingers through his hair.” I shut her door, heading back in the house for my last suitcase.
As I neared the top of the stairs, the water quit running in the bathroom. Sure he finished his shower, I barged through the door. “And just exactly what do you mean by...” I stopped short of my complete question, my senses instantly taking a beating.
He was not taking a shower. He soaked in the bathtub; the same bathtub I had grown accustomed to while staying there, an old claw foot tub, wide and deep. It provided the most relaxing, enjoyable bath. I wanted to take that tub home with me. And there he was, all lathered up, smack dab in the middle of it.
The ceiling lights were dim, the room moist from humidity. My ears locked in on the sound of the water dripping slowly from the spigot as it made a tiny splash into the tub below. The smell, a mixture of ivory and aloe, soap and shaving cream, appealed to me, very basic, masculine. I could feel myself crumbling, warm in the pit of my being at the sight of him, his hair wet, his skin glistening. I closed my eyes, shaking my head, as if I could erase the image so deeply engrained in my mind.
Reviving, “‘Do whatever you need to do,’” I quoted him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I focused on his face, trying to ignore the fact it was attached to his body, his naked body, every blissful inch of it.
He stood up from the tub. Yes, that’s what he did. He simply stood up, brandishing himself, as if it were no big deal, like he was an exhibit I had come to see. “There was no hidden message. Do what you have to do,” he replied, hastily wrapping a towel around his bottom half.
“It’s not what you said. It’s how you said it, your tone. If you’ve got something to say, go ahead.”
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say.” He stepped out of the tub.
“Try me,” I challenged smugly, folding my arms one over the other.
“Quit pushing me, Harley.”
I stood there inside the doorway. Who did he think he was, my savior? “I’ve had it with this protective thing you’ve got going on. Self-righteous doesn’t look very good on you. You think I can’t handle what you have to say?”
“You want to know what I’m thinking, do ya?” He pulled the plug from the bath, allowing the water to drain. He stood purposefully, walking to me with intent. “Do you love him?”
“He has a name, Xander.” Jeremiah always referred to him as him.
“I don’t care to know his name. I said, do you love him?” He stepped closer to me. I stepped back. “I want to know why you can’t stand to be close to me?” He backed me up, until my back pushed against the wall with nowhere else to turn. He slipped his arm around behind me, his mouth hovering over mine. My breathing instantly quickened, I moaned as he pulled me closer, making full contact with his body. “Does he affect you the way I do? Do you love him?”
“Yes,” I forced the word from my mouth as a shield.
“Still lying to yourself,” he said, taking his arm from me, he turned around, walked back to the sink, and propped himself against it.
“Why bother asking if you’re going to tell me how I feel?”
“Somebody has t
o, Harley. You’re scared to admit how you really feel, always have been.”
“You’re stuck in the past. You’ve got me pegged for that confused, scared little girl I used to be. I’m not that girl anymore, Jeremiah. What do I have to do to prove that?” My voice grew louder. “For crying out loud, I’m engaged!” I threw my hand up, showing him the ring. “Doesn’t that say something? What do I have to do to prove I’m done running? That I’m making a real effort here?” I slapped by hand against the wall behind me.
“I am not stuck in the past. And you’re not done running. You’re running scared right now. Look at ya.” He threw his arms out in my direction. “It’s written all over your face. You can’t get away from me fast enough. And Xander” he quoted his name disdainfully. “That poor sap. You’ll run from him, too.”
“I will not,” I defended. “If I wanted to run from Xander, I would have done it by now. I had ample opportunity over the past few weeks. I could’ve jumped in bed with you, but I didn’t. I made a promise.”
“You could’ve jumped in bed with me, huh? Like I’ve got no other options. I’m just waiting around for Harley to say the word.” He paced, running his fingers agitatedly through his hair. “Tell me something. How can you make promises you know you can’t keep? You think you promised this guy your heart, when it’s not even yours to give. You gave it away years ago, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“Oh, and let me guess, I gave it away to you? You’ve got a pretty high opinion of yourself,” I said, walking from the room as the conversation ventured into uncomfortable territory.
“I can see how well you’ve stopped running,” he called after me, as I made my way to the bedroom to collect the last of my things.
On my way back down the hall, I looked into the bathroom. He sat on the counter beside the sink, his head leaning back against the mirror. I put my suitcase down in the doorway at my feet, thinking about what I could say to smooth over the situation. I didn’t want to leave things this way, not with him.
The Boots My Mother Gave Me Page 19
