“I have to.”
Chapter Sixteen
The following Saturday morning, Hayley attacked the bathroom wallpaper with gusto, something she’d wanted to do since the day she’d moved in. She hadn’t told Ray how truly awful she thought it was, but wondered who in their right mind would choose such a garish design? One of the previous tenants, probably. The huge red poppies overwhelmed the small space, and Hayley always felt like their black centers were eyes staring at her.
She’d get rid of every last bit of it, no matter how long it took. She’d paint the walls something soft and pretty and neutral. Blue, maybe. The fixtures and tile were white. Any color would be better than these giant crimson poppies on silver foil. The next tenant would appreciate her effort.
Earlier in the week, she’d asked Ray about tearing down the wallpaper and he’d given his approval. Last night, she’d borrowed a ladder from him, and she was making good headway on the project when she heard him greet Fletcher at the front door.
“I’m in the bathroom,” she called through the partially open door. The ladder took up most of the floor space, and she’d angled the front feet into the tub to reach the far wall.
“Hey, what are you—”
Ray stopped mid-sentence, and Hayley turned to answer him. His expression stopped her. He stared at the fallen strips of wallpaper on the floor, then at the jagged edges on the wall where bits and pieces of poppies still lurked. Some of it had come off in big, uneven strips, but some of it was going to take a little more work.
“The wallpaper,” Hayley started to explain. “You said I could tear it down, remember?”
Ray stared up at her. He looked, if she had to choose a word, devastated. Oh my God. What had she done to cause such a reaction?
She started down from the ladder. “Ray, I—”
Ray turned and bolted. She stumbled and tripped, stepping over the side of the tub. Hanging on to the vanity to regain her balance, she called to him. The slam of the front door answered her.
Fletcher jumped at the sound of the door then turned to look at her, as if expecting a reprimand. As if he were to blame for Ray’s hasty exit. Hayley hurried over to him and hugged him to her. She rubbed his back, her gaze trained on the driveway visible from the window. Ray’s Explorer backed out of the driveway and disappeared around the corner with a squeal of tires. “It’s okay, Fletch. It’s not your fault.”
But whose fault was it?
Fletcher went back to his Legos, Lincoln Logs and toy cars. The Cartoon Network kept him company while he built a city big enough to cover the coffee table.
Hayley returned to the bathroom to survey the destruction. What had Ray seen that she didn’t see? She had no idea. The walls were in good condition, and they’d be fine once she got all the wallpaper and glue off and scrubbed them. It wouldn’t take her long to prime and paint them. If she kept at it, she could have it done by tomorrow.
She couldn’t leave the bathroom the way it was.
Ray drove to his favorite fishing spot and parked. He got out and sat on the big flat rock overlooking the river.
Seeing Hayley on the ladder, ripping that crazy poppy wallpaper off the wall, had triggered something inside him. He thought he was going to fall apart right there in front of her. He had to get away before he did. He thought he was doing better. He could once again sleep through the night. He thought he’d buried all his memories in the past where they belonged. But sometimes they sneaked up on him when he least expected it, and there he’d be, like a lost little kid, devastated and with no shoulder to cry on.
In his head, he’d superimposed an image of Caroline, there atop the ladder. She’d picked out that hideous wallpaper and recruited him to help hang it, a chore he detested. But he couldn’t say no to Caroline. The exact same wallpaper hung in the bathroom on his side of the duplex. It had come as no surprise to him when Caroline informed him she’d found enough rolls at half price to do both bathrooms.
They’d spent a weekend good-naturedly arguing while they hung the paper. When they were almost done, Caroline had teetered on the top step of the ladder, and Ray had grabbed her before she could fall. Then he’d dragged her into the bedroom, laughing and protesting, and they’d stripped off their sticky, glue-spattered clothes and made love.
Ray ground the heels of his hands against his eyes and did his best to dissolve the lump of emotion lodged at the back of his throat. If Caroline had lived—oh, what was the point in thinking that way? He asked himself this for the thousandth time, but he couldn’t always stop his mind from going there. Asking “what if” questions got him nowhere. They made him feel worse. But in his head he could reconstruct the perfect scenario, he could change his own behavior. Instead of behaving like an ass, he’d be the knight in shining armor, thrilled with the unexpected news that he was about to be a dad, not bothered by his wife’s deception. If Caroline were still alive, he’d still be married and there’d be a little boy toddling after him.
If he’d listened to Caroline’s concerns about the endless time bomb ticking of her biological clock, if he hadn’t been so adamant about sticking to their plan, if he’d put her needs above his own—it would have changed nothing. He couldn’t have prevented the fluke of Caroline’s weakened aorta. He’d still have lost her and their unborn child. And he’d probably still find something to beat himself up over now.
Idiot, he chided himself. Caroline had never been particularly strong. She was slender, sort of fragile-looking, but healthy as far as anyone knew. He’d loved her. He had a history with her. What she’d done hadn’t been unforgiveable. He’d expected to be with her forever.
This morning, when he’d seen those jagged strips of wallpaper still clinging to the wall, and the big and small pieces scattered across the floor, all he could think was, there was another piece of his life with Caroline ripped away as if it meant nothing.
It was silly, ridiculous to think like that, but that’s what he’d thought. Hayley probably thought he was nuts. She couldn’t possibly know what had caused his reaction. He’d told her she could get rid of the wallpaper, after all, and she’d been doing exactly that.
Lately he’d been wondering if he hadn’t loved Caroline enough. Had they simply paired off because so many in their circle of acquaintances already had? He’d loved her, yes, but he’d never felt that sizzle of heat he did when he was around Hayley. He’d never behaved like a love-struck teenager around Caroline, either. After Caroline’s death, he’d stumbled around in the dark for a long time, trying to deal with his inadequacies as a husband and potential father. Meeting Hayley was like having a light switch flicked on, dispensing with all those dark places, giving him a second chance to be the kind of man he wanted to be. From the moment she’d opened the door to him that first day it was as if he knew her in a way he’d never known Caroline.
He’d have to try to explain this to Hayley. Somehow. But not right now.
By late afternoon, Hayley had finished stripping the wallpaper. She surveyed the bare walls with satisfaction. She’d made a game for Fletcher with a big grocery bag, challenging him to see how much of the old wallpaper he could stuff into it. He’d diligently gone after every bit of it, all the big and small pieces, some of which Hayley had to scrape off with a razor.
She’d scrubbed the walls clean. Tomorrow she’d go to the Home Depot in Jannings Point and get some paint samples. She should probably get Ray’s approval before she bought the paint. Hopefully, he wouldn’t freak out on her again.
She’d pondered his earlier behavior throughout the day but she couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation for it. Perhaps he’d had a traumatic wallpaper incident in his childhood.
Since Fletcher had done such a good job helping her, she rewarded him with ice cream and a game of the now detested Candyland. Fletcher was addicted. Hayley was sick of it. But Fletch was such a good kid and so undemanding. She couldn’t tell him no. What she needed to do was find a few other games for a child his age to brea
k up the monotony.
Pretty soon she’d have to figure out what to feed him for dinner. Tuna fish sounded good. Or maybe egg salad. When she remembered to set the timer, she rescued the eggs before the water boiled out of the pan and they burned.
Thank God they were almost to the end of the game. Hayley was antsy. She’d tried to simply let him win when he was ahead, but he insisted on drawing until he got the appropriate card to take his piece home.
A knock at the door was the perfect excuse to end the game, though, and Hayley was prepared to be especially grateful to whoever was on the other side.
When she opened the door, Ray held out an offering wrapped in plastic. Baffled, Hayley took it. She stepped back so Ray could come in. Fletcher ran to him and clutched his leg. Ray patted his shoulder. “Hey, buddy. Whatcha been doin’ today?”
Ray transferred his attention back to Hayley. “I caught some fish. Thought maybe you’d like it for dinner.”
“Oh, uh, thanks.” Hayley stared at the package. “Can I nuke it?”
“No, don’t do that. You’ll ruin it. You can bread it and fry it up or wrap it in foil and grill it.”
“I don’t have a grill.”
“Broil it, then.”
Hayley stared at him. She’d never quite got the hang of the broiler. “How do I bread it, exactly?”
“Want me to cook it for you?”
Hayley grinned at him. He didn’t seem mad or upset anymore. Maybe she should take up fishing. “Do you mind?”
“Nope.” He took the package back from her and went into the kitchen. “You got any flour or bread crumbs? Cornmeal’s good, too.”
After Fletcher went to sleep, Ray joined her on the porch, though he declined her offer of a beer. Hayley was used to drinking alone, and she had no intention of forgoing her glass of wine. She lit her candle and took a greedy gulp as soon as she sat down. She leaned her head back to stretch her neck muscles and stared up at the ceiling.
She loved her quiet time. Usually, the street itself was still, even in the summer, as darkness descended. Perrish either didn’t believe in or didn’t have a budget for streetlights except on the main drag. The only artificial light came from houses or the occasional yard light. The warm, humid air wrapped around them, but the screen kept most of the bugs at bay.
Even though her body always hummed with awareness whenever Ray was in close proximity, it dropped to controllable levels once she adjusted to his presence. She could sit next to him in companionable silence. Or she could start a conversation.
“I can’t believe you agreed to play Candyland with Fletcher again. You’re his hero.”
Ray answered with a soft chuckle.
“Seriously, I dread that game almost as much as reading Green Eggs and Ham. I know he loves it, but it’s boring.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”
Hayley eyed him in silent disagreement and took another sip of wine.
“I like watching him,” Ray confessed. “The way he concentrates. He holds everything inside, but you can see in his eyes, or sometimes on his face when he’s excited or disappointed. Did you ever notice how he puts the card down in the stack after he’s played? He doesn’t like it if the pile gets messy.”
“You’re something, you know that?” Hayley asked him softly.
He swung his head her way in surprise. He shrugged, as if he didn’t quite believe her or didn’t know what she was talking about.
She sat forward and leaned toward him. “You’re exactly what Fletcher needs. He adores you. You get him, somehow, in a way no one else does, whether he talks or not.”
“I guess.”
“What was that about?” Hayley asked, sensing she was making Ray uncomfortable with her talk of Fletcher. “When you left this morning?”
“Oh. You noticed that, huh?”
“You looked…I don’t know. Upset because I was tearing down the wallpaper.”
“I was but not because of that.”
“Sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“Caroline picked out that wallpaper.”
Hayley made no comment. She could hardly criticize his dead wife’s decorating choices.
“Right after we bought this place. We were fixing it up, painting and stuff before we rented this side out. She got that wallpaper on sale.”
What a shock.
“And when I saw you in there, all of a sudden, I remembered the day we hung it. You were tearing it down, and I don’t know. I looked at all that wallpaper on the floor, and it was like pieces of my memories of her that weren’t worth anything anymore. Just a bunch of shredded paper.”
“Oh, Ray. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m over it now.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Hayley ventured another comment. “But that was some butt ugly wallpaper.”
“I know,” Ray agreed. “I always hated it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Whenever she could, Hayley picked up extra exercise classes to teach on the weekends. Fletcher was good about entertaining himself in the back of the room for the duration of a class, and she could easily keep an eye on him. Every little bit of extra money helped, so if other instructors were unavailable, Hayley took their classes.
She’d had two this Saturday morning, and after the second one, Pablo Estevez, the director of the Y, waylaid her.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked her when they met in the broad corridor that ran the length of the building. One end opened into the double gymnasium where youth basketball games were in progress that morning. The other led out to the swimming pool where a meet was underway. Between the two were the reception area, locker rooms and the workout facility. Saturdays were busy days at the Y.
“Sure,” Hayley answered him.
“I’ve got some ideas, sparked, as a matter of fact, by those cheerleading classes you taught.”
“You do?”
Pablo nodded. “I’m thinking some sort of fitness academy directed specifically at young girls. Dance, cheerleading, nutrition, that kind of thing. I’d like to meet with you sometime in the next couple of weeks to discuss it, see what you think.”
“Okay. Sure.” Surely Pablo knew more about the kind of program he had in mind than she did, but if he wanted to talk to her about it, she’d be happy to sit down with him.
“Great. I’ll be in touch.”
It was almost one o’clock when she arrived home with Fletcher. Outside it was hot and sticky, but inside the A/C hummed to keep the air at a comfortable seventy-eight degrees. In the kitchen, Hayley poured a glass of lemonade and began to make lunch for herself and Fletcher. But her attention was snagged by a construction project going on in the backyard.
Hayley stared at Ray and Roscoe, who were working together to build what looked like a smaller version of the same swingset the local park had on its playground. There were stacks of pressure-treated lumber in various sizes and lengths. A curved yellow slide lay wrapped in plastic nearby. There were more miscellaneous pieces sorted and scattered around the perimeter. Roscoe’s white pickup truck was parked close by with its tailgate down and its toolbox open.
Fletcher pressed his nose to the sliding glass door. When Hayley came to stand by him, he looked up at her. He switched his attention back to the construction project and slapped his hands against the glass. Another sound, something between a sigh and a grunt, escaped him. Hayley wondered if the occasional sounds he made could be considered progress, even though actual words never passed his lips. He had no problem making his wishes known even without the gift of speech.
She unlocked the door and the two of them stepped out. Ray had his shirt off, and Hayley had to remember to close her mouth to contain the extra salivation that sight caused.
All her brain seemed able to process was the vision he presented of chest and shoulder muscles, tanned skin and a sheen of perspiration. Army green cargo shorts rode below his waist, giving her a peek of the elastic band of his boxers. Sh
e had a sudden, vivid image of one of those caveman cartoons. She’d club Ray and take him back to her cavern and do with him as she wished.
Whoa, girl, get a grip, she warned herself. You will do no such thing.
“Hi there,” she managed as she approached. “This looks like quite a project.”
Roscoe, shirtless as well, but mostly covered by his trademark overalls, glanced at her and grinned. “You got that right. We decide to build a swing set, it ain’t gonna be any old swing set. Oh no, we got the top of the line, biggest badass—oops—” he glanced sheepishly in Fletcher’s direction, “—biggest, baddest swing set money can buy.”
“Quit whining and hold that crossbar still,” Ray admonished him. Ray went at the bolts with some kind of electrical tool that drove the bolts home in seconds. He stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow before turning to Hayley. “What do you think?”
Hayley gazed at the partially completed structure. Thick, solid wood posts were sunk in cement at various intervals. Surely the finished structure would be taller than she was. It already resembled the ones she’d seen in a few other backyards, complete with a fort and a circular slide.
“It seems…big,” she finished uncertainly.
Ray shrugged, as if her lack of enthusiasm didn’t bother him. “Yeah, well, I figure if you’re going to do it, you might as well do it right.” He gazed down at Fletcher. “What do you think, Fletch? Pretty cool, huh? Or it will be when it’s finished.”
Fletcher stared. First at Ray, then at the wood skeleton. His eyes were huge. “Trust me. You’ll like it when it’s all done.”
“You’re doing this—building this—for Fletcher?”
“Sure.”
A Forever Kind of Guy: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 2 Page 15
