Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  Chapter Eleven

  He’s an asshole! A thorn in her side that had begun to fester. Why the hell wouldn’t the jerk grow some balls and play nice? Sheep were more likely to grow wings before that idiot, who she was unfortunately still married to, decided to become a responsible man. That would best describe all the separation legalities with Bob. He’d left everything for Emily to look after; no surprise there. That’s what he’d done the entire time they were married. All the phone calls, the landlord, and the bills he’d begun challenging, were her responsibility. As her new lawyer, Peter Murphy had said—he was bitter. Even the petty refusal of allowing Emily any part of the return deposit, which the landlord was refunding, even with the short notice, since the house had been snatched up by another family. Even though Bob was not paying full child support, and no alimony for Emily, he refused to clean the house or handle any of the details for the disconnect services; though he still expected all the money. What a piece of work. You hear stories from other women about how nasty their ex’s turn when the couples split up. Emily couldn’t quite grasp, couldn’t wrap her head around, the fact that she’d awakened and realized someone she’d once loved, and thought she knew, had turned into a monster. So, to expedite everything, she’d endorsed the entire check over to Bob, refusing to fight over yet one more detail; even though Gina told her not to do it. But Emily didn’t want to fight. Wasted energy. She had too much on her plate, including caring for an unpredictable child who wasn’t even hers.

  Her lawyer, Peter, a short balding man with round glasses and an overbite, filed the necessary paperwork for legal separation and custody of Katy. Bob hired nobody. He was just being an ass. Visitation, Emily was pleased he’d agreed to, was every other weekend.

  One Tuesday, during Emily’s third week, Katy and Trevor were seated at the table, their almond butter sandwiches cut up for them, when the telephone rang. Brad wandered in the back door at the same time. He snatched the receiver from the wall phone.

  “Hello… Yeah she’s right here. It’s for you, Em.”

  He passed her the old phone with the long cord, “Hello, this is Emily.”

  “Emily, this won’t take long but I need to say my peace.” Of all the times for Bob’s mother to call. How’d she get the number? Emily closed her eyes, wondering if the universe would be kind right at this moment and disconnect phone service. Brad draped his tan jacket over the back of the chair. He dished up a small bowl of chicken soup for both kids from the pot in the middle of the table. “Ah, Nina, this isn’t a good time. It’s lunchtime. Can I call you back later?”

  “No, Emily. I promise this won’t take long. I’m so disappointed in you. You just didn’t try to hold that marriage together and Katy’s the one who’s going to pay the price for this mid-life crisis of yours. Bob’s worked so hard for you and you appreciate nothing he’s ever done for you.”

  Nina had one of those high grating voices that carried through a phone; the kind everyone in the room could hear. Emily felt ashamed when Brad glanced up. Would this make him think less of her? Of course, it didn’t look good.

  “Look, Nina, it is inappropriate for you to be calling here. My relationship, with your son, did not include you.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that?”

  Trevor started banging a spoon and repeating, “Eeg, eeg, eeg,” over and over. Katy, now finished playing with her sandwich, was unsettled and trying to get out of her chair.

  “I've gotta go.”

  “Emily, I have more to say.”

  Brad leaned over Trevor, watching Emily in his hard, difficult way. Then he circled his hand in the air to wrap it up. So she turned away, lowering her shaky voice “No, you’re done, and I’m going to ask you not to call here again.” Emily’s hand was shaking when she hung up. She pressed her forehead against the wall, taking a deep breath before she turned. She jumped. Brad was right behind her. She never heard him approach. He’s mad.

  “Um, Brad that was—”

  “We’ll talk after lunch.”

  Every nerve in her body tightened. Her stomach became unsteady. She forced herself into mommy role, sitting down, feeding the kids, and wiping up after Trevor dumped his soup. Lunch was long, and awkward; Emily couldn’t choke down one bite.

  After lunch, Emily washed the dishes, taking longer with the chore than she normally did. Brad must have known as he appeared beside her and poured himself a cup of coffee from the full pot beside the stove.

  “Put a show on for the kids, it’s time to talk. Coffee?”

  She looked up into a face that gave nothing away. “Sure.” Oh, crap, here we go.

  Emily popped in a DVD; one of the Winnie the Pooh movies Trevor loved and would watch for hours. Katy, wrapped in her baby blanket, popped her thumb in her mouth. She’d probably fall asleep before it was half over.

  Emily stepped back into the kitchen. Brad was seated at the head of the table, with a cup of coffee. A second cup, in a matching blue floral mug, was sitting in the spot right beside him.

  Tears burned the back of her eyes. She blinked hard, refusing to allow one tear to fall. She wanted to kick herself for this weepy reaction. She wasn’t one of those women who cried at the drop of a hat. She was stronger than that.

  His face softened as she sat. She couldn’t look at him. Her hands trembled, so she placed them in her lap.

  “What’s going on?” There was kindness in his voice.

  “I’m so sorry.” She whispered looking into the eyes of a man filled with so much power and passion, it poured from his eyes. He gave her all his attention. “Why are you sorry; did you do something wrong?”

  Emily blinked. “Actually, no, I didn’t. That was my, soon to be ex, mother-in-law on the phone.”

  “You don’t have a good relationship with her?”

  “No. She pretty much blames me for ending my marriage to Bob.”

  “Your ex—he knows you’re here?”

  “Yeah, he knows. Listen, Brad, we never talked about my personal life, but I can assure you it won’t affect us here. I’m pretty sure she won’t call back again.”

  “Emily, she hassled you here; in my home. And that’s my business. If she calls and gives you a hard time again; I’ll handle it.” He reached out and touched her hand, a touch that was so tender and full of support; Emily would swear her heart skipped a beat.

  “I’ll be filing for divorce soon. He doesn’t have the backbone to cause trouble. It’s easier for him to let me handle everything. He’s a mama’s boy; forgot to cut the apron strings, as you can tell by the phone call.” She tried to make light of her pain, but closed her eyes when he winced at her humiliation.

  “I’m sorry, Em. If you ever need help with him, let me know. I have to get back to work.”

  She nodded, fearing her voice would crack if she answered. She stood up when he did, and reached for his cup to clear the table. But he stopped her with a soft touch to her arm. And that’s all it took for the tears to fall; so much for holding it together. Brad did the unexpected; he ran his hand over her shoulder and pulled her into his strong arms. Arms she was sure could cushion and protect her from every harsh bite reality dished out. An unsettling feeling considering she worked for him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart.”

  He must have sensed her embarrassment as he allowed his arms to drop. He stepped back and shoved his chair in with his boot. “That’s a lot of hurt you’re hanging onto. Suppose you start at the beginning and fill me in.”

  He slid her chair out. “Sit down.” He pulled his chair out, so he faced her when he sat.

  “Look, he’s just a jerk. He’s self-absorbed and thinks of no one but himself. I’m just angry because I didn’t see it. He went to work, brought in a paycheck. I was to look after everything else, pay the bills and care for Katy and the house. If something needed fixed; I did it. He refused to give me a break; even slipping out to the store to buy groceries, when he was home, became a fight if I wouldn’t take Katy with me
. There was no relationship between me and Bob. I mean, he worked in Olympia and commuted; the first thing he did when he walked in, most nights, was call his mother. It bothered me, but, as the distance grew between us, I started seeing him as he really was; a stranger who I no longer loved. I felt resentment, and tension rose between us to the point where we no longer sat in a room together. There was no peace, no communication and his mother became the third person in our marriage. He shared everything going on, in his life, with her through his nightly phone calls. That’s how I found out what was going on with him; by overhearing him on the phone.”

  Brad leaned forward resting his hand on the table beside Emily. “You listen to me; no real man would put that entire load on a woman’s shoulders. That’s bullshit, Em. He sounds like nothing but a little boy, not a man.

  “Is he supporting your Katy, sending you money?”

  Her face heated “Yes, some.”

  “There are minimum guidelines for child support; is he meeting them?”

  She couldn’t look him in the eye. She’d asked for very little. “No.”

  “No? Do you not have a lawyer?”

  “I have a lawyer, who’s already lectured me on how I let Bob off the hook. But I want this over; the easiest way possible. I may be a fool for that, but he can’t afford much.” What she didn’t say was that he’d probably bought himself a new car or a new entertainment system. He was worse with money than she was.

  His brows furrowed. He leaned closer. “He’s an asshole, that’s what he is.”

  “Brad, that’s not all. I’ve been reading some research online lately about some unusual symptoms in children. I read about a mother whose child would scream and shout and flail his arms during a Christmas lineup. And all she could do was carry the young child out. He wouldn’t play with other children. Noises and scents would set the child off in uncontrollable fits. The behavior was odd and the child wouldn’t talk to other people.”

  “You do a great job, Em. If you need any help or have any problems with your ex, or his mother, you come to me, you hear me? I know his kind, and I know how to deal with him.” He tapped the table with his fingers.

  Did he not hear anything she said? Maybe she was too vague. But then he reached out and slid his fingers down her cheek, then pulled back, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Brad jumped out of his chair so fast that Emily wondered if his chair would tip. But he gave it a shove, balling his hands into fists. Then he grabbed his coat off the chair and faced her. “I meant what I said, Em. I’m a man of my word.”

  A difficult man walked out the door. One who was hiding his feelings; his thoughts. A man she’d need to be careful with. Keep both eyes open; this man had the ability to cloud her good judgment. Except, a thought surfaced in that moment, as she listened to the gravel crunch beneath his feet: What it would feel like to be loved and protected by a man like Brad?

  Chapter Twelve

  Emily was positive that Brad had convinced himself nothing was wrong with Trevor. After the glimpse she’d given Brad into some of the research she’d done, research similar to Trevor’s symptoms, he should have been clued in. How much clearer did she need to be, when it was obvious there was something wrong with his child? He should recognize the similarities; shouldn’t he?

  From what she read of Trevor’s symptoms, keeping a routine was essential. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Trevor’s day needed to be structured. He ignored Katy; though not deliberately. He’d slip away into his own world to do the oddest things. Restack utensils, boxes and cans, in the cupboard, over and over. He’d play with the DVD player, shoving a movie in and out over and over. She knew Brad saw that much. She’d seen an odd look come over his face when he thought she wasn’t watching.

  Emily began to notice patterns. One full-blown meltdown came about after he’d consumed a big bowl of ice cream; another, on the floor, kicking, screaming and flailing his arms all because he couldn’t wear his blue pants since they were in the dirty clothes. She researched diet and read the suggestions. Many suggested they couldn't digest gluten and dairy, and both have a big impact on behaviors.

  It was time to talk to Brad. She hadn’t pushed. But how do you tell a parent, who doesn’t see it? He’d be angry, but it would surely be worse if she said nothing.

  Emily waited until she’d bathed and put the kids to bed. She took a deep breath; her chest suddenly feeling as if a hundred-pound weight pressed against it. She paused in the shadows and listened. The soft glow from Trevor’s nightlight shone on the wall at the top of the stairs. Emily could see Brad on the front porch, leaning against the solid white post. He was always outside. From the little she knew of him he wasn’t happy unless he was outside. Now as the sun dipped low in the sky, the bright orange and pink glow was the perfect vision before bed. The door squeaked when she pushed it open. Emily pulled the brown sweater, she’d grabbed from the hook, around her shoulders. It was cool this time of night.

  “Do you have time to talk to me?”

  He smiled warmly. “I always have time for you, Emily.”

  “Can we sit down?” She fisted her hands in her sweater; how could she be sweating—it wasn’t warm enough.

  “Sure.”

  Emily chose the second rattan chair with the bright blue flowers. She didn’t need to look up to know that he sat next to her, in the matching chair, or that she had his full attention.

  “You’re not okay. Something happened?”

  Truth or dare. Stop stalling.

  “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.”

  The man could change in an instant. All the warmth and support fled, replaced with something dark and ready to snap. The momentary change made her afraid.

  “So you’ve decided to leave,” he said. “I should have known better. Why?”

  Her mouth gaped. The man jumped to conclusions faster than changing the station on TV. “I’m not leaving, where would you get that idea?”

  He threw his hands up, squinting. “Then what is it? Your ex again?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. Brad, you know how much time I’ve been spending with Trevor?”

  He relaxed a bit and leaned back in his chair, but she could still feel that he was wound up tighter than a steel coil. “Hmm, mmm.”

  “Okay, I just need to say this. You know how you keep getting after Trevor when he does something, like dump over a plant and play in the dirt, or the way he latched onto that lady like a human leech?”

  He brushed his hand in the air to dismiss her words. “Come on, Emily, he’s just a boy, doing little boy things. Don’t worry about it. Girls are different, they’re easier; just ask my mother.”

  He truly didn’t see anything was wrong. “Trevor doesn’t talk, he avoids eye contact, sits lost in his own world, and uses a one-word vocabulary, of maybe fifty words total. He has full-blown tantrums on the floor, pounding and screaming. And I don’t know what’s going to set him off. Could be the wrong food, something was moved, or a stranger comes to visit. Trips to stores are a nightmare, and my anxiety level goes through the roof because I’m anticipating what he’s going to do. He’s urinated on the floor in the middle of the grocery store; he had a meltdown in the checkout lane, and runs his fingers over the conveyor belt where you put your food during checkout. Storekeepers get mad. If I grab his hand to get him to stop, he might scream. Depends on the day, what he’s eaten and what’s happened before we get to the store. I never know what will set him off.” Brad tilted his head, tapped his forefinger against his lips. Emily continued. “You can’t reason with him. And the way he stares; he doesn’t appear to understand. He plays alone and will not play with Katy, no matter how hard we try. He moves away if she invades his space. I turn the television on; he loves it. It’s like he’s consumed by it, and even then, he can’t sit still. He’ll stand in front it jumping, laughing and giggling; engrossed in the rainbow of colors flashing over the screen. I’m betting that if y
ou took Trevor to a family gathering, or big social event, it’d most likely be a nightmare. His behavior’s odd. People get weirded out because they don’t know what to do. And I’m pretty sure he picks up on everyone’s anxiety. There are safety issues with Trevor, beyond the scope of a typical three-year-old. I always worry while in town if Trevor will dart out into the street. He doesn’t recognize cars, traffic or even people around him. He touched the hot stove last week and burned his finger. He never cried; no reaction. Brad, I started researching his symptoms. The internet is full of information and what I discovered were symptoms of autism.

  Brad rose and paced, running his fingers through his hair.

  Emily forged on. “Autistic children are not all the same, they have different symptoms. I’ve read about therapy for autistic children—therapy tailored for each individual child.”

  Even in this dim light, Emily glimpsed the color rising in his cheeks. Brad wasn’t just pacing; she could feel the adrenaline cut through the space between them. “I need some air.”

  “Brad, wait!”

  “No, Em, back off.” He kept going, down the stairs toward the barn. She could almost feel the rage burning through him.

  He knew. She’d gotten through. Now the real work begins.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bright red numbers flashed, 4:39 a.m., on the bedside clock. The rooster crowed. She heard a rustling coming from downstairs. Emily slipped out of bed and pulled on her brown housecoat; the one she kept draped at the foot of her bed. Guided by the hall nightlight; Emily tiptoed to the stairs.

  A silhouette of light trickled from the kitchen.

  Emily held the cedar handrail as she crept barefoot down the stairs. Brad held the glass carafe from the coffee maker as he fumbled for the coffee in the cupboard. He reeked of booze and wore the same brown plaid shirt from yesterday. Dark stubble covered his cheeks, his chin. His short hair stuck up clumps and tufts. She touched his hand and gently took the carafe. He stared straight ahead, then turned like a man defeated, and walked, like the living dead, to the table and sat in his chair. He stuck his heavy work boots out; they were coated with mud. Emily spied the trail he’d tracked from the back door, through the kitchen.