by M. E. Carter
No, that’s not right. I’ve dated some blue-collar men before. Long ago. Like before I got married. But somehow, this feels different. Very different. And not just because we’re older and wiser.
“Forgive me for laughing,” he says as a small blush creeps up his cheeks. “It’s hard for me to wrap my brain around how you’ve been divorced for five years and someone hasn’t snatched you up yet.”
“Thank you.” I warm at his compliment, but recognize he doesn’t see the reality either. Resting my hands on the table, I level with him. “There are not a lot of men out there who want a woman with a special needs child.”
He almost looks like I slapped him, he’s so shocked by my words.
“That can’t be true. It’s not like special needs are uncommon.”
“No, they’re not. And women who have children with special needs date all the time. And sometimes it works out. But in my experience, the older our kids get, the more that reality kicks in. Eventually, other people understand this is my life permanently, not until he’s eighteen and goes to college, or until he’s twenty-two and graduates and gets a job. This is my life forever. He won’t magically get better once he’s an adult, so I’m free to travel. He won’t be bringing grandkids over for me to dote on and then leave with his wife to live their lives. There won’t be any of that.”
I can see my words sinking in as I continue.
“Unless I magically come up with millions of dollars, there will be no private residential facility where he is taken care of and monitored by a loving staff at a facility for adults with special needs. There are state-run schools, but we don’t qualify for any of them. This is my life. Oli will always live with me. I will always be fighting over keeping him off the Internet. I will never not have locks on my closet to lock up anything of value or electronic. This is it for me. I will always have to monitor if he’s getting too violent. I will always have to monitor if his meds need to be tweaked. Even when I’m ninety, I will still be monitoring my son. That’s a lot for any man to jump into. I’m sure there are exceptions to the rule, but that’s been my experience so far.”
He swallows hard, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. I can tell he’s thinking about how to respond, because he knows I’m right. Dating post-divorce is hard enough as it is. When you add a child with a permanent disability, especially one that is behavioral, that’s a whole different ballgame.
I could fall into the pity party, but millions of single moms do it all the time. Marriages that include a child with a disability fall apart at an astronomical rate. If the birth dad can’t hack it, how in the hell is a stepdad supposed to?
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”
It feels good hearing those words coming from a man as wonderful as Ace. I want to take them to heart. I want them to give me hope, but I’ve seen this before. Just because I haven’t been on dates, doesn’t mean I haven’t been flirted with. I’ve met quite a few nice men over the years who expressed interest. It never came to fruition once they saw what my life entails. Ace’s words are nice. He’s a nice man. But he doesn’t get it.
“And I keep waiting for you come to the realization that my life comes with more than you really want.”
He smiles sadly at me, knowing I’m right.
“Come on.” Standing up, he reaches his hand out for me. “Let’s dance.”
I slide my small hand into his larger one and he leads me to the dance floor, pulling me close to his chest with our fingers clasped between us.
Resting his forehead against mine, we sway to the music, enjoying the feel of each other. I breathe him in, trying to memorize everything about this moment because I’m not sure if this is him trying to comfort me, or if he’s saying goodbye.
Brushing down my favorite horse, I find myself whistling a little while I work. The morning milking and clean-up is complete. The kids have all been assigned chores. Mrs. Johnson is working in the office. And I’m pretty sure Brittany has a nice little spread for lunch ready to go. It’s a good day.
“Why are you still smiling?” Pedro asks, finishing up his own chores in the barn.
I glower at him. “Am I not allowed to smile?”
“You are. But you’ve been smiling nonstop for the last couple of days. Is this about your date?”
I refuse to answer him, instead continuing with my task. Even though he’s right. My smile has everything to do with Greer.
I had a great time with her. We danced. We talked and laughed. We drank. It felt really low-key and easy. But something about it was just… right. I haven’t had that much fun in years. Didn’t even realize I was missing it in my life. And honestly, I can’t wait to see her again.
We’ve texted a bit back and forth over the last couple days, but we’re both busy. Still, there doesn’t seem to be any pressure on her part to move faster and I like that. I like that she has her own life and her own goals. I like that she’s not out searching to find some magical true love. She’s making her own way. It’s admirable.
“Maybe it is,” I finally answer. “What of it?”
“Whew!” he shouts. “You got it bad. Was she a good kisser?”
I turn and glare at him. “Why would you ask me a question like that when you’re a happily married man?”
He holds his hands up defensively. “Don’t act like I’m stepping out of line. I don’t need many details. I’m trying to figure out why you’re happy these days, and nothing makes me happier than kissing my woman, ergo, I’m trying to figure you out.”
I roll my eyes because he can defend himself all he wants. “You are the biggest gossip on this farm. I know it, and you know it. And I’m not ready for all my employees to know my business. Ergo,” he chortles at my dig, “I’m happy because I had a good time. And no, I didn’t kiss her.”
“Well, why not? If you like her that much, you should have gone for it.”
I snort a laugh. “Because unlike some of us in this room”—I look around even though we both know we’re the only ones here—“I’m a gentleman. I like to take things slow and wait for the right moment. That’s not on a first date.”
“I did more than kiss Brittany on our first date,” he grumbles.
“I know. You told me. Way too many times and in way too much detail.” It still makes me cringe that he made her call him Daddy. There are some things a man doesn’t need to know about his best friend. “I get it. You ended up marrying the girl because you fell hard for her. But that doesn’t mean I’m you. I like to take things slower. Her life is busy. My life is busy. This isn’t going to be love at first sight where we end up walking down the aisle in a Vegas quickie wedding.”
“You loved that I had a quickie Vegas wedding,” he retorts.
“Only because we got to play real poker for your bachelor party, and I didn’t get dragged to the Felicia Does Flinton strip club down the way,” I retort, making him laugh.
“I’m saving that for the next bachelor party I’m in charge of coordinating. I’m hoping it’s yours. I know how much you loved getting a lap dance from Marsha Harris last time.”
I groan. “I still don’t know how the most popular girl in high school ended up there. I’m truly wounded that all my high school fantasies were obliterated that night, and I blame you for it.”
He belly-laughs at the memory of my grimace when she stumbled over to me, after clearly one too many shots, and trying very hard to give me a sexy dance, probably hoping for a big tip. But the fantasy wasn’t working, what with lipstick smudged on her teeth, hair that may not have been brushed in a few days, and her husband standing off to the side making sure I didn’t touch. It was possibly the weirdest moment of my life.
“Enough of those traumatic memories.” He tosses his supplies to the side and leans against the stall. “Are you going to take her out again or what?”
Slapping my horse on the hind quarters, I walk back to the supply table, putting everything away. I can hear all the farmhands hooting and hollering as they make th
eir way from the milking parlor to the main house. That must mean Brittany is making an appearance with the promise of food.
“I hope so,” I say honestly. “I know it’s hard for her to find a babysitter for Oli so we’re just taking it one day at a time.”
“Well, don’t take it too slow. It’s long past time for you to get back in that proverbial saddle again, if you know what I mean.” He makes a lewd gesture with his hips, and I have half a mind to punch him in the junk.
“I really hope you are eluding to things that are none of your business.”
“Of course, I am. It’s been a while. You need to get laid.”
I turn to gape at him, crossing my arms. “How do you know when I got laid last?”
“Easy. It’s the last time you whistled while you worked. That was what, five years ago?”
Rubbing my hand down my face, I question, not for the first time, how this obnoxious man became my best friend. “You can leave well enough alone there. Do you know how creepy it is that you’re keeping tabs on my sex life?”
“It’s not creepy. It’s me looking out for you—”
Before he can finish his sentence, we hear a weird sound coming from one of the pens and both stop what we’re doing. It sounds like one of our animals is either freaking out or in pain.
“What the…?” Pedro quickly heads for the door. When he makes it outside before me, he starts running. That’s when I know something is terribly wrong, so I pick up my pace.
“What the hell?” As soon as I hit the door and see all the commotion, I take off running. Oli, despite repeated warnings and thinking I finally got through to him, broke into one of the pens. And not one with any of our mild-mannered animals. Oh no. He broke into the pen holding that damn wild mare Pedro’s been trying to break.
Clearly, he’s too close because she’s freaking out and Oli obviously doesn’t know what to do nor does he recognize how much danger he’s in.
“Oliver! Get away from that horse!” Pedro screams and jumps the fence faster than I’ve ever seen before. He immediately goes after the horse to try and calm her, and I’m right behind him, grabbing Oli and shoving him out of the way.
“Get out of the way, Oliver! Go!”
“I just wanted to pet her,” Oli says defiantly.
“I don’t care! Get out of here!”
Several of the guys recognize the predicament we’re in and run up, climbing through to help Pedro which only spooks the mare more.
“Everybody get back!” he yells, trying to approach her slowly to calm her so we can get everyone to safety. But she’s not having any of it. She’s bucking and stomping, shaking her head back and forth in agitation. He’s taking it slowly.
But in an instant, the entire scene changes. Something blows by her feet and, as if in slow motion, I watch in horror as she rears up and kicks him right in the chest. It happens so fast, he doesn’t have time to react. He goes flying and lands on his back with a thud.
“Pedro!”
I vaguely register Brittany screaming in the background, too busy scrambling to get to my friend and help him. I can’t lose him. He’s been part of my life for too long. Brittany can’t lose him. His unborn baby can’t lose him.
Trying not to panic, I shout, “Call 911!” Then, I turn back to him, looking for any trace of blood. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re gonna be fine. We called an ambulance. Someone get this horse outta here!” I yell, hoping we’re not still in harm’s way.
As I continue to talk quietly to Pedro, one of the other guys holds Brittany back from her husband before it’s safe. Someone else grabs Oli and manhandles him out the gate.
Finally… finally after kicking down part of the fence, the mare takes off running to the grazing field, but I don’t care. We can get her back later. Right now, my only priority is making sure Pedro is okay.
The drive to All Hands Farm usually takes twenty minutes.
I make it in ten.
As I drive up the long driveway toward the barn, an ambulance passes me and the fear running through me intensifies, makes my blood run cold.
When I got the call that I needed to get out there ASAP because Oli was involved in a major incident, I didn’t stop to ask questions. Granted, they didn’t offer me any; they only said to hurry and hung up, so my mind has been reeling on the entire drive about what he could possibly have done.
Did an animal get hurt? Was there a fight? A fire?
Now that I’ve seen the ambulance, I’m more frightened than ever.
Pulling up to the side of the barn, I throw my car in park and jump out the car door.
“Oli! Ace!” I yell, feeling like I’m halfway to hysterics from the anticipation of what’s coming.
Ace appears somehow, but I don’t know from where. I know I’m wide-eyed and disheveled in front of the man I have a huge crush on, but I can’t make myself stop to care.
“Where’s Oli? Is he in that ambulance? Is he okay?”
Recognizing my emotional state, Ace immediately comes to me and pulls me to him. “Oli is fine, okay? He’s fine.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, but quickly realize if he’s not in that ambulance, then who is?
Pulling away, I regard Ace. For the first time, I realize he’s as ruffled as I am. He’s not wearing his normal baseball cap, and his hair is sticking up in all directions, like he’s been running his fingers through it. “Oli’s fine,” he reiterates. “He’s in big trouble. But he’s fine.”
“But the ambulance… What happened?”
He doesn’t back away from me, but starts running his hands up and down my arms in comfort. “Take a deep breath.”
I follow his instructions and realize how badly I need it. I guess I was shallow breathing the whole way here.
“Oli is fine. We had a little problem though, and we’re gonna need to figure out how to fix it.”
The words Oli is fine register, so my heart rate starts to return to normal. But that doesn’t eliminate my fear.
We’ve had a little problem, and we’re gonna need to figure out how to fix it.
I know what those words mean. They mean Oli did something to cause a really bad chain of events. I know it without him explaining, and my heart plummets.
“Do I want to know?” I ask Ace, hoping he’ll say it’s not a big deal, but I know he won’t.
He gives me a sad smile. “You need to know.” He grabs my hand and pulls me into the barn. Oli is sitting on the floor, a scowl on his face and arms crossed over his chest. “He won’t get up.”
“Why not?”
“I just wanted to pet the horse,” Oli grumbles.
Turning to Ace, I know there is question in my eyes. What could possibly have happened?
“Oli broke into the pen with our wild mare.”
“What?” My head swivels around to stare at my son again.
“We have talked to him multiple times,” Ace continues. “He’s been warned about the danger and told he is not to go near her.” He lowers his voice and leans in to speak quietly enough that Oli can’t hear him. “Greer, I’m sorry. I thought his fixation with her was over, and we wouldn’t have any more problems. I feel so guilty that I didn’t see it.”
“Don’t talk about me!” Oli yells, startling a chicken that wandered in with us.
I close my eyes and swallow, trying to get myself under control. I can’t look at Ace when I ask, “Who got hurt and how bad is it?”
He sighs. “Pedro tried to calm the mare down, so we could get Oli out of the pen. She reared up and kicked in the chest, knocking him out cold.”
I gasp and throw my hands over my mouth. “She kicked—that could have killed him.”
Ace nods. “Could have, but didn’t. His vitals were good once the ambulance got here. He’s heading to the county hospital where they can run some tests on him. Maybe keep him overnight. But he was awake when he left. Chances are he’ll make a full recovery. Brittany on the other hand—”
I groan. “Oh, please tell
me she didn’t see her husband almost die.”
“She saw. But she’s okay. She’s going with Pedro, and I asked the EMTs to check her blood pressure every once in a while, just in case. They’ll probably want to monitor the baby for a bit.”
A myriad of emotions runs through me. Part of me wants to yell at my son for being selfish and stupid. Part of me wants to cry.
This is why he’s hard to live with. He doesn’t get cause and effect. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell him touching an outlet is dangerous or not wearing your seatbelt can hurt you. Until he experiences the consequence for himself, there’s a disconnect. He doesn’t know how to take anyone’s word for it. Not even mine. And because of that disconnect, this kind of thing happens. Only this time, it wasn’t him who got hurt, it was someone else.
Ace seems to recognize my struggle and grabs my hand. I want to lace my fingers through his, but I can’t. There’s too much unknown now. My son almost got Ace’s best friend killed because of his disobedience and his defiance and his fixations. Yet, I’m the one who’s feeling guilty. Not Oli. Me.
I take a breath to steel myself, drop Ace’s hand, and turn to look at my son.
“I just wanted to pet the horse,” he repeats angrily.
Standing in front of him, I cross my arms and make the only threat that seems to work these days. “Oliver Declan, I have a spoon with me and you have three seconds to get off that ground and in my car. Three… two…”
As soon as I start counting, he starts scrambling to his feet. “I’m going! I’m going!”
“You’re not going fast enough. One…”
Before I can get to zero, he runs out the barn door. I listen until I hear the slam of the car door behind him. Somehow, in the middle of all this, Ace starts laughing.
