by J C Hartung
“Okay, everyone, the food’s ready!” Martin called, when he put his attention back on the grill.
When everyone stood and began shuffling to the table. Carrie and Abby shared a worried glance; both pairs of eyes screamed, this could be awkward.
Matthew and Dave moved in to bring the newcomer a degree of comfort with small talk, and Raina slowly carried the last tray of condiments to the table.
She set the tray at the end of the table and with four quick steps, stood between her brother and Dave.
“Linc, this is Oliver’s Mom,” Matthew happily introduced, as he draped his arm around his sister and looked back at Linc.
Raina stuck out her hand and, as ridiculous as it felt, she hoped Linc would play along and not make this more difficult for her.
“Hi, I’m Raina. Welcome here,” she said, as confidently as her strained voice would allow. He smiled at her, but his eyes narrowed and she could imagine a dozen questions they were screaming at her.
He straightened his arm and when his hand curled around hers, she looked like she was drowning under the weight of it. He cleared his throat and tried not to alert their audience.
“Great to meet you, Raina.”
“So you know my Dad?” she asked, trying to understand the situation as Dave and Matthew drifted towards the food.
He gave a small smile in response to her question. So, they were going to play games after all. He could see she was confused, but he thought as he was pretty much in the same boat and at the disadvantage of being the odd newcomer in a sea of her family; there was no reason to make this too easy for her.
“I know your dad, your brother, and I know Oliver, who is your son?”
She looked wounded under the scrutiny of his eyes and his admonishing tone. She crossed her arms and turned to see Oliver race around the side of the house yet again.
“Yes, Oliver is mine,” she whispered, and before she raced away she mumbled under her breath. “Excuse me, I have to check something.”
Carrie, having seen the conversation unfold, walked past Linc pausing briefly before she continued on to the food.
From the chair she had no desire to leave, Trish saw and heard the whole thing. She saw the panic on Rae’s face, she saw the confusion and hurt on the man’s, and she saw Carrie try to soothe with a gentle hand on his arm and a few words of advice. She also considered that Rae had been busier putting herself out there than she was willing to admit, and knowing that it wasn’t necessarily simple, she decided that before her eyes fell asleep that night she would have the info. This meant somehow convincing Dave he was better off sleeping on the couch.
He watched her walk away and it ticked him off. Enough that he was just about to follow after her when the sister-in-law brushed passed him and told him to give her some time and to keep an open mind.
He usually followed his gut, and his first instinct was telling him to go after her and find out just what was going on. But because he was upset and on uncertain ground, he filled a plate with food, found a seat and made himself at home.
He had all day to collect information. These were her people after all, and wouldn’t it just cause her a small amount of discomfort to have him linger around. But most importantly, he wasn’t here for her in the first place; he was there at Oliver’s request.
He noticed her racing around and was always aware where she was at any given moment, but he wouldn’t allow her the satisfaction of knowing that.
The seat next to him seemed to be a revolving door for new conversation. Immediately when one person would get up, it would be filled by another. Before it was time for cake he’d had conversations with all of the men and three of the women.
He took some time to watch Oliver too. He’d never have placed him with Raina if he’d had to based strictly on his appearance. He had golden tan skin, dark hair and dimples that matched the man currently across from him, and he could have been a brother to one of the boys or the oldest girl.
He saw two distinct families here. They all appeared happy yet there was no father for Oliver, Raina didn’t wear a wedding ring, she said she wasn’t playing games, but that her life was complicated. He felt a little lost, and he admitted to himself he wasn’t real sure what his next move here needed to be.
The man called Dave was talking with him and Matthew when it hit him. He had no idea what was going on here, but he believed she hadn’t lied or been misguiding with her intentions. And because he hadn’t even the slightest idea of who she was, a piece of his anger melted.
She served cake; a giant meticulously frosted sculpture of a cake, and the kids dove into it without a second thought to the creation it was. Raina didn’t seem to care; in fact she laughed and allowed Oliver to cut his own piece as big as he wanted. She was free with him the way he hadn’t seen her before. She laughed with her whole body and there were no tense edges that he could see.
Presents were opened and he watched Oliver specifically thank each giver with a huge hug and a thank you. When he tore into the Superman paper, Linc hoped it would go over well. It wasn’t Lego or clothes, or cars like most of the other gifts, but in his opinion every kid had to have one.
“A baseball glove!” he beamed, and put his hand in it to give it a squeeze. He walked over to thank Linc.
“Thanks, Mr. Linc!” he said, and then he was off running with the other kids again, and the pile of toys that needed to be assembled was forgotten.
Once the show was over, everyone just sort of milled around, helped themselves to snacks, or continued their conversation. He noticed Raina head back to the house to put the cake away. He’d wanted a quick moment with her, and he saw this as his chance.
He got to his feet said a quick goodbye to the folks around him, shared a brief word with Oliver, and he headed to the house.
She was in the garage. It surprised him to see a full industrial kitchen, but then, wasn’t today just full of surprises.
He opened the door and walked in uninvited.
“Hey,” he said.
She watched as he leaned back in a fashion that was all his own, with his fingers hooked in his back pockets, a weak smile painting her face.
“Hi.”
She took a step towards him and they both started talking at once.
“Linc,” she began again when he stopped. “I would like a chance to explain, if for no other reason to give you a bit of understanding. I can only imagine what this all looks like to you.”
He looked back out the door at the crowd of people. “I have no idea what it looks like, except a family, gathering together for a great kid’s birthday.”
She cringed and nodded. “I can’t get into it now, but could I still call you tomorrow and try to explain?”
He wanted to go to her, to have her explain right then, but he knew he couldn’t. Whatever was going on here, he knew that she would not welcome it, nor was it the time. So he moved back to the door and accepted the offer.
“I’ll be around, Raina, whenever you have time.”
Chapter Nineteen
Dave slept on the couch and Raina told Trish everything. Everything she’d never been able to say about the accident, or about her and Mark. All she was ashamed of, afraid of, her anger and guilt. She shared everything she’d been feeling for the past few months and how she felt like she was clawing her way out of a silent, lonely dungeon. She cried until she had purged everything inside of her. She fell asleep emptied, with her head in Trish’s lap, while Trish brushed back her hair and soothed the scars she worked so hard to hide.
The morning was quiet, and though she knew it was impossible, she felt that everything had somehow shifted overnight, like they had all been a party to her wracking sobs and undiluted confessions.
When they drove away just after lunch Raina was exhausted and Oliver was wired. Trish had told her to keep going, to keep exploring and not be ashamed of her feelings, her instincts, and especially not to neglect herself.
She spent the afternoon buil
ding Lego ships, setting up car tracks and trying to teach Oliver how to use the ball glove. She put supper in the oven, turned a video on for Ollie, and fell into a dead sleep on the sofa for 45 minutes. When the oven timer chimed they ate and after she sent Oliver outside to play.
She watched him from the porch for a few minutes before she picked up the phone and dialed. He didn’t answer, but she’d been prepared for that. In the smallest of ways she felt she deserved it.
She left a brief message. She couldn’t go out, but she’d offered herself and her time if he wouldn’t mind coming to her place after 8:00. Oliver would be asleep and she would explain everything.
The hours crept at a snail’s pace and the worst part was she didn’t know if he would come. When he left the party the previous day he’d done so quietly, without difficult words, without any sign of what was racing through his head.
She would have preferred a heated exchange, the cold shoulder, or something that would have shown a visible source of emotions, but he had remained calm and undemanding; almost kind. Those combined, she didn’t know what to do with.
So she waited, and waiting wasn’t something she was good at, so she went to the garage to bake. She was just pulling out a sheet of cookies when she saw the lights flash down the driveway and heard the deep rumble of the truck’s exhaust.
She felt her stomach plunge with relief before it swirled back up with a new wave of uncertainty.
She had never shared her story freely before, not that people weren’t interested. In fact, the opposite was generally the case, they all knew what had happened, that sort of thing is talked about a lot in a small town, much like they would ruminate over the weather, but they wanted more, she thought, though it was never any of their business and a lot of those seekers didn’t really care for her sake, only to quench their own selfish curiosity.
The house was dark but for a few lights. He would have known instantly she was in the garage without seeing the light. He could smell it, and then he saw her standing with her back to the screen door.
She was pale with a faint light at her back and the moonlight washing the color from her hair. The spark he’d seen the day before was gone, and he thought because she looked so fragile, it wouldn’t take much to break her. He immediately felt he was walking on uneven ground and any lingering anger he’d tried to hold on to for his own protection dissolved; he knew he just wanted to take care of her.
“Hello.”
He stopped in front of her, and like the night they’d had burgers on the beach, he ran his hand down the length of her arm.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
He smiled down at her, his hand still on her arm. “I said I’d give you the time,” he shrugged. “I keep my promises; I’ve been told that quality can be unexpected. Plus, I was hungry!” He glanced easily over her head and to the counter where the sheet of cookies was cooling.
She smiled for the first time and pushed the door open as a timer rang. “I can do something about that. Did you have supper or do you want to fill up on cookies?”
He stood against the wall with his hands in his pockets while he watched her take two sheets from the oven and put two new ones in.
“I haven’t got around to supper yet, I was distracted.” He thought about the smoothly sanded floors and the baseboards he’d begun to strip that had kept him occupied until he’d grabbed a shower and raced over.
She reset, then dropped the timer in her pocket and stopped to look at him, then motioned for him to follow her through to the house. He did and she led him into her house kitchen.
“Sit,” she ordered, and when he smiled, she smiled back and said, “Please!”
He laughed and obeyed.
She put together a plate of food, heated it and set it down in front of him while he looked around her house.
“This is a great, old place. Have you lived here long?”
“About two years. It was my Grandparent’s place; my Dad and Matthew fixed it up for us before Oliver and I moved in.”
The weight in her pocket chimed and she left him alone with his thoughts and his supper for a moment. When she came back she poured hot water from a kettle into a teapot and they both watched silently as the steam rose from it.
He watched her as she moved silently around her kitchen. She was a ball of tension and nervous energy. He was trying to give her space to do this in her own time, but his nerves were being stretched, and if she kept darting around he was going to have to get up and do some pacing of his own.
He stood when he’d finished his plate. She tried to stop him but he narrowed his eye at her, nudged her out of his way, gave his dishes a rinse and deposited them in the dishwasher.
“Why don’t we have some of that wine?” he suggested, pointing to a bottle on the counter, thinking the tea just wasn’t going to cut it.
She laughed while her body exhaled. “Yes, please.”
“You sit. Glasses?” he demanded, then asked as he pulled the cork and finding the glasses he poured.
“Why don’t we go sit out on your porch?” He carried his glass in that direction and taking a quick look around noticed lanterns scattered around the room. His mind fleetingly considered how they would look on his own porch. He flagged the idea in the back of his mind and knew he would likely spend a bit of time later that night online looking for just the right ones.
“Mind if I light these?”
She shook her head and wrapped a blanket around herself as she watched him light the wicks. They sat opposite each other.
“I don’t really know where to begin,” she confessed quietly.
“It’s your story, but if you’re up for it, the beginning seems like as good a place as any,” he offered, and leaned back in his chair with his glass of wine.
She looked out into the yard, closed her eyes and she began.
“I met Mark the first long weekend of summer ten years ago. By the end of summer we were married,” she smiled and met his eyes. Linc felt the sharp twinge of jealousy, but when she looked away, he saw from her expression it wouldn’t end well.
“We went to Vegas, had a whirlwind weekend and came back married. We went with that in mind. In those early years we encouraged and provoked each other’s wild streaks. We had a great life together.” She paused briefly, remembering the time and how she used to be up for anything.
“I was working at a restaurant called Food, and Mark was doing evening radio and DJing a couple nights a week around the city.”
He knew the restaurant, had eaten there many times, likely even while she was still there. The club scene he didn’t know a whole lot about, but Sophia had dragged him out a few times.
“I had been head chef for four months when I found out I was pregnant. We were both so excited. We had a handful of nieces and nephews in each of our families and we wanted our kids to grow up with their cousins. They were all here yesterday, so you can see that our plan for Oliver to grow up with them has worked out nicely.” She smiled, looked down into her glass and before she continued, drank a long, full gulp.
“After Oliver was born and mat-leave was coming to an end, I started a catering business. It was the best solution for our family because it was flexible. Somehow we worked it out, though it was hard because both of our jobs started in the evenings and went late.”
“We had our share of problems. Then one day I got offered a position at the restaurant I’d always wanted to be a part of. That same week Mark got an offer of his own.”
She paused, emptied her glass and looked over at him. He had been sitting very quietly and very still. He watched her get up and float past him into the house. A few moments later she returned with the bottle of wine and a plate of cookies. She refilled her glass, put the plate on the small table next to him, and returned to her seat.
“You don’t want any?” he asked, and then he remembered. “Right, you don’t eat what you make.”
She smiled and pulled the blanket over her shoulders an
d brought her knees to her chest.
“It had been an awful few weeks. Oliver had had a string of sickness that we all kept passing around. We had to make some decisions and at home with all the distractions we couldn’t do it. We left Oliver with Sue and Allen, you met them yesterday, they’re Mark’s parents,” she explained, to clear up any confusion.
“Mark’s family has a cottage we were going to for the weekend. We spent a lot of time there; it is a really special place, especially for Mark. He had met every one of his favorite bands, interviewed them, seen them perform all over the world, and the cottage was his favorite place. He always said he could hear everything there; I understood that. It was quiet and the escape to nature allowed him to feel the meaning in the music. We always found our answers there, and there were no pressures.”
She looked suddenly confused, and there was a crease in her forehead that he hadn’t noticed before. He leaned forward in his chair, and when he did, she stopped.
“If you need to take a break, we could walk to the end of the drive, get some air, it’s not far and we’d be back before Oliver could even make it down the stairs if he woke.” He offered the temporary escape; though he had a feeling it wouldn’t make a difference.
She smiled, but her eyes remained hollow.
“Linc?” she asked, and he knew she was looking for something in him.
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever loved and lost so suddenly you didn’t know what was happening?”
A reel of memories played through his head; his father, who left when he was just a child, the ambitious Cindy who he would have sacrificed anything for. And Sophie who two weeks before the wedding revealed her true aspirations and confessed she would never give him what he yearned most deeply for.
“Yeah, I’d say I have,” he said grimly.
With a sad, half smile she nodded at him.
“This is the part where it becomes tricky. You see, I don’t know what happened.”
