by Freya Barker
We take my Jeep, and with Jim making some calls in the background, I focus on getting to Freddy as fast as I can.
These past few weeks of settling into a groove, after the roller coaster of the months before, have lulled me into thinking we were done. On our trip back from Sudbury earlier this week, Freddy had pointed out that with the end of her treatments in sight, we'd finally be able to breathe easy.
Apparently Jim's ex had not received that memo.
The woman's Mustang is blocking the driveway halfway down, and I see Freddy's head pop up from behind it when she hears the Jeep.
Jim is out of the vehicle before I can shove it into park, and I quickly shut off the engine and follow him. My first focus is Freddy, who appears more pissed than anything else, but she still folds willingly into my arms. Only then do I look at the woman crumpled in front of her car, Jim on his haunches beside her.
"She's passed out," Freddy clarifies from somewhere under my chin. "Stupid drunk when she got here, looking for Jordan."
"I put a call out already, including an ambulance," Jim says, looking up at her. "They should be here shortly."
"Good," she says with no small amount of intensity. "No matter what it takes, Jim. For Jordan's sake, this has to stop. I want trespassing charges filed and a restraining order. I suggest you have a good look at the marks on your son's arm and file some charges of your own."
"I know," he confirms. "I intend to."
Freddy eases out of my hold. "I'm going to check on the kids."
"I'll be there shortly." I let her go and watch her rush up to the house.
"You're a lucky man," Jim says, his eyes also following Freddy's progress.
"And you're a stupid one," I fire back. "You had that and you let it go."
"Yeah...I'm well aware."
With the arrival of an OPP cruiser and the ambulance, I quickly back my Jeep out of the driveway and park it on the side of the road so they can get in. Then I walk up to the house, leaving Jim to deal with things.
I find the kids and Freddy all sitting on the living room floor, playing with the kittens. Millie looks up, relief on her face, and I bend down to press a kiss to her forehead. Jordan's head is bent and he's not looking up so I ruffle his hair.
"Do you have something on the stove?" I sniff the air.
"Oh shit!" Freddy scrambles to her feet, but I'm already walking into the kitchen where a pan of ground beef is starting to smoke.
The next few minutes are mayhem, when the smoke alarm begins blaring just as I grab the pan from the stove. Boulder starts howling at the sound and the two little ones join in for good measure. Freddy is waving a towel under the alarm in an attempt to disperse the smoke, when an OPP officer walks in the front door, a look of alarm on his face.
I shoo Freddy outside with the man, while I turn on the fan above the stove, silence the alarm, calm the dogs, and clean up the mess. In that order.
"So I guess no tacos for lunch?" My smartass daughter comes into the kitchen, a quiet Jordan following close behind.
"I'll order pizza," I suggest, keeping my eyes on the boy. "That good with you, Jordan?"
"Is my mom going to be okay?" he asks timidly, and I realize he must've seen the ambulance pull up.
"She's very drunk, buddy, but I'm sure she'll be fine once she sleeps it off." No use lying to the kid, he probably has more experience with his mom passed out drunk than anyone else.
"Until the next time," he comments sagely.
"She's gonna need serious help, but don't give up on her yet, kid."
-
It's after the ambulance takes off with Ella to get checked out at the hospital, and the officer has taken everyone's statement and left, that we're all sitting on the porch eating a slice of pizza. Ella's Mustang is still parked where she left it.
"What's going to happen to Mom?"
I look at Jordan, whose slice remains mostly uneaten on his plate. His eyes are focused on his dad.
"She'll either stay in the hospital, or in jail, until Monday when she has to appear in court on new charges," he explains. "And I hope the judge will order her to get help."
"Will you be there to tell him?"
Jim tags the boy by the neck and kisses the top of his head. "You bet I will."
"What's going to happen to her car?" This time Millie is asking the question, and I meet Freddy's eyes over my daughter's blonde hair. She shows me a little smile, likely noting as I do, that the kids feel free to talk instead of bottle it up to find its way out in more destructive ways.
"I'll get that out of here. Drop it at the station," Jim offers, wiping his mouth with a paper towel.
"That would be great, thanks." Freddy gets up and collects the paper plates.
"You should burn those in the firepit," Jordan suggests, sharing a strange little conspiratorial look with my daughter. One of a few I've seen exchanged between these two in the past half hour.
"Don't have one."
"Dad could build you one," Millie hints, with a two-by-four between the eyes and blinking way too innocently. "And he could probably help with a path to the lake."
Yup, those kids are up to something, not sure what, but I can venture a guess.
"Anyone want another a drink while I'm in there?"
"I'll get those." I grab the empties and follow her inside. "Is it just me or are the kids trying to make a point?" I ask, walking up behind Freddy.
She smiles when she turns around. "I noticed."
"We're going to need to sit down at some point and talk about that." I take a few steps, forcing her with her back against the counter, her hands automatically land on my chest.
"It's early days," she says in a soft voice, leaning her head back.
"Maybe, but time won't make where this is going any clearer, and you know it."
"I do, but it's not just us in this equation," she balks, "plus I haven't received my all-clear yet and—"
"I know all that. Do you really think where we live is going to matter in that outcome? Millie is not leaving much doubt as to where she stands on the matter. It makes sense." I cup her face in my hands. "Think about it."
She lifts on her toes and offers her lips.
"I'll think about it," she promises, and I close the distance.
THIRTY-ONE
Freddy
"So why is it your guy never shows his face on euchre night?"
As usual, Maggie doesn't mince words.
"Do you mind if I sit first?" She nailed me with her question before I even had a chance to plop my ass down. She rolls her eyes, which only makes me take my time, taking a good long tug from my beer before giving her my attention. "Well, where's your husband?" I counter. "I'm pretty sure I've never seen him in here on euchre nights."
"Yeah, but he's not nearly as pretty to look at."
"This is true," Phyllis weighs in with a serious face, making me giggle.
"Are we going to play euchre or talk about my boyfriend all night?"
"Boyfriend," Maggie deadpans and Phyllis jumps right on the bandwagon.
"Definitely boyfriend."
Thankfully, they drop the ribbing after that and we get a few rounds of euchre in. So far Phyllis and Mandy reign supreme, but their run is cut short when Mandy gets a call from her husband that one of the kids is sick, and she has to leave. It's only eight thirty.
"Well, I'll be damned," Maggie says, looking over my shoulder.
I turn to find Newt coming toward the table, Jim in his wake, and my mouth falls open.
"That's how flies get in," he warns me, grinning, before bending over to touch his lips to mine.
"Ladies," Jim says, stepping up to the table as well.
"What are you guys doing here?" I steal a glance at Phyllis, who has her eyes on Jim. I fully expect her to bat her eyelashes but she seems oddly subdued.
"Having dinner and a beer. And to be honest, I was hoping to get a gander at you whooping everyone's arse in euchre, but it looks like we're too late."
"Afraid
my ass took the whooping tonight," I admit, "Phyllis was on a roll." I try to look around Newt, who is mostly blocking my view. "Hey, where did you leave the kids?"
"Twenty bucks and a pinball machine makes for the best babysitter," he says, swinging around to point out the kids in the mini arcade on the other side of the bar. He pulls out Mandy's vacated chair. "Grab a seat, Jim. You ever played euchre?"
"Not since Jordan was in diapers. Let me refresh those drinks before I sit down," he offers and we put our orders in, except one. "Phyllis?" Jim prompts.
"Right. I'll have a Diet Coke, please." She seems a little flustered, and her order has the rest of us confused. Phyllis likes her wine. A lot.
"Since when do you drink pop?" Maggie—not so subtly—wants to know. The look Phyllis throws her is of the shut up variety.
"Sure?" Jim double-checks, leaning over the table and now Phyllis looks like a deer caught in headlights as she quickly nods.
"That was way too easy," Newt whispers in my ear.
"Hush." I elbow him gently in the ribs.
When Jim comes back with a tray of drinks, he's followed by a couple of bedraggled kids.
"The pinball machine ate our money," Millie announces.
Within minutes, the guys have a newly vacated table butted up against ours so everyone can sit, and the waitress is off with their orders.
I look across the table at Jim, who's taken a seat beside Phyllis, and lean into Newt. "You did good."
"I have a list of ways for you to show your gratitude tonight," he mumbles back.
It's later, while the kids are munching on their pizza, that Maggie asks about the kittens.
"I still have two that need a forever home."
I notice the kids are taking a particular interest in this conversation. I haven't told Millie yet, but Newt's agreed to let her keep the little black and white girl she named Groot. One of Hank's veterinary assistants is picking up one of the other girls, which leaves Storm and Loki, the only boy in the litter.
"I'd love one," Phyllis says, surprising me. She never showed interest before. "I could use the company," she adds softly. I pretend not to see Jim shooting her a curious glance.
"I have a pretty dove grey girl left and the only boy in the litter, Loki, is a ginger."
"I think Jordan might like the ginger," Jim pipes up, looking over at his son whose mouth falls open.
"For real, Dad?"
Phyllis smiles, looking back and forth between them. "That's perfect, since I'd love the little girl. When can I pick her up?"
Before I have a chance to answer, Millie draws my attention by asking softly, "and Groot? Where is she going?"
"Where she belongs—home with you."
-
"But what is wrong with those jeans?"
Millie points at a pair that looks like it was trampled by a herd of buffalo and then used as chew toy by a pack of wolves.
She wanted to come to Sudbury today.
I had my final treatment last week and this morning I was back for a scan. Instead of the usual wait, and to avoid me having to drive up yet another time to get the results, Dr. Stephens was going to try to get the radiologist to look at it right away.
I wasn't too sure at first whether I'd want Millie with us, in case everything is not as fine as we expect it to be. Newt pointed out that, for his daughter especially, it would be important to hear the results unfiltered. She still has fears that sometimes pop up, and she doesn't always trust our reassurances. I get it. Grown-ups tend to try and package bad news up in a way that least upsets kids, as people did with her when her mom was sick. Of course, that makes a bad outcome hit even harder.
He's right. Even if it's bad news, Millie deserves to know.
She apparently had an ulterior motive to tag along to Sudbury. Back-to-school shopping. This she announced after meeting Alex and the boys for lunch. Newt was squirming at the prospect, but with at least three more hours to kill before we were expected in Dr. Stephens’ office, and with the mall on our way, it seemed to me a great opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Newt was less easily convinced, but was outvoted two to one and he gave in.
He was a good sport in the first few stores, but when we hit American Eagle; he seems to have reached his limit with the ripped pair of jeans Millie is indicating.
"I'm not paying ninety dollars for those. I have some old pairs in my closet that look just like it, and you can have those for free."
"It's not the same," Millie tries, looking at me for help. "Tell him, Freddy."
"Well," I start, stuck between a rock and a hard place. "I know they're in fashion, and they'd look really cute with that pretty top you just bought, but I have to agree that ninety dollars seems a bit excessive." I watch Millie's face fall. "But," I quickly add, "I saw a pair very similar at Garage in the window. They're having a forty percent off sale. Maybe we should have a look there?"
Two hours later, four hundred and twenty-five dollars poorer, and weighed down with a total of seven shopping bags, we drag behind a happily chatting Millie to the Jeep.
"Never again," Newt growls to me when he opens the car door.
I grin, shopping is a necessary evil for me as well, but it's worth seeing Millie get excited about starting a new school year. Besides, I walked away with a couple of new tops, at Millie's urging, and Newt got himself a pair of new boots.
All in all, we were in a pretty good mood when we got back to the hospital, but then the nerves hit.
"Are you okay?" Newt asks when we sit down in the waiting room. I nod, trying for a smile, since Millie is watching me like a hawk, but I don't trust myself to speak.
Even though I believe I have it licked, there's always that little niggle of doubt. Cancer is unpredictable.
When the nurse calls out my name, I sit frozen in my chair until Newt pulls me up by the hand, holding onto it tight.
"You've got this, Freddy," Millie says beside me, and grabs my other hand.
My eyes are blurry as we follow the nurse into Dr. Stephens' office.
No matter what the outcome, I've already won big.
Newt
"Try not to get ketchup on my seat this time." I hand Millie her roast beef sandwich and fries.
I suggested stopping for a quick bite on our way out of town, but Freddy just wanted to get home. We compromised on the Arby's drive-thru not far from the hospital.
My stomach growls in appreciation when I take a bite of my own sandwich. It's been in knots all afternoon.
To say I was nervous walking into the doctor's office, with Freddy's clammy hand in mine, would be an understatement. I had to fight the urge to drag my girls in the opposite direction. Up until that moment, I hadn't even considered the possibility the news from the doctor would be anything but good. Luckily, Dr. Stephens didn't make us wait long and got right to the point.
"Isn't Alex waiting for a call?" I remind Freddy, before I shove another bite in my mouth.
"Yeah, I'll call him after I finish this." She holds up her sandwich.
For some reason we're all starving, and it doesn't take long for Freddy to collect everyone's garbage and pull out her phone.
"It's me," I hear Freddy say when her brother answers. "All clean." A big smile splits her face as she tells her brother the good news. "Follow-up in December. They'll call with an exact date." I reach over and squeeze her knee. Her eyes meet mine as she listens to Alex. "Yeah thanks, and tell Jane I love her too." She grins at something her brother says. "I'll tell them. Talk to you soon—love you back."
"Alex says they're expecting you two to come up for Christmas. He's already put a deposit on a four-bedroom winterized cottage on Lake Wanapitei for a week."
"Where is that?" Millie wants to know.
"About forty minutes or so from Sudbury," Freddy tells her. "It's beautiful. A couple of years ago, the boys were maybe six or seven, we spent a week up there. At the time, I remember Alex mentioning he'd love to experience a Christmas away from the city. Gues
s he's making that happen this year."
"Sounds good to me," I contribute, and seeing an opening I barge right in. "Besides, Millie and I were talking the other day: we're just happy to be wherever you are—be it a cottage for Christmas, or any other time."
Freddy twists in her seat and takes a long look at Millie before turning to me.
"We're talking about this now?"
"Given the good news we're driving home with, what better way to hash out some things in the two hours it takes to get there?"
"We have a proposal," my very clever daughter takes the lead, something we may or may not have orchestrated before for maximum effectiveness. Freddy is less likely to argue with her than she is with me. Those gorgeous brown eyes shoot a last sharp glance in my direction, before they soften and turn to the back seat.
"You do, huh? Well, let's hear it."
"As far as we can figure, we have three options..." I bite off a grin at Millie's businesslike tone. "One: we buy a totally new place together and sell our old places. Two: you move in with us, Dad's already been fixing up the house, but we have less room for your animals, which leaves option three. And Dad and I really like this one, right, Dad?"
"You've got it, Sweet Pea."
"So three would be for us to move in with you, that way George, Timber and Chester can stay right where they are, and since Dad doesn't have a job anyway, he can fix up your place. He wants to cut a path to the lake and build a dock for the boat."
"Is that a fact?" Her words dripping with sarcasm, Freddy looks at me with an eyebrow raised, but I can see humour dancing in her eyes.
"Yeah," Millie answers, deadly serious, but she's not done making her case. "Also, it's closer to town, and has way more parking space for when I get my car in a few years."
"Excuse me?" My eyes shoot up to the rearview mirror, only to find my daughter's innocently wide ones looking back. Beside me, Freddy snickers. "Who said anything about a car? That wasn't part of the discussion."
"I know, I came up with that one all by myself." She shoots me a cheeky grin before focusing back on Freddy. "Anyway, I saved the best one for last. Dad says we can rent out our place and next summer vacation, the Bennetts can stay there for a month."
