by Carrie Elks
The driver climbed out and unloaded Richard’s suitcases from the trunk, passing Hanna her small carry-on with a wry smile. Richard lifted all three bags and they walked together toward the front door, both silent, drowning under the weight of their own thoughts. It wasn’t until they reached the entrance that Hanna broke the silence.
“How do you want to do this?” She sounded more confident again, as if being on home turf was giving her the advantage. “Shall I introduce you as a friend? Not that Matty will understand, he’s only little, but I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m his father, Hanna,” Richard replied, the anger returning. “Perhaps we can start as we mean to go on?”
Hanna swallowed and nodded. “Okay. But he doesn’t always warm up to strangers immediately. You need to give him a bit of time. Don’t get upset if he doesn’t come to you right away.”
Before he had a chance to respond, the door was pulled open in front of them. Richard looked up to see Tom standing there, a huge grin on his face and a small child in his arms, wriggling with desperate excitement.
“He couldn’t wait any longer, Hanna. He was running for the door.”
Richard tried to bite back the jealousy as Matty reached his arms out for his mother, babbling wildly. Hanna grabbed him and held him tight, burying her face in his hair, telling him how much she missed him.
She missed him?
How the hell did she think Richard felt?
As if she could hear his thoughts, Hanna lifted her head up and looked at Richard, her lips curling into a smile. She turned slightly, so he could see Matty’s face, and every ounce of anger brewing in his body disappeared.
His son was beautiful.
His dark brown eyes were deep and expressive. He stared at Richard with interest, lifting his hand up and sucking on his thumb as he appraised him. Light brown hair flopped over his forehead; a color Richard had seen in enough photographs of his own childhood to know it would eventually darken into a deeper brown, making Matty resemble his father.
Matty’s scant eyebrows pulled down into a frown, not in sadness so much as concentration. He pulled his hand away from his mouth—his thumb still glistening from being sucked—and pointed at Richard.
“That?”
Hanna caught Richard’s eye again, her features reassuring. “That’s Daddy, darling.”
Matty shrugged, unperturbed by the news, the words meaning nothing to him. Richard wasn’t sure if he was relieved he was being accepted so easily, or angry he was robbed of a tearful reunion.
His heart rate sped when he saw his son staring up at him. He was so beautiful. It was like the best parts of both of them had been molded into something perfect and new. Richard tried to regulate his breathing, to calm his reaction so he didn’t frighten his child. Matty reached out and touched Richard’s face, the tiny frown lines between his brows disappearing as his lips curled into a delighted smile.
“Dat.”
The touch of his son’s soft hand on his own face was indescribable. He wanted to close his eyes and suck in the emotions, grab his hand and hold him closer. He wanted to snatch Matty from Hanna’s arms and swing him around, show him how happy he was to see him.
His son.
His.
“Hi, Matthew.” The corners of his lips threatened to reach his ears, his grin was so wide. “How are you doing?”
Matty nodded, as if he understood, and reached out to Richard, squirming in Hanna’s arms until she lifted him across. It took Richard a moment to realize what was happening, his body reacting before his mind. Before he knew it, he was holding his son in his arms, their faces so close he could feel Matthew’s rapid breaths bathing his skin.
“Hmm.” Matthew poked Richard’s cheek with his finger and laughed. His infectious giggle caused Richard to chuckle back. He tightened his arms under Matthew, delighting in the sensation of holding his son, amazed at how light he felt; yet how perfectly he fit in his arms.
“He’s beautiful.” Richard stared at Hanna with new eyes. How could he hate somebody who had made something so perfect?
“He likes you. He doesn’t usually throw himself at people.” Her voice was steady but he could see her eyes glisten. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced away. “Has everything been okay, Tom?”
Richard had forgotten it wasn’t only the three of them and glanced up at Tom with surprise. “Hi, Tom.” He reached out a hand, adjusting Matty so he was holding him firmly with his other arm.
“Richard, it’s good to see you.” Tom’s grin was as huge as Richard’s. “It’s been a long time coming.” He raised his eyebrows at Hanna. She had the good grace to look ashamed.
“Where’s Ruby?” Hanna pushed herself onto her tiptoes so she could glance over Tom’s shoulder and into the villa. “I thought she’d be the first out to see us.”
“She overslept,” Tom replied with a mock whisper. “I’ve been up with Matty since five.”
Matty nodded rapidly, as if he was joining in the conversation. “Up.”
“That’s right, Matty. Up and awake. Makes me really happy.” Tom’s voice was deadpan. “It’s all over to you now, Richard. Enjoy.”
“I intend to,” Richard’s face seemed molded into a permagrin. “I can’t see the early mornings being a problem.” Not even mixed with jet lag. He didn’t intend to miss a moment more with his son.
“Hi, Richard!” Ruby’s voice carried through the tiled entranceway and out of the door. The loud clattering of her running down the stairs was followed by a vision of green, hurtling herself across the hall and barely coming to a halt in front of her brother. “I can’t believe I missed the big reunion. I’ve been planning it for days.” She turned around and punched Tom on the arm. “I told you not to bring him out here.”
“Lay off the violence,” Tom chided good-humoredly. From the way his eyes lit up as soon as Ruby arrived, Richard could tell there was something more than friendship going on. He shook his head slightly, trying to get the thought out of his mind. The older brother act would have to wait; he had bigger fish to fry.
“Don’t you love him, Richard? Isn’t he gorgeous?” Ruby had already forgotten Tom’s infraction, and started to make faces at Matty, who giggled in response. “You look so natural holding him. Have you ever held a baby before, do you know what you’re meant to be doing?” She looked almost disappointed to have to stop and take a breath.
“I held you for hours when you were a baby. All clingy and whiny, not to mention constantly needing your diaper changed.” Richard raised his eyebrows at Ruby, and her cheeks flushed as she glanced across to see if Tom had heard. “So I think I’ll do fine.”
The day passed in a blur of diapers, food, and bright plastic toys. In between naps and play, Richard marveled at what must seem like a normal Wednesday to anybody else was like a day of miracles to him. His attention was constantly on his son, watching his chubby legs wobble as he ran from room to room, the constant need to rush seeming to be his main motivation in life. He was energetic right up until the moment tiredness hit, and suddenly, like an electronic toy whose battery had run out, he flagged and curled up in Hanna’s arms, sucking at his thumb and pointing at a book.
Hanna showed Richard how to run the bath to hit the right temperature, how to change Matty’s nappy so his constant wriggling didn’t cause a bigger mess. Everything she did seemed accompanied by a soundtrack of advice and experience, and part of him wanted to push her away and tell her to leave him alone. He was an intelligent guy, he was pretty sure he could handle an eighteen month old child.
Bedtime was perfect. Matty’s room had been decorated before Hanna gave birth, though she’d refused to find out the sex of the baby. It felt warm, and calm—like an island oasis after a storm. The two of them walked him into the nursery together, Hanna holding Matty tightly against her chest, and he lifted his head up and struggled until she lowered him down, letting his tiny feet touch the warm wooden floor.
He toddled over to the pale blue bookshelf, pulling out a well-worn dog-eared book and holding it out in front of him. Walking toward Richard, he offered it to him with an expression on his face that was hard to read.
“Story.” Like he knew Richard was a novice, Matty held out his hand, curling it around Richard’s, and together they walked over to the blue-and-cream plaid rocking chair next to his cot. Richard sat down, helping Matty as he clambered onto his knees, curling up on Richard’s lap with his thumb in his mouth.
He held Matty’s head against his chest, luxuriating in the warmth flowing through his veins. It was almost impossible to believe only two days earlier he hadn’t even known of Matthew’s existence. Now Matthew was Richard’s existence.
“Read,” his son commanded, and Richard suppressed a grin. He unfolded the cardboard book, being careful not to pull the paper away from the edges any more than they already had done, and began to read in a soft, deep tone.
“Once upon a time, in a land far away…”
He turned the pages, reading the words and sharing the pictures with Matty, watching as his son’s eyelids began to droop, his thick, pale lashes sweeping his face. Richard reached a hand out and gently cupped Matty’s cheek, feeling the softness of his skin and the plumpness of his tired smile. His heart clenched with the thought he’d always have him, always be able to hold him in his arms. Matty was his now, as much as he was Hanna’s, and he was determined never to let him go again.
Out of everything that had happened in the past twelve years, from the way they first met, to the way she had run away from him yet again, he couldn’t regret a single moment. Not if it had led to the birth of this child. No matter what he felt toward Hanna—or how he regarded her actions to date—he couldn’t bring himself to hate a woman who had nurtured Matthew in the way she had.
All day he’d watched the love spill over from her eyes as she watched their son, played with him, picked him up when he was crying and chastised him when he did something wrong. Every movement she made, every word she spoke, was with Matthew in mind.
He was clearly first in both their lives.
When Matthew was asleep, Richard kissed his soft, light brown hair before lifting him gently into his cot. Pulling the blanket over him until his body was covered, he lingered a moment longer, burning the image of his peaceful son into his mind so he could think about him all night.
Richard turned to leave, seeing Hanna standing by the door, tears pouring down her face. She was wringing her hands as she stared at the two of them. Part of him wanted to touch her, to pull her into his arms, but he didn’t want to give her false hope that all was well between them.
All was far from well.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“Not tonight.” He was firm. “I’m exhausted, I’m going to bed.”
“When then?” Hanna was persistent and his cool façade disappeared.
“On my schedule Hanna, not yours.” He was angry, and she shrunk away. “It’s been a hell of a day and I’ve got a lot to think about. Good night.”
“Good night.” Her words were faint and tremulous. It took everything he had to walk away.
But he did it, and he knew why. This wasn’t about them anymore. It wasn’t about a girl and a boy who were foolish enough to let love slip through their hands. It was about their son, a beautiful child who only deserved to know a life full of happiness and joy.
Matty was Richard’s life now, and nothing else was going to get in the way.
Twenty Four
May 18th 2012
The rain was beating down on the tiled roof, drumming like the hooves of a thousand horses. Hanna sighed loudly, watching as Matty ran from room to room, desperate in his need to expend some energy. The summer storm had started suddenly. The yellow-blue of the morning sky was quickly painted over by grey, the heaviness increasing until the clouds could no longer contain the rain. There was no gentle patter of raindrops against the window; the storm started as it meant to go on: hard and harsh.
Matty wasn’t an indoor child. He needed fresh air and grass and sand. He loved to explore, picking flowers and running after scurrying animals, squealing with frustration when they eluded his grasp. Being stuck inside was mere containment. The pressure of his unexpended energy seemed to grow until Hanna felt it could burst the roof off the house.
He was banging on the door to the orangery. Richard was inside, working on his laptop. He had muttered something about a video conference during another of their strained exchanges. Hanna pulled at Matty’s arm, hushing him as she tried to drag him away.
“No!” Matty’s face compressed with anger. Hanna swallowed hard and mustered up her mother-courage.
“Come away from the door, Matty.” Her voice was firm. It was something she had learned; firmness meant you were listened to.
“Not.” Matty shook his head and turned away again, hammering his fist against the wood. Hanna sighed and scooped him up, lifting him away from the door. For a moment Matty stared at her, his mouth agape as if he was surprised she had actually defied him. His lips trembled and his eyes shut tightly, a wail escaping his throat.
She tried to walk away as fast as she could, but Matty had surprisingly strong lungs. Only a moment later, Richard opened the door, walking out into the hall and gazing at her and Matty with a questioning look.
“Is he okay?” His voice was soft as he stared at his son.
“I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean to disturb you. He’s going stir crazy.”
It was killing her in small, measured stages. A glance here, a tightly polite word there. Every interaction with Richard was torture, from the mornings at the kitchen table feeding Matty, to the evenings when he brushed past her and went straight to his room.
Hanna was desperate to talk. She was dying to listen. She didn’t care if he wanted to vent, to tell her how much he hated her—he could shout and scream all he wanted to. She could take it, far better than she could take his intense, innate politeness.
He had been here for five days. Five days of walking on eggshells and tiptoeing around their future. It was like he knew this would be greater torture than shouting at her and berating her.
It was.
Matty started to struggle in her arms, wanting to be put down, and desperate to run over to his father. Richard advanced toward them, a smile tugging at his lips, and when he was only a few feet away Matty reached his chubby arms out, wriggling harder in Hanna’s grasp.
“Dad.” He was almost shouting. “Daddy.”
Hanna froze.
Her chest swelled, pressuring her ribs until she thought she was going to explode. She looked at Richard, noticing his watery eyes. She wanted to wipe the tears away before they formed.
“He said my name.”
Hanna nodded, her own tears escaping. Richard lifted Matty from her arms, pulling him tightly against his chest, cradling his son’s head in his large palm.
“Can you say it again, Matty?” He whispered. “Say ‘daddy.’”
Matty looked up at his father, his eyes sparkling as he realized it was another game. He was good at these.
“Daddy.” His words were rewarded with a squeal from Hanna and a kiss from Richard. They looked at each other again, and Hanna noticed a softness she hadn’t seen before. She wanted to wrap it around her body and snuggle within it.
“Such a clever boy.” She reached out her hand and stroked his head, his soft strands caressing her palm.
Richard continued to stare at her, and she could feel a blush creeping across her face. Like a magnet, she was drawn in, her own eyes stuck on his. Emotion bubbled within her like a just-opened bottle of champagne. He hadn’t forgiven her—she knew that much, and what was worse she could understand it—but she couldn’t quash the hope one day he might.
“I need to finish my conference.” Richard’s voice was thick with emotion. There was a tick in his jaw, and she wanted to cup her hand around his chiseled features and smooth out the tensio
n.
“I’ll take him,” she offered, reaching out her arms. Matty struggled and held tightly onto Richard. It made them both smile.
“He can come in with me, if that’s okay. It should only be a few minutes.” They were back to being polite.
Baby steps, she reminded herself.
“That’s fine. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” Ask me to join you. Please invite me in.
“We’ll be fine.” He turned around and walked back to the orangery, pulling the door open so he and Matty could walk inside. Hanna rolled her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched Richard’s retreating back, recalling the text message she’d received from Ruby that morning.
Give him time. He’s worth it.
WHEN EVENING CAME, Hanna’s body ached from polite smiles and walking on tiptoes. Over the past few days, they had fallen into a routine of eating dinner with Matty, followed by his bath and bedtime. Richard participated eagerly, his face glowing as he played with his son, running around the house and avoiding the elephant they both knew was there in the room.
“He’s asleep,” Richard whispered as he walked out of the nursery.
Hanna smiled and walked past him, knowing he would be heading right for his bedroom. She stopped at Matty’s cot, leaning over to stroke his peaceful face, her fingers lingering on the plump skin of his cheeks.
“Goodnight, sweet prince.” She kissed her middle and index finger before pressing them to his forehead. Bedtimes were always bittersweet; part of her was relieved, knowing at the end of a long day of running after him, she would have an evening of rest. The other half missed his smiles and giggles, and the sensation of his warm arms curling around her in love.
She walked quietly out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She was so caught up in her thoughts it took her a moment to realize Richard was still standing there, leaning against the wall. His hands were shoved in his pockets, the tendons of his arms tense and defined.
