by Leslie Pike
“Yes, sir. Would you like to see the matching necklace?”
“Sure. Let’s see what it looks like.”
He walks to the window display and reaches inside. I use the time to consult my jewelry expert. “What do you think? Is it too much to send two pieces?”
“No, I don’t think so. You just don’t want to be too matchy matchy, as my mother says.”
The salesman brings the jewelry and lays it on a black velvet pad on the counter.
“Pretty. I like the bracelet,” Bristol says.
“Me too. I’ll take it. Not the necklace.”
“Yes, sir. Can I gift wrap it for the lady?” When he says it he looks at Bristol.
“No, no. It’s not for me,” she says holding up her hand.
“It’s for my sister. Can I have it engraved?”
“Of course. What would you like it to say?”
I don’t hesitate with my answer. “From baby boy. Yeah. From baby boy.”
Chapter 16
Bristol
After a few weeks of Beauregard bliss, everyone’s settled down. Brick and January didn’t want to take advantage of my parents’ offer to stay at their place for the first week or two. No, it was never really considered. My brother and his beautiful wife wanted to experience every new moment in their own home.
I don’t blame them. But they may be rethinking the decision. It’s funny seeing the effect it’s had. Tonight things are at a fevered pitch. New parenthood looks every bit the challenge I’ve been told by every mother who’s passed through my practice.
Their eyes look tired. In fact, everything about them screams lack of sleep. For the first time since January moved in with Brick, the house is slightly unkempt.
There are random piles of laundry atop couches and counters, and a breast pump in the corner. I bet that’s killing my brother. He’s Mr. Neatnik. His clothes and home always a reflection of the moniker.
Brick’s showing signs of having burped the baby. I’ve seen baby spit up on his T-shirts on a regular basis. In fact, on every shirt he’s worn since the birth. January, on the other hand, looks as beautifully put together as ever. It’s just the circles under the eyes that give her away.
Coming directly from work today I brought them dinner from Le Lieu, their favorite restaurant. It was a good excuse to spend time with the baby. I have him all to myself as they dine.
I use the term loosely because January’s stretched out on the couch and Brick is in the club chair. They’re too pooped to sit at the table.
“Who’s the cutest boy in the room?” I coo at my lap mate.
“I’m pretty sure it’s me,” Brick says between bites.
“Maybe the second cutest. But it’s a close call,” January teases.
I lift Beau’s tiny hands in the air.
“No, Daddy. I win the contest. Look at my kewpie doll lips. Auntie Bristol is going to kiss them. Yes she is!”
“So, tell us about you and Sawyer. We’re out of the loop,” January asks.
“It’s all good. I told you about his sister, right?”
“Yeah, that’s amazing. Has he talked with her yet?”
“Not really. Because of the accident her jaw is wired. Not just that, but her right arm’s broken so she can’t text. You wouldn’t believe how many injuries she sustained.”
“Poor woman. She has a child?” January says.
“Kelly. She’s ten. Sawyer’s talked with her on the phone. They had a three-way conversation. Well, Anne listened.”
“We’ve been brainstorming how to make sure she’s well cared for. Her resources are limited. And the place she’s staying at isn’t on the Internet. When we Googled it all we saw were horrible reviews and grainy pictures people posted.”
“That’s disturbing,” January says.
“Yes. But he’s going to help her. Things are about to improve greatly for Anne Bradley.”
Standing, Brick takes his wife’s plate and his own to the kitchen counter. He turns his attention back to me. “It’s awesome for Sawyer. Man, for all of them.”
“We’re leaving tomorrow morning for Dallas. To get the lay of the land. Just for a couple of days.”
“That’s going to be so emotional. I could cry just thinking about it,” January says.
“January and I have cried more these last few weeks than in the previous ten years. We’re just a puddle of love,” Brick says taking Beauregard from my arms. He kisses the baby’s head and cheek and little hands. Never have I seen my brother so swept up in emotion. The making of a father. It’s beautiful.
“What happened to your trip?” January asks.
“There was just too much going on. Sawyer’s family, his work with the foster kids, my practice, all he needs to do to get ready for next year with the Mavericks. We decided to postpone what we could.”
“Make sure you save time for each other, Sister. Everything else is secondary,” Brick says, handing Beauregard to his mother’s open arms.
Brick’s words lingered in my mind long after I’d left their home. They put a spotlight on my feelings for Sawyer. I’m falling. Falling in love with the man I considered a boy. Losing any last hesitations. In fact, I can hardly remember what they were.
In a matter of months I’ve gone from a woman so sure of her independent status I never questioned it, to this. I never pictured myself being in the kind of relationship I have with Sawyer. He’s earned not only my love but my respect.
It’s shocking to realize he’s my true north.
And now, as we get closer to the McKinney rehab facility, I sense my hero’s nervousness. I reach for his hand. It’s cool.
“How you feeling? Little nervous?”
“Feels like hamsters on a wheel inside my stomach.”
“Me too. It’ll be fine. I’ll be right by you.”
“There it is,” he says.
I don’t want to mention the place looks rundown and the very opposite of a place you’d come to heal. But I don’t have to, Brick’s face says it all.
“What a shithole. Crap.”
“I’m not sure what I expected but it wasn’t this. It looks worse than the photos.”
He parks the car in the adjacent empty lot dotted with potholes. It’s painfully obvious these patients don’t get many visitors.
“She’s not staying here, I’ll tell you that,” he says firmly.
“The insides won’t look any better, so brace yourself,” I say getting out of the car.
He takes my hand and we walk to the entry. The glass door is so dirty you can’t see through it. Only a sliver of clear glass reveals the so-called lobby.
Walking in is like entering your worst nightmare. Some rehab facilities are truly that, maybe one or two floors of a retirement home. Sometimes they’re part rest home part rehab. But this, this is hell. A tired assistant or tech or nurse sits at the front desk. She’s wearing a tracksuit. Her eyes take us in as we approach, but quickly look back to her phone.
Brick speaks up. “Anne Bradley. Where can we find her?”
There’s no rush to the woman’s answer. She finishes her game or text or whatever the hell she’s doing. “Is she a patient?” she says not looking up.
“You don’t know who your patients are?” I couldn’t help myself.
“I haven’t been here long. And I doubt I’ll be here much longer.” When she finally looks at our faces she adds, “Booooring.”
There’s a handwritten list on a worn piece of paper which she scans. “Oh yeah, she’s here. Room one one three.”
“Which way?” Brick says without an ounce of patience.
“Um, let’s see,” she stumbles on her words.
“We’ll find it,” he says taking my hand and leading me away. There’s no waiting.
As soon as we turn the corner he lets loose. “She’s fucking out of here today. This is criminal.”
We’re eyeing the room numbers as we walk.
“Calm down. It’s not that easy. I know the sys
tem and sometimes there’s a waiting list or application process. It may take weeks.”
“Fuck. If Anne doesn’t go along with what I think is the best option, I’m going to figure it out. Money always talks.”
“Here it is,” I say stopping short of the door.
His face flushes with the realization what he’s waited for all these years is just inside the door. “Okay. I’m good. Here we go.”
He knocks on the door and walks in ahead of me. We discussed it in the car and decided it was his face she should see first. But I’m right behind.
The moment is monumental. There on an uncomfortable looking bed lies Anne. Arm and leg in casts, jaw still wired shut, a bruised body head to toe. But her hair is freshly washed and brushed, most likely a job done by her friend.
The look in her eyes is sheer joy. Like in her mind she’s running into his arms. It rises above the physical and flows from her to Sawyer. Tears. All three of us are crying. And she’s making the only sound she can. Kind of a whine like a wounded animal. But I’m pretty sure she’s calling him.
My hand lifts to my mouth, covering the sob that wants to escape as Sawyer goes to her side. He sits as gently as possible on the creaky bed and lifts her good hand. He kisses it.
Oh God, I’m dying here. It’s so poignant.
Anne is saying everything with her eyes. The same color as Sawyer’s. She’s been waiting forever too. It’s obvious she never stopped thinking of him all these years apart.
“Anne. I’ve been looking for you all my life. I never forgot you.” He chokes the words out.
Her answer is a vigorous nodding and a squeeze of his hand. She lifts it to her lips and does what she can to give a pretend kiss. Then she rests it against her face.
“Do you have the hankies?” he says to me.
I get them from my purse. One for him and one for myself.
“Here.”
He dabs first Anne’s face and then his own.
“I’m pretty sure last time we were together there were tears too.”
Anne points to her side table where a pad and pen lay.
“You want to write?”
She nods and takes ahold of them as they’re passed. Balancing the pad on her lap she slowly works on writing the message with her left hand. She turns it to face Sawyer.
Cried for you.
Sawyer nods, presses his lips together, then kisses her hand again.
“Me too. For you.”
Then he turns to me and for the first time since we got here, smiles.
“This is Bristol. I told you about her. Bristol, this is my beautiful sister, Anne.”
Anne’s eyes roll to the heavens, contradicting her brother’s assessment of her current look.
Moving closer to her bed I lightly touch her hand, but in response she squeezes mine. And her eyes are smiling behind the tears.
“I’d like to speak with your doctors, Anne. I’d like Bristol to speak with them too. She’s a physician herself. A pediatrician.”
Anne looks at me and nods her head.
“Good,” Brick says. “I want to help you in any way I can. We can start with this. I’d like to have you moved to another facility. A better one. You think that’s a good idea?”
Quickly she writes her response.
Please! When?
“There’s two places you need to see. We brought a few brochures for you to look at. Bristol offered to speak to the management of both places if you want.”
Anne nods her head and her eyes shimmer through the tears.
“But there’s a third option you should consider. I think it’s the best one, but the decision is yours.”
There’s question in her expression.
“You could go home.”
We let the idea settle for a moment. She raises a palm and a line forms between her brows.
“We could hire round the clock nurses, a physical therapist and coordinate with the doctors about your appointments.”
She starts to cry. Hard. It freaks out Sawyer, who anticipated only joy. But I get it. They’re tears of joy and appreciation.
I come to her side and pull a chair up so I can be at her eye level.
“Tell her the best part, Sawyer.”
“I know how much you’re missing being around your daughter. If you decide to go home, she could be with you. I asked Maria not to mention it to Kelly yet, but I’m thinking it’ll make her happy too.”
Anne writes while Sawyer wipes her runny nose.
House small. Nurse sleep?
“The nurses will be on two twelve-hour shifts. They won’t need a bedroom. Kelly will have her same room and you’ll have yours. A housekeeper will cook for you and take care of the house. Maria says she knows a woman who would love to have the work. She’ll even grocery shop for you.
If you can think of anything else that would help you, let me know. I’m just a phone call away. I’ll get or do whatever it takes to make things work. You’re my family. Please let me do this for you, Anne. I know if I was hurt, you’d be there for me.”
She looks at Sawyer with such love and gratitude it almost takes my breath away. Pen to paper she writes and holds up for him to read.
Baby boy.
Most days are spent on the minutiae of life. The details that seem inconsequential. Even big moments pass by before there’s time to take them in. But once in awhile something magical happens. You’re aware of the grace in the moment. This is one of those times.
The heartfelt longing has evaporated. In its place comes a natural ease with each other. It doesn’t matter that she can’t speak or hardly move. The fact they haven’t been in each other’s company in twenty-six years doesn’t faze either one. They are back together.
It’s one of my life’s greatest privileges to witness their joy.
Chapter 17
Sawyer
September snuck up on me. Probably because I’m so damn busy every minute. Not that there’s a thing to complain about. My life is sweet as sin. Sleeping at Bristol’s most evenings kicks my days off right. The nights spent under her down quilt speak for themselves.
Team Anne is working smoothly. Better than anticipated. There’s lots of moving parts to her care. God bless Maria, who oversees the schedules, nurses, housekeeper, and Kelly’s needs. It’s only been three weeks but I’m hopeful it’s all going to work out.
This last game of the season was today, and it felt like it couldn’t come quicker. Especially knowing what Atticus and I had become. I’m itching to see what my second season brings. With the new power hitter and third baseman joining the lineup we could go all the way.
There’s been an excitement building. The fans have accepted our fate this year and are already thinking ahead. They see what’s coming. Just hope we can fulfill their dreams.
It was fun having my favorite young friend Jude watching from the suite. He’s begun to relax and have actual conversations with the other people. That kid is special. I’ve grown attached.
Now we’re all enjoying an end of the season impromptu party at the Swifts. It’s a madhouse of players and family, kids and coaches.
“Sawyer! Over here!” someone calls.
Before I can answer or make eye contact with anyone, my cell sounds. Anne. Which means Maria.
“I’m going to get this,” I say to Bristol. “I’ll be back.”
I return to the relative quiet of the hall outside the dining room.
“Hi, Maria.”
“It’s your sister.”
I’m shocked into an excited state. Is this real?
“Anne?”
“Yes,” she says softly. “They removed the wires this morning. But I just couldn’t wait any longer to at least say hello and thank you.”
Oh. She has a delicate voice and not just because she’s speaking softly. It’s sweet like a young girl’s.
“Your voice,” I say feeling the lump in my throat rise.
“Don’t make me start crying again, brother.”
But I think she’s doing just that.
“Okay. I’m fine.” I inhale a calming breath.
“Maybe if you have the time you can call me later. I’m only able to speak for short periods.”
“I will. Definitely. And I want to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I love you. Never stopped.”
“Me too! I’ve waited to say those words for twenty-six years. I love you more than you could know, Sawyer.”
I’m grinning like a baboon.
“I’m going to call you later, when I get home. I’ll text you.”
“All right. I’m going to say I love you one more time before we go. Okay?”
I chuckle with her question. “Yeah. Do it.”
“I love you.”
“And I love you right back, sister.”
She disconnects and my heart couldn’t feel any fuller than it does right now. All is right with the world.
Stepping back into the party, I’m hit with the noise level. It’s the pent-up energy of the final game.
“Sawyer, over here!”
Lucinda waves me over through the crowd of people.
“It’s a party,” I say leaning in for a kiss on her cheek.
“It’s the Atticus and Sawyer effect, darlin’. Next year you’ll be in the playoffs.”
“God willing. It can’t come fast enough for me.”
“Here’s a little libation for you, son.”
I take the Gentleman Jack.
“Thank you, Davis. Where’s Birdie hiding? I want to say hello.”
“She’s over there with the boy. I lost her the minute she knew Jude was here.”
“That kid’s easy to be around. Bristol and I have gotten to know him well. He reminds me of myself when I was his age.”
“How so?” Lucinda asks.
“There’s some sadness there. But he doesn’t like to talk much.”
“He’s a foster child, right?”
“Yes. His current home is his third, but far as I can tell it’s a secure happy home. But that can become its own issue. It’s most likely temporary. He knows that.”
