by Debby Mayne
“We’ll have to keep praying.” I sigh. “I’m sure he’ll have a long road of recovery ahead of him.”
“He will. I told Sara that between you and me and anyone else in the family who wants to help, she’ll have all the support she needs.” She pauses and lets out a soft chuckle. “Maybe more than she wants. You know how our family can be when someone needs help.”
“I do.”
“And I trust you’ll be right there by Sara’s side through everything.”
“Yes, of course.” Exhaustion overwhelms me. “I need to go take a nap. Let Sara know that I’ll be back at the hospital in a few hours.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“Mama?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“I love you.”
“Well, you know how much I adore you and your sister.”
I do know that. Sometimes I think she stays busy with her committees because she’s still not sure what to do with twins—even after all these years—and the committee people provide stability and something more predictable in her life. I imagine it’s difficult for anyone but another set of twins to understand our relationship.
After we hang up, I set the alarm on my phone, take off my shoes, and plop down on the sofa. I must have fallen asleep immediately, because that’s the last I remember before the beeping sound wakes me up. I start to push the Snooze button, but I remember Sara being at the hospital with Justin.
I get a drink of water before calling her. She answers right away.
“How’s Justin?”
“He’s sleeping now, but we had a nice little conversation when he woke up. Then the doctor came in and told him he needed some rest, so I’ve been sitting here watching him sleep.”
I’m not sure it’s a good idea to ask this yet, but I decide I might as well. “What does the doctor say? Will he be okay?”
“He says we’ll know more in a couple of days. He’s guarded but hopeful.”
“Do you want me to bring you anything?”
“Can you stop off at Sonic on the way here? I’m craving one of their cheeseburgers and a limeade.”
I laugh. “Yes, of course. Do you want fries?”
“What do you think?”
The teasing tone in her voice gives me some relief after watching her grieve over fear for her husband’s life just a few hours ago.
It takes me a half hour to go to Sonic and get to the hospital. All the way from the parking lot to Justin’s room I pray for him, my sister, his doctors, and all the nurses who are taking care of him. I arrive in time to see Sara tenderly stroking his arm.
She glances up and smiles at me, but I catch a tiny tear trickling down her cheek. “I’m starving.”
I hold out the bag and walk over to look at Justin. To my surprise, his eyes are open, and he’s watching me.
“Well, hello there, brother-in-law. You gave us quite a scare.” I have to work hard at keeping my tone light.
The hint of a smile plays on his lips, and then he grimaces. My heart aches for both him and Sara, but I try hard not to show my feelings.
“We need you to get better soon so you can come back to the condo and take care of us.” I make a sad face. “As much as I hate to admit it, I miss your cooking.”
I see Sara’s movement out of the corner of my eye, so I turn toward her. She’s holding up a finger like she wants to tell me something.
“Why don’t you try to get some rest now so you can go home soon?” I watch Justin close his eyes before I walk over to the tiny table by the recliner where my sister is eating.
“Pull up a seat.” She points to a chair in the corner, so I do as I’m told. “They’ve done some scans of his brain, and they don’t think there’s any permanent damage. They’ll know after the swelling goes down.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I know.” Sara takes another small bite of her cheeseburger, chews it, and swallows before leaning back. “Justin and I were talking before this happened, and he said he actually likes living in the condo.”
“What are you saying?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know if this is the best time to tell you.”
“Now that you’ve brought it up, you don’t have a choice.” I tilt my head forward and give her one of those looks that mean business.
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, so we were thinking we might stay longer than we originally planned, and now I think we’ll have to. I don’t want to add any stress when he comes home.”
That sounds good, but there is a new little person coming soon, and we don’t have room. “How about the baby?”
Sara closes her eyes and moves her lips like she’s praying, and then she looks directly at me. “That’s the problem we’re trying to solve. This place is plenty big enough for the three of us, but once the baby comes . . .”
As we get deeper into this conversation, I realize she’s thinking something she’s not saying. “Okay, spill it, Sara. What’s on your mind?”
“I don’t know if this is the best time to tell you . . .” Her voice trails off as she looks toward her husband.
“What? Just say it.”
She takes a deep breath, flinches, and blurts, “We were thinking you could move out and let us stay in the condo.”
Ever since Puddin’ told me about the pot in Brett’s room, I’ve been haunted by awful thoughts about Julius. He’s always been somewhat of a rebel. Bucky thinks it’s a good thing, and most of the time I do too. But there are times when we need to rein him in.
“Aw, don’t break the boy’s spirit.” Bucky chuckles. “He’s just tryin’ things. That’s normal.”
“It’s illegal, Bucky. I don’t want my son winding up in jail, and at the rate he’s going, I’m not so sure—”
He tilts his head forward and gives me one of his hooded looks. “You think a little bag of pot at his age will land him in jail?”
“It might.” I lift my chin.
Bucky laughs. “Don’t give me that, Marybeth. Even you’re not that stupid.”
I bristle. “So you think I’m stupid?”
“Nah, you’re not stupid. In fact, you married me, so I reckon you’re pretty smart.” He gives me what he seems to think is an attractive look, but it makes me cringe. “Wanna do something tomorrow night, just the two of us?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
He rolls his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, so what if Puddin’ is right and the pot belongs to Julius? We don’t need other people stickin’ their noses all up in our business.”
“But it is their business. Why would he leave the bag of it in Brett’s room?” I would have taken Julius straight over there and had him apologize, but Bucky said no—that would just be an admission of guilt.
“Look, Marybeth. You and I both know it’s normal for boys his age to try stuff like that.”
“It might be normal, but it’s still not right. We never did anything like that.”
Bucky gives me a slight head bob. “That’s what kids do these days.”
“I simply don’t buy that, Bucky. Like I said, it’s illegal.” My heart hurts at the very thought of my son using illegal substances. “Just because—”
He holds up a finger to shush me. “You heard me, Marybeth. I can deal with him. We don’t need to get the rest of my family involved.”
“In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Julius has already gotten the rest of your family involved by leaving the stuff on Brett’s dresser.”
“How do we know it was Julius?” Bucky tilts his head in the other direction as though he’s trying to see things from a different angle. “Maybe it’s Brett’s weed, and he’s lyin’ to his folks.”
I disagree with Bucky, but he’s so prideful when it comes to his family that I know he’ll argue until the cows come home, and I’ll never get my way. But I have to make at least one more effort, and I use a little psychology to try to sway him.
“Between the two of them, Julius has alwa
ys been the leader, so maybe—” I shrug when I see Bucky’s expression changing and closing me out. He’ll never listen to me.
It really bugs me that Bucky still thinks he did something to get all this stuff. He went from being the very sweet, unassuming man I fell in love with almost twenty years ago to having a head as big as our mansion and snobbery pouring out of his mouth with almost every single word. When something goes wrong, it’s always someone else’s fault. Those thoughts keep rattling around in my head, and I’m struggling to find a way to get back the man I fell in love with and not some spoiled-rotten rich guy who always has to have his way.
I know people see me in the same way, but all I’m trying to do is present a united front. It’s hard, though, when I know people in his family probably blame me. At least that’s how it would be with my family, who refuses to let me bring Bucky around anymore. Mama says he’s gotten too big for his britches. Daddy says he needs a session behind the woodshed to beat some sense into his brain from the other end. Daddy has warned me that if we don’t get a grip on Julius’s behavior now, we’ll be spending all our oil money bailing him out of jail.
As much as I love my son, I’m afraid he’s turning out to be one of those rich kids who don’t seem to have a conscience. No matter how much we give him, he wants more. Bucky actually went out and bought him a brand-new car that he wrecked the second week he had it. And then Bucky went out and bought him another one with the insurance money.
When I kicked up a fuss about it, Bucky gave me a look of disbelief. “I thought you were getting sick and tired of totin’ him around.”
“I am . . . I was, but you keep rewarding him for bad behavior.”
I look back on that conversation and realize I need to be more forceful, or we’ll lose our son. As it is, I can’t even talk to him without worrying he’ll try to pull something over on me.
Bucky keeps saying how bright Julius is. “He’s a whole lot smarter than me and you.” He chuckles as though our son has never done anything wrong.
He might be right about Julius being bright, but I prefer for our son to use his smarts for something that will make the world a better place, not to pull fast ones on his parents and everyone else around him. I would say that to Bucky, but he’ll keep having comebacks until I’m left with nothing to say, or I run out of energy.
With Bucky’s family reunion coming up soon, I need to get my thoughts ironed out. It’s not like I have a choice about going, since it will be here at our house. I sure do wish I hadn’t let my mother-in-law talk me into hosting it. One of the issues is that our house is not only grand and lavishly decorated, it’s big enough to hold the entire Bucklin family and all their plus-ones.
I actually like a lot of his kinfolk, and I think they used to like me. But that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. I’ve picked up a few hints that they all think I’m the snobby one, and it rubbed off on Bucky. The truth of the matter is that he feels like he has something to prove to his family. He used to be the jokester among the cousins, so no one ever took him seriously. As much as he hates to admit it, that bugged him to no end. Now he thinks they look up to him, but even I can tell that’s not the case. They look at him and shake their heads when he turns his back—something I suspect they do to me too.
At this point, it’s probably too late to change Bucky’s and my image, but I feel like I need to do something for Julius. I’d hate for him to grow up being the “bad cousin”—the one no one else wants to hang out with, or worse, the one they don’t claim to be related to.
For the first time in our marriage, I decide to go behind Bucky’s back and appeal to the two people who seem to have their heads screwed on straight and might actually listen to me—Shay and Puddin’. Yeah, I know Puddin’ is still ticked off about what she found in Brett’s room, but I think that if I grovel enough, I might get her attention.
After Julius goes to school and Bucky takes off for wherever he goes every day, I pick up my phone and punch in the number of La Chic. I’m relieved when Shay answers.
“I need to start looking for holiday clothes. Do y’all have anything in my size?”
She lets out a good-natured laugh. “Marybeth, you are the perfect size, so you shouldn’t have a bit of trouble finding the perfect outfits. Can you come in today?”
“Yes, in fact, today is the only day I can come.”
“Want me to pull some things before you get here?”
I think for a few seconds. “Thanks, but no. I’d like to just wander around and look. Will Puddin’ be there?”
“She should be here after she gets Jeremy to school. He threw something into the toilet this morning, so she had to wait for the plumber.”
I laugh. I remember those days when Julius’s mischief was more focused on Bucky and me. I wish our problems with him were still that simple.
“I’ll see you in a little while.” After I hang up, I rock back on my heels and try to think of how to approach the topic I want to address. I find a notepad and jot a few thoughts before slipping it into my purse and heading out the door.
I hate the fact that Bucky insists on buying me a brand-spankin’-new luxury car every single solitary year when the new models come out. I’d be just fine with something more understated and keeping it for several years.
He gives me some “spendin’ money” every month that I don’t have to account for. It’s way more than I need, so I’ve been socking some of it away in an account that’s only in my name. Even though the oil company seems to think there’s a lifetime supply of oil, I know anything can happen, and I don’t want to be caught penniless. I reckon my pauper roots run deep.
I see Puddin’s car parked at the curb in front of the shop. My hands sweat as I park behind it, but I can’t let my case of nerves stop me from doing what I need to do.
As awkward as it feels, I apologize to God for not going to church as much as I should, and then I pray for guidance. Maybe it’s just me, but when I open my eyes, I feel a little bit better. With a slightly shaky hand, I open the car door and get out, hesitating long enough to catch my breath that’s also wobbly.
As I walk up to the front door, I look up at Puddin’, who’s standing by the door, and see her eyes pop open wide. She narrows her eyes, juts her chin, and glares at me. I don’t blame her for not wanting to see me, but I can’t let that get to me.
My nerves are so rattled that the bell on the door seems to jingle louder than normal. Shay walks around from behind the counter to greet me while Puddin’ darts to the back room.
“Can I talk to you?” I ask, my voice barely audible, even to me. “Both of you?”
Before Shay has a chance to answer, Puddin’ hollers from the back room, “Tell her I don’t want to talk to her.”
Shay gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
I try to stop my hands from shaking, but it’s impossible. I still have to plow forward. “I’m the one who should be sorry. Puddin’, please let’s talk.” I look directly at Shay, whose smile has faded. “I really need help from both of you. My family is in trouble, and I’m fit to be tied.”
I’m blown away by how resilient Justin is. Not only has he come off the life support machines, he’s sitting up in bed asking for some of the meatballs Shay taught me how to make before the last family reunion.
“I’ll bring you some next time I visit.” I turn to Sara, who hasn’t left her vigil next to Justin since he arrived. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
“I don’t—”
Justin interrupts her. “I agree with Sally. You need to go home, take a long hot bath, and get some sleep.”
I look at my brother-in-law and smile. He keeps getting better the longer I know him.
“Sally will stay here and make sure I behave,” Justin continues.
Sara tilts her head and glances back and forth between Justin and me. I can tell she wants to get away for a little while, but she’s not sure she should do it.
I put my arm around h
er and walk her to the door, picking up her purse on the way. Before I have a chance to give that one last shove, she turns around to face me. “Thank you so much, Sally. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Go on, get out of here.”
She sniffles and nods. As she turns to leave, I glance over my shoulder and see Justin watching us with interest.
Once she’s gone, I pull a chair up next to Justin’s bed. “So, how’re you feeling?”
“Miserable. I’m still not sure what happened.”
“A car fell on you, and you hit your head pretty hard.”
“Yeah, I know that.” He reaches up and touches the bandages on his head. “Funny thing is I don’t even remember going to work that day.”
“There’ll probably be a lot of things you don’t remember, but that might not be a bad thing.”
He chuckles. “Maybe, but I do know one thing. I love Sara with all my heart, and I’ll do anything to keep her happy.”
“Getting better will make her happier than anything else you can do right now.”
He smiles and then grimaces. “I’m workin’ on it.”
I tip my head forward and look at him for a few seconds, wondering if I should bring up the fact that she’s carrying his baby. Yeah, I think it’s okay. “Do you remember that she’s pregnant?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to remember. I knew there was something.”
I laugh. “At least you remembered there was something.”
He scrunches up his face. “It’s so hard, though. I don’t want Sara to have to go through it alone.”
I pat his arm. “That’s why you have to do whatever it takes to get better.”
“Oh, trust me, I will.”
A very professional woman holding a clipboard walks into the room. I’m not sure who she is, but she clearly means business.
She brushes past me as she smiles at Justin. “Mr. Peterson, I understand you are one very lucky man.”
