by Grea Warner
“Bethany wrote it. A man named Finn is singing it,” he corrected.
“Like Mommy sang,” Sallie said.
“Yeah. Mommy didn’t write her own stuff. Bethany does,” Ryan stated and hit the volume up a few notches. “Shhh! Let her enjoy it.”
As the kids hushed, it was taking a lot for me not to sing along. After all, I knew the words more intimately than even Finn Murphy did. And even though he had sent me his final recording, I didn’t know when I would have the experience of hearing it like the world was. It was my first song ... my first break. And I knew since a few others were sold after that song, I would get more experiences like the one on the way to the zoo. But nothing was going to ever top the emotional feelings exploding inside my body at that moment.
“Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh,” I murmured over and over again as I continued to bounce in the car.
“Lenay.” Ryan lightly chuckled. “Do I need to pull this car over?”
I laughed at his dad comment and tried to stop my movements, as well as my near hyperventilation, as the song came to a close. “I—”
“I liked it,” Sallie chimed in from the back seat as Joel pretended to play air guitar.
“Wait, listen to what the DJs are saying.” Ryan actually turned the volume up a little further.
I caught the male disc jockey’s voice midstream. “That’s his latest ... just-released single. Sure to be another bona fide Finn Murphy hit.”
The female DJ seemed to agree. “Y’all, there’s something special about that one, though. The lyrics? They really got to me.”
“I think he worked with a different songwriter, maybe?” the other radio personality suggested. “But, anywho, you know what we have to do right now? Right now, what we need is caller number twenty. Be caller twenty into the station and you’ll win a pair of tickets to Country Fest next weekend. Good luck.”
As the station went to commercial, Ryan turned the radio off completely. “How do you feel?” he asked me.
“Excited ... nervous ... in shock,” I admitted. “Like maybe you really should pull the car over because I am going to pee my pants.”
“Gross!” Joel screeched.
“She’s not really going to, Joel!” Sallie vehemently denied but then added, “Are you?”
“No.” I laughed. “No.”
“You should be excited, especially with the comments after. People will be searching online to find out who wrote it.” Ryan rubbed my leg.
“That’s the part that makes me nervous.” I felt a cringe ripple through my body.
“Good,” he surprisingly agreed, and I looked over at his sweet but serious face. “Don’t lose that. Remember what this feels like. Keep loving it for the reasons you do—the magic ... the power of how you put words together with music.”
“I don’t care if anyone searches me. I know. I know those are my words. And I know it has made people happy. That’s exactly how I want it.”
Ryan actually did pull the car over to the side of the road. The kids started asking if we were at the zoo. But we weren’t. We were in the park and nearly there but not actually. I guess Ryan couldn’t wait, though. He leaned in my direction, put both hands on my cheeks, and kissed me so dang sweetly.
I looked into his sparkling eyes and then back to the kids, who were used to us smooching but maybe not that dramatically. The weekend was seeming to turn around. One step ... one day ... one surprise song on the radio ... at a time. That was all we could hope for.
Chapter Twelve
Ryan got home from work later than usual that Monday. Since he had taken off most of our “honeymoon” week and also for the impromptu trip to Iowa, he had a lot of catching up to do. Plus, he had a catered dinner meeting.
He found me in the kitchen, where I was finishing making a lasagna for our dinner the following day. “Hi,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
Before I could echo, I noticed the small box in his open hand. “Ryan, what is that?”
“Come on, you know by now.”
I turned around so we were face-to-face but still very close. When he officially presented me with the box, I said. “There isn’t a special occasion.”
“Oh, yes, there was.”
“Wha—”
“Open it up, Lenay.”
I smiled softly and opened the box. I loved getting his special charms for my rapidly growing bracelet, and I think he enjoyed picking them out almost as much. A tiny silver and blue radio lay flush on the cotton inside the box. It was perfect—just like the key representing the house, the heart for our love, the ring for our engagement, the guitar for our meeting, and the original Napa wine bottle.
“First song on the radio,” I acknowledged. “How’d you get it so fast?”
“Had it ready and on standby in the desk at my office.”
I slightly shook my head before kissing him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He smiled. “So, what’s going on here? Everything at camp go okay?”
“Yeah. I thanked Hazel for everything on Friday. I guess you did, too, when you dropped the kids off this morning.”
“Uh-huh.” He opened up the refrigerator door, seeing I wanted to slide the lasagna in. “Did she tell you—”
“That you put my name on the emergency cards?” Food mission accomplished, I closed the fridge door. “Yeah. Thanks, Ry. I felt so helpless when everything happened.”
He kissed me again. “I got rid of Irene, too.”
“What?”
“Yeah, Maks is the third contact. Enough of her bull.”
I couldn’t blame him. For as much as Irene supposedly cared, neither she nor Ed had tried to contact Ryan all weekend to double-check on Joel. Of course, she knew before leaving the hospital that her grandson was okay. But if it were me, I would have followed up or at least tried to. Being dismissed by Ryan the way she had, though, surely riled Irene’s stubborn feathers up.
“Come on.” I took his hand. “Something else came up, and I need to show you.”
“Awww, really? On a scale of beer to wine to hard liquor, how bad?”
“Water’s not even an option anymore, huh?” I joked.
“No.” He sighed. “It doesn’t seem to be.”
We walked into the living room, and I pulled up the information on my tablet. I wanted Ryan to be able to see it on a large, clear screen. And while I could have forwarded it to him while he had been at work, I knew it was something we should discuss in person.
“Oh,” he practically whispered after reading it.
“Yeah. I overheard one of the moms—I think it was someone in Sallie’s class—talking to Hazel about it at camp today. It sounds like a lot of kids are going. You didn’t know anything about it?”
“No.” He stared at the screen again, as if he didn’t believe it the first time.
“I mentioned it to Rebecca. She texted the principal. They’re in some group or something together.”
“Uh-huh.” I’m sure Ryan wasn’t interested in the social dynamic of the situation but rather if our next-door neighbor would have the connections to fix the latest Thompson dilemma.
“The principal told Rebecca that Kari signed the kids up for it.”
Ryan reached his hands to the back of his neck and cracked. “Do the kids know about it?”
“I don’t know. They haven’t mentioned it, right? So, either they forgot, or Kari never said anything. I’m sure it was right before she ... she died.” It was even hard for me to say those words. “But it’s this Thursday.”
“Is it only moms? No dads?” He was asking the same questions I had.
“No dads. Your reading festival date is later in the summer. This one is just for moms. Or, if not ... a grandma.”
“Oh, heeeeck no.” His face practically jerked up in disgust. “The thought of Irene—"
“I know.” I paused for the slightest of seconds and then asked what I had been tossing around in my mind since shortly after
I found out. “Ry? I don’t know if they’ll let me or if you would want me to, but I could do it with Sallie and Joel.”
I wasn’t their mom or grandma or aunt or even stepmom. That had been well documented at the hospital and by Irene herself. And I knew no matter what outcome would be decided, a mommy-and-me afternoon at school to promote summertime reading would surely stir up emotions. But seeing my fiancé’s face instantly relax into a warm, serene smile, helped.
“Even if they don’t know now,” I continued. “I think they’re going to find out when all their friends go and talk about it. I don’t want them to feel different. I want them to feel loved. I can leave work a little early, pick them up, and go to the school together. I just didn’t know how you wanted to handle it. Or, if it is even the right thing to do. And I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”
“You are not stepping on anyone’s toes,” he said vehemently. “You are a—”
“Daddy!” Joel entered the room in typical Joel style—with lightning speed and excessive energy.
“Hey ... hey ... hey ... hold on a minute.” Ryan put his hand out. “I’m talking with Bethany. At least say, ‘excuse me.’”
“Excuse me,” he obediently replied, standing in front of the two of us.
“All right.” Ryan looked at me and then gave in to his son, knowing our conversation had to be put on hold. “What’s going on?” But when the five-year-old shrugged and almost comically scrunched the one side of his face, Ryan shook his head. “You don’t remember?”
“I came to see you.”
“Oh, okay.” Ryan ruffled Joel’s moppy hair that needed a cut. “How was your day?”
“Good,” he answered simply.
“Always good,” Ryan replied.
I wondered if he realized the kids had already learned how to respond to that question like adults—a generic “good,” which was not always the truth. And what was good for the Thompson kids? Would their world ever truly be good again?
To further add to my analysis, Ryan acknowledged the quieter—by far—of his children, who had snuck in behind her brother. “Hey, Tink.”
Sallie, who was standing a little off to the side, walked up and adhered to her father. “Hi, Daddy.”
It was her turn to be thankful that Ryan had returned once again. It was the little things that showed vulnerability and fear and loss. It was the unspoken things.
“Where are the Radcliffe rugrats?” Ryan asked as he released his hold from Sallie.
“What’s a rugrat?”
“It—” Ryan started to answer his son only to be interrupted by him.
“Like the cartoon?”
“No. Well, yeah.” An exasperated Ryan decided to drop it. “Nothing, Joel.”
“They’re in the family room.” Sallie spoke of our next-door neighbor’s two children, similarly aged as Sallie and Joel.
“Rebecca and Kingston said they should be back around nineish,” I added.
“Who knew they were such Trekkie fans to celebrate their anniversary with a satire cabaret?” As Ryan shook his head, I wondered when our new anniversary date was actually going to be and what we would do—it seemed so out of reach right then with everything happening nonstop. “Come on, kiddos. You’re not being very good hosts. Let’s all go to the family room.” Ryan touched my hand and whispered, “I’ll talk with their school if you’re sure.”
“Yeah.” I nodded but then made a request. “Can you deal with the kids right now for a little bit?”
“Huh? Sure. Why? What’s up? Kids, go ahead. I’ll meet you in the family room.”
As Sallie and Joel scuttled off—secure once again—I answered Ryan, “I want to go for a run.”
Ryan’s eyebrows shot up in clear surprise and amusement. “You’re gonna run?”
I admitted to a more realistic version, since I had never tried running as a sport or any form of exercise before. In fact, the most I did was walking, some light weights, and Yoga. “Jog ... try ... whatever. Just around the neighborhood. I’ll take Lyric. He already needs out with the overstimulation of now four kids.”
“Yeah, don’t know how my parents did it. Two are already enough to manage.”
“Right?” I gave credence to his thoughts. “All right,” I continued. “Need that jog. Having this dream kitchen at my disposal all the time is threatening to add miles to my hips. And I don’t want you teasing me when I’m in my thirties,” I recalled the comment he made to me at his brother’s winery, which was my first indication he truly saw us in for the relationship long haul.
“But I like teasing you.” He smirked.
“Right back at you.” Before I went upstairs to change into suitable running gear, I smiled and said, “‘Tennessee Whiskey.’”
“Huh?” He had yet to move.
“Not about what kind of drink level the school news was. It’s what song I’m feeling right now.”
His smile was as smooth, sweet, and warm as the lyrics I was referring to. “You win,” he admitted. “Much better than what I was literarily humming in my head.”
“What?”
“It’s just another manic Monday.”
I laughed. “But equally as true.”
***
It felt nerve-wracking—like every neighbor was watching me, although few were out. It felt exhilarating listening to the tunes invade my ears as my feet pounded the pavement. It felt exhausting. It felt good. It felt torturous. It felt like a breath of fresh air.
Running felt like all of those things. And even though I legitimately might have put on a pound or two, the real reason I wanted to explore the outdoors was that I needed a short Bethany escape. I needed a chance to be by myself—and my furry frisky friend—to relax, think, and release my thoughts.
The summer reading event was the latest in the domino effect of how Kari’s death changed everything. I knew offering to take Sallie and Joel was the right thing to do. But it was another stress. It was something that should have been an easy and fun event for the kids to attend but was now riddled with possible sadness and isolation. Because of my allergy, I knew how it felt to be different from your peers, and that was the last thing I wanted for Ryan’s kids. I hoped the decision for me to attend would be the opposite ... but one never knew.
I felt better after my experimental run ... at least mentally. But, physically? First of all, I was a sweaty mess. And, second, as I climbed the steps to the master bedroom, I could already tell there would be residual pain the following day from using muscles that were infrequently tested. I gingerly sat on the edge of the corner chair to take off my shoes and socks. Lyric, who had followed me upstairs, decided to then exit. He was my little protector. And after seeing I was safe, he most likely needed to rehydrate himself via his water bowl in the kitchen. So, I continued on with my mission.
“Second thoughts?” Ryan’s voice made me look up to see him standing a couple of feet away. The confusion must have shown on my face, since he followed up with a clarification. “Your ring ... you’re staring and fiddling with it.” He crouched in front of me, and I stopped looking at my engagement ring. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for. Not being married, attending reading programs, having the kids all the time. We didn’t—”
“Ha. Well, no. But then nobody knows what they’re signing up for in life.” I went a little philosophical, thinking he hadn’t signed up for any of it, either, but it didn’t matter or deter him. I needed him to realize it went for me, too. “Yeah, I’m so okay with it. Promise.” I leaned over and kissed him.
While I didn’t necessarily think he was legitimately concerned that I was second-guessing our engagement, I could tell my reassurance helped by the look on his face and his next words. “Then your new hobby”—he looked purposefully at my now discarded shoes—“won’t be for running away.”
“Oh, geez no. Believe me, I’ll be lucky if I am even walking tomorrow.”
“So, running is a little different than all the walking you used to
like doing?” he teased.
“Uh ... yeah,” I recalled my pre-car days.
He nodded toward my left hand. “What’s up with the ring then? Are you sure you like it? I can totally get a—"
“Stop it. You are not. I told you I love this ring and where you got it from. Besides, no one is getting it off me. My darn fingers swelled in the heat of running. That’s why I was fiddling with it. I can’t get it off to go in the shower.”
I shook my head and looked at my finger again. There was a part of the engagement ring story I had always wondered about but never brought up. Honestly, I was a little afraid that asking might taint the tale. But not asking was almost like there was something between us, and we were much too close and honest of people for that to occur. And the topic had pretty much presented itself.
“Ry, why didn’t you give Kari this ring when you proposed to her?”
“It wasn’t offered to me, for one thing,” he answered immediately.
The engagement ring had been Ryan’s mom’s mom’s, and she had passed away before he and Kari were engaged. And her husband—Ryan’s grandfather—had died before her. So, Ryan’s mom, as an only child, had it in her possession. Why didn’t Mrs. Thompson offer the ring to her son when he was going to marry the woman he loved back then?
“And, Kari? Yeah, uh ... even if mom would have given me the ring, I wouldn’t have.” I tilted my head in question, and he continued, “Kari, well, she wasn’t subtle.”
“No kidding.”
He verbally ignored my sarcasm, but the slightest of smiles crept on his face, nonetheless. “Anytime we were near a jewelry store, she made sure to let me know what she liked. It wasn’t my taste. It wasn’t a classic, graceful beauty like you ... I mean the ring.” He glanced at my gold band with simple yet significant-in-size cushion-cut diamond. “But she was the one who was going to wear it. Affording what she wanted was a little out of my league at that time, but with a little compromise, I was able to get something she liked and it didn’t totally bankrupt me.”
“And you don’t think that was a sign the two of you weren’t the best match?”