by Grea Warner
“Lenay ...” He obviously noticed my sentiment.
“Sorry.” I tried to laugh it off. “Me getting teary-eyed over Kari. Well, that’s a new one.” I dabbed my eyes dry and continued. “What else did you talk about?”
He rubbed my hand. “I explained that Maks has everything in storage. I told Sallie we could see about maybe a piece of jewelry for special occasions or a little perfume.”
“And Joel?”
“He wanted to know where their things were—their own personal stuff ... the things they had at her place for when they stayed there. Joel wanted his Captain America figure and his pillow.”
“His pillow. Hmmm. Did you give them that stuff?”
I knew Ryan had them. He had personally brought those back and didn’t have Maks put them in storage. He just hadn’t known when or how to proceed with the subject. But I guess it wasn’t really up to him. The kids dictated when.
“I did.”
“Wow. You had a night, didn’t you? Sorry I wasn’t here.”
“You were doing something good for you.” He gave me a soft smile I knew was heartfelt. “You needed and deserved that. You do so much for all of us all the time.” He didn’t realize it, of course, but his words reminded me of my mother’s. “So, no,” he continued, “I hadn’t expected to get into any of that today. I thought we were going to have a totally relaxing night. But, you know, it worked out okay. It was time, and they seemed all right with it and, really, it gave them a—I don’t know—a better understanding of everything. They weren’t ever going back to Kari’s. All of their things are here in this house with us.”
“Hmmm ... yeah. How are you?”
“Me?” His eyebrows rose in shock of my query.
“You. That was an emotional couple of hours.”
“Uh ... well ... yeah, I guess. I guess I’m relieved.” It was like he only gave himself permission to consider his own feelings since I asked. “A little at peace since they seemed to be.” And those words brought me peace. “And,” He let out a small chuckle. “exhausted!”
“You are an old man!”
“What!” He reached over and started tickling the white fabric covering my ribcage. “Take it back!”
“Uh-uh.” I squirmed at his touch.
“Take it back, Lenay!” He might have been laughing even more than me.
“Uh-uh. Old. Old. Old,” I punctuated.
“Daddy?”
Ryan’s whole body seemed to sigh. Mine just relaxed. And we both stopped laughing. No more tickling or teasing.
But, really, after the day and night the fair-haired Thompson siblings had, it was no surprise it was going to be one of Joel’s nights to call out. Ryan leaned his head back, took a second, and started to slightly move his legs as if he was going to get out of bed. I put a hand on his arm, though.
“Let me,” I offered. When he looked at me as if an internal debate was going on in his mind, I spoke again, “You know, I can take a turn every so often.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if we were mimicking what parents of newborns did. The infant wakes in the middle of the night and whose turn was it? Did they play rock-paper-scissors? Or—I laughed internally at my sudden thought—do they flip a coin?
I thought about asking Ryan for our special quarter, but I didn’t want to risk losing. So, I pecked him on the lips. “Go to sleep, Ry. I deserved a night out. You deserve a night staying put.”
“You sure?” The way those two little words came out, I knew he was appreciative but would have gone to his son, anyway.
“Yep. Besides, afterward, I might want to get a little taste of that pad thai. You’re the best, Ryan.”
“Food ... that’s all it takes,” he teased, shaking his head and smiling.
“Thinking of me is all it takes,” I rephrased most correctly.
And he answered in his true, sweet Ryan way. “Like I said ... all the time, Lenay. All the time.”
“Daddy?”
“Okay. Love you. Get some sleep.” I touched his lips before kissing them, crawled out of bed, turned off his light, and went to check on the one who should have been sleeping, too.
***
Ryan decided to hold a family meeting the next day. We needed to devise a strategy for Joel’s sleeping issues. Because if either the fighting off going to sleep or nighttime callouts continued, all of us were going to have to invest in continuous intravenous caffeine drips.
“All right, Joe, we have to come up with a game plan here,” Ryan started the discussion off.
“I pick Twister,” Joel announced and would have bounced to the game closet had Ryan not stopped and corrected him.
“Not that kind of game.” He looked at me and then back at his son. “We need you to try your best to sleep, okay? Meaning ... going to sleep at bedtime with no arguing, and if you wake up, maybe trying something like counting sheep or—”
“We don’t have any sheep.” His little curled-in eyebrows and the exclamation in his voice was priceless.
But Sallie’s was classic. “Joel!”
“Not real sheep.” Ryan was being patient, which I internally applauded him for. “It is pretend. Count whatever you want. Let’s say you count those funny creatures that are in your video game. You pretend in your mind to see them and start counting—silently,” he added, “until you just can’t anymore, and it will put you to sleep.”
“I’m a good counter,” he boasted with pride.
“I know. See?” Ryan’s lips raised to meet his cheeks—the plan seemed plausible. “It’s perfect for you. We can’t keep going on like this. You need your sleep.”
“What do I get if I do it?”
“What do you get?” Ryan’s voice sounded as taken aback as his head went.
“Yeah.”
Ryan rolled his eyes at his son’s confirmation. He wasn’t one for bribing his kids. But I could see by the way his shoulders drooped slightly that his reservation was switching to resolve. The traumatic loss those little ones had been through and almost losing Joel himself, I am sure had a little something to do with that.
“I don’t know. What are you thinking?” he carefully questioned.
“A puppy!” Joel hugged Lyric, who was sitting right beside him.
Ryan’s exasperating release of breath was put to an abrupt halt when Sallie rejoined the conversation, desiring her fair share. “I want a phone.”
“We already talked about that ... no.”
“Then makeup.”
“What?” Ryan shook his head.
“Yeah, like Willow did for me.” Sallie looked at me like I was going to be her backup since Willow was my friend.
“What! No! No, makeup,” Ryan exclaimed.
“I sleep good,” she whined.
“That’s great. Thank you,” he acknowledged his daughter.
“She wants it for her boyfriend.”
“Her what?” an astonished Ryan started to question his son.
But as Joel started saying the young lad’s name, Sallie practically tackled him. “Joel, he is not my boyfriend!”
“You always play with him.” Joel’s smile was full brotherly sneer.
“Uh ... who ...?”
Poor Ryan. The Thompson children were definitely getting the lead in what should have been a very simple agreement. In his job, Ryan was used to tough negotiations but was always prepared. Those two were throwing things at him without any prior knowledge.
“It’s okay for girls to have boys who are friends,” I jumped in, hopefully to aide Ryan and Sallie. “My best friend is a boy. And we play together.”
When I winked at Ryan, Joel called out, “You mean Daddy!”
The soft smile on Ryan’s face momentarily dissolved his exasperated expression. “Okay, okay, let’s please get back to what we are talking about.” The children sat a little more still as Ryan continued. “First of all, I don’t think you should get anything—either of you—for doing something that is expected. But another puppy is out
of the question.”
Ryan looked at me, knowingly. We had talked about how the fundraiser would, no doubt, spur another pet request from the kids. We didn’t expect it before then, though.
“Why?” Joel partially whined.
“Because, I don’t think I have to explain, but adopting a dog is a huge responsibility.” Ryan tilted his head Joel’s way. “And what happens if you don’t live up to your end of our deal?”
“I will,” the youngest Thompson begged.
“You can’t guarantee that,” Ryan challenged, and I knew he was refraining from mentioning Lyric’s health scare in order to stay focused.
“Then we give the puppy back. We only adopted him.”
That time when I stepped into the conversation, I didn’t do it with as much levity. “Joel, do you know what adopting means?” Before the dog-lover could respond, I continued, “Adopting means they are a part of your family forever. They are in your heart. They are yours to care for. There are no givebacks. It means a lot. It’s a big deal and a wonderful thing.”
Ryan seemed to be listening as much as the kids to my little soliloquy. When I finished, he reiterated in his TV judge voice, “It’s a no to the dog ... and to the makeup. Goodness.” On their obviously disappointed faces, he made a suggestion of his own. “How about if I take you both into work with me one day?”
“Yes!” Sallie spilled out instantly.
Joel was only a second behind. “Can I sit at your desk? Can I record at the studio? Can I—”
“You need to sleep first and then we can see what you can do at the office.” I think Ryan was already regretting his offer, but I had to admit it was a great one—a chance to spend time with their dad at a place they didn’t usually go was more valuable than anything.
Hands were shook. Because, why not? Ryan Thompson was a negotiating businessman, after all. And the sleeping contract was a deal we both wanted closed. Not only were Joel’s sleeping issues interfering with the little boy’s behavior and ultimately health, it was altering ours. Ryan and I weren’t getting uninterrupted sleep or “play” time, either.
“What do you think?” he asked me later, after the kids were both tucked in. “Do you think we even get one night?”
“I think your bribe ...” I fake coughed. “I mean, offer, is very worthy of him achieving the goal.”
“I had to try something. But another dog? Really?”
“He learned from the best. He shot for the stars and had you negotiate to a middle ground.”
Ryan laughed. “True enough.” He paused for the slightest of seconds. “You were very passionate about your stance on the dog issue.”
I breathed in and out again. “It wasn’t so much about the dog.”
“About adoption, though, right?’ His perception was straight on.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“Any particular reason? Not that I didn’t appreciate it and agree wholeheartedly.”
It was something I had never spoken with him about. But not telling him right then would have been like a lie. And I was not brought up a liar. Just pretending not to be in love with Ryan in the beginning of our relationship had nearly given me an ulcer.
“Garrett is adopted.”
My fiancé’s mouth dropped open slightly and then opened a little bit more before closing again. I let him do his processing. I knew there would be some kind of question. So I waited.
“He’s ... he’s adopted. Huh,” was what first came out. “He looks like the rest of you.”
I smiled. “He does. Pure coincidence. We all have dark brown hair and brown eyes. And, yes, Ella and I are biological sisters and of my mom and dad.”
“How come you never told me?”
“Because, Ryan, it’s exactly what I was explaining to Joel. Garrett is my brother just like Ella is my sister, or Sallie and Joel are siblings, or you are with your brother and sisters. We fight as siblings and we love each other as family. There is no difference. He is family. I don’t even think of it. And no one else does, either. It’s like, I don’t know ... like you telling me one of your sisters has a birthmark on her back or something. I don’t need to know that. And you don’t need to know that Garrett’s chromosomes or whatever are different.”
“I get that. I hope you know, though, you could tell me.”
“Of course I know. And”—I tilted my head a smidge closer to his—“I know I can trust you not to say anything.” I then answered his silent, inquisitive look. “Garrett doesn’t know.”
“He doesn’t?” Another shock.
“So ... no.”
“But you do?”
“Well, I was seven almost eight when he came along. I kind of knew the difference of a mom being pregnant versus a newborn baby just appearing from out of nowhere.”
“Hmmm, yeah.”
“But my parents never said anything. So it was always pretty much a guess or assumption. Ella was a little younger, so she either was too preoccupied with her own stuff or wasn’t mature enough to put it together. But when the whole bone marrow issue thing came up and Ella and I weren’t a match, we talked with my parents privately, and they didn’t deny it. They were prepared to tell Garrett, but he was already going through so much. He didn’t need stress on top of fighting a deadly illness. And ... they think the same way I do about it not mattering. He is one of us. We are a family.”
“Why did they adopt?” He was very mellow and obviously invested and wanting to know.
“Get this ...” I almost chuckled. “They waited until they were settled to start their family but knew they wanted at least three kids. So, they had me and shortly after had Ella. Ella was just a baby—only around six months old—when they discovered my severe allergies. Well, you already know how crazy spastic my mom is with that. She was so afraid all of their kids would have the same thing. And, yes, they knew any child was a blessing from God. But with my mom—her anxiety—they decided to adopt. The whole process took a while—as it usually does, especially with newborns. But they got Garrett. And, well ... then look what happened with his health.”
“The cancer.”
“Yep.” I closed my eyes in a prayer of thanks, as I always did when talking about my brother’s remission a few years before. “And Ella doesn’t have any allergies.”
“Life is certainly unpredictable,” Ryan noted.
“But sometimes in wonderful ways ... like finding you, boyfriend.” I wrinkled my nose and poked him in the side.
“Oh, geez, boyfriend talk. I’m not ready for that.”
“Neither is Sallie,” I reassured.
“You know how you told the kids we play together?”
“Yeah.” I chuckled.
“I’m pretty sure I know what you meant.” He winked. “But you know what I’d love to do with you right now?” He continued before I had a chance to come up with any options. “Grab the guitars and write some songs.”
“Oh, my goodness, Ryan. There is nothing that would make me happier.”
Yes, we had been thrown quite a loop with Kari’s passing. But I would have never predicted life to had led me to be with him in the first place. Being us was absolutely worth all the detours and false starts and kids crying out in their sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
The sense of peace which Ryan spoke of really did seem to find all four of us over those next few days or so. The kids had a good session with the psychologist and talked about Kari a little more in the past tense. Ryan’s mom’s recovery was going smoothly. And with the Fourth of July at our doorstep, we were even going to have a legitimate reason to celebrate. We were truly beginning to settle into our new normal. And it felt good.
The kids didn’t notice Ryan’s car was in the garage when we pulled in after camp the day before the holiday. They were too excited seeing the inflatable basketball hoops and giant run-through maze in the side yard of our next-door neighbor. Bouncing as if he was already in the fun structures, Joel started immediately toward the Radcliffes as soo
n as the car was in park.
“Sorry,” I lightheartedly said to Rebecca, who was watching her own children play. “You didn’t really expect them to pass that up.” I watched as Sallie, who had been more subdued than usual in the car, followed her brother.
“Ha! No. The kids are who it’s there for. Let them stay and do a test run for tomorrow,” she spoke of the Fourth of July festivities. “Go do whatever you need.” She nodded at the tray of goodies in my hands that I had brought from the coffee shop. “I’ll watch them.”
“You sure? Ryan’s home, and I wasn’t expecting him this early from work. I want to see what’s up.”
“Yeah. Go. I’ll walk them over when they exhaust themselves.”
“Perfect!” I smiled and joked. “So, you’ll keep Joel for a few days then.”
“Yeah, right.” Her answer was as equally sarcastic.
“Thanks.” I waved at the kids and entered the house.
It was hours before Ryan normally got home, and the kids and I were back even earlier than usual. First entering the breezeway, I called out for him but got no response. I petted Lyric, set the treats in the kitchen, and continued my search, finally discovering Ryan on the back patio. Before I could say anything, someone else did. It wasn’t him. He hadn’t seen me approach at all. It was Kari’s voice ... from beyond the grave.
“This man ... this man right here,” she said slowly. “He is a savior.”
I looked at the tablet in Ryan’s hands. The screen showed Kari wearing form-fitting, torn jeans and a racy, crocheted top. Holding on to a bald, tattooed, fit man, it was obvious they were both drunk. By the crowd and the classic wood ledge stretched out behind them, they were in the perfect place for it—a bar.
“Yeah?” The guy laughed while trying to stay in the video shot someone had obviously been filming of the duo.
Kari stuck her index finger toward the man and, with a slur, said his name, “Olsen Lasker.” She planted a sloppy, quick kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for distracting me from thinking about how happy they are and how I gave it all away.”