by Grea Warner
Besides the inflatables for the kids, there was a baseball game for all ages, complete with custom-made team T-shirts. Ryan put on a clinic for our team, smacking the ball so far it should have counted double for his three home runs. But despite his constant coaching, I only managed to get in one hit at my turns at bat. Even Joel did better.
“Do I need to trade you?” my fiancé teased.
“Should have dated my sister,” I claimed. “She got the athletic genes.”
“We fall behind, and I’m calling her up.” He was joking, but I knew the competitive side of him would have thrown me under the bus had we not been ahead.
“Go for it,” I played along, using his sibling as banter. “I’d be very happy sipping wine with Dylan.”
He squinted his eyes very quickly at me and ended with mockery. “Firstborn fun.”
“I tend to remember having the best weekend at the winery with you,” I offered because I then understood the narrowing of his eyes.
Kari’s betrayal of their marriage had left Ryan a little protective of his heart when it came to jealousy. He should have known he didn’t have to worry about that with me. But everything that had been starting to go positively back up seemed to suddenly and sadly be finding its way back down.
I wouldn’t know if he was going to say something sentimental, romantic, or otherwise, because Sallie—who was not playing but coloring some pictures—came up to us. “Daddy, I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay, baby. You know where the bathroom is in Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe’s house. Go ahead.”
The ballgame was being held next to their home in the two empty lots that were yet to be developed. The homeowners in the neighborhood hoped they never would be. It provided a great spot for things just like that game.
“I don’t want to go by myself,” she partially whined. “And I want to go home because I need more of my special coloring paper.”
Ryan cringed at the other team catching a ball that surely otherwise would have led to a run for our team. He looked back at Sallie and then at me. “Can Bethany take you? She’s ... benched.”
My mouth shot open as much as my eyelids. But I actually didn’t mind. Baseball was not my game.
“Come on, Sals, girl power.” I wrinkled my nose and teased Ryan. “Some people don’t know talent when they first see it.”
“Never. Live. It. Down,” he grumbled.
I started to walk. But Sallie didn’t follow. She was still at her dad’s side and looking at me with a face I couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t quite apprehension. It wasn’t quite bewilderment. It was a standstill ... almost like when she didn’t want to walk up to her mother’s coffin. Only, it was kind of the opposite. She didn’t seem to want to be with me, and she wouldn’t take my hand.
“Dang it! We’re on the field.” Ryan scowled and looked to Sallie again, astonished we hadn’t left. “Sallie, go with Bethany.”
“I can hold it in,” the little girl offered.
“All right. Your call.” He then directed me. “Outfield near Kingston. Let him get anything that comes near.”
“I thought I was benched,” I complained.
“All hands on deck.” He played coach and then, before turning away, added with a serious and slightly sad tone, “Besides, I couldn’t live with knowing I told you no about one more thing.” We had always been able to tease about him not moving me on to the next round of Singer Spotlight. Why was he so serious?
“Sallie, you sure? You all right?” I refocused once again on the little girl, wondering how many Thompsons I could be worried about at once.
As she shrugged and resumed her seat on the grass, I heard Joel. “Daddy-O! We’ve got this. Three strikes and they’re out of there. Three strikes and out.” He was high-fiving Ryan on the pitcher’s mound ... at least I could count on Joel.
***
When the game ended, everyone was ready to begin munching on burgers, steaks, hotdogs, chicken, corn, potatoes, Caesar salad, and more. I excused myself and went back to the house to get our contribution to the annual dessert contest. I had made barbecue chocolate cupcakes midmorning. It was my first attempt and, admittedly, I thought a pretty good one. All they needed was the finishing touch of icing.
While I went about my task, I was also mentally retracing the details of the day before and the holiday itself. On top of Ryan’s comment about saying no to me, I noticed how he seemed withdrawn or removed in general throughout the day. We were speaking, but it was only in the company of others—not that there was much of an opportunity to be alone. And the talk was idle chitchat and nothing deep. My confusion and concern were only escalating that he—or we—were somehow backsliding ... just when I had thought things were beginning to look up.
I sat more affirmatively on one of the tall kitchen stools and allowed myself a moment. It kind of surprised me that it was accompanied by a silent display of tears. But I figured if they were needed, it was best I did it in the rare privacy of an empty house.
But it wasn’t empty. I wasn’t alone. As I was sucking on my lips, wet from fresh tears, and brushing my hand to my cheek, Joel’s little sneakered shoes came to a screeching halt as he was suddenly in front of me. He looked a little frightened—but mostly concerned— at the sight of my appearance.
“Why are you crying, Bethany?” he asked softly and pitter-pattered a little closer to me. “Bethany, don’t cry.”
I rubbed at my tears with a little more determination. The last thing I wanted was for the kids to feel any more stress in their lives. Especially on what was supposed to be a celebratory day.
He was then up against my knees looking directly at me. “Don’t cry,” he said, that time as if it scared him.
“Oh, sweetie,” I tried, now with a dry, yet surely distressed, face. “There’s ... You know how I get when I’m cutting onions?” I got down from the stool.
He squished his lips together and toward the right side of his face. “Yeah?”
“It’s like that. That’s all.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” I attempted a smile and crouched to his level.
“I don’t like onions.”
“Well, I don’t like cutting them.”
Joel wrapped his arms around me with all the might of a five-year-old who wanted to believe, and I held on almost as equally tight. I wanted to believe, too. I wanted to believe it was that simple—nonexistent onions and comforting hugs. I, unfortunately, knew better.
I think we both heard Sallie and Ryan at the same time. They had, of course, been behind the speediest boy in the land. And by the sound of their voices, they were then only a few steps away.
Joel released his embrace. “I get the bathroom!” he yelled out as Ryan and Sallie entered the kitchen.
“Joel! That’s not fair! We were coming home because I said I had to go!” Sallie pouted but had clearly lost out to her little brother, who was already feet away scrambling to the powder room.
As Sallie took off, too, Ryan turned to me. “It’s not like we only have one bathroom in the house. Geez!”
I tried to nonchalantly dab at my cheeks and right below my eyes. My face felt drained from crying. And I was pretty sure it looked the same.
But Ryan didn’t seem to notice, and that made me both glad and disappointed. “How did the cupcakes turn out?” he asked. “They look good.”
“I think pretty good.” I looked at my culinary creation and then back at him. “I guess we’ll find out once everyone votes. But, you know, I don’t have a good track record in competitions,” I sassed. “At least we’ll be gone before the contest, so you can’t be a judge.”
His eyes shifted as if he were examining different parts of my face, but most likely was formulating how to respond. His verbal hesitation matched his expression. “Bethany ...”
To not let things get awkward, I continued, “Plus, I am going against a baker and a restaurant owner.”
“You know—”
“I’m ready!
” Joel announced, interrupting whatever Ryan was going to say.
Ryan took another second to look at me and then turned to his son. “All right. We’re going to get some of those burgers. But first we need to make sure we have everything packed in the car for our campout. You wanna help me?”
“Yeah!” The little boy’s full grin showed off his missing tooth.
“Where is your sister? Maybe she can help Bethany with the cupcakes and the food at the picnic.”
“I wanna help you, too, Daddy.” Sallie made her presence known by first looking at Ryan and then shyly at me.
I could feel my eyebrows automatically furl. Something was definitely up with Sallie. And I was pretty sure it had to do with me. I understood that both kids were a little clingy with Ryan since Kari’s death. They needed to see him and be with him as much as they could. But with Sallie, it all of a sudden seemed to also mean some kind of insecurity with me. Gosh, just when I thought we could have a normal—or even semi-normal—day.
“Go ahead,” I offered. “I’m good with the food.”
“What about your things for tonight?” Ryan asked me.
“I put them in the backpack with yours.”
“Everything?” He seemed surprised.
“It’s an overnight in a tent. What all do I need?” I secured the lid on the cupcake box—my job was already half done.
“Nothing. No. Perfect. A woman with priorities straight.”
I’m pretty sure he was thinking of Kari and the entourage she would have traveled with just to get the mail, but I again took the lighthearted road. We needed it. “Yep. See? I got the food.” My lips lifted in a smile as I lifted the box. “I’ll meet you three at the picnic.”
“And then we’re off for the fireworks and camping!” Joel exclaimed.
“We are.” Ryan ruffled his son’s hair before we all went on our missions.
***
Camping at the beach that evening had been Ryan’s idea. He was truly an outdoor boy caught in a busy, city world. He wanted a break from the constant commotion his life entailed. I didn’t blame him. I appreciated it, too ... and I certainly didn’t have to deal with the press like he did. My biggest hope was that he got a chance to relax and relish the joy of just the four of us.
We set up the tent in a secluded spot and had a little bit of time to enjoy the nearby water. Even though it was calm, there wasn’t a second that if the kids were in the water, Ryan wasn’t right at their sides. It was going to take a while—if ever—for him to stop imagining his little boy struggling in the pool and nearly not making it. I also noted that Joel, while not afraid of the water, was a lot more attentive to the rules when around it.
Afterward, as the sun set, the kids got a chance to use some handheld sparklers. They twirled around and tried to write out their name before the fire completely fizzled. Sallie, of course, had hers as far out from her face as possible. But we had to keep reminding Joel to try to do the same.
And then, sitting on the beachy area outside of our tent, it was time for the main event. I leaned my head against Ryan’s shoulder and watched as the fireworks erupted in the sky. I thought they were especially beautiful over the water. I had always loved the Fourth of July growing up, but the California displays far outranked those in my hometown.
Uncharacteristically, Joel decided the excitement of the noise and lights was a time to calm down. And he chose to do it on my lap. Ryan touched his son’s shoulder as Joel leaned against my chest, and we both looked once more to the sky.
“Sallie, look at that one!” the little boy cried out, amazed at the latest bloom.
When I glanced over at Sallie, who was sitting on the other side of Ryan, she wasn’t looking at the sky. She was looking at me. And she had her same look from the baseball game. I gave her a soft smile, and she buried her head under her dad’s arm. Or course, Ryan, with his face of ever-growing whiskers, didn’t notice and was looking upward.
I realized a moment alone with Ryan to talk was simply not going to happen. The kids were sleeping in the same tent as us. And even though it was supposed to be made for six people, we were a foot or two away from being human sardines. We all snuggled into our individual sleeping bags—Sallie’s with an assortment of princesses on it, Joel’s looking like a pair of jeans, Ryan’s camo, and mine—bought just for the occasion—was half blue and half yellow. We told stories, shone the flashlight around our faces and hands, and then the kids, thankfully, tuckered out. It had been a long, excitement-filled day, after all.
“Go outside with me for a minute or two?” I whispered to Ryan in the complete darkness.
He met his hand with mine. “Okay. Careful,” he noted the kids sleeping the opposite direction at our feet.
We ducked out of the tent and walked a few steps or so away. The stillness was so peaceful. There was only enough light so I could see his face—that gorgeous face with the deep blue eyes. I loved him so much. I knew we were going to be okay. We simply needed more moments like the one we were in.
“Ryan, you know I was teasing you earlier about the not-knowing-talent thing and the judging, right?”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly teasing you about your baseball skills.” He bumped his hip jovially onto mine, and I was glad to find that teensiest bit of Ryan and Bethany again.
“You totally have a right to do that,” I joshed back. After another moment of just looking out to the water, I said, “Are you all right? Is everything—"
“We need another—Oh, oh, crud!”
All of a sudden, the skies let loose. But it wasn’t with leftover fireworks. It was with buckets and buckets of rain, as if God had been holding on to his tears alongside us those past few weeks. And the “expert” weather forecasters hadn’t predicted it at all.
Ryan dipped me under his arm and onto his chest the best he could, and we scurried back into the tent. I wanted to shake off but really couldn’t in the limited space. Instead, I drip-dried a little as Ryan and I both looked at each other.
“What’s going on?” Sallie had awoken.
“Just rain, baby,” Ryan whispered back, crouching next to her as I made my way into the comfy snugness of my sleeping bag, which was acting like part towel.
“No thunder or lightning?” she questioned with obvious concern.
“No. Go back to sleep. We don’t want to wake your brother.”
Sallie looked at her dad with a head shake. “No. We don’t!”
Ryan kissed her blonde head and elongated his body into his own sleeping bag. He turned to me. “You good?”
Yes. No. I wanted to talk. I wanted to understand him and whatever was going on.
Sallie was lying in her sleeping bag, looking at us. Joel, with Eli tucked in next to him, was starting to stir. I wasn’t going to get any answers that night. And I knew I couldn’t reply to Ryan without lying or expanding the conversation. With the zippered cocoons around our individual bodies and the kids next to us, we were even farther apart than the night before lying on the living room sofa. I scooted closer to him so I could at least feel his body through the quilted fabric between us. I closed my eyes and didn’t look up when his lips rested on top of my head. And that was how it was going to have to be ... to end—another day done.
Chapter Sixteen
Since the following day was Friday, most of the country had taken the additional day off, too. That included Ryan and myself. And the kids didn’t go to their summer day camp. So, after a lazy wakeup from our tent and some more time in the water, we stopped for something to eat at a quaint country restaurant, which reminded both Ryan and me of our hometowns. It was the kind where the waitresses wore checkered aprons, a bell was rung when a meal was ready, and everything seemed to be served ala mode.
When we returned home, Ryan went to pick up Lyric—who the Radcliffes took in for the night. In the meantime, the kids and I made our way to the game room to figure out what our afternoon plan was. The unusual weather pattern persisted on being drizzly to overca
st. So, we had to do something indoors. The kids had paper, markers, and a word game that was sort of like the classic Pictionary, but you could use charades, words, or pictures to have your partner guess. Sallie instantly picked the teams—Joel and I versus Ryan and her. I knew I was at a disadvantage since Joel was known to blurt out the actual word more than anything. But I feared Sallie would have it no other way since her puzzling attitude toward me had not faltered. And without her, there wasn’t a game. I just couldn’t understand what was holding up her partner. I thought I had heard Ryan reenter the home, but he hadn’t made his way down to us.
Even though we were in the same abode, I decided to text him. What’s up? Where are you?
B there in a min, was his reply after a couple.
And then I realized if Ryan had a moment to himself, I knew what he was doing. He was checking in with someone or something. He had been disconnected from his electronics for a whole day plus, which was almost a minor miracle.
I wanted him removed from it all. I think he needed it ... we all did. So, I devised my plan.
When I dialed his number via video chat, he replied with a close-up shot of his face. “Bethany, what are you doing? I’m in the house."
“Daddy, it’s game time!” Joel interrupted, bellowing into the phone’s camera.
“You are my partner,” Sallie tagged on, while smushed cheek-to-cheek with her brother so they were both in the frame. “Joel and Bethany are already teaming up on me. I need you.”
“No more work!” Joel admonished his father and looked at me.
I hadn’t wanted the five-year-old to say that and hoped the phone didn’t capture my image right then. But it was true. I had the kids make the plea since I recognized the last thing Ryan needed was an “almost” nagging wife.
“No more work!” Sallie repeated.