Goodbye Uncertainty

by Jacquelyn Ayres

  “That’s easy, Barbara. My wife, Becca, is my muse. She’s brought my imagination to a level I never realized existed. She’s there with me through the whole process.”

  There’s such passion in his conviction—it takes my breath away. I had no idea they were going to show this interview. Silly on my part, really. Ray squeezes me as I take in a very deep breath. My tears fall freely.

  It took a lot of work over the past two years for Ray to accept my everlasting love for Grayson and be okay with it. He no longer feels threatened by my memory of Grayson or our life together. He asked me, hypothetically, “If Grayson actually survived the plane crash and walked through the door, who would you choose?” My answer was always the same: I would walk away from both of them, because I could no sooner choose which of my limbs to cut off. He didn’t believe me, and my journals certainly didn’t help. It wasn’t until I made love to Ray in Grayson’s and my room that he finally dropped it. I sobbed terribly afterward, feeling like I betrayed Grayson. It was silly to feel that way, but I couldn’t help it. Ray was so good about it. He just held me and let me cry. I think, to him, it was the final step to me being completely his.

  “So,” Barbara starts. “Any thoughts of children?”

  “Most definitely! Becca and I would love an absurd amount of kids.” Grayson laughs.

  “Grayson and Becca started their family the very next year with the birth of their daughter, Morgan. Unfortunately, she would be the only child that would come of their union. When we come back ... family life with Grayson James, his untimely death, and Becca’s long and painful journey back to happiness,” Barbara says.

  The TV fades to a commercial, and Ray hits pause.

  “You okay, baby?” He rubs my arms up and down.

  “Yes, I just ... I wasn’t prepared for that interview. I forgot he even did it.”

  “Well, there’s no doubt that you were his world.”

  “He was mine, too.” I sigh as I grab a few tissues. “Oh, Ray,” I gasp, realizing how my words might affect him.

  “Becs, it’s okay. I know you feel the same way about me.” He pulls me closer.

  “I do.” I snuggle into his arms.

  “Ready?” he asks. I nod and he fast-forwards through the commercials. The show fades back in with home videos of Grayson, Morgan, and me—various ones from when she was born up until before his death.

  “Not really a side of Grayson James that many people saw,” Barbara states.

  “No. We teased each other a lot, but our daughter really brought his goofy side out,” I say, tears in my eyes as I watch the video on-screen.

  “What happened? Walk us through those last few days.” Barbara leans in.

  “Um ... well, Barbara, what most people don’t know is that two weeks before his plane exploded, I miscarried our second child.” I’m quiet, looking down at my hands.

  “No one knew? Did Grayson?” she asks.

  “Oh yes, of course Grayson knew,” I say quickly. “We were waiting until Christmas to tell everyone we were expecting. I was nine weeks along, and it was devastating for me. For both of us. I blamed myself, though, and it sent me into a depression. Grayson wanted to reschedule his book tour around Texas, but I wouldn’t let him. He was able to cancel the last event due to a flooding situation at the store.”

  “So, instead of waiting, he booked the private jet to race back home to you.” She finishes for me.

  “Yes.” I’m barely audible, my eyes glistening. Barbara gives me a moment to collect myself.

  “Was hiring a private jet a common practice of Grayson’s?”

  “Never, Barbara. That was the first time he used one in the almost seven years I was with him. Grayson was more of the parsimonious type. We weren’t flashy people, and we didn’t take on unnecessary expenses without serious justification.”

  “You were his justification.” Barbara gives me her famous poker-faced stare as she states the question that’s meant to be asked.

  “Persistent as always,” I say.

  “Very persistent,” she agrees. “When we return, life after Grayson James and what Becca is doing now,” she narrates before the picture fades.

  Ray fast-forwards again until it’s back on.

  “Tonight we are sitting with Becca James, widow of international best-selling author Grayson James in her first interview. So young and so very much in love. Their love was one worthy of fairy-tale status. But their happily ever after came to a close far sooner than any fairy-tale ending would suggest. On December 23, 2005, the private jet Grayson James chartered exploded an hour after takeoff,” Barbara narrates as they show pictures of Grayson, Grayson and me, and then all three of us.

  “You lost your baby, then two weeks later, your husband,” Barbara starts. “What got you through?”

  “One can only imagine how I blamed myself, Barbara. I was the reason he went. I was the reason he came back early. The guilt was ... unbearable.” I start crying again.

  “How old were you, Becca?” she asks.

  “Twenty-eight,” I say, pulling myself together. “To answer your question, my daughter got me through. I put all my focus into her. Grayson’s mom, my best friend Stacey, and Grayson’s best friend Derek were all there for me. I had a wonderful support system. But the trauma was so severe.” I shake my head to push the tears away.

  “You were diagnosed with PTSD.”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “When?”

  “Two years after—maybe a little more.”

  “People hear of PTSD and they think mainly of military men and women who were in combat,” she says.

  “Yes, it’s most often associated with people who have been in battle. But Barbara, some of the greatest battles people fight are the ones without guns in their hands.”

  “For those who don’t know, what is PTSD, and how did it affect you?”

  “Post-traumatic stress disorder. For me, it suppressed my ability to form certain short-term memories.”

  “Well, let’s come back to that in a moment. In the meantime, what did you do after Grayson’s death?” She leans forward again.

  “I dodged the media for six months, then moved back to the East Coast. Being in our house was just too painful. I needed to get away.” I take in a deep breath.

  “So you opened a bed-and-breakfast in New Hampshire.” She smiles.

  “I did—one that caters to scrapbookers on crop weekends.” I smile.

  “Something else happened after you moved back.” Barbara verbally nudges me.

  “Yes. I met Ray McNeil.”

  “Your husband?”

  “Yes.” My face lights up.

  Ray tightens his arms around me again.

  “When we come back, we’ll meet Becca’s husband, Ray McNeil, and hear about how they met and fell in love. We’ll also discuss her PTSD and how it affected their relationship, and the fateful accident that changed their lives. Stay with us.”

  “You okay, baby? Do you need a break?”

  “I’m going to get more wine,” is my answer. He grabs my empty wineglass.

  “I’ll get it, Becs.” He kisses my cheek and climbs out from behind me.

  The house phone rings and I grab it quickly to avoid waking the twins.

  “Hey, Stace!” I answer, glad I checked the caller ID.

  “Oh, Becca, you did so well! I cried so much.” Her voice is so sincere; I can practically feel her hug through the phone.

  “Thanks. Yeah, we haven’t finished it yet. Started late and had to take two breaks,” I say, looking over at the paused TV. I hear Cole fussing in the background. “What’s wrong with my godson?” I ask, suddenly concerned. He’s not usually up this late.

  “Oh, he’s coming down with something,” she says. “Has a ... Cole Edward Bergman! Damn it!” she snaps, and he cries more.

  “What happened?”

  “He hit the medicine out of my hand,” she says, sighing with frustration. “Would I be a rotten mother if I say I feel
sorrier for myself?” she asks. I hear her shush him.

  “No, not at all. It’s draining when they’re sick or teething. I’d offer to give you a break, but I don’t need my two getting sick, especially with Ray traveling so much.” I stand and stretch.

  “Well, I hate to tell you this, but now that his work got national recognition from this broadcast, his firm will be booked solid for the next ten years!”

  “I don’t know how much more they can handle. Ever since the Digest named him one of the top ten architects on the East Coast, we’ve both been crazy busy! I don’t have to tell you that,” I say with a laugh. Ray and I hired Stacey a year ago as our companies’ public-relations manager.

  “No, you don’t,” she agrees. I feel Ray’s hands on my hips.

  “Stace, can I call you tomorrow? Ray and I want to finish watching this.”

  “Yeah, I gotta go to bed anyhow. Cole better sleep through the night, or I’m checking in at the inn!”

  I can hear her exhaustion, and it makes me feel terrible. We say our good nights and hang up.

  “Was that Stace?”

  “Yeah, Cole’s sick and she’s at her wit’s end,” I say.

  “Why isn’t Max helping her? She’s pregnant,” Ray snaps.

  Ray and Max get along all right, but never really “clicked.” Max was very fond of Grayson, and he has a difficult time with change. I can understand that, but Ray’s been in my life for over seven years now. The warranty on Max’s difficulty with the situation ran out ... like five years ago. Seriously, dude, get over it!

  “In his defense, he’s in Florida visiting his sick father.”

  “Becs, he might as well be in Florida when he’s here!” Ray rolls his eyes.

  “Stop it. Come on, let’s finish watching.” I pull his arm and lead him over to the couch.

  “You know, I’m not really mad at Max. I’m mad at myself.” He sits and props his elbows on his knees, then places his head in his hands. I rub his back. “I hate being away from you guys so much, babe. It sucks!” He sighs and looks forward. “I mean, the money is rolling in like crazy, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I’ve got to figure out a better way to do this. If I’m not flying to be with clients, I’m spending my time designing for them.”

  I can’t disagree with him. This is the first time I’ve seen him in five days.

  “Maybe you need to do more video conferencing,” I suggest.

  “I do—when clients are set up for it. Besides, I have to bring them their plans.”

  “Hire a courier and go over it via conference call,” I tell him for the millionth time.

  “Everyone wants me in the flesh now that I’m sought after. I just have to cut back on projects.” He leans back. Yeah right, he won’t do that! “Why are you making that face?” He smirks because he knows why. “I promise, Becs, I’m going to add to my team. I can’t do it all myself anymore.” He pulls me back down between his legs. “No more talking,” he says softly in my ear as he presses play. I take a long sip of my wine. “That’s it, baby ... drink up.”

  “You’re insatiable, McNeil!” I slap his roaming hand.

  “Shh. Pay attention.”

  I look up and see Barbara, Ray, and me.

  “So, tell me. How did you two meet?” Barbara asks.

  I look over at Ray and nod. He explains that we met at parent-teacher night. We clicked right away—so much so that we went on our first date that very night.

  Did you have any idea you would end up together?” She looks to both of us, but focuses mostly on Ray.

  “Oh, I knew that night!” he says quickly. “I woke my poor mother out of a sound sleep at two in the morning.”

  “And what did you say to her?”

  “I said, ‘Mama, I’ve just met the woman I’m going to marry! You’re going to love her!’”

  “Becca, you’re looking at Ray strangely. Why?”

  “He never told me that.”

  Ray winks and smiles shyly at me.

  “So, you had your first date.”

  “Best first date ever,” Ray says. I nod, smiling.

  “Completely smitten?” Barbara asks. She’s smiling, too.

  “Completely,” Ray agrees. “Couldn’t wait to see her again.”

  “When did you see her again?”

  “Next day. Our girls had a playdate.”

  “And?” Barbara encourages.

  “And ... nothing. Lights out,” Ray says. His eyes go wide.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I went to kiss her and she flipped out. I mentioned our kiss the night before, and she looked at me like I had five heads. Told me I must’ve had too much to drink, because we certainly didn’t kiss. Oh, but she was glad I got home from the pub safely.” Ray looks over at me as I chuckle.

  “What did you do?” Barbara asks.

  “Her best friend, Stacey, was visiting her,” Ray continues. She pulled me aside to talk.” He takes a sip of water and explains the conversation he had with her, our five-year relationship, and what he had to put up with.

  “Five years,” Barbara says in disbelief. “How did you manage?”

  “I fell deeply in love with her. It wasn’t easy. I tried to walk away, but I missed her every time. She’s the air that I breathe. It was more painful to be without her.” Ray lifts my hand and kisses it. “I always felt hopeful that one day it wouldn’t be like that anymore,” he adds.

  “What happened September 22, 2012?” Barbara asks, keeping a steady gaze on both of us. Ray nods at me.

  “Um, I woke up in Ray’s bed, completely naked. Completely freaked out.”

  “What did you do, Ray?”

  “Tried to comfort her, to get her to accept that it was okay.”

  “Didn’t work.” She offers a slight smile.

  “Nope. We argued all the way downstairs and outside. Becca tried to leave, but her truck’s battery was completely dead. I had to drive her home.”

  “You never made it, though.”

  “No. We were so busy arguing, I didn’t see the dump truck coming.” Ray shakes his head at the memory.

  “You were almost pronounced dead at the scene,” Barbara says to me.

  “Yes.” I nod.

  “I begged them to try one more time,” Ray interjects.

  “You saved her life.” Barbara smiles warmly, and Ray takes in a sharp breath.

  “In more ways than one, Barbara,” I say. I smile at Ray; his eyes are filling up, just like mine.

  “The EMTs saved her,” he says, shaking away his emotion.

  “Yes, but only because,” she pauses, “they followed your lead.”

  I look toward Ray. His eyes are wet with unshed tears. I kiss his cheek and squeeze his arms to me.

  “You survived, but you were in a coma.”

  “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “Three months.”

  “When we come back, we’ll hear about Becca’s and Ray’s separate journeys during Becca’s coma, and how and why their life changed when she woke up.”

  “You okay?” I turn to him again when he pauses the TV.

  “Christ! She really does make everyone cry,” Ray says, looking angry with himself.

  “Ray, that was a very scary memory to relive. It was traumatic.”

  “I still think about that day all of the time. Jesus, baby, if they didn’t take pity on me and shock you one last time ... you ... our boys ... ” He exhales through pursed lips.

  “They did. We’re here. We’re safe, and it’s all because of you.” I turn completely around to kneel between his legs and palm his face. “Damn, you’re handsome.” I bite my bottom lip as I take the sight of him in. I lean in and brush my lips against his.

  “Are you trying for an intermission here, baby?” he asks before he attacks my lips, rendering me breathless. I find it so difficult to pull away from him. Death grip followed by wandering hands, then erratic breathing. Damn. Even after seven years, we’re still completely hot f
or each other.

  “C’mon, Ray.” I turn my head. “Let’s finish watching. Then you, sir, may have my full and complete attention.” I look back and tap his lips with my right index finger. He bites at it playfully as he gives my bum a good squeeze.

  “Ugh! Becs, can’t we finish it tomorrow? I haven’t seen you, touched you, for five whole days.” He gives me his best pouty face.

  “And you survived. Imagine that.” I look at him in disbelief. “Twenty more minutes, sweetie, and I promise, you’ll have one—hot—very—hot—evening with your wife,” I say between kisses.

  “It’s always hot with you, baby.” He smiles against my lips.

  “Well, then, you know you won’t be disappointed with your reward for waiting a whole ‘nother twenty minutes.” I nudge his nose with mine.

  “All right, turn around,” he says. I raise a playful brow. “To watch the rest of the show,” he clarifies, patting my bum. “You’ve got a dirty mind there, Mrs. McNeil.” He smirks.

  “Well, a dirty mind is a terrible thing to wash,” I say thoughtfully.

  “I agree. I love that dirty mind of yours.” He hugs me tightly to him as I reseat myself, then grabs the remote and fast-forwards.

  “After the almost-fatal car crash, Becca James spent three months in a coma at Massachusetts General Hospital,” Barbara narrates, showing a picture of me in the hospital bed right after the accident.

  I cringe at how bad I looked.

  “Ray.” She focuses on him. “What was life like for you?”

  “Hell,” he says quietly and runs a hand through his hair. “The love of my life was lying defenseless in a hospital bed. I sat next to her, waiting and praying. The longer she was in the coma, the worse the prognosis looked.”

  “Her prognosis did take a surprising change in November.” Barbara looks like she wants to smile as she eggs him on. Ray gives a shy smile and a nod. “What did the doctors tell you about Becca’s condition? What changed?”

  “They told me she was pregnant with twins.”

  “Now you had three to worry about.” Barbara’s eyes widen to match Ray’s. He nods. She then talks to Ray about how he kept vigilance at my side the entire three months, allowing his business to suffer. “Becca,” she turns her attention to me once again, “physically, you were lying in your hospital bed, but that’s not where you were ... should we say spiritually, emotionally ... what?” she asks, seemingly unsure of how to describe my state.