John thought back to that morning so long ago. He had been as sick as he’d ever remembered, and dog tired. He had slept almost four hours before the phone woke him. He barely recognized her voice; it was so faint on the end of the line. His head ached as he sat up and listened to her sob on the phone. He selfishly asked if he could call her right back so he could pee and take some aspirin. Of course, he didn’t tell her that.
Peeing was a chore, because he didn’t think he’d ever stop. Then he had to leave the room to get an aspirin from the front desk—another chore because he had to at least put on pants. He called Becca back about ten minutes later, but D.R. had answered. D.R. wanted to know where he was, and if he was coming over. John promised he would be over in just a little while. After he got rid of his headache, he didn’t add. He slept for another hour, but the alarm woke him. With only a dull ache of his migraine left, he called Becca back, told her he was bringing dinner and took topping requests for pizza.
An hour later, he delivered pizza, Mug Root Beer and Blue Bell ice cream. The kids were beyond excited. After dinner, Marissa played with the boys outside while John and Becca talked about insurance and David’s will and the house. They had just moved into their home the month before David’s death, and she didn’t know how they would be able to afford it now, without tapping into the boys’ college funds. Thanks to David, the insurance policies on him were now worthless.
David’s parents had moved to Florida when his father retired. However, David’s mother had died less than a year after moving there, from a massive stroke. David’s father was still alive, but in poor health. David was their only child. His death had devastated his father so much that he couldn’t travel to the funeral. He called Becca the night before the funeral, sobbing, telling her he didn’t’ want her to move. He told her David would have inherited everything he had when he died, anyway, so he wanted to make sure that she had a home for the boys. He sent her a check for the balance of the mortgage that afternoon. Becca had cried, thanking him profusely.
After teaching for six years, Marissa decided education wasn’t her forte. Since she had dabbled in selling Mary Kay products on the side through her entire teaching career, once she walked away from the classroom, she began selling Mary Kay full time. She was now a successful Mary Kay consultant, with a pink Cadillac to show for it.
Marissa had already promised that she would stay for as long as Becca needed her. She could work anywhere. John, on the other hand, though he promised to stay as long as she needed him, was not as flexible. He had used every bit of vacation and sick leave time he had accumulated, not to mention digging into his savings for hotel and a rental car. The days had turned into a week, and he finally had to leave. He remembered the look of sadness on all their faces as he watched them disappear into the distance from the rearview mirror. He felt like such a coward—it seemed like he was abandoning her all over again, when she needed him the most.
John stopped before the grave, standing where he had over twenty years ago. The marble looked worn from years of weathering. The ground was untouched. He read the engraved words that hadn’t been there when he last stood in that very spot. Loving son, father, husband and friend. He drew in a deep breath as he took the letter from his pocket.
You said you would always be there, and when you left again, I was so hurt. I felt abandoned again. First by David, then, by you. And then I got angry. I was so angry with you, John. Angry because you left me again. And then I realized you hadn’t left me. You were moving on with your life. And I felt I’d been so selfish. And I felt so horrible for making you feel guilty for moving on. It’s like I wanted you to move on, but felt scared when you did. I was afraid you’d forget about me. I feared that I’d become just a casual call or occasional letter that you read with some amusement. I wanted to be more than that, John. I always wanted to be more than that.
John refolded the letter and put it back into his pocket. He stood before the grave and then slowly stepped behind it and saw that there was no spousal engraving on the back. He dropped his head and sighed with relief. Maybe he wasn’t too late. He walked with a little more courage back to the waiting cab and then gave the cabbie the only address he had.
The drive seemed to take forever though it was only fifteen minutes. He looked around, not recognizing much of the landscape. San Antonio had changed so much. Of course, he hadn’t been back in longer than he cared to remember. Here he was, sixty years old and still nervous. He rubbed his hands on his jeans, then laughed at himself. He caught the cabbie looking at him in the rearview mirror like he was senile. John smiled at him, then leaned back. What would he say after so many years? What could he say after so many years that could make up for what he hadn’t said so many years before?
The cab pulled up to the same ranch house he remembered. It seemed smaller somehow, but in good repair. The yard was green and manicured, the gardens tended and the hedges trimmed. He wondered if she still lived there, and if she did, if she still worked in the yard. He envisioned her bent over, tending her roses and snapdragons. He smiled to himself, then looked up and caught the cabbie looking at him again. After a few moments of a stare down the cabbie blinked. “This your stop?”
John sat upright. “Oh, yes, sorry.” He slowly stepped from the car and then pulled his wallet out and handed the cabbie his fare and a few dollars’ tip.
“Do you want me to wait?” he asked.
John shook his head and waved. “No, thank you,” he said, then turned and walked deliberately to the house. He held the railing to take the two steps to the front door. He drew in a deep breath for confidence and knocked.
Chapter 25: June 4, 1975
John looked up as the door opened. Becca smiled then threw her arms around him. He hugged her, and she lifted her feet off the ground as he swung her around. “I’m so glad you made it,” she said, finally letting go of his neck and sliding down him until she landed on her soft white sneakers. She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. Becca had repainted the hallway and living room a pale yellow. The drapes had colorful flowers on them and were pulled back to let in the afternoon sun. It looked bright and alive.
John smiled. “You’ve been busy,” he said.
Becca looked around, then kicked a football out of her way. “You like it?”
John looked down at the toys in the middle of the room. “Looks lived in,” he said, with a wry smile.
Becca swatted his arm, motioning for him to follow. “You’ll get Little David’s room. He’ll be fine with it, since it’s you.”
John watched her bounce ahead of him, her brown hair bobbing behind the yellow and white bandana across her head. She wore white capris that hugged her small frame. He reprimanded himself for even looking, glancing at the newly painted walls instead, and then his eyes returned to her bottom as she turned the corner into D.R.’s room. He smiled at the Star Trek and Michael Jackson posters on the wall. There were Star Trek figurines lined up on D.R.’s bookcase and a half-built Enterprise model on his desk.
Becca held out her arms. “This is it,” she said, as she slid her hands into her back pockets.
“A young boy on the cusp of teenage manhood,” John smirked.
“Hey, bite your tongue. He’s only seven,” she said, rolling her eyes. They both looked around for several moments before she turned back at him, his eyes meeting hers. “God, it’s so good to see you, John,” she said. “The boys are going to be so excited that you’re here,” she beamed. “I didn’t tell them you were coming.”
John dropped his suitcase and drew in a deep breath as he turned to look at her again. “You look great,” he finally said.
Her hands flew to her hair. “Oh, I must look a mess. I’ve been cleaning all day.”
John shook his head. “No, actually, you look good,” he said awkwardly, sounding more excited than he thought he should. “For someone who’s been cleaning all day,” he blurted out.
“You’re such a liar,” she said.
&
nbsp; “You used to think I was charming,” he smiled.
“You’re that, too.” She took his arm and led him from the room.
“So, how are the boys?” he asked.
“Oh, you’d hardly know them. They’ve grown so much just in the last few months.” Becca led him into the kitchen and poured him some fresh lemonade she’d just made. “William’s asleep in the other room, but he’ll be up shortly. Little David told me he wants to be a fireman when he grows up and he’s just finished second grade!” She handed John his glass. “Your namesake is our little humanitarian who will collect anything that slithers or crawls or flies,” she said, going to the counter and taking a plate of cookies she had just baked and offering him one. John looked over them, noting some of them were a little dark on the edges. He looked up at her. She narrowed her eyes. “No comments. They are good, I promise,” she said, taking one herself.
John warily took one. As he crunched into it, crumbs fell all over his lap. “It’s good,” he said flatly, more crumbs falling from his mouth. “Really.”
Becca gave him a sarcastic look. “Okay, so Betty Crocker I’m not,” she said as she set the plate down. “But at least I’m trying.”
John felt bad for teasing her.
“Also, be careful of the dog in the backyard. He looks like a wolf, but he’s harmless,” she added, dusting the crumbs from the counter into her hand and tossing them into the sink.
“You have a dog?” John asked, sitting straight up.
“He followed us home last week from the park, and no one has claimed him yet.”
Becca picked up the wrench next to the sink and got down onto her hands and knees.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he stood and looked down at her.
“I can’t afford a plumber,” she replied frankly, as she turned over and lay on her back.
John shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth, spewing crumbs as he spoke. “Why don’t you let me do that?”
Becca looked up at him, thought for a moment; and then shrugged. “Sure, be my guest.” She wriggled from under the sink and handed the wrench to John.
John lay down on the ground and shimmied under the pipes. He moved his hand about, checking all the joints. He found one that was loose and used the wrench to tighten it. He looked around some more, then leaned over a little bit. “Try it now,” he said.
Becca turned on the faucet, and suddenly water spewed from several directions, soaking him.
“Off! Turn it off!” he exclaimed, holding his hands over his face.
Becca tried to conceal her laugh, but couldn’t, and suddenly it burst from her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she tried to say sincerely, looking down at him.
John slid back from under the sink and stood up. He shook his head like a wet dog, spraying water all over her, the counters and the floor.
Becca picked up one of the towels she had brought in earlier, knowing she would make a mess. “Here,” she said, still trying not to smile. “Sorry.”
“I say we turn off the water from the main outside and try this again.”
“I can just call a plumber,” she conceded.
“No, let me just get out of these wet clothes, and I’ll try again.” John pulled off his wet T-shirt and dabbed his body with it.
Becca found herself looking at him. She hadn’t seen him without a shirt in years. What was once the soft body of a young man had become the strong muscular body of a grown man. Her eyes glanced over the full matting of hair in the center of his well-defined chest, down to the wisp of hair from his belly to his jeans. She looked up and blushed when she found he was staring at her as well. “I’m glad you’re staying,” she said, turning back to the counter and wiping the water from it.
“I don’t mind staying at a hotel. I don’t want to be an imposition.”
Becca turned. “Are you kidding? You’re never an imposition, John. Besides, I can use help with the boys.”
“With the sink,” he smiled.
“And I made the list that you told me to. Although I feel guilty for having you do all that work,” she added, sipping her lemonade.
“I have to earn my room and board,” he said, with a smirk. “I’m going to go put on a dry shirt.”
Becca smiled and then moved to the kitchen pantry and took out a mop. A few moments later the door flew open, and D.R. and Johnny ran into the room, their backpacks slung over their shoulders. Becca stopped mopping and held up her hands like a crossing guard. “Stop!” she said in a raised voice. Both boys froze in place. “Back up right there, put your jackets on the coat rack in the washroom and take off your shoes. The floor’s wet in here, so be careful. I don’t want you to get your socks wet or slip on anything.”
“How’d the floor get wet?”
“Your Uncle John was trying to fix the pipe and…” she began, before they interrupted her.
“Uncle John’s here?” D.R. exclaimed.
The boys dropped their metal lunch boxes, jackets and backpacks where they stood and ran down the hall.
“Uncle John!” they shrieked.
“Shh!” Becca called after them. Then she added in a normal tone, “You’ll wake your brother.”
The boys ran down the hall to the open doorway. “Uncle John!” Johnny exclaimed.
“Uncle John!” yelled D.R. “What are you doing here?
Becca entered the room as John pulled a clean T-shirt over his tanned body.
“Is this our surprise, Mom?” D.R. asked.
John looked at Becca with raised eyebrows.
“I promised them if they were good I had a surprise for them,” she said, arms crossed.
“And what were you going to do with me if they weren’t good?” he asked.
“What I do with all their surprises. Hide them in the closet until their birthdays or Christmas.”
John looked down at the boys. “Boy, am I glad you two were good today!”
The boys laughed. John reached into his pocket and pulled out two packages of baseball cards with bubble gum in them. Their eyes widened. They turned to their mom, who nodded. They rapidly grabbed their gifts, opened them, and stuffed the gum into their mouths. They both smacked loudly as they examined their own and each other’s baseball cards.
“Now what do you say, boys?” Becca prodded.
“Thank you, Uncle John,” they both recited in unison.
D.R. looked down at the suitcase. “You’re staying?”
“Just try and get rid of me. You’ve got me for a little over a week, if you want. I thought maybe I’d help you guys keep your mom busy and start your summer off right.
Johnny bounced up and down. “A week? Really? You don’t have to leave?”
“You’ve got me eight whole days,” he said, rubbing Johnny’s head.
“Cool,” Johnny smiled, with a mouthful of gum.
“Did you see Mom painted my room?” D.R. asked, pointing at his walls.
“Sure did. She’s quite the decorator,” he added.
“It’s cool, isn’t it?” D.R. asked.
“My room’s cool, too,” Johnny declared.
“Okay, boys. Pick up your school stuff and put it where it belongs. Then you can show Uncle John the changes we’ve made.”
“Mom, can I show Uncle John Hiway?” Johnny asked.
“Hiway’s the dog we found on the highway. He’s got three legs. One’s cut off,” D.R. explained.
John raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
Becca nodded.
“Cool,” John added with a smile, as both boys grabbed a hand and led him toward the back door. They stopped long enough to put up their jackets and backpacks in the washroom. Then they spied the cookies. “Mom burned the cookies again,” D.R. said aloud, so that his mom could hear him.
Becca walked into the kitchen. “I did not burn them!” she corrected. “They are just a little crispy.”
“Burned,” D.R. said behind his hand to John, who smiled and nodded. When they opened the back door,
a wolf puppy bounced inside. And sure enough, he had only three legs but moved around as if he had all four. The pup bounded around them as they put their lunchboxes into the sink. Then Hiway followed them as they led John—dragged him, actually—into their backyard. There was a new swing set their grandfather had bought them with three swings, a see-saw and a slide, so that was the first stop on the tour.
Becca watched them through the kitchen window. It was good seeing the boys smiling and laughing and having fun. She hadn’t seen much of that over the past year. Well, maybe a little, but not like this. Not like now. She watched as John pushed them high up in the air. She cringed, hoping that the set wouldn’t tip over when they both swung forward.
Becca put up the lemonade and put the meatloaf in the oven. She walked back to the window and looked out. The boys were nowhere to be seen. She leaned onto the tips of her toes and looked both directions. Suddenly, she heard a yell from the garage. She rushed hurriedly to the garage and flung open the door.
“Oh, my God!” John exclaimed.
“What?” Becca gasped.
“I can’t believe you kept it!” John added, excitedly. “You didn’t sell it, after all.”
Becca grabbed her chest. “Jesus, John. You scared the crap out of me!”
“Ummm,” Johnny corrected. “Mommy, you aren’t supposed to say ‘crap.’” His hand flung to his mouth. “Sorry,” he added faintly.
John pursed his lips to keep from laughing.
“Boys, why don’t’ you play inside for a bit?” she said, ushering them toward the door. “Uncle John and I will be in in a few minutes.”
“Aww,” they said together. Shoulders slumped, and heads dropped in defeat as they walked toward the door.
“Does it still run?” John asked.
“Let’s find out,” she said, turning to her sons. “D.R., can you see if you can find your dad’s keys? I think they are by my jewelry box. You can have some cookies, if you want,” she added with a smile.
D.R. made a face.
Letters from Becca: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel Page 15