Mission accomplished. “Right.”
“Where’d you learn to fix cars like a pro?” Cassie leaned against the side of hers, while Matt, his torso engulfed beneath the hood, worked on replacing her alternator.
“I wouldn’t say this was like a pro. Someone who really knew what he was doing would have been done an hour ago.”
“And that someone would have charged me an arm and a leg.”
Matt peeked out from behind the hood with a deadpan look. “Who says I’m not?”
She laughed. “Because the evidence of my wealth is all around me.” She inclined her head toward her apartment over the barn. “You’re working on my biggest collateral right now. So payment will have to come in the form of cookies or something.”
“Deal.” Matt returned to his position beneath the hood where she couldn’t see his face. “Do you do okay, Cassie?”
His concern touched her. “Noah and I do fine. We don’t really stay here just because it’s cheap. I’ve thought about moving to a better apartment— I’m still thinking about it, actually— but when Devon comes home, I want it to be to a place he remembers.”
“I see.”
She doubted Matt really did, but that was okay. No one who hadn’t lived something similar could understand what it was like to be in her situation, and she wouldn’t want anyone she cared about to really understand because then they’d have to be going through it, too, and it was lousy.
“Is that why you still drive the Nissan? Is it your husband’s car?”
“No. Devon hated this thing, even back then.” How she’d worried that one day he was going to show up with a new car for her, whether she wanted it or not. Appearances— at least as far as vehicles were concerned— had been more important to Devon than to her. “I think I’m still driving it because I hate car shopping, and I don’t want to have a payment again. We were saving for a house when Devon was injured. Obviously we’re not saving for one anymore, but I do want to minimize our expenses, so that when he comes home, we can pick up where we left off with our dreams and our goals.”
“I hope this keeps you going a little longer then.” Matt stepped back and closed the hood. “All done. Hopefully that’s the end of your battery woes.”
“I think they ended this morning when you told off the manager at the store.” Cassie grinned, recalling the way Matt had stood up for her and accused the manager of taking advantage of female clients. Matt had not only gotten the entire cost of her new battery refunded, but Cassie was pretty sure she’d never have an issue at that store again.
“Well, if your alternator really was on its way out, that may not have been entirely fair of me.” Matt took the rag she offered him and wiped his greasy hands. “However, more often than not, it seems places like that do take advantage of women. So my chat with the manager was probably a good reminder. Not to mention that your battery was under warranty. Two months. Good grief.” He shook his head.
“Yeah,” Cassie said. “Good thing there aren’t a lot of cliffs around here, or I might have pushed this thing off one by now.”
“Don’t let it come to that,” Matt said, his tone more serious than a moment before. “With anything Cassie. I meant what I said last night about being friends. I want to be here for you for whatever you need.”
It was the nicest thing anyone had said to her in forever, or at least since Devon was hurt. It seemed the last six years when she most could have used good friends and occasional help, just about everyone but her mom had abandoned her. “Thank you, Matt. I want to be your friend, too, and help you and your boys.”
“You already have.” Matt finished with the rag and bent to pick up his tools. “More than you know. I think Austin may finally be starting to come around to himself again.”
“I’m so glad.” They stood staring at one another awkwardly. Cassie had already brought out lemonade a half hour earlier, but maybe Matt was thirsty again. All three boys were upstairs playing Legos in Noah’s room, so she supposed it would be all right to invite Matt up. It wasn’t like they were going to be alone. They’d just be two parents taking a break for a minute.
“Would you like some more lemonade or some ice water? We could go inside.”
“Sounds good.” Matt wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Is it always so hot here in September?”
“It seems like it, the past few years at least. We need rain, and the mountains need a serious snowpack. Maybe this will be the year we get it.” Cassie pushed off the car and led the way to the stairs. She ran up them quickly, then turned around to find Matt still near the bottom, bent over examining the framework.
“These aren’t exactly safe, you know.”
“If you walk closer to the wall of the barn, it’s a bit better. I always hold the rail.”
“Until that falls off, too,” Matt muttered, giving it a good shake and watching as it moved back and forth a couple of inches. “Mmm. Secure. I feel better.”
“Rent is cheap,” Cassie reminded him and went into the apartment, which smelled strongly of sweaty little boys who’d played hard at soccer. She opened the kitchen window wider and sat at the table beside the glasses and pitcher of lemonade. Matt joined her a second later and quickly downed the glass she poured for him.
“I did some reading last night,” he said.
“First thinking and then reading. Unusual habits for you?” A smile played at the corners of her mouth. She couldn’t help but tease him, the same way he teased her. It was fun to enjoy that kind of camaraderie again. It had been far too long.
“I’m afraid my library is mostly limited to books like Go Dog Go.” His answer was accompanied with a slight shake of his head, which somehow only encouraged her playful mood. Until he swallowed the last drop of lemonade from his cup, and his expression turned serious.
“I did some reading about PVS and TBI’s.”
“Ahh.” So much for lighthearted. For her, those terms were the equivalent of dousing a forest fire. Not that there is even a flame here.
“I had no idea it was such a prevalent thing,” Matt said, “or of the intricacies of a patient with PVS— that they’re awake sometimes, but not really there.”
“That’s a pretty good summary,” Cassie said.
“It sounds disturbing.” Matt brought a fist to his chin. “I mean, of course it’s disturbing. It’s a terrible thing. But it seems like it would be especially difficult to try to communicate with someone who is awake, but doesn’t see you, or sees right through you or—”
“It can be,” Cassie said, rescuing him from his futile attempts to explain or understand, “but I rarely feel that way. When Devon woke from his coma about three weeks after the accident, I was overjoyed to see his eyes opened. I’d been warned he might not wake up at all, so to get to see his eyes again, even if they weren’t looking at me, felt like such a blessing.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of that,” Matt said. “You’re a glass-half-full kind of person, Cassie.”
“Not always.” Not last night. “I try, though. It never helps to wallow.”
“I think I’m figuring that out,” Matt said, “having wallowed for nine months now. Tell me you did some of that yourself, after your husband was hurt.”
“Mmm, sort of,” Cassie said. Recalling that painful time wasn’t something she enjoyed. “At first I think I was just in shock.” But that year had also been bittersweet. “Then, just weeks after Devon was shot, I found out we were going to have a baby, and I was over-the-moon about it. We’d been trying for more than a year, and the prognosis wasn’t good.” She stopped suddenly, realizing how personal their conversation had become. Matt was easy to talk to. Too easy. She hurried to finish explaining so they could move onto a less-serious subject.
“Noah was a miracle, and because of that, I expected a miracle with Devon as well. From the very beginning, I’ve felt he’s going to get better. He’s going to come back to us. I just have to be patient.”
“Wow.” Matt leaned b
ack in his chair, his stance casual, but his gaze was full of intensity and admiration. “I think you’re my new hero.”
Cassie waved away his praise. “There’s nothing heroic about survival and being happy with the people we’ve been blessed with. Now, if I didn’t have Noah, this conversation would probably be very different.” If she didn’t have Noah, there would be no conversation. Matt and his boys wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t be a soccer coach; she wouldn’t be a mother. I’d be a lonely mess.
“Noah’s a lucky boy,” Matt said. “He’s got a great mom. Poor Austin and Asher are stuck with a clueless dad.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” Cassie said, wanting to help him as much as she wanted to help his sons. “Your loss is still new, and it is a loss. You have more to be grieving than I do. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”
“Don’t try,” Matt advised. He picked up the pitcher of lemonade and poured himself another drink. “It’s been pretty awful, but at least I’m on the other side of it. It’s got to get better eventually, or so I’ve been told. It seems you must feel like you’re stuck in the same cycle. In some kind of limbo, waiting for life to go forward again and having to deal with an awful lot during the interim.”
It was a perceptive statement from someone she hadn’t known that long. That he’d taken the time to learn about her husband and what she was dealing with and going through touched her, but she couldn’t allow Matt to think her lot was harder.
“All of that is right, but I still have a chance. You’ve had to let that go.” She shook her head. “So difficult.”
“And I imagine that you have to keep digging deep every day to keep your hope alive.” Their eyes met above the rim of his glass raised to his lips.
“Are we arguing about whose life sucks worse?” Though it wasn’t funny, she grinned.
“Apparently.” He returned her smile.
“Well,” Cassie proclaimed. “It would seem that neither of us have a right to a pity party. Look at the great kids we have. I’d be ungrateful to say my life is bad when I’ve got Noah.”
“As I said, glass half full.” Matt raised his lemonade in a toast. Their glasses clinked then they both drank and listened a moment to the shouts and sounds coming from the bedroom.
“What are they doing in there?” Matt turned in his chair, as if contemplating the need to intervene before someone got hurt.
“I’d bet they’re playing superheroes.” Cassie didn’t even wince when there was a crash against the bedroom door. One nice thing about living in a dumpy apartment was the lack of worry over doing anything to make it worse. “Noah has a set of Lego superheroes. He likes to string dental floss from the top of his bed across to the door. Then he attaches the Lego heroes and has them slide across the room on the lines.”
“That’s some pretty big noise for Legos to make,” Matt said, still looking toward the bedroom.
“Oh, the Legos aren’t the only things that are flying,” Cassie said, still unconcerned. “Noah likes to jump from his loft onto my bed. Unfortunately, when my bed’s down, it’s so close to the door that it bangs against it every time a kid—” She paused as three thumps sounded against the bedroom door. “—or three land on the mattress.”
“Sounds fun.” Matt’s gaze swung back to her, appraising. “You’re the first mom I’ve ever met who encourages jumping on the bed.”
Cassie shrugged. “The kid needs some perks for having to share a room with his mom.”
“And what about you?” Matt leaned forward, elbows propped on the table. “What perk do you get from sharing a room with your son?”
“I sleep better,” Cassie said without hesitation. “Noah’s a heavy breather. Listening to him, I don’t feel quite so alone.”
Matt nodded, and Cassie read the understanding in his eyes.
“That would be why I allow Asher to end up in my bed most nights. There are worse things than a wiggly kid.” Matt’s gaze held hers, and she felt a stirring of compassion and wished she could say something encouraging.
“Lots worse.” She wanted to tell him that it would get better, that five or six years out, he’d be able to sleep easier without his wife beside him, but that would have been lying. She still missed curling up beside Devon and waking with his arm around her. Loneliness didn’t have an expiration date.
“Do you mind if I go see how the boys are doing?” He turned in his seat toward the bedroom once more, and Cassie took a second to mentally shake herself from melancholy.
“If they invite you to race the superhero Legos, be sure to ask for Hawkeye. He’s the one with the bow, right?”
“Yep.” Matt stood and pushed his chair in.
Cassie gathered their cups and the near-empty pitcher. “Hawkeye slides better than the others because of his bow, so he always makes it to the door first.”
“Thanks for the tip. You’re a good mom.”
“I try. It’s hard doing it all myself. As you know times two.” She rose from her chair.
“Two kids or one,” Matt said, “it probably doesn’t make much difference when you’re parenting on your own. Just like grief isn’t always about death. It’s about attachment and separation.”
“Wow.” Cassie paused midway to the counter with their glasses. “That’s kind of profound. It sounds like something from one of my psychology textbooks.” Earlier, while Matt was installing the alternator, they’d discussed their pre-marriage lives, the schools they’d gone to and plans they’d had.
“Actually, I read that on the internet last night. I thought it was a keeper.”
Did he just wink at me?
“I’m going to tell Austin and Asher to start cleaning up now. The boys need baths, and I promised them that tonight they’d get their burgers and fries.”
“Get to Ikeda’s early,” Cassie advised, half-wishing he’d invite her and Noah to tag along.
“Want to come with us?” Matt asked. “Or is it ice cream only for you and Noah on Saturday nights?”
A smile she had absolutely no control of spread across her face. She’d just wished for something, and it had happened. The prospect of her and Noah spending a Saturday evening with Matt and his boys sounded delightful.
“Tonight’s the last movie in the park for the year as well,” she said. “We could eat out and then go to that.”
“I’d like that, and I’m sure the boys would, too.” Matt’s smile seemed to match hers. Meet you at Ikeda’s around five?”
“Sounds perfect,” Cassie agreed. It wasn’t a date. He hadn’t offered to pick her up. They were simply two parents joining forces to help their boys have the best time possible during these difficult situations in their lives.
She helped Matt extract Austin and Asher from the intricate web of dental floss stretching across the bedroom, then walked the three of them to the door. She and Noah stood at the top of the stairs, watching until Matt’s truck had disappeared.
“Has it been a good day so far?” Cassie asked Noah, ruffling the top of his sweat-dried hair.
“The best,” Noah said. “Friends are good.”
Cassie couldn’t have said it better.
Cassie read over the grant application, checking one last time to make sure all I’s were dotted and T’s were crossed, figuratively speaking, so the fifth graders had the best chance of getting iPads for next year. This wasn’t her favorite part of her job, but she did enjoy it when they had success and the school received the funds or equipment they needed.
“Straight in here, young man.” Mrs. Kendall’s stern voice echoed in the hall a few seconds before the door to the principal’s office banged open, and she thrust a student forward into the room, then marched in behind him.
Austin. Cassie’s eyes widened in recognition, but she refrained from saying anything or following her impulse to lean forward and remove Mrs. Kendall’s hand from the collar of his shirt.
“What can I help you with, Doris?” Cassie smiled sweetly and forced
herself to look away from Austin’s red, splotchy face.
“This student, this boy—”
Cassie clenched her teeth together and thought, not for the first time, that Doris Kendall should have retired long ago. She was notorious for disliking boys, or at the least being prejudiced against those in her class. She’d had only daughters, and that had been close to four decades ago, so she had neither patience with nor empathy for the unfortunate males in her classroom. Last year, after numerous complaints from fourth grade parents, she’d been reassigned to the less mouthy, tenderhearted children in first grade. Cassie already had plans to do whatever it took to keep Noah from being in her class next year.
“This boy what?” she prompted, her eyes flickering to Austin. No matter what he’d done, the second Doris left the office, Cassie was going to give him a hug.
“He attacked another student, tackled him right to the ground.”
Cassie took a pen and began writing so Doris would think she was taking notes for the principal. Really she was taking notes for Mrs. Kendall’s file, full, unfortunately, of incidents just like this. “Was the other student provoking him?”
“Most certainly not,” Mrs. Kendall said, staring down her nose at Cassie. “Students do not provoke one another in my class. The incident happened as I was reminding the children about our Moms and Muffins activity coming up.”
Oh no. Cassie stole another glance at Austin and caught sight of a tear rolling down his cheek. It frustrated her that the school continued to have events like Dads and Donuts or Moms and Muffins when so many children these days did not come from traditional two-parent families. She could only imagine how Austin must be feeling right now.
“Mrs. Kendall,” Cassie began quietly, choosing her words with care. “I believe what may have happened is a simple misunderstanding, a case of hurt feelings, of a child sensing a prejudice against him, his family, and their circumstances. Were you aware that—”
“It is absolutely a case of prejudice,” Mrs. Kendall snapped. “The child who was attacked had just asked if he could bring both of his mothers to school for our activity. The very moment he asked, Mr. Kramer here”— She tugged on the collar of Austin’s shirt again while Cassie dug her fingernails into her palm to keep from reaching out to attack someone herself— “jumped from his spot on the rug and tackled the student, simply because he’d mentioned his two mothers.” Mrs. Kendall glared at Austin. “If that isn’t blatant prejudice, then I don’t know what is.”
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