She sniffled. “But you don’t have to be here.”
His hand stilled as he frowned at her. “I want to, Becca. This is where I want to be.”
“But for how long? Eventually, everyone wants to leave.”
A month ago, he’d have no answer for her. They’d started their relationship with a one-night stand. At no point during their first encounter, did he expect to feel so much for this woman. Now, however, all of that had changed. It was time to show a little of the hand his was hiding. “I don’t see myself ever wanting to leave. You make me happy.”
“You make me happy too.”
“Isn’t that enough, angel?” When she didn’t answer, he whispered, “It’s okay to try for happiness, Becca. Sometimes we miss and sometimes we hit, but no one’s ever succeeded without experiencing some failure.”
“My divorce was a big pill I’m still trying to swallow. The things I felt for Kevin were so one dimensional compared to the way you make me feel. If I can’t quite get over losing that relationship, I’m not sure I’d survive losing ours.”
“Becca…” Running out of words in the face of such jaded pessimism, he lost a bit of his calm. “Where am I going? You act as though I’ve given you reason to expect I’ll leave. I’m right here. You need to stop doing this to yourself. I know you’re scared, but I promise, you’re worried over nothing.”
“I just need to know that you understand that I’m still processing.”
“I do understand, Becca. I can’t imagine a marriage is an easy thing to let go of. You have to redefine your thinking. I know things would have been easier if we’d met a year later and you had a chance to find closure, but we met now. We can get through this together. You can talk to me about it. I never want you to think you can’t share your honest feelings with me.”
Her face pinched as a small puddle of tears gathered in the corner of her eye. “You shouldn’t have to listen to that stuff. Sometimes I don’t even get the way I feel.”
Brushing her hair away from her face, he said, “Should or shouldn’t doesn’t matter. I’m here because I love you. I didn’t fall in love with an illusion and neither of us is perfect. Don’t be afraid to lean on me. I promise I won’t let you drown.”
Shifting, she rose to her knees and looped her arms around his neck. Her lips pressed to his and she whispered, “Do you know how dangerous you are to my heart?”
“Maybe I’m not dangerous at all,” he whispered, slanting his mouth to hers. Maybe, placing her heart in his care was the safest thing she could do. For as much as love seemed to frighten her, Braydon knew he’d never be able to hurt her the way her ex had. In time he hoped she realized that.
When she pulled away and cuddled into his side, he figured now was as good a time as any to address certain matters. “How do you feel about going on the pill, Becca?”
Her shoulders lifted and she sighed. “That’s probably smart.”
Figuring that would lay some of her preemptive concerns to rest, he said, “I think we both got ahead of ourselves. As much as I’d like to someday have a family, I don’t want to make any decisions before we’re ready.”
He regretted his words the moment he saw her withdraw. “Braydon…”
Quickly holding out a hand, he assured, “We don’t have to decide now. I understand all your concerns.”
“Do you?”
“Becca, I understand, which is why I said we’ll decide when we’re ready. I’m in no rush. Kate lost a baby. So did my mum I recently found out. Sammy had a really scary labor with Liam, and Kelly and Ashlynn’s son, Nate, was premature. Sheilagh can’t get pregnant. And Luke is still waiting for approval so he can be a father. The only one out of all of us that didn’t have some sort of complication was Finn. There’s always fear where family’s concerned and I wouldn’t rush into starting one without fully thinking it through. However, accidents happen and if we found ourselves in an unexpected situation I’d do the right thing and adapt.”
Her gaze fell to her lap. “I just have this feeling you expect my mind to change and you’re holding out for that.” Lifting her face, her stare locked with his. “It may never change, Braydon. If you need to have family, you need to find a woman who can give you guarantees.”
He didn’t want guarantees. He wanted her. If a future with Becca came at the expense of never having a family, he’d deal. She was that important to him, that different from every other woman he’d ever been with. Besides, she already had one great kid. “There are no guarantees in life, angel, but I know not having children isn’t enough to make me walk away.”
She blinked, her eyes again glassy with unshed tears. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Now, stop putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. We’ve got plenty of time to decide our future.”
“You’re so different from Kevin.”
His jaw twitched. He’d promised she could share her true feelings with him, but he was growing tired of hearing the other man’s name. “Well, Kevin’s gone now.”
Her brow furrowed as though his words somehow pained her, but it was the truth, Kevin was gone. “He’s Hunter’s father, Braydon. He’ll always be a part of our lives. He’ll never be gone for good.”
There was something off about the way she jumped to his defense. “I only meant you don’t need to live by his edicts anymore. Don’t measure your decisions against his opinions. You’re apart for a reason and not because you shared the same opinion on most things.”
She was quiet for a long time. “I think, if we ever had children, you’d make an incredible father.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t seem to let the topic go. The more she returned to the discussion of family, the more Braydon realized how greatly it was weighing on her. Perhaps she truly did want more children, but couldn’t admit the truth to herself. His heart swelled as he silently admitted he wasn’t ready to forgo the hope for family completely. “You’re already an incredible mum.”
She smiled, her eyes drifting. “If we had children, would they call me Mum?”
Now this, this was dangerous. He’d cauterized the topic, but she continued to pick. He didn’t have the will to shut the topic down, not when hypothesizing about such an indulgent fantasy filled him with such pleasure.
He stretched and allowed his mind to venture, reminding himself they were only postulating. “I think they might. They’d have blonde hair and your lavender eyes and a wild McCullough streak. The youngest would probably curse like a sailor, having learned all the good words from his older cousins and his grandmother.”
She giggled, surprising him with the ease at which she embraced the make-believe. “My children will not swear.”
“Love, every McCullough swears.” He grinned, having fun imagining such things. A sense of peace settled over him. His mind withdrew as he pictured his home on the mountain, his children romping over the same open land he and his siblings used to play. It wouldn’t matter if their children were brilliant, in remedial classes, disfigured, shockingly beautiful, autistic or anything else. They’d all be special because they’d be theirs.
What did matter was the more he imagined his future, the more he admitted he hadn’t been totally honest with Becca. Part of him was holding out hope that she’d someday change her mind. He didn’t know how to shut off such expectation. If he confessed how much he someday wanted a family, she’d likely shut him out again, so for now, he kept these feelings to himself, hoping that with time, she’d find the confidence she lost and try for more.
* * * *
Over the next few weeks Becca welcomed Braydon’s presence in their home, pushing herself to move forward and not dwell on the past. He often came to her house after work, bringing desserts they’d share after dinner. Hunter seemed to enjoy the occurrences he was there. Though her son never called him by name or spoke directly to him, he did acknowledge Braydon’s presence in his own unique way.
Her son accepted Braydon into their private world. When they danced, B
raydon danced with them. When they drummed, Braydon did an excellent guitar solo. When Hunter needed to be bathed, Braydon put on shorts and helped her get the job done.
Hunter’s behavior was shifting slightly as he’d sometimes pause waiting for Braydon to follow as though expecting his attendance as a small piece of their whole. Children on the spectrum didn’t typically mimic unnecessary adult behaviors like neurotypical children tended to. They copied only what their brains recognized as useful actions in order to accomplish tasks more efficiently. Yet, Hunter carefully evaluated Braydon’s habits, picking up strange behaviors, such as adjusting the blinds the way Braydon tended to when the sun set each evening. This surprised Becca.
There was a precise rationalization behind everything Hunter did, whether outsiders recognized his reasoning or not. He had superior reasoning skills the rest of the world was still struggling to appreciate. When behaviors didn’t waste time on superfluous social touches they typically weren’t praised by society, but Becca understood her son’s compulsions and it seemed Braydon was starting to as well.
Since Braydon’s arrival, other excessive behaviors were also waning. Hunter didn’t seem to flap as much or give into unnecessary impulses as frequently as he had before. Perhaps her son was maturing. Or perhaps it was the incredible man now sharing their lives.
Before Braydon, Hunter often stood several times throughout a meal in order to tap a specific spot on the wall three times between bites. These were slight differences, but they were occurring and Becca was trying to figure out why.
Some nights Braydon brought his laptop to finish up work from the office. He used programs Becca wasn’t familiar with and had little interest in. Hunter, however, seemed curious. Her son had minimal social motivation regarding others. She knew he wasn’t trying to get closer to Braydon as a person, but he appeared very intrigued by whatever was happening on the laptop.
One night she was cleaning up after dinner while Hunter listened to his iPod and Braydon worked from his laptop on the sofa. As she shut off the water she stilled.
Hearing her son’s voice during music time caught her off guard. Drying her hands, she slowly approached the den only to find him hovering over Braydon’s shoulder.
“And what about here?” Braydon asked. Hunter reached for the screen of the laptop and Braydon laughed, redirecting him. “You can’t touch, bud.”
Becca smiled at the gentle way he spoke to her son. Braydon looked around and reached into his portfolio. Withdrawing a large sketchpad, he slid it onto the table with a pencil. “Here. Show me on this.”
Becca watched, confused, as to what they were doing. Stepping closer, she observed her son scribbling letters and numbers all over the paper Braydon placed on the floor. It was as if Hunter’s hand couldn’t write fast enough for his brain.
His head twisted as he solved some curious equation he was considering. Braydon grinned, clearly impressed with whatever all those numbers translated.
“What’s he doing?” she quietly asked.
Braydon turned his smile on her. “He just solved the Golden ratio.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s something used in architecture. If two quantities are in the Golden ratio, their ratio’s the same as the ratio to the sum of the larger of the two quantities. It’s a twentieth-century formula artists and architects used to create what they believed aesthetically pleasing. Basically, he unraveled the formula for phi.”
“Pi?”
“No, phi. It’s different.”
“How did he know how to do that?” she asked, moved by her son’s show of intelligence.
She truly believed people were only conscious of ten percent of the things they thought they knew, but people on the spectrum were much more aware. Their intelligence was sometimes impossible for the typical person to comprehend, which was why their thinking was so misunderstood.
“Do this one,” Braydon said, flashing his computer screen to Hunter, which sent her son scribbling again.
The days that followed progressed with an energy she hadn’t experienced in quite some time. Hunter demanded certain pieces of furniture be moved, which he’d done years before, but Becca never understood why. Braydon could somehow explain his reasoning now, telling her of equations, and finding numeric rationale behind each shift that would have otherwise been a mystery.
“See,” Braydon pointed out one afternoon. “It’s a mathematical equation that links to a sense of harmony. He’s rationalizing the order of the universe, I think. It’s soothing to him.”
She watched her son work out the numbers and return to shift furniture around in the den. Hunter’s mood had indeed been calmer. “Why is it soothing do you think?”
Braydon didn’t seem to have all the answers, but he had some very good assumptions. “I think it’s more along the lines of correcting an irritant. Some people never think about toilet paper or how it’s placed on the roll, but my sister freaks out every time someone puts it on ‘backwards’.”
She frowned. “Which way is it supposed to go?”
He laughed. “I have no idea. Somehow Sheilagh always knows if it’s wrong though. But maybe this is like that for Hunter. He isn’t so much creating order, but rather correcting disorder by his interpretation. If he can rationalize the placement of the furniture with something as concrete as math, he’s thereby removing the stress of chaos. At least that’s my guess.”
There didn’t seem to be enough paper for Hunter to solve all the equations hidden in the shadows of their home, so one evening, after Hunter went to bed, Braydon produced a can of white board paint and they covered the entire wall of the hall. Hunter spent days filling the space with numbers and sums she couldn’t decipher. Even Braydon had reached a point of cluelessness, but continued to encourage him all the same.
The days that Braydon had to travel were difficult. It was amazing how much she’d come to depend on his presence, not because he lent a helping hand—though that helped too—but because he made her existence happier.
She’d done a lot of thinking about moving on. Braydon made the future appear brighter than she’d ever expected. It wasn’t until one afternoon when Kevin had Hunter and Braydon was away on business that she’d actually realized how profoundly he’d influenced her desire to let the past go. It was an ongoing battle, but she was making headway.
As she lifted the last two bags of groceries from her car, the neighbor’s car pulled in to the adjacent driveway. Stomaching the same disquiet she always suffered at the sight of Loretta, the woman who’d ruined her marriage, she took a few moments to calm her nerves.
The only way she’d ever truly move on was if she accepted the state of reality and closed the past. With trembling hands, she lowered the bags back to the car and brushed her palms down her thighs. She could do this.
The alarm on Loretta’s car beeped and Becca forced her feet to move. Cutting through the spaced out hedges dividing the yards, she cleared her throat. The other woman turned and tensed at the sight of her. “Rebecca.”
“Hi.” She needed to say more, but that was all she could manage at the moment. Maybe she should tuck tail and run. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
Loretta paused, looking unsure. “Is there something you need?”
Her breath turned choppy as she truly looked at the other woman. This was her neighbor, someone she saw nearly every day. There was no avoiding the past when it was shoved in her face like that. Becca licked her lips. “I wanted to tell you…” What had she meant to tell her? “I…forgive you.”
Loretta’s eyes widened. She wasn’t a strikingly beautiful woman, but she also wasn’t unattractive by any means. However, over time, Becca had come to realize that while Loretta’s part in her divorce was not innocent, this woman wasn’t the person that made vows to her. Betrayal could only be dealt by those she trusted not to hurt her and the ultimate betrayal had been done by Kevin, not Loretta.
“You do?”
She swallowed
and nodded. “What you did was wrong, but I don’t want to live the remainder of my life fearing I’ll run into you. I’m finally starting over and I’m happy. My marriage wasn’t happy before you came into the picture and it isn’t right for me to hold you accountable for its end. While I don’t excuse your actions, I do forgive them.” She had to, not for Kevin, or the neighbor, but for herself.
“Wow,” the woman said quietly. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. I just needed to hear myself say that. You’re forgiven.”
They waited in awkward silence for several moments. Finally, Becca nodded and stepped in the direction of her van.
“Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”
She stilled. While she could take this baby step in facing her neighbor, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be big enough to embrace that sort of camaraderie. “I have groceries to put away.”
Loretta nodded. “You know…he talked to me. I never meant to become what I was. At first, we were just neighbors, friends that would sometimes discuss life. The day you found us…it was the only time things went that far.”
Curiosity was a dangerous thing. Cautiously, Becca asked, “It was?” She’d assumed Kevin and Loretta had a long-term affair.
“I’m sorry for what I did, if that means anything.”
Breathing in, Becca exhaled slowly. “It means a lot. Thank you.” It really did. Perhaps knowing such an inconsequential detail even restored a bit of her faith in Kevin’s moral compass, no matter how cracked it was. Maybe it wasn’t totally broken.
“He never spoke to me after that day. I’m not sure I would have talked to him anyway. What I did to you was horrible and while your forgiveness helps, I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself. No woman wants to be a home wrecker.”
But Becca wondered if their home wasn’t already wrecked. Loretta might have just been the light shining on the subject they’d both refused to acknowledge. “We’d been having problems for a while.”
As Tears Go By Page 24