For All She Knows

by Beck, Jamie

  Normally, I’d be eager to teach our girls how to look beyond their own experiences and be leaders. But with Carter’s recent regression, I’d become preoccupied with big, important worries that made these exercises seem like a colossal waste of time. And yet my daughter needed her mother, and Sam and my mother couldn’t fill my shoes. She deserved my attention and love and guidance as much as Carter, even if she wasn’t in a rehab center.

  I tapped into any remaining energy before pushing myself off the bench and painting a smile on my face. I had to do one thing well for a change. Kim would be scrutinizing me, and I didn’t want to disappoint her again.

  “Is everything all right?” Tyler asked with perfect sincerity.

  “Yes, thank you.” Lies, lies, lies. Until recently I’d abhorred lies, which corroded everything from the inside out.

  Kim was sprawled on the floor, pen in hand, thinking.

  “Can I help?” I asked.

  She speared me with a look. “You missed the instructions, Mom. I can do it by myself.”

  Ouch. Punishment for my taking that call. Instead of self-pity, I took in all four and a half feet of her. My baby was ten—a birthday that came and went with little joy. In eight years, she’d go off to college. Between now and then, there’d be fewer opportunities to bond, so I couldn’t waste this one.

  “Maybe you could be a good leader and repeat them to me quickly so I can participate.”

  She peered over her shoulder at me, her expression dubious. “Okay.”

  She proceeded to tell me that we’d be writing out all the different roles women can have—like nurse, mom, daughter, coach, scientist, CEO—on sticky notes that would go into a pile from which we could choose ones we’d like. After that, we’d discuss why we chose that role, and how you can be a leader in that role, and so on.

  “Thank you.” She might be embarrassed by a public show of affection, but I leaned forward to kiss the top of her head before spreading out the notes she’d already written. With a determined shove, I set aside all other thoughts. “Well, I see you already wrote mom, daughter, volunteer, and teacher down. Let’s think about what other kinds of things interest you . . .”

  She speared me with a “duh” look. “Soccer player and veterinarian.”

  For the first time all day, I smiled in truth. “You want to be a vet?”

  We didn’t even have a pet. Maybe we should, though. It could’ve helped her feel less lonely these past weeks.

  “Yes. But only for dogs.”

  I covered my laughter. “Well, I love that you want to be a pet doctor. It makes me very proud.”

  With a quick, mischievous smile, she asked, “Proud enough to plan a makeup sleepover party?”

  I chuckled. She was nothing if not tenacious, exactly like my sister. Two toughies. I wanted to make her happy, but getting Carter strong enough to come home would require more of our time, not less. Despite my intentions, I was already breaking my promise to give her my best. “I’m sorry, honey. Not yet, but soon. I promise.”

  “Because of Carter.”

  I nodded, rubbing her back, but she flinched, which made me want to cry.

  “But he’s up there and we’re here.”

  “That’s the problem, because Dad and I are on the road hours each day. We miss spending time doing things you like, and really appreciate what a patient and loving sister you’re being while your brother recovers.”

  “All you care about is him.” She pouted.

  Her expression and words were like knives to my heart. “That’s not true. I love you very much. That’s why I’m here with you now.”

  “It is true. You’re always too tired, and you’re always late, and no one cares that my party was ruined.”

  “We do care, Kim.” Each of her accusations hammered me with more guilt and shame until I felt bloodied. Beside us Tyler and Tami smiled at each other while talking and adding sticky notes to the bowl. All the other moms were engaged and fully present. Sure, none of them had an injured child miles from home, but if I kept using that crutch to justify neglecting Kim’s needs, I’d be no better than my mother.

  I noted Kim’s tight face. What if her snark wasn’t toughness at all, but rather a withdrawal similar to how I’d hidden in my room with my records at her age? The sudden epiphany made it hard to catch my breath. In that instant I was a little girl again, closeted in my room, listening to music and pretending to be anywhere else.

  I leaned close and rested my cheek on her head, hoping she could feel my sympathy. “Kim, I’m very sorry that you’ve been neglected. Let me try to do better, okay?”

  She grunted as she wrote down “vet” in big block letters.

  For weeks I’d been telling everyone I was doing my best. Sam, Mimi, Kim, Carter. But was it true? Was this my best? Because if it was, my best wasn’t nearly as good as I thought. Another crushing blow that bruised my heart.

  And yet, even as I acknowledged that, I didn’t know how to achieve a true change of heart. How to rebalance my priorities with Carter still in a backslide, or shut off my worries so I could sleep at night.

  I’d never before felt this inept—a fortysomething woman who’d yet to learn how to work through negative feelings. My mother had taught me to bury them. Sam couldn’t help because he didn’t struggle with pessimism. Mimi overcame obstacles faster than anyone I’d ever met. Without her and Sam firmly at my side, I was flailing like a newborn tossed into a pool. God had not gifted me a magic heart that was quick to forgive, quick to heal, quick to move on.

  No matter how much I admired others’ incredible resilience, I hardened against the potential of more pain, wallowing in the past with almost no faith in a brighter tomorrow. It was as if my father’s and Margot’s ghosts refused to let me believe that things would work out.

  If I didn’t figure out how to make them disappear, there’d be more loss in my future. A shiver spread through my entire body.

  I reached out to stroke Kim’s head. “Kim.”

  “Huh?”

  Leaning closer, I said, “Could you look at me for a second?”

  With a sigh, she tipped her face up. “What?”

  “I hate that I’ve made you feel like you don’t matter as much as your brother. Please forgive me. I promise I love you just as much as him.” I held my breath.

  “Okay, Mom.” A slight smile spread. “Can we finish writing the notes?”

  “Yes,” I said, releasing the air in my lungs. Her easy forgiveness warmed its way through my limbs and loosened the tension in my back.

  Maybe I should try that direct approach with Sam, too.

  An hour later we entered our home through the mudroom. Kim ran ahead of me, calling out for Sam to proudly show off her leadership knowledge, while I turned on the oven to reheat the pizza we’d picked up. I wandered through the house, finding them in his office.

  Sam greeted me with a cordial smile before pulling Kim onto his lap and listening attentively to her explain in excruciating detail the traits of leadership and how she demonstrated all of them. I studied them together, a simultaneously reassuring yet bittersweet image of casual comfort and trust. Things Sam and I had shared until recently. My limbs ached to go hug them both, but I felt too fragile and uncertain.

  When she finally finished and took a breath, he squeezed her tight. “You learned a lot today. I’m proud of you. I hope you continue to be a leader, Kim, and use that power to help others.”

  “I will, Daddy.” She smiled sweetly, nestling against his chest.

  The scene wrought a pang in my chest. Not only for how lucky my daughter was to have a father like Sam, but because I, too, missed burrowing against my husband for security.

  “Kim, why don’t you go put away your sash before dinner?” I suggested. “The pizza will be ready in five minutes.”

  “Okay.” She slid off Sam’s lap and skipped out of his office. I’d achieved a small breakthrough with Kim today, which encouraged me to try with Sam.

  “Lo
oks like you had a pleasant Scout meeting,” he said.

  “For the most part, yes. Dr. Spotts called, though.” I recited what she told me, then added, “She’d like help convincing Carter to try virtual classroom time to help connect him to his normal life.”

  “Okay. I have to be in Baltimore tomorrow midmorning for a client meeting, so I’ll swing by to see him early, before his morning PT.”

  “Maybe we could go together?” I noted a hint of pleasant surprise in his gaze. A hopeful sign that we hadn’t completely destroyed our marriage. That the security and safe harbor of love we’d created hadn’t been an illusion but was waiting beneath the surface of all this pain for a chance to bloom again, like daffodils in spring. “If he gives the green light, I’ll call Principal Davies. We could suggest starting with one class—chemistry, since it’s his favorite.”

  “Sounds good.” He smiled, casting a hesitant glance at the papers on the desk.

  “What are those?” I asked, working my way up to my apology. I didn’t know why my nerves had me quaking inside. Perhaps from fear based on the many times this month that my words had come out wrong or been misinterpreted.

  “More health insurance forms. It’s never-ending.” He shook his head, looking wary of my next move.

  “Thank you for taking care of all that. I know it’s a lot, and I know you’ve tried shielding me from the worst of it.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for looking out for our family, Grace. But you’re welcome.” He grinned.

  My heart warmed, reassured by the softness in his gaze. “Sam?”

  His brows rose. “Hmm?”

  “I know I’ve been distant and difficult—bitter, even—and that’s made everything harder on you and Kim. You’re right when you say I need to forgive us both for what happened to Carter. I want you to know that I’m working on it.” I stopped short of apologizing for pushing the lawsuit, because I still believed it was the right thing to do for our son. But when my husband’s eyes glowed with compassion that I hadn’t seen in weeks, all the tightness around my lungs released, freeing me.

  “Thank you, babe. The apology is appreciated and accepted. I know you’re harder on yourself than on anyone else, so I hope you’ll give yourself a break, too.” He rose from his desk and crossed to me, reaching down to pull me out of my chair. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around my waist and tucked my head against his shoulder to hold me. Little by little the numbness inside faded. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, its slow, steady rhythm like a soothing hymn. I allowed myself to be comforted, and to believe that this marked a reversal of the damage we’d done to our marriage. “It’s good to feel like we’re back on the same side.”

  I nodded, hoping with all my heart that this was more than a mere truce, and that our love would survive the lawsuits and Carter’s therapy. The moment would have been perfect if only the inner voice that wondered why he didn’t or couldn’t acknowledge all the ways he’d left me feeling abandoned and irrational had been silent. I held him tighter, as if I could literally squeeze that thought from my head before it destroyed our fresh start.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MIMI

  Sunday, February 28

  Mimi’s house

  Rodri rolled the final stroke of “Crisp Cantaloupe” paint on my living room wall while I edged around the picture window. This cheerful color—so much more me than the forest green Dirk liked—replaced all traces of the mess this room had been the night of Rowan’s disastrous party. My mood had also brightened immeasurably, thanks, in part, to the way Rodri’s muscles flexed as he bent and stretched his way around the room with that paint roller.

  He set the roller in the nearly empty paint pan. “I confess I worried the room might end up looking like an Easter egg, but it looks fresh. Suits you.”

  “Thank you.” I laid the paintbrush in the empty pan as well, then stepped back to admire our handiwork. “The great thing about that old floral sofa is that it pretty much goes with everything.”

  He smiled. “Should we move the furniture back in place?”

  “Nah. You’ve worked hard enough. My son can help me once the walls dry.” I glanced at the clock, guessing Rowan would return from Dirk’s in another hour or so. My ex’s renewed commitment to Rowan had helped lift our son’s spirits lately. Yet I’d caught myself wandering the empty house more than once last night, missing him and worrying about whether he’d start preferring Annapolis to Potomac Point. Having Rodri here today had been a great distraction. No, that wasn’t fair. He was more than a mere distraction. His interest and compassion—his lack of judgment, despite how we met—gave me much-needed confidence and, like the paint, helped erase much of the shame I’d felt since the night of that party. “How about a beer to celebrate our hard work?”

  “I’d love one.” He grabbed the paint pan and things. “Do you have a laundry sink where I can clean this stuff off?”

  “Oh, no. I’ll do that later.”

  “I don’t mind. Best to do it before everything dries.”

  “Okay. The laundry sink is in the basement—” I winced at the reminder of where we’d first met. “Sadly, you know where that is. In the meantime, I’ll scare up a little snack.”

  After he disappeared downstairs, I raided my cupboards for chips and salsa, then popped the tabs of two Buds.

  Rodri appeared a few minutes later. “I left everything down there to dry.”

  “Thanks.” I gestured to a kitchen chair and cracked open the window, despite the chilly late-February weather. “Let’s stay in here. Less fumes.”

  He raised a beer to his lips and chugged a healthy amount. “Ah. That tastes great.”

  I sipped some, staring at him. He’d been chatty—unlike my ex. I’d learned about his family, his childhood friend Erin, and his best friends on the force. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken so little in a day. Rodri didn’t make me not miss Grace, but he proved that, if she and I continued to drift apart, there were other good people out there who could enrich my life. A bittersweet thought, but one that helped me feel less hopeless.

  “What?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

  “Thanks for taking one of your days off to help me. It certainly was a unique way to get to know someone . . . although I’m still a little nervous about agreeing to get on that motorcycle when the weather breaks.”

  “I won’t hold you to that if you’re uncomfortable, but I’m a safe driver.” He smiled and nabbed a chip, dipping it in the salsa before crunching into it. “Today was fun. And who knew my rocker soul would connect with Ashley McBryde? Erin will have a field day with that one.”

  He’d been a good sport about my musical tastes, never once groaning about the countless female country singers and occasional Christian rock song. Dirk had never been religious. While I’d never warmed to Uncle Tommy’s punishing view of Christianity, my faith had always been part of my life. The fact it was prevalent in Rodri’s life had been a surprisingly nice connection.

  “Well, now I owe you a favor or a freebie in return.” My gaze homed in on his thick black hair. “How ’bout I style your hair?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his shorn head. “I do this myself. Clipper setting number five.”

  I could tell, but I didn’t say anything. Apparently, I didn’t need to.

  “Ha!” he laughed. “Guess I should leave it to a professional.”

  I raised my hands. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “Exactly.” He grinned. “If I grow it out, you’ll be the only person I let touch it.”

  “I’d love to get my hands on it.” I blushed at my husky tone.

  After a beat or two, Rodri cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So when’s your son due home?”

  “Around five . . .” I trailed off, unsure how to politely ask him to make himself scarce. “I hope you aren’t offended that I don’t want to tell Rowan anything yet. When my last relationship ended, it was harder on h
im than me. Given everything else he’s going through now, I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

  “I totally understand, Mimi. No worries.” He raised his beer as if toasting my good parenting choice—another welcome show of support. “Did he finish his community service?”

  “Not yet, but he’s bagging groceries at Stewart’s three days a week, so he’ll be able to pay his dad back for the fine and maybe learn some responsibility to boot.” He’d grumbled a lot at first, especially after I nixed the Poconos trip. But I hadn’t coddled him, and now he was finally rising to the task without complaining. Growth, for both of us.

  “He’s learning from this experience, which will help him in lots of ways.”

  “I almost feel guilty about that, considering that Carter’s recovery isn’t going great.” Anytime I recalled Grace’s mood during that meeting with Mr. Richards, I got sad. Often I stared at my phone, thinking to leave a message, but then stopped myself because of the damn lawsuit. “He’s had some setbacks.”

  “That can’t make things easier between you and your friend.” He offered a sympathetic smile. I had to admit, I was digging how this young, sexy cop was such a softy.

  “No, it doesn’t. It’s been a long, lonely several weeks that has made me reevaluate a lot of things. I never imagined my letting Rowan and his friends have a few beers now and then snowballing like this. Sometimes I understand why Grace can’t stand the sight of me, but other times I’m furious at how she’s cut me out. If she’d storm over here and let me have it, maybe we could finally work through it all.”

  “Have you told her that?”

  “It wouldn’t matter. Grace learned to repress every unpleasant emotion from the master—her mother. I don’t think she knows how to deal with healthy conflict and recover.”

  “That’s the opposite of my family. Everyone’s quick to share their opinions, anger, and joy. Sometimes all in the span of one meal.” He chuckled, fondness coating his tone.

  I smiled. “I like that—knowing where you stand, and knowing that a little trouble doesn’t mean you walk away.”