Stay With Me

by Astfalk, Carolyn

  He had to give Rebecca credit. It would be easy to paint her dad as evil incarnate, but like everyone else he, too, was surely a mixture of good and bad, virtue and vice.

  “So, what does one do at a birthday party for a three-year-old?” Chris asked as they walked from her car to her sister’s house.

  “Well, Emma loves Dora the Explorer, so I’m guessing there will be Dora balloons and a Dora piñata. There’s going to be a couple girls from her tumbling class and their moms. Not a big deal. Just pizza, cake, and ice cream. Nothing you can’t handle.”

  She shot him a saucy grin, and all he could think of was what he’d really like to handle. He needed to rein himself in; he was going to a toddler’s birthday party.

  Chris glanced at the various toys scattered around the yard as evidence that children lived there. Fingerprints smeared the storm door about six inches lower than the door handle.

  Rebecca shifted the large present she’d been carrying, wrapped of course in Dora the Explorer paper, and knocked on her sister’s front door.

  “So, what did you tell your sister about me?”

  “Enough.” There was the saucy grin again.

  She’s killing me.

  A squeal emanated from behind the door followed by an infant’s cry, and then a young woman answered the door, bouncing Emma on her hip.

  Chris remembered the little girl from when he’d first met Rebecca at Rieser’s Market.

  “Hi, sweetie,” he said as Abby motioned them in.

  “I love terms of endearment, but you should probably call me by my given name when my sister’s in the room.”

  Chris jerked his head back. Did she really think he was talking to her and not the little girl in her arms?

  “Abby, this is Chris. Chris, my sister, Abby. She’s truly one of a kind.”

  Okay. Rebecca did say Abby was offbeat. “Nice to finally meet you, Abby.”

  She looked him up and down in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. Or undressed. “Likewise.”

  Abby couldn’t be more different than Rebecca. Short, blond, spiky hair topped a narrow face and long features. The combination was different, but not unattractive. The contrast with Rebecca wasn’t limited to appearance either. Her no-nonsense manner differed drastically from her younger sister’s almost genteel propriety.

  As he stepped further into a foyer cluttered with children’s shoes, stuffed animals, and Nerf darts, the smell of pizza wafted from somewhere in the back of the house.

  Abby had gone ahead with Emma, leaving him and Rebecca to follow. “Is your brother-in-law here?”

  “Joel? I would think so. He’s probably out back with Ricky.”

  They made their way to a dining room festooned with crepe paper streamers, Hello Kitty balloons and a Hello Kitty piñata.

  “What happened to Dora?” Rebecca asked as she set her present on the buffet alongside a half dozen presents wrapped in Hello Kitty paper.

  “She hates Dora,” Abby answered as she set Emma down and tucked a blanket around Ian in his bouncy seat.

  If the baby picture Rebecca had shown him was a good representation, Ian had morphed from ugly, wrinkly newborn to adorable, pudgy infant.

  “Since when?”

  “Last week. A good auntie would keep up with these things.”

  Rebecca glared at her sister. The irritation didn’t last though. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Nope. Got it all under control.”

  And she did. Joel and Ricky only emerged for the cake and presents. The rest of the time, Abby handled the baby, the food, and Emma and her little friends. She rolled with the state of near-constant chaos.

  The party wound down and Joel and Ricky retreated to the basement for a movie.

  Emma hugged Chris’s leg. “Thank you,” she said. The poor little girl looked so sleepy he doubted she knew whom she thanked or why.

  “You’re welcome, Emma,” he said, careful not to toss around any terms of endearment.

  Emma released him and leaned against Rebecca. “I sleepy, Aunt Becca.”

  Rebecca ran her hands over the little girl’s silky hair. “Aw, Emmy. Can I put you to bed?” Emma nodded her head, and Rebecca lifted her over her shoulder.

  “Abby, I’ll take her up if that’s okay.”

  “Okay? I think it earns you the ‘Aunt of the Year’ award.”

  Rebecca turned back to Chris. “I’ll get her to sleep and then we can go, okay?”

  “Sure.” Chris sat at the dining room table while Abby took a few remaining paper plates to the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?” he called after her.

  Her reply came back through the archway that separated the rooms. “No, this is the last of it.”

  Chris glanced around the room. Other than a couple of sconces, only two decorations hung on the walls. An orange and yellow abstract print on a large canvas square hung on one wall, and a Star of David on the opposite wall.

  Abby returned from the kitchen and sat across from him. She let out a deep sigh. “Children are exhausting. Would you like a beer?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “I’m going to get one for myself then.” She went back into the kitchen. Bottles clanged and a lid snapped before she emerged. Just as she sat and tilted the bottle to her lips, the baby cried out.

  “Figures,” Abby said. She set down her beer and gathered Ian out of his bouncy seat.

  “I noticed the Star of David on the wall. . . Is Joel Jewish?”

  Abby looked at the baby and made silly noises in an attempt to settle him down. “Yes, he is. He’s not what you’d call observant though.”

  “And your dad was okay with the marriage?”

  “My dad?” She laughed. “He wasn’t okay with it, but what could he do? We eloped.”

  “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but, does your dad get along with Joel?”

  She looked away from the baby and toward him. “My dad doesn’t like you, does he?”

  Chris gave her a grim smile. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I think he only tolerates Joel.”

  The baby fussed again, and Abby laid him on her lap, snapped something under her shirt, and then lifted the hem for the baby to nurse.

  Chris didn’t know which way to look. He didn’t want to stare at Abby’s exposed breast, but she was hardly discreet.

  “You don’t have a problem with me feeding my baby in my own home, do you?”

  Geez, she came on strong. “Of course not. Breastfeeding is great. Best for the baby and all that. I guess I’ve just never been around a woman while she’s nursing.”

  “Well, you might as well take a good look. This is the closest you’re going to get to a woman’s breasts while you’re dating my sister.”

  Her blunt manner stunned Chris into silence. “I, uh, I wasn’t trying to see….” His cheeks burned. How was he supposed to respond to that? Good grief, how long did it take to put a little girl to bed? Emma was half asleep when Rebecca left the room with her.

  The baby continued to suckle, making the occasional gulping sound.

  “Abby, there’s something I’ve wondered about Rebecca.”

  At the sound of his voice, Ian popped off of his mother’s nipple and turned to look at him. He smiled at the baby, and when Ian turned his attention back to his meal, Chris continued. “Why doesn’t Rebecca sing?”

  “What makes you think she doesn’t sing?”

  “Well, every time it comes up she changes the subject. Or she gets this look, like she closes up and shuts down. When she came to church with me, she opened the hymnal but not her mouth. She didn’t even sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Emma tonight.”

  Abby fidgeted with Ian’s toes. “She does sing. When she’s alone.” She glanced up the stairs. “Rebecca’s singing voice is amazing. It’s a gift. When our Sunday school teachers heard her they encouraged her to sing. So, she’d sing for the little services our class had. Then, when she was thirteen, they asked her to
sing a solo for Christmas Eve.

  “I can still picture her in my hand-me-down, red-velvet gown with the fur trim and the silver sparkles. She was going to sing ‘O Holy Night,’ and she was so nervous. She practiced and practiced. Couldn’t have been more prepared. And then she got the words all balled up.

  “It started beautifully. Her voice moved people to tears. Then somewhere around that really high note, she looked at us. Our Sunday school teachers smiled; I beamed. And then, she looked at Dad. I couldn’t see his face, but that’s when she tripped on the words. She didn’t even finish it. She ran to the back of the church.”

  Ian had dozed off in her arms, and after she pulled down her shirt, she shifted him over her shoulder and patted his back.

  “Everyone was so kind and understanding and told her how beautifully she’d sung. Dad didn’t speak the whole way home. When we got inside, he blew up. He called her a disgrace and said she’d embarrassed us all. That she shamed him.”

  Abby’s eyes glistened and her features softened. “I’m not sentimental, but my heart broke for her. The life leached out of her. He crushed her spirit so thoroughly that night. She hasn’t been the same since.”

  Chris imagined the hurt Rebecca felt, and his chest ached.

  “We never spoke about it. And she stopped singing. She took D’s in music class because she wouldn’t sing. Cost her being valedictorian. The director of our high school musicals begged her to be in the plays, and she wouldn’t.”

  “And she hasn’t sung since?”

  Abby rubbed circles on Ian’s tiny back as he emitted a soft snore.

  “I heard her sing once since then. When Ricky was a few months old I got the flu, and Rebecca, God bless her, stayed with me while Joel worked. She took care of Ricky, and she’d bring him to me to feed him. One afternoon, he fussed and cried nonstop, and I heard her comforting him. She probably thought I couldn’t hear, but she sang a lullaby. ‘Down In the Valley.’”

  She closed her eyes as if she were transported back to the memory. “Sweet, soft, and almost haunting. He quieted right down.”

  Chris seethed. How could a man treat his daughter like that? Especially a sweet, obedient girl like Rebecca must have been.

  “Abby, I’ve never hated another person. But your dad…I am so…so close.” He shook his head and then rested his forehead against his palms.

  “Yeah. He really has a way of bringing out the best in people, doesn’t he?”

  He raised his head and rested his chin in his hand. “How do we get her to sing again?”

  “We don’t. She doesn’t want to.”

  How could Abby just accept that? He wanted Rebecca to sing, and not only for the selfish interest he had in hearing her voice, but also for her own sake. She had a God-given talent hidden under a mountain of fear and shame.

  Abby cradled Ian again and stroked his fuzzy head. “I swear they get high off breast milk. Doesn’t he look high?”

  Chuckling, he leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, he does look sort of mellowed out.”

  Finally, he heard Rebecca descending the steps. Thank God.

  “She’s out like a light,” Rebecca said to Abby. She rubbed her hand on Chris’s shoulder and bent to his ear, the sensation of her lips sending a shiver down his spine. “Are you ready, handsome?”

  Handsome? That was a first. “I sure am.”

  They rode back to Rebecca’s apartment, where Chris had left his motorcycle. He didn’t want the night to end, but it was late, so he walked her to her door.

  Taking both of her hands in his, he lifted her right hand to his lips. “How is it that time goes so fast when we’re together and so slow when we’re apart?”

  “You’ve noticed that, too, huh?”

  Not ready to let go yet, he swung their hands back and forth between them.

  “So, Monday’s the big day, huh?” she said.

  Their arms slowed, and he inched closer to her. “Yeah. First day on the job. I’m a little nervous.”

  “I’ll pray for you.”

  “Thanks. If after a few weeks things seem like they’re going to work out, I’m going to buy a car. Or maybe a truck. I haven’t decided yet. Something I can use to take you out on dates.”

  “You don’t have to buy a vehicle on my account.” She slipped her hands out of his and slid her arms up around his neck. She flattened the collar of his wrinkled, cotton shirt.

  “It’s time. I love the Harley, and I’m going to keep it, but I need something more practical, too.” The thread of conversation slowly unraveled as he stepped closer and looked deeper into her eyes.

  “I suppose something with doors and a roof would be better in inclement weather.” Her hands left his collar and clasped behind his neck.

  “Uh-huh.” He couldn’t manage anything more coherent before he bent his head towards her and kissed her. She unclasped her hands and played with his hair. She pressed her body closer to him and when she parted her lips, he took it as an invitation. The instant he tilted his head and tried to deepen the kiss, she jerked back like she’d been slapped.

  Chris’ gaze dropped to his hands, which still held tight to her waist despite the fact she had wrenched her whole upper body away from him. “I’m sorry. I’m so attracted to you, and I thought you wanted me to—”

  He looked up and into her eyes—wide and frightened, and she shook her head furiously.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  She was like a rabbit. Contented until you got too close, then wary and skittish. He half-feared she’d bolt every time he kissed her.

  “Again, I’m sorry. I’m good with taking things slow, but…” What could he say? Any slower and they’d be going backwards. By next month he’d be blowing her kisses from across the room. They had been having a good evening, and she hadn’t hesitated to kiss him. Not at first. He tried to make sense of it.

  “Rebecca, has someone hurt you or taken advantage of you in the past?”

  She pried his hands from her waist. “You mean sexually? No. Gosh, no, not at all.”

  “Good. I thought maybe—”

  She rubbed a hand over her eyes and dropped her head. “I’m sorry I’m being such a baby. I don’t know why you’re so patient with me.”

  “I can be patient. I’m having a little trouble understanding is all. You seemed like you wanted me to kiss you and then…”

  “Can we save this conversation for later?”

  Whatever it was that made her so guarded ran deep, and he wondered if she had avoided confronting it altogether. Reluctant to push her, he decided it could wait.

  10

  The Idea of You

  “Geez, Abby. Can you wait up?” Rebecca jogged a few steps to catch up with Abby as they made their way through the sporting goods section of Target toward the infant clothing.

  “I’m a nursing mother. At this time of day I’ve got two hours max to get back home, and it took twenty minutes for me to get here. Then you were five minutes late. You’re going to have to keep up.”

  Grabbing onto the shopping cart handle, something sticky adhered to her palm. Lollipop residue. Yuck. She wiped her hand on her pants. “Okay, okay. I’ll hustle. Sorry I was late. So, what did you think?”

  “About?”

  She let out a deep sigh. “Like you don’t know. About Chris?”

  “Oh. I think he’s hot, but I don’t think Joel’s into sharing.”

  The cart rolled to a stop and Rebecca waited as Abby rummaged through a rack of baby boy onesies. “I swear, if you weren’t my sister, I wouldn’t even speak to you.”

  Abby tossed a three-pack of the onesies into the cart. “Lucky for you then that I am.”

  “I want to know what you thought of him. Besides that he’s hot, which I already knew.”

  Abby continued moving the cart down the aisle. “I think he’s smitten with you.”

  “Smitten?”

  “Yes, he’s infatuated.”

  Rebecca stopped. “I was hoping for something a li
ttle deeper than infatuation.”

  “Infatuation doesn’t preclude love. They work in tandem—at least at the beginning.”

  Abby was moving again, and Rebecca caught up. “So that’s it? Hot and smitten?”

  “Hey, hot and smitten is nothing to sneeze at. I could use more of both in my marriage.”

  “Point taken.” They stopped and Rebecca fingered some bath towels that Abby was examining. She patted the scratchy nubs and turned back to her sister. “I just want to know if you liked him.”

  Abby tossed some olive green hand towels and wash cloths into the cart. “I didn’t spend a lot of time with him, but I didn’t get any bad vibes. He didn’t freak when I nursed Ian, and he wasn’t horribly awkward around the kids. He didn’t even try to escape to the basement with Joel and Ricky, so I give him points there, too, but I think that goes back to the whole smitten thing. He can’t stand to have you out of his sight.”

  “You really think so?” Rebecca couldn’t suppress the little rush it gave her to think that Chris was as into her as she was to him.

  Sparing her no more than a quick glance, Abby pushed off toward the housewares. “I think you’ve both got it bad.”

  “Did I tell you he got a new job?”

  Abby grabbed a Hello Kitty bowl and plate set from the shelf and examined the back. “No. Where at?”

  “Starting tomorrow he’s the yeast manager at Gateway Brewery.”

  “Wow. He’s running the whole microbial gamut, isn’t he? From yogurt to yeast. I guess it’s a good thing you’re not gettin’ busy with your yeastie boy or we’d have to slather you with Monistat before you—”

  “Abby!”

  “Two words, Rebecca. Cotton panties. I’m just sayin’ . . .”

  Abby was nearly past the women’s clothing when she stopped abruptly. Rebecca hadn’t been paying attention, and the cart rammed into Abby’s heel.

  “Ouch! Geez, Becca, you’re worse than Ricky.”

  “Sorry.”