Bonus Kisses

by Freya Barker

  “We’re doing well,” I offer carefully. “Spencer is…well, Spencer, so he’s pretty easygoing. Sofie has had a few tough moments, but that’s to be expected. She’s at that age.” At my mother’s affirming nod I’m encouraged to share a little more. “She’s been testing me.”

  Mom’s eyebrows shoot up with more than only passing interest. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, since you guys got back, she’s been a bit testy with me. Short, you know?” I chuckle as I tell my parents about Spencer’s relentless nagging for a variety of farm animals at his sister’s prompting. “It was pretty obvious she was orchestrating it. Rafe clued in to it too. He took her aside this morning for a talk.”

  “And?”

  I glance at my dad, who appears to be following the conversation, wondering if I should repeat what Rafe discovered. With another hour and some in our drive, it might get uncomfortable. Still, I forge ahead, since Mom opened that door, keeping an eye on her in the rearview mirror. “Turns out Sofie is afraid I might be leaving.” I catch Mom and Dad sharing a look, and I decide to throw the stick in the proverbial henhouse. “She overheard you two talking about me.”

  The silence in the car is telling as Mom now stares out the window, her lips firmly pressed together, while Dad twists his head to give her a death stare.

  “Well…” Mom finally drawls. “I’m sorry she heard that, but maybe it’s better she’s prepared.”

  “Sarah!” Dad suddenly barks, startling me and almost sending me off the road.

  “Jesus, Dad, you scared the shit out of me,” I admonish him before getting back to the topic at hand. “Mom, can I ask you why you think she should be prepared for me leaving, when I have absolutely no intention to? I know what you think. I know there is stuff we probably should hash out at some point, but does it honestly look like I’m going anywhere? Have I given any indication I want to?”

  “You know what they say,” she replies instantly and rather snippily. “The only predictor of future behavior is past behavior.”

  “Here we go,” Dad laments, dropping his head back on the headrest and contemplating the roof.

  “Well, it’s true. Her whole life she’s done nothing but run away. Of course not after first causing trouble.”

  “I’m right here,” I announce sharply, trying hard to keep the car on the road, I’m so pissed. “And let me set the record straight on one thing, Mom. I never ran away from trouble—I left because no matter what I did, I seemed to upset people. I know I wasn’t an angel growing up, and I’m sure most of those gray hairs you sport are because of me, but you’ve never let me live it down. You’re still judging me based on things I did as a teenager. I’m thirty-eight years old, Mom. I’ve done a lot of good things in my life you don’t give me credit for, yet you easily hold a grudge for things I’m not even guilty of.”

  A derisive snort is all I get for a response, followed by another warning, “Sarah,” from Dad before he turns to me.

  “Been thinking on that a lot lately, Baby Girl, and—without digging up old dirt—I for one am ready to move on from that. Your mom may be dragging her feet, but my time is too short to waste on what’s already behind me.”

  I choke up at my dad’s words. I don’t like him talking about his time being short, even though I couldn’t be happier to hear him calling me his baby girl again. Seems like perhaps I have one parent pleased to have me back.

  It’s a start.

  We don’t have to wait long for the neurologist.

  Barely five minutes after we take a seat in the waiting room, Dad’s name is called. He leads the way into the doctor’s office and as I’m about to follow him in, Mom holds me back by the arm.

  “I just wanted to say I appreciate you coming along. I’m too nervous to take in any information.”

  As far as peace pipes go, this is an effective one and I quickly cover her hand on my arm with my own. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Mom.” We may not be able to settle all our differences easily, but for the sake of my father, we seem to be on one page.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” a handsome older man of Asian descent says, holding out his hand for me to shake.

  “Natasha Boran, I’m Ed and Sarah’s youngest daughter.” Even as I say it, I wince at the knowledge I’m not only their youngest, but also now their only daughter.

  “Right, I believe I met your sister at a previous visit then. I’m Dr. Chen. Should we wait for her to join us?”

  Dad sucks in a sharp breath and Mom has a sudden fascination with the tips of her shoes.

  “Actually, Dr. Chen,” I inform him with a lump in my throat. “Sadly my sister passed away quite suddenly this past April.”

  The poor doctor’s eyes dart between my parents before landing back on me. “I am so sorry to hear that. Right, maybe we should get started then.”

  “Please,” Dad says in a rough voice.

  Dr. Chen is all business after that: outlining the decline in Dad’s condition, the options going forward, and his own personal recommendations.

  Dad pales distinctly when he finds out what DBS actually entails; the battery of tests leading up to it, the many hours of surgery, the electrodes left in his brain, the insertion of an electrical stimulation device under the skin. Of course there are some serious risks attached to the surgery that should be considered as well.

  “I can check if there’s room today, but otherwise we can schedule a day next week for the preliminary scans and blood work, if you choose to go ahead. We can also schedule a tentative surgical date for you.”

  Dad swallows hard before nodding, but Mom looks panicked.

  “Dr. Chen,” I interrupt what feels like a runaway train. “Is it at all possible to take a few minutes for all of us to process this? I understand you have more appointments, so maybe it would be easier if my parents go grab something to eat, talk things over, and perhaps pop in between appointments after lunch?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll let my assistant know you’ll be back.”

  With that I let Dad lead the way out of the office again, Mom close behind me. I feel a warm hand in the middle of my back and a soft voice in my ear.

  “Thank you, honey.”

  It’s almost five when we finally walk out of the hospital.

  We had a good talk over lunch, with Mom voicing her concerns, me providing some medical insight, and Dad explaining his reasons for wanting to go ahead with the surgery. When Dad mentioned he needed to try everything possible to maximize the time he has left with her, he cemented the decision for Mom. He even had me in tears.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent hopping from test to test, and we walk out of the hospital with an appointment for surgery four weeks away. I can tell it’s taken a toll on Dad especially.

  “I’m taking the back seat,” he announces. “That way I can have a snooze while you girls yap.”

  “Why is it always women who yap?” Mom immediately has her tired hackles up.

  “Because you do. Yap, chatter, gossip, babble, jabber. It’s what women do.” I bite my lip, trying not to laugh at Mom’s disgruntled huff. I remember these types of exchanges from when I was young.

  “Are you saying men don’t?”

  “Men confer, huddle, and once in a blue moon shoot the shit, but real men never yap.”

  My mother’s almost ready to blow so I quickly intervene, reaching over to put a hand on her arm.

  “Remember, Mom, this comes from a man who still reads the Sunday funnies first.”

  “And likes his toast cut in perfect triangles,” she adds, grinning at me.

  “And cries like a baby when his Cardinals get eliminated in the playoffs.” I wink at her.

  “See? Yapping,” Dad contributes, sticking his head between our seats. “I’m having a nap.”

  Five minutes later the occasional snore drifts from the back.

  “He’s tired,” Mom notes.

  “I’d be worried if he wasn’t. Heck, I’m tired. Been a long da
y, Mom.”

  “Yeah, it has.” She suddenly sounds exhausted herself and I reach over to give her hand a squeeze.

  “It’ll be okay, Mom.”

  “I hope so, honey. God, I hope so. I don’t think I’d survive the alternative.”

  Rafe

  “Have you heard anything from Taz?”

  I’ve barely got my foot over the threshold at Kathleen and Brent’s.

  “She called earlier to tell me they’re running late. Doing some testing. We’ll find out soon enough.”

  “It’s too much, having to deal with this after Nicky’s death,” she concludes, leading the way to the kitchen where Brent is tossing back a beer at the counter.

  “Beer?” he asks, holding up his empty as he walks over to the fridge.

  “Sure.” Taz won’t likely be home soon, and from what I can see through the sliding doors, the kids are having a blast in the pool.

  “You wanna stay for burgers?”

  I’m frankly shocked Kathleen would ask me. She’s never made any bones about letting me know I’m not exactly her favorite person, although I have noticed a slight warming in recent days.

  “Well—”

  “It’ll give the kids a chance to dry up over dinner before you load them in the truck.”

  “Yeah, if you sure there’s enough, we’ll stay. Thanks.” I nod to Kathleen who grants me a hint of a smile.

  Brent hands me a beer, and indicates for me to follow him outside to the deck. Spencer notices me right away.

  “Dad! Look what I can do!”

  If not for the life vest he’s wearing, I’d have a heart attack watching him run down the diving board, straight into the deep end of the pool. Brent chuckles behind me as he fires up the grill.

  “That’s great, Son.” I give him two thumbs-up and he beams. In the meantime, Sofie has pulled herself out of the water and is making her way over. “Hey, Pipsqueak. You having fun too?”

  She nods and keeps walking until she has her arms wrapped around me, her wet body drenching my clothes. I bend down and kiss the top of her head. “Do we need to get ready?” she asks.

  “Not yet. Kathleen asked us to stay for dinner.”

  She lifts her face. “What about Aunt Taz?”

  I smile down at her. “She’s out with Grandma and Grandpa. She’ll be home later.”

  “Can I go back in the water?”

  “Sure. Until dinner’s ready, okay?”

  In a flash she’s gone, jumping back in the pool with the other kids.

  “Brent?” Kathleen’s head pops outside. “Before you toss the burgers on, could you run out and pick me up some mustard? I ran out and I need it to finish the potato salad.”

  “I can do it,” I offer, and she looks me up and down.

  “No you can’t, you look like someone hosed you down. Besides, you can keep me company.” She throws me a sneaky smile before her head disappears inside.

  “Warning,” Brent mutters under his breath. “My advice? Say as little as possible, you won’t need to. Oh, and nod—a lot.”

  I follow him inside and watch him give his wife a peck before he walks out the door with mild apprehension. When I turn to Kathleen she’s staring at me.

  “Don’t look so panicked,” she notes, turning her focus back on the potatoes. “I’m not gonna bite. I just feel I need to clear the air.”

  I pull out a stool and sit down, taking a fortifying sip from my beer. “Okay.”

  “I blamed you for a lot of things over the years,” she starts. I don’t say anything, because frankly I have no idea how to respond to that. Luckily Kathleen needs no prompting. “You made my two friends very unhappy.” She lifts her hand when I open my mouth to protest, and I immediately snap it shut. Best to let her get it out so I nod instead, as Brent recommended. “I get now you were doing what you thought was right, but I’m still gonna tell you it was stupid. Not that you were the only one I was pissed at. I was pissed at Taz for disappearing, and I was pissed at Nicky for stepping out on you. But I already loved them so it was easier to blame all of it on you.” I shouldn’t be surprised she knows about Nicky’s indiscretions, but it nevertheless makes me feel like a chump. Still, I only nod. “I just wanted to tell you I’m not pissed anymore,” she says, pinning with a hard glance. “That is, unless you fuck up with Taz, then I reserve the right to hunt you down and shoot you.”

  A pregnant pause follows in which she stares me down, until I finally ask, “Is it okay for me to speak now?”

  “Nobody likes a smart-ass, Rafe Thomas,” she snaps, turning back to her potato salad, as I fight back a grin.

  “Right. First of all, I get it—no need to explain—and if it’s any consolation, I agree: I was stupid. Hindsight being twenty-twenty. I also need you to know I don’t regret it, because that would mean to regret them.” I look outside where my kids are having fun in the water. “Secondly—and the only reason I’m giving you this is because I know you love Taz—I’m not going to hurt her. I’d rather cut off my dick than hurt that woman.”

  Kathleen’s hand comes up again accompanied by a disgusted look on her face. “Fuck me, man. We’re about to have dinner; don’t be talking about your dick. TMI.”

  “Best way to illustrate how serious I am about that.”

  “I get. Move on, please.”

  “That’s it.”

  “Hardly,” she fires back. “What about your in-laws?”

  “What about them?”

  “They find out what’s going on with you two, they’re not gonna react well.”

  “Not news, Kathleen.”

  “It’s gonna be hard on Taz.”

  “I know that too.”

  “That relationship is fragile as it is.”

  “Maybe you should make your point, because I know all this.”

  “You can’t leave her facing them alone again,” she finally says, turning serious eyes on me.

  “She won’t have to,” I bite off, more than a little irritated now.

  “You say that, but when it comes to—”

  My turn to cut her off.

  “Listen. She. Won’t. Have. To.”

  Just then Brent walks in, shaking his head at me in warning.

  “Dude, what’d I say?”

  “What exactly did you tell him, Brent McKinnon?”

  Chuckling, I grab my bottle and head outside, leaving them to fight it out.

  Kathleen is right though. It’s too risky to leave anything to chance, so we need to simply tell Sarah and Ed first chance we get.

  “Are they in bed?” Taz asks when I walk outside and join her on the steps, sliding my legs on either side of her and pulling her back against me.

  “Asleep already. Burned out after a day in the pool.”

  “Good. I hope they had fun.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “They had a blast. Want to tell me about today?”

  “Dad wants the surgery.”

  “Okay. How do you guys feel about that?”

  “Can I tell you tomorrow? I haven’t even begun to process it all.”

  I drop my chin to her shoulder. “Of course. Why don’t we ask them for dinner tomorrow? I’ll make ribs; your dad loves those. We can talk about things then.”

  “Sounds good. I think I may be heading upstairs too. I’m beat.”

  “Kiss me first.”

  She tilts her head back and I don’t hesitate to cover her mouth with mine, groaning as her taste hits my senses.

  I love this woman. Completely. The sounds she makes, the feel of her skin under my touch, the humor in her eyes, her wild hair and ratty clothes. I love her sweet and her bite. The way she can brighten a room simply by being in it, and the way she adores the kids.

  Most of all I love how her eyes give me everything she hasn’t put in words.

  She loves me too; I’m just not sure for how long once she finds out a little honesty is on tomorrow’s menu.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Taz

  “Can
we get ice cream?”

  I look at Sofie, who has her nose pressed to the door of the cooler.

  Rafe was called out on an emergency this morning so the kids tagged along to the grocery store with me.

  “I planned on making an apple crumble for dessert,” I tell her.

  “Exactly,” she points out, “which will taste even better with ice cream.”

  “Ice cream is the best!” Spencer puts in his two cents’ worth.

  I’m quickly discovering that grocery shopping with children for only a handful of things ends up with a full cart. I’m being tag-teamed and I know it. Still, I grab a container of vanilla ice cream from the cooler and add it to the cart, because there’s no denying; apple crumble does taste better with a scoop of ice cream.

  “Okay, guys. Let’s get going, I think we have everything.”

  “Can we get the puppies a new toy?” Spencer wants to know when we pass through the aisle with the pet food.

  “Kid, they’ve got more toys than you and your sister combined, they don’t need more. When we get home you can give them one of those rawhides when you take them out of the crate.”

  Lilo and Stitch are teething, which means they’re chewing on everything. It’s been a challenge to keep everything out of the reach of those little sharp chompers.

  Meredith comes walking up when we get to the checkout, a big smile on her face.

  “This is the brood?” She looks from Sofie to Spencer, who both stare back at her.

  “Guys, this is my friend, Meredith.”

  “You work here?” Spencer asks her, his eyes big when he spots the store logo on her shirt.

  “Yup.”

  “Do you get to eat what you want?”

  Meredith bursts out laughing at my nephew’s wide-eyed question.

  “The perpetually hungry man-child is Spencer,” I clarify with a grin. “And this is Sofie.”

  “Oh my, I can see the family resemblance; you’re as pretty as your aunt.”

  I can’t quite tell what is going on behind Sofie’s eyes, but it’s clear from the way she looks at me the comment gives her thought.