Never Change

by Anne Carol

  As if on cue, I caught sight of a tittering dark-haired moppet peeking around the corner from the hallway. He inched his way toward me, showing off his dimples with a huge grin, as well as a naked bottom. “Oh no! Where’s your diaper?” Susie cried, pointing her finger toward his room. “Get back in there, stinky butt!”

  David burst out in laughter, elbowing me. “That’s what you call me sometimes.”

  “All in the name of love,” I said, pinching his cheek.

  Susie rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop, you two—before I gag.”

  “Hey, your turn’s coming.”

  “Not soon enough.” Fingering her hair again, she urged Ricky back to his bedroom. “Come on, you.”

  David and I followed her in to Ricky’s room, which paid homage to every sport his father enjoyed, particularly football. The little boy sat on the football-shaped rug in front of his changing table and pushed a Matchbox car around. His “vroom vroom” sounds were enough to spark my maternal instincts. I could see David smiling at him, and I wondered if he, too, felt a similar spark.

  Susie grabbed a diaper off the table and told Ricky to lie down. When he didn’t, she huffed audibly and squatted down beside him.

  “Susie, go and get ready, I can do that,” I offered, seeing she was frustrated.

  She touched her hair, acting like she’d forgotten the curlers. “Oh yeah. Thanks.” Pointing to Ricky, she said, “You be good for Auntie Beth. Lie still for her.”

  Giving Susie a puppy-dog face, he lay down on the rug and said, “Beff,” reaching for me. My heart melting, I kneeled down, lifted Ricky’s bottom half, and put the diaper underneath him. I fastened the tabs just as Susie stood up to go. “By the way, you’ll probably want to take him to the park and let him burn off some energy this afternoon. He’ll sleep much better for you.”

  “We can do that.”

  After she left the room, I gestured for David to help me hold down the squirmy toddler. “Are you ready for this?” My question held a double meaning.

  He shrugged, smirking. “How hard can it be watching one little boy?”

  As if in deliberate defiance, Ricky popped up, pushed his pants down, and reached for the diaper tabs, giggling.

  “No!” we both cried. David held Ricky still while I put his pants back in place.

  “Are you trying to challenge me, little mate?”

  He stuck out his tongue at David.

  “Boy, you are a little stinker, aren’t you?” I said, poking my finger under his arm. His squeals of laughter were deafening, and he wiggled violently, as if ants were crawling all over him.

  Susie walked in during the tickle session—wavy hair now hanging loose around her shoulders. “Uh oh. Did Auntie Beth and Uncle David find your tickle spots?”

  She lowered to the floor and grabbed Ricky, placing him in her lap. “Sometimes he pees himself when we tickle him, so you’ll want to be careful with that,” she whispered to the two of us.

  I threw my hand over my mouth. “Sorry. Should we check his diaper?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Then, looking at Ricky, she asked, “You didn’t go pee-pee, did you?”

  He shook his head. “No pee-pee.”

  With that settled she went over her list of instructions with us. I was impressed at how detailed she was. “And you can always call my parents if something comes up. My mom’s not feeling great, but she can still help you if you need it. And I’ll leave the number for the hotel.”

  “Got it.” I put my hand on her arm. “Just relax, Susie. We’ll be fine.”

  She looked between me and David, smugness taking over her face. “It’ll be great training for you two.”

  “That, it’ll be,” David said, staring at me with an expression that had my stomach doing flip flops. Oh, David.

  Rick arrived in time to hear the last of Susie’s instructions. “Hey, thanks for arranging this and watching Ricky. Susie was beside herself when her mom called earlier.”

  “It’s our pleasure, Rick,” I said.

  David and I excused ourselves into the living room so Susie and Rick could spend a few minutes with their son. As I sat on the couch, I said a silent prayer, God, please don’t let the baby freak out when Susie and Rick leave. My worst nightmare was that he would cry after they left, and I wouldn’t be able to console him. I’d had my share of those experiences back in high school; babysitting money well-earned, for sure.

  Susie didn’t want a big send-off—just in case Ricky didn’t do well—so she placed him in my lap with a book before saying their “goodbyes.” He seemed distracted by the book, which was about cars, and gave them a half-hearted wave. Soon they were out the door and gone, with not one tear shed, at least by Ricky. Once he closed the book, I asked him, “Would you like to go to the park?”

  He dropped the book and shouted, “Pahk!”

  “Oh!” I clapped my hands. “Well, that settles it.”

  It took us a few minutes to pack his diaper bag—I wanted to make sure we were covered for food and supplies—and then we set him in the stroller and took off on our adventure. The park was about three blocks away, so the walk gave me a chance to chat with David.

  “How are you feeling?”

  He shrugged. “Not bad.”

  “Sorry about the timing of this. I’m sure you’d rather be at the house playing your guitar and catching up with band stuff.”

  “Sweet girl, it’s all good.” He kissed my cheek. “I get to see what I have to look forward to.”

  “Well…not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.” I chuckled. “You might decide to put off children after tonight,” I teased.

  “Beth, not much can change my mind. I want to have a baby with you, soon.” When he stopped momentarily to kiss my lips, I had to catch my breath. He is really serious about this.

  When Ricky called out, “Pahk!” it broke the moment, and we both laughed.

  The park had plenty of spots in the shade, which was nice since it had gotten toasty since our picnic lunch. Grabbing the blanket from the bottom of the stroller, I spread it out, with David’s help. My eyes were off Ricky for a moment before he’d unbuckled himself and tried to climb out.

  “Oh! Careful, honey,” I warned, my heart pounding. That’s all I needed, was to have Ricky fall to the ground and get a concussion. To avoid such a disaster, I picked him up and set him on his feet. He pointed to the stroller and said, “Ball.”

  David crouched down and grabbed a small football from underneath the stroller. He smiled at the little boy and asked, “You want to play catch?”

  Ricky nodded his head with vigor.

  “Just keep it low to the ground. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

  “I know, Beth.” He rolled his eyes and sounded exasperated.

  They moved a few feet away and tossed the ball back and forth. Ricky was all giggles, having a new playmate. I have to get this on camera. A picture of my rock star husband tossing a football with my ex-boyfriend’s son was priceless.

  What a turn of events.

  After giving Ricky dinner and a bath, it was story time, according to Susie’s schedule. I took a seat on the rocking chair and let him pick out a book. He grabbed a chunky board book, scurried over, and crawled up into my lap. Oh, my heart.

  “’Good Night, Moon’, I love that one.”

  David sat on the football rug and watched as I began reading. Halfway through the book, Ricky became restless and circled his gaze around the room. Assuming he was just getting tired, I continued with the story. Once I finished and closed the book, he peered up at me with his big blue eyes and said, “Mommy?”

  Panicking, I met David with a wide-eyed look. He returned a similar expression and gave a slight shrug. Hugging Ricky closer, I said, “Mommy and Daddy will be home tomorrow. Uncle David and Aunt Beth are taking care of you tonight.”

  Immediately the whining and squirming began, along with a pathetic “Mommy…Mommy…Mommy.”

  “God, help me,” I whispered,
holding him tighter as he flitted about in my arms.

  “I have an idea,” David said, jumping to his feet and leaving the room.

  I sagged into the rocker, mumbling, “This’d better be good.”

  “Shh…shh,” I whispered, rubbing Ricky’s back as he continued whimpering. David returned seconds later, carrying his guitar.

  My husband carried his guitar around like a toddler toting his beloved blankie. He claimed he liked having it around in case he got inspired and needed to jot down notes. I wasn’t going to argue with him, given how far he’d come in the music industry. And right about now, I was grateful for his logic.

  He took a seat on the floor in front of us and positioned the guitar to play. Ricky perked up and pointed to the guitar. “Ut dat?”

  “This is a guitar.”

  “’Tar,” Ricky repeated, studying David.

  My talented husband began strumming the tune to an old church hymn, “Abide With Me.”

  “Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;

  The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;

  When other helpers fail and comforts flee,

  Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.

  “Wow, I’ve never heard that played on guitar. I like it.”

  David kept playing as he explained, “Mum used to sing this to me at bedtime. It’s her favorite hymn.”

  I smiled at his tenderness. “One of my favorites, too. Go on…”

  As he went into the second verse, Ricky nestled into my lap and began yawning.

  I whispered, “You’re putting him to sleep. Good job, music man.”

  The baby’s weight grew heavier with each verse, until David announced, “I believe he’s out.”

  Peeking down at Ricky’s face, I saw his eyes were closed and he had the most peaceful expression. I cradled him in my arms, said a little blessing, and walked to his crib. He barely flinched as I lay him down. David stood next to me, and we both watched him for a moment.

  “He’s a cute little guy,” David admitted.

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling my throat thicken. “I-I think he’s fine.” Fearing an emotional breakdown, I backed away and headed out of the room.

  David was right on my heels. “Beth.” He caressed my shoulder.

  I hated that I couldn’t stop crying in front of him. He needed me to be strong right now in his recovery, not weepy and frail. But taking care of Ricky made me mourn over our lost baby. Who cared that it had been three years? Those powerful feelings still took over once in a while.

  David didn’t hesitate to take me in his arms. “It’s okay to cry, angel. I know this is hard for you. It’s tough for me, too.” His voice softened on the last sentence.

  “When will this hurt ever go away?”

  “I don’t know, sweetie. I don’t imagine it’ll ever completely go away. But we’re in this together.” He brushed away the tears from under my eyes and covered my face with kisses. “I won’t let you grieve alone, ever,” he whispered.

  Wrapping myself around him, I burrowed into his chest and relished in his presence. Even though my heart was breaking, I knew I was blessed. My husband, the love of my life, had come through a difficult recovery program and was now here in my arms. He hadn’t overdosed, run off, or denied he had a problem. Thank you, God.

  “I love you so much, David.”

  I glanced up to see his eyes were moist, but his smile lit up the dark room. “I love you, too.”

  We held each other for a few moments, and then went to work setting up the hideaway bed. Snuggling together and watching a movie was a wonderful way to heal the sadness. But I couldn’t help imagining Ricky was our baby and this was our life. I want to start a family. Maybe six months is too long.

  It was still dark when I awoke to the sound of, “Mommy! Mommy!”

  I checked my watch. 4:00. Hmm…scratch that thought. Six months is about right.

  “Are you ready to do this, brown eyes?” I asked, surveying the pile of carry-ons and luggage, including David’s guitar, waiting by the door. After countless months away, it was time to return home to London; back to normal life, albeit a new normal.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he answered, his eyes downcast. The day after babysitting Ricky, David had slipped into “worry mode” and had remained there the rest of the week. I couldn’t blame him. From now on, he had to face life as a recovering addict, and I knew that scared him. Fresh out of rehab and staying with my parents, with their overwhelming support and the absence of temptations, it was easy to stay clean. But once we were back in England, there was no telling what David would be up against.

  I didn’t let on how nervous I was. After all, he’d come a long way and was finally back to being my old David, the one I’d fallen in love with. My stomach clenched at the thought of him going back to drinking and using drugs. How could I keep him from the fate of his Uncle John, who’d died at twenty-seven from a drug overdose?

  Needless to say, once we were back in London, I planned to keep a close eye on him. The counselors at the rehab center stressed how important it was for the supporting spouse to stay aware of how the recovering spouse was feeling, without hovering. That would be a challenge. Undoubtedly bad days usually put them at risk for slipping up. I couldn’t control how his days went, but I could at least keep tabs on any mood changes.

  “How are you feeling, babe?” I asked David as we waited for my mom to finish a phone call.

  “Fine.” Great, he’s playing the tough guy. He wasn’t fooling me with his tense jaw and monotone voice.

  “I’m looking forward to getting back to our flat, aren’t you?” I was trying anything to take his mind off the recovery process.

  “I can hear you, you know,” Dad piped in from behind me.

  “Dad, you know what I’m saying.” I turned to face him. “We’ve hardly been in that place since we moved in. It’ll be nice to be settled for a while. Aren’t you and Mom ready to get your house back?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I kind of liked having you around. We never get to see our girls. Rachel’s settled in San Diego with Joey and you’re jet-setting around the world.”

  “I promise we will visit whenever we’re in the States.” I pointed at him. “And don’t forget, your brother lives in London, so you can always come our way, too.”

  “As long as you’re not on tour,” he grumbled.

  I bit my lip and exchanged a glance with David. After what’d happened on this tour, I couldn’t face the idea of another one.

  “We’ll keep you posted,” I promised.

  Soon we were on the road to the airport, and my five weeks in Garden Valley were over. A crazy mix of emotions swirled in my heart. The damaged relationships with my parents and Susie had been repaired, and it saddened me that I didn’t know when I’d see them again. Ricky would be a completely different boy the next time I was in town, and he likely wouldn’t remember me.

  But the upside was that my husband was on the road to recovery. We had our whole life ahead of us; maybe an addition in the near future. The only way to move forward was to go home and start living.

  David encountered his first temptation the moment we took our seats in first class. The flight attendant asked if we’d care for a cocktail, and David politely declined, opting for a soda instead.

  “Well done, Mr. Somers.”

  “Your grandmum’s words are still floating in my mind.”

  “My grandma? What did she say?” Hopefully it wasn’t a lecture.

  “It wasn’t anything earth-shattering. She just said to be good and take care of myself and her granddaughter.” He gazed at me. “How can I let her down?”

  “You won’t.”

  “She has a great deal of confidence in me.”

  “She loves you, David. She believes in you, and so do I.” I patted his thigh. “You just have to believe in yourself. Try not to focus on how hard it’s going to be.”

  “Are you a mind reader?”

  I chuckle
d. “I just know you.”

  “Yet you still love me.”

  “I love you because I know you. There’s nobody like you, David.”

  “Hmm…” he ran his knuckle down the side of my face and stared at me. “I’m eager to get home and start over.”

  “I am right there with you.”

  Why did it not surprise me that David swooped me into his arms before we entered our apartment? I had a feeling he’d be doing this long into our twilight years.

  “Ready, love?” he asked, his brows lifted.

  “Yes, I want to be home with you.” I brushed a stray hair out of his eyes.

  The moment finally arrived when we entered our little sanctuary. The air carried a light scent of roses, along with a hint of bleach.

  David set me down and went back to fetch our bags.

  “I think your mother cleaned the place,” I said, walking into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. Gasping, I closed the door and checked a nearby cabinet. “And stocked us with food. Wow!”

  “Seriously? Well, that was unexpected, but I won’t argue with it.”

  Feeling a burst of adrenaline, in spite of my impending jet lag, I strode into our bedroom. I threw my hand to my face. “Oh, David!”

  He rushed in. “What?”

  We both gaped at the pristine room, with a brand new hand-stitched quilt on the bed and little chocolates on each pillow. My side table was graced with a vase of fresh pink roses.

  “I knew I smelled roses. Your mom is something else.”

  “She is that.” David yawned. “I hate to disrupt her nice arrangement of chocolates, but I really need a lie-down.”

  His yawn was contagious, and I followed suit, then muttered, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind one.”

  We’d arrived home in the afternoon, and after settling into our nice crisp sheets, we didn’t hesitate to call it a night.

  Unfortunately, that meant we woke up way too early, and by the time we were due to meet the other band members for lunch, we were starting to drag again. The neighborhood pub was graciously unpopulated; most of the patrons were just regulars. Lately, anytime the band gathered at a restaurant, they would draw onlookers and fans seeking autographs and photos. Today, I was in no mood for extra attention.