Mrs. Cotton announced she was up by clashing pots and pans together as she began to prepare Luke’s breakfast. With a sinking heart Marcus hurried into the kitchen ready to grovel. He knew he should have told her to expect guests for the weekend. He should have checked up on his son’s program too. If he had, he would have known about the change to his regular exercise session in the gym, and been ready for the extra stress triggered by the change to his routine.
“I’m sorry Mrs. C. I didn’t mean to take over like I did yesterday. I wasn’t thinking straight. I can hardly hear myself think at all when Luke screams like that,” he offered as some sort of explanation.
She gave an angry sniff. “Well all I can say is you were lucky. It could have gone on for hours!”
“I know. But calming him down was a bit more than luck. Jodie and Izzie have both worked with children like Luke, so they knew how to talk to him.”
“Fat lot of good it’ll do them the next time, when he refuses to listen,” she wasn’t prepared to forgive him yet, and he didn’t blame her.
For the past six weeks she had been in sole charge of the team of care workers who worked with Luke and looked after him. She had run the apartment like clockwork too; timing it so that the women who came in to clean didn’t upset him, and keeping his contact with strangers to a minimum. She had also made sure he was nurtured and well fed. Without Mrs. Cotton running Luke’s home/school program, life didn’t bear thinking about.
“When did you last have a break?” he asked her, determined to make amends somehow.
“Trying to get rid of me now are you?” her Irish lilt, which was always such a delight to his musical ear, became stronger as emotion took over.
“You know I’m not,” he risked sliding an arm around her shoulders. “I couldn’t do without you. It’s just I doubt you’ve taken all the days due to you while I’ve been away so I’m trying to put it right. Surely there’s somewhere else you’d rather be this weekend?”
She shook her head. Then she smiled. “Well maybe just for a day. My niece has a new baby I’d like to see.”
“So what’s keeping you?”
He put his hands on her shoulders when she began to list all the things she had to do before she could leave the apartment. “I can do everything. And Jodie and Izzie will help too. You go and visit your niece Mrs. C. Luke will still be in one piece when you come back.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “Well if you’re sure…”
“I am, and to prove it I’ll finish making his breakfast,” he turned her around and pointed her towards the kitchen door.
She didn’t take much persuading, and as he watched her go he felt a familiar guilty lurch in the pit of his stomach. From the outside it probably looked as if he was a good father. He made Luke his priority whenever he could, and when he had to go away he always made sure he was well cared for. Money was no object. The people who looked after his son kept to a daily schedule that aimed to minimize his ever-present stress levels. They worked to his strengths, too, by encouraging his reading and his drawing, and they concentrated on improving his coordination. Yet despite all the care and money lavished on his son, Marcus knew he was a failure…as a father…and as a man.
However hard he tried, he couldn’t relate to Luke’s small successes, to the tiny steps forward Mrs. Cotton took such pride in telling him about. Although he smiled and nodded in all the right places he couldn’t make himself care when he went a whole week without a tantrum, or when he learned a new skill. All he wanted was to have a normal son, one who could kick a ball around, or talk about music, or even share memories about things they’d done together. He wanted Luke to call him Dad and to know what that meant.
With a sigh he turned back to the cooker. What had Mrs. C said - scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast and a glass of orange juice - all to be delivered at precisely eight-o’clock.
* * *
It was two minutes before eight when he carried the laden tray through to the dining room. Luke was sitting at the table drawing a picture of a bird. He ignored Marcus. He ignored Mrs. Cotton too when she came into the room to say goodbye. Without warning something snapped in Marcus.
“Mrs. Cotton said goodbye Luke.”
With no indication that he’d heard him, his son carefully slotted the brown felt-tip pen he’d been using back into its place in his coloring box and selected a green one.
The fact he was still holding the tray was the only thing that prevented Marcus from snatching it from his hand and insisting he answer her.
Mrs. Cotton shook her head. Her eyes were full of compassion. “It doesn’t matter. He never says goodbye.”
Marcus scowled. “Well he should! Good manners aren’t much to ask.”
“For Luke they are.”
As he opened his mouth to reply Luke returned the green pen to his coloring box and snapped the lid shut. Then he placed it on top of his drawing pad and pushed both of them away from him, clearing a space for his breakfast tray.
Marcus glanced at his watch. It was exactly eight o’clock. “How do you do that?” he asked irritably as he placed the tray in front of him. “How do you always know what time it is?”
Luke stared at him. “Breakfast is at eight o’clock,” he said.
Knowing it was the only explanation he was going to get, Marcus sighed. Luke only dealt in facts so why did he keep expecting a deep philosophical debate. To him eight o’clock meant breakfast. It was part of his routine. He wasn’t interested in the whys and wherefores. It was one of the main reasons Marcus found his behavior so frustrating because in many ways he was very bright. It was as if a good fairy had come along, seen how burdened he was with physical and mental disabilities, and tried to compensate by doubling his intelligence quotient. Academically Luke was several years ahead of his age, and his reading speed was off the scale.
Watching him cut up his toast into equal squares, Marcus remembered how Jodie and Izzie had spoken to him. They had both used short, factual sentences, and they had told him what they were going to do before they did it. It was almost as if they had read the same books he’d immersed himself in when Luke had first been diagnosed, the books he’d long forgotten, and it had worked.
At the end of the evening meal, the first one he could remember sharing with his son for a very long time, Jodie had stood up, pushed her chair in and spoken directly to Luke. What was it she had said? Something about clearing the table because Mrs. Cotton was busy. And Luke had picked up his plate and followed her into the kitchen with it.
Trying to mimic Jodie’s tone of voice, he spoke directly to his son. “Mrs. Cotton is going out.”
“Okay,” Luke replied, his mouth full of egg.
“She said goodbye.”
Luke raised his eyes until he was looking directly at Mrs. Cotton but he didn’t speak.
Marcus took a huge breath in an attempt to crush his frustration. “Say goodbye to her,” he said. “Tell her to have a nice day.”
There was a long silence while Luke considered what his father had just said and Marcus knew he had pushed him into overload. The ‘have a nice day’ concept was not something that made any sort of sense to Luke, not unless it was attached to a fact he could relate to. Why did he always forget things like that? It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to handle things. He had read enough about Luke’s mental challenges, spoken to enough experts, and yet still he got it wrong.
He gave Mrs. Cotton an apologetic shrug as he turned towards the window. She gave a sketchy wave and made for the door. Behind them Luke took another bite of toast.
“Goodbye Mrs. Cotton,” he said, his mouth full of crumbs.
* * *
By eight thirty Marcus had cleared away Luke’s breakfast dishes and made sure he had all the pens and pencils he needed to continue with his drawing. Satisfied he would remain occupied until it was time for his daily visit to the pool, he returned to the kitchen. He stacked the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and swiped a cloth across th
e counter top. Then he spooned coffee into the espresso machine and stood listening to the satisfying swoosh of the steam as it was forced through the ground beans.
While he waited he thought about what Luke had just done. Deep down he knew it wouldn’t always work like that. When he was engrossed in an activity his son would keep on ignoring him. He would keep on having tantrums too when things didn’t go his way. Right now though, those things didn’t seem so important. Right now he was experiencing an unexpected sense of satisfaction because for once Luke had actually responded positively to a request.
Pouring himself a coffee he carried the mug over to the window and stared out into the morning. It was bright with sunshine and the sky was blue. He wondered if he should try to persuade Izzie to stay with Luke for an hour or two so he and Jodie could take a walk by the river. Then he saw Jodie and stopped wondering about anything at all.
She was standing on the slice of balcony visible from the kitchen window. It opened out from the bedroom she had chosen, so he had a clear view, and what he could see made his heart beat faster.
Wrapped only in a towel, she was leaning forward slightly as she brushed hair still damp from the shower. The repetitive sweep of her arm had a hypnotic effect. He watched with baited breath as she pulled the brush through it time and time again. Finally satisfied, she flipped her hair back over her shoulders. It settled like a mantle of dark silk almost to her waist.
Unable to drag his eyes away he continued to watch as she tucked the towel more securely around her and tilted her face up to the early morning sun. It sparked blue lights in her hair while a mild breeze dancing through the leaves sent dappled shadows across her bare shoulders. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were still rosy from the shower. Marcus ached with need. He wanted to go into her bedroom, lock the door behind him, and take her in his arms. He wanted to unwrap her towel and tangle his fingers in her hair. He wanted to…
Izzie interrupted his raised his blood pressure by coming out onto the balcony and standing beside her sister. She said something that made Jodie laugh and as she did so, Marcus saw her turn back into the old Jodie. Gone was the private abandon with which she had greeted the early morning sunshine. Gone, too, were the sensuous movements of her fingers in her hair. In their place was the practical woman whose desire to protect her sister overrode almost every other feeling.
He sighed when she reached behind her and divided her hair into thick skeins. She was going to plait it. Then she would pull on a long-sleeved T-shirt. By the time she left her bedroom the Jodie he had seen on the balcony, the Jodie he could sense when she was kissing him, would have completely disappeared.
Chapter Sixteen
Marcus stared at Luke. “What do you mean, we’re going to the park?”
His son gave him a withering look. Going to the park meant going to the park. What else could it mean?
“It’s my fault. I told him we’d go when you and Izzie got back,” Jodie took charge of the conversation.
Luke gave a sigh of relief. She seemed to know what his father was talking about, the same as she knew how much he liked to look at the trees swaying in the breeze. She had joined him on the balcony after his swimming session and talked to him about the birds. Then they had had a long discussion about birdseed. Luke knew a lot about that. He knew it was important to give the birds the right mix, a mix that was different in the summer when they had fledglings to feed. They had talked about the trees too. And the different shapes of the leaves. And then the wind had started gusting around the branches making them sway to and fro. When they did, the nice fuzzy feeling he always got when he watched them had started to creep over him. It must have made Jodie feel the same because soon she stopped talking and just sat beside him and watched the trees too.
Now she was talking again though, and quite loudly. She was having an argument with his father. Luke covered up his ears so he couldn’t hear them.
“You had no right to promise any such thing,” Marcus said. “Luke doesn’t go out, period! We’ve tried it and it doesn’t work. He just gets upset and angry, especially when people look at him.”
“That’s ridiculous. You can’t keep him trapped indoors forever. He has to learn to cope…with people, with situations, with life. You’re not doing him any favors by protecting him like this.”
“Easy for you to say,” Marcus scowled at her. “You don’t have to live with his behavior day after day.”
“I know,” she put a placatory hand on his arm. “But I do know what can be achieved. I’ve seen children who wouldn’t even look at a horse when they first arrived at the stables, happily riding around without a leading rein within a few months.
“You and your damned horses! That riding program you run doesn’t make you a world expert on autistic children you know.”
She withdrew her hand and met his scowl with one of her own. “I didn’t say it did, but I do know Luke is worth more than this. He’s a bright boy. He loves nature, loves the sunshine, and yet he only ever experiences them from a concrete balcony. What sort of life is that?”
“Why do you think I’m moving to somewhere where he will be surrounded by trees, and where he’ll have the freedom of a large garden? It certainly isn’t for my own convenience.”
“But he’ll still be isolated won’t he? Come on Marcus. Give him a chance. Come to the park with us. If Luke has a meltdown then you can blame me, but I don’t think he will.”
“Because…?”
“Because he told me he gets to choose what he wants to do for two hours after lunch, and today he has chosen to go to the park to see the birds.”
Irritated, because he knew she was right, Marcus gave a bad-tempered shrug. He couldn’t remember Luke ever electing to go out before, but nor could he remember the last time he’d been given the option. Worn down by his son’s tantrums and by what appeared to be his genuine terror of new faces and experiences, Marcus had taken the easy way out. Aided and abetted by Mrs. Cotton and his team of care workers, he had devised a way of life that kept Luke on an even keel. Apart from going down to the pool and gym in the basement he rarely left the apartment, and when he did he mostly travelled in a car with tinted windows. And yet despite everything he now wanted to visit the park.
What had Jodie been up to while he was at the studio? This weekend wasn’t panning out as he’d intended it to at all. Despite that early morning glimpse of her on the balcony, he’d barely seen Jodie since. Instead, he’d spent the morning putting Izzie through her paces in his studio while Jodie baby-sat his son. He still wasn’t sure how it had happened.
Over breakfast he and Izzie had started talking music, a conversation that had somehow ended with him agreeing to take her to the studio while Jodie stayed with Luke.
“You won’t have to do much,” he’d assured her as Izzie went to the bedroom to collect her jacket. “The girl who takes him swimming will be here in a minute. She’ll take Luke down to the pool and work with him for an hour or so, and by the time she finishes another care worker will have arrived.”
Jodie had smiled up at him, the memory of the kisses they’d shared in her eyes. “Luke and I will be fine. Izzie will be too, once she’s visited your studio. Off you go Marcus because the longer you make her wait the bigger the hints will get.”
He’d laughed at her as he kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re probably right. Your sister is rapidly becoming an open book to me! But make sure you take time to relax. Don’t let Luke monopolize you, like he did at supper yesterday.”
Three hours later, he was faced with a double dilemma. He had to talk to Jodie about Izzie, and he had to take Luke to the park. He wasn’t sure which he dreaded most.
* * *
So when are you going to tell me about Izzie?” Jodie asked. They were sitting side by side on a wooden bench while Izzie and Luke explored the hidden space beneath a weeping willow tree whose leaves trailed across the grass. Luke was wearing a green baseball cap with the riding school’s motif on
the front, and a pair of dark glasses.
Marcus flexed his shoulders. He could feel the panic building. He still couldn’t believe such a flimsy disguise was all it had taken to get Luke out of the apartment and into the sunshine. Surely he would reach melt down soon.
Jodie took his hand. “Stop worrying. He’s fine…and if something changes then we’ll deal with it.”
He looked down at their twined fingers. His were long and slim, and tanned by the Californian sun. Jodie’s were short in comparison, with square cut, unadorned nails. Two of them were crisscrossed with healing scratches. He traced one of them with his forefinger.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Try me,” her fingers tightened on his.
“She needs to sing Jodie. And the world needs to hear her. Keeping Izzie away from music is…well I guess I have the same feeling about it as you do about keeping Luke indoors day after day.”
Her face suddenly pale, she turned to where Izzie was sitting. She could only see the shadowy shape of her back through the overhanging branches. She could hear her laughter though. She could hear Luke too. His high-pitched chuckles were the same as those of any other child.
Marcus noticed them as well and when Jodie looked at him again she saw his eyes were bright with unshed tears. He gave her a watery smile.
“We’re a fine pair aren’t we? We both thought we knew what was best for them and we were both wrong.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead she just nodded and then gave herself up to the comfort of his embrace as he slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
They sat like that until Izzie and Luke reappeared. Neither of them seemed at all fazed by Jodie and Marcus sitting so close together.
“We’re going to the aviary,” Luke announced.
“But you’ve already done that,” said Marcus, recalling their slow trek around the cages while they listened to Luke’s encyclopedic commentary on every bird. By the time they’d reached the exit his amazement that his son was such an ornithological expert had overridden his initial boredom. When had that happened? When had his interest in the birds that fluttered around the balcony turned into such an all-consuming passion?
Mending Jodie's Heart (When Paths Meet Book 1) Page 9