Twice in a Lifetime (Love Found)

by Henrick, Ruthie

  Trey spent the past two summers working for T-Squared and had picked up a number of skills. “Sure, I can throw him on a crew while he’s home. He told me he’s interested in learning more about the business.” He took another bite, then added, “They have a pretty good management program up there.”

  “It must run in the family.”

  When silence thickened the air she lifted her eyes to him. “What?”

  “What about us, Allie? Our family, you and me? How much longer do I have to wait?” He choked out the words even as his voice escalated, a side of him she’d rarely ever seen. “When will you be done with this… this… dammit!” His voice exploded as his fist pounded the table, bouncing dinner plates and upsetting his water glass. “I’m tired of living apart. I want us to be a family.”

  He sprang from his seat, towering over her, then stalked to the kitchen for a towel. He spun at the sink, his neck corded with strain, ebony eyes piercing her. “I want more, dammit. I want you to marry me.”

  She lifted her hands, palms raised upward. “I’m here, Jake, but that’s all I can give you. “I don’t know what more I can say.”

  His voice bellowed as his palms slammed the table. “You can say you’ll marry me!”

  Enough! Her chair clattered to the floor as she surged to her feet. She slapped her palms to the table, face to face with him. “But I can’t have babies!” She yelled in his face, “I refuse—refuse—to take that away from you!”

  She found his finger shoved in her face. “You’re full of it, you know that? Why Allie? Why is this enough for you?” His palm slashed between them, emphasizing his question. “Why do you think us having or not having babies is important to me?” His voice was suddenly quiet, defeated. “I’ve loved you, wanted you, for… ever. Do you think I’d throw all that away so there’s another little Taylor running around?”

  So it had come to this. Her voice caught in her throat. “I don’t know. You just… don’t understand.”

  Jake sank back into his seat, eyes on his unfinished dinner. “What will it take to convince you?” The pain in his voice had tears clogging her throat. “The idea of my own child is a thing of the past. My life is yours now; I can’t imagine it without you. Not for ten minutes or ten days, certainly not forever. Can you really live without me?”

  Oh God, could she? She needed him, probably more than he claimed to need her. But this was no time to make a life-changing, potentially disastrous decision, angry and about to lose what little dinner she ate. “I need to leave now, Jake; there’s too much to think about.” Eyes brimming, she strode into the living room, grabbing her purse along the way.

  He ran after her and caught her arm at the couch. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “No. Please. Give me time. I’ll call you.” She tugged her arm free, swiped at the streaming tears and continued to the door.

  “I love you, Allie.”

  The gruffness in his voice stopped her hand from turning the doorknob. She stilled, unable to move, but unable to stay. Didn’t he know this was killing her too? “I know you do. I love you too. I’m just not sure if it’s enough.”

  He reached for her again, turned her to him and ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. If only she had the will to pull away. His lips whispered against hers before he opened the door for her, opening a wound in her soul that she alone was responsible for.

  The pain in his eyes was nearly her undoing. The hurt in his voice echoed as she pulled out of his driveway and drove to the corner stop sign. Her teary glance in the rear view mirror provided nothing but a blurry kaleidoscope of light. Was Jake watching her drive away from him? If she turned around right now would he welcome her back? Wrap her in his arms and love her?

  There was no doubt he would.

  But for how long?

  A car pulled up behind her. She needed to make a decision. Should she change her mind and turn back? Could she risk her heart, her future? Could she trust that Jake was willing to give up babies of his own? Was she strong enough to let him? The car behind her honked. She took her foot off the brake and continued straight.

  Trey was on his way. He called Allie to let her know he was almost home. They had two feet of new snow up north and even with new chains and four wheel drive, he was uneasy driving on the recently plowed highway. Allie held her breath until he called, letting her know he was clear. He would be home in an hour.

  Erratic hormones were still giving her fits. She was irritable and short-tempered and the waterworks had not yet let up. And now she was ill with the flu. It had been coming on for weeks. She was achy and nauseated and no matter how much sleep she got during the night she woke up tired. She forced herself to run with Maddie each morning, but by the time she returned home she was exhausted.

  It was only six o’clock, but Allie was already in her sweats. The kids at school were keyed up about the upcoming break and her days had been spent in a frenzy of activity. She endured parent conferences, and the annual holiday program, but her evenings were full of nothing but time to think. It was what she asked for and, like he always did, Jake gave her what she wanted.

  She thought of him as she woke in the morning, reaching for him and finding nothing but cold sheets. What was he doing today? In the classroom, between interruptions by busy five-year-olds, she thought about their time together. Eating dinner alone, she wished he was there to share her day. And at night… nights were the worst. At night her memories and imagination took over.

  She relaxed into the corner of the sofa, a mug of herbal tea cradled in one hand. The aromas of simmering soup and Trey’s favorite pumpkin cake flavored the air. Covered with a light throw, she munched saltines, a murder mystery she’d been dying to read open on her lap.

  The front door opened, letting in a blast of wintery cold. “Hey Mom, I’m here!”

  She untucked her feet to stand as Trey yelled into the house, ducking her head to take a quick swipe at her eyes and plaster on a semblance of a smile. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” She wrapped him in a welcoming hug as she neared him.

  Stepping out of her arms, Trey dropped his duffle bag near the door. “Hey, are you okay? You look like you were crying.”

  “No, it’s just, um… I’m happy to have you home.” She could hardly tell him she was afraid she was screwing up her life.

  “Just wait until you have to feed me every day. You’ll change your mind in a hurry.”

  A genuine grin spread across her face. She pointed at his duffle. “Is this all you brought?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll be here for a month. I brought so much stuff down you’ll think I’m moving back.” He turned and headed back out the door.

  She followed him, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. “I heard you’re planning to work for Jake while you’re home.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice the way she stumbled over Jake’s name.

  “I called him a couple of weeks ago. He said he could keep me busy while I’m here.” He opened the truck door, began unloading his stuff. He slung his backpack over a shoulder, then grabbed another duffel bag. A box full of video games and DVDs came next. Finally, a garbage bag full of who knew what.

  She surveyed the clutter scattered around her driveway and sighed. Welcome home, Trey. Farewell to her peace and quiet for the next four weeks. Maybe that was a good thing.

  A bag in each hand, she traipsed inside. Trey followed her with the rest of his things, lifting a beaten-up Red Wing and kicking the door shut behind him. He dropped everything in the middle of the floor and pulled out his cell phone. “I need to give him a call. I’m supposed to work tomorrow, but I don’t know where.”

  The hum of Trey’s voice faded as she hauled his gear to his room. Yes, she should probably ask him to do it himself, but knowing Jake was on the phone made him almost… here. The sound of approaching footsteps had her dropping her armload and looking up.

  “Hey, that soup is really good.” Trey waved a spoon in the air. “Can we eat soon? I’m starving.
” He turned toward the kitchen again, and she followed. “By the way, Jake says hi.”

  “I’m planning to make biscuits to go with it.” The tremor in her voice was easily disguised in a cough as she slipped into the pantry. Before she could control them, the tears were gushing, streaming along her nose and dripping from her chin. Leaning her forehead against the wall, all she could do was let them fall.

  Two weeks. It had been two weeks since she’d last seen him, talked to him, touched him—felt his touch. She could still smell him, taste him. Oh God, she missed him badly. Sometimes it was hard to remember why she was so resistant. Using her shoulder to scrub her face dry, she grabbed the flour.

  With biscuits browning in the oven, Allie set the table. Trey ambled back in and poured a glass of milk. “You don’t have a Christmas tree yet, Mom. What are you waiting for?”

  She bent to pull the bread from the oven. “There’s still a week so I waited for you. I thought you might like to get one together.”

  “Can we go tomorrow after work?” Trey took an empty bowl to the stove and dished his soup, grabbing a couple of biscuits on his way to the table.

  She ladled soup into her own bowl and tore off half a biscuit. “We can go whenever you want. I don’t have anything planned at all. I’ll get out the decorations while you’re gone.” Allie took the seat across from Trey and dipped out a small spoonful of soup.

  “Hey, Mama?”

  “What, sweetheart?” She met his gaze across the table, wondering what was wrong. He never called her Mama anymore.”

  He looked uncomfortable. “When I talked to Jake today, he said to tell you hi, but he also said to tell you he missed you.”

  Allie’s biscuit paused on its journey to her mouth. Her eyes darted away as they filled.

  “He sounded sad, really quiet. What’s going on?”

  Allie swiped her eyes with her napkin then gave him a weak smile. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart. We just have a few things to work out.”

  Trey leaned forward, his forearms braced against the table. “You’re still treating me like I’m twelve.”

  “No, I’m… yes, sorry, but—” She knit her brow. “It’s complicated. Things may work themselves out.”

  Trey leaned back again, angling his head. “Or maybe they won’t?”

  “Or maybe they won’t.”

  He stood and circled the table, then put his arm around her shoulder, kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  He was definitely no longer her little boy. His tenderness brought on a watery smile. “I know honey, but no need to worry.”

  Her bowl was still half full but her hunger was overridden by the chaos in her heart. She cleared the table, then settled on the sofa with a fresh mug of tea. Her stomach seemed to settle in the evenings; hopefully that would be the case tonight. She picked up her novel, the drama on the page usually distracted her for a while.

  Trey walked through with his dirty laundry and she looked up at the thumping of the hamper against his thighs. “Leave that and I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “It’s fine, Mom. I’ll put in a load before I leave.”

  “You’re going out?”

  “Gonna hang out with Jax.”

  How could she have forgotten how he was never still? Within minutes he was gone, backing out of the driveway. She’d lived alone for months now… why did it seem so lonely tonight?

  Trey was at work. And even though she moved about the house as quickly as she dared, tables would get dusted and rugs would get vacuumed quicker if she didn’t get lightheaded every time she moved too fast. She dragged a few small pieces of furniture, rearranging them inch by inch to make room for the tree. From the high shelves in the garage she yanked down several large clear tubs of holiday decorations staggering under their weight as she hauled them into the living room.

  Uncovering the first bin, she pulled out Trey’s stocking; her mom quilted it for his first Christmas. She rooted around until she found its hanger, then hung it from a shelf of the built-in bookcase. Only one stocking. It always looked so lonely.

  The house was a little more festive with the wreath—an artificial arrangement of greenery, pine cones and ribbon—adorning the front door. Maybe this year she should get a real one, one that actually smelled like Christmas. Shrugging, she knelt before the box of decorations, reacquainting herself with a lifetime of colorful treasures. Delicate glass ornaments were tucked away beside papier-mâché grade school projects, craft bazaar finds, and gifts from students. Each piece had a story behind it, a celebration of the history of their family.

  Tossing the last bit of tissue wrapper back into the bin, she surveyed her work. The scented candles she loved were scattered about, table lines were stored in the kitchen and her favorite, a wooden nativity crèche, had a place of honor on the entry table. Her home held just the right mix of fussy and functional, but her eyes drooped with exhaustion. She left the empty containers where they lay and dropped onto the sofa for a short nap.

  She swatted at the persistent fly. Swatted again as it landed on her cheek, but hit something solid. She cracked her eyelid and found Trey, grinning at her.

  “Hey sleepyhead, I’m home. Time to get us a tree.”

  Trey hauled the cumbersome Douglas Fir through the doorway and to the far corner of the living room—the same corner that held their tree each year. The strings of colorful lights were in the same tangle she unsnarled every year, but eventually he could coil them around the fragrant branches.

  Trey pawed through the same box of ornaments she dug through earlier, held up a cheesy animated cartoon character. “Where did this one come from, Mom?” A little guy in overalls and a hardhat dangled from his finger.

  It wasn’t surprising he didn’t remember it. She’d left it in the box the past couple of years. Today she took it from him with a nostalgic smile.

  “Here, open this one,” Ben said, but she already knew what it was. Every year he gave her a new ornament, something special. She unwrapped the package. “Oh, look, Trey… it’s Daddy!” She giggled at the character, then leaned forward to give her husband a thank-you kiss. He drew her onto his lap, tickling her as they rolled on the floor.

  “I’ll have you know, I only wear overalls on Thursdays.” And with leering eyes he whispered in her ear. “But I’ll show you my power tools any time you like.”

  “Your dad. Several years ago.” She handed the little guy back to Trey. “Hang it on the tree.”

  His eyes were clear as he did so, no hidden animosity, no lurking pain of betrayal. What did he think of when he remembered Ben? The day he removed his training wheels and gave him a push? His high fives after scoring another touchdown? Taking him along in his truck as he checked job sites? All great memories, true, but that was right. A boy should worship his dad.

  She slid a sidelong glance to Trey, who had changed so much in the past three years. He wasn’t a boy any longer, he was nearly a man now. Didn’t he have the right to know what kind of man his father really was? There was a little girl involved now. A sister Trey deserved to know about. She held in a troubled sigh that Trey would surely pick up on if released.

  Wherever would she find the courage to tell him?

  The week ground by but Allie didn’t need a calendar to remind her that tomorrow was finally Christmas Eve. She was prepared—her gifts were all wrapped and under the tree. Of course there was a package for Jake, and it glared at her each time she passed through the room. She still hadn’t spoken with him. What would she say? She might miss him terribly, but she still couldn’t give him what he wanted.

  The front door slammed and muffled footsteps headed for the kitchen. “Mom, you here?” Trey’s voice trailed off as he turned the corner.

  “Oh, no! Look at you.” The words punched through her laugh and left her chuckling even as she stopped him with a raised palm. “Let me guess. Sheetrock today?” Her hand waved to indicate the fine white powder smearing his hands and face and coating his
clothing.

  He looked down, brushing his hands against his thighs and sending up an impressive cloud of dust. “What gave it away?”

  She could only shake her head. It was too late to stop the mess from drifting to her kitchen floor. “Just a lucky guess.” She looked him over, head to toe. At least he left his boots outside. She turned to the oven, reached in to check the meatloaf. Her stomach lurched, a not-so-gentle reminder to stand slowly. “How was work today?” Trey eyed her closely even as she forced the grimace from her face.

  “Everyone knocked off early and Jake had a barbeque in the yard.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared around the corner. “I’ll be right back. I forgot something.”

  He returned moments later, his cell phone at his ear, and handed Allie a small gift bag. He put his hand over the receiver. “This is from Jake. He said you can open it any time.”

  Jake. Her heart dropped, then pounded in her chest, as it had for weeks now. She took the bag from his hand. She peered inside, but its contents were well hidden in a crush of tissue paper. “Thanks. I’ll… I’ll open it later.” But Trey was already gone, his voice fading as he disappeared into his room.

  “Yeah, I wish you were here, too… But it’s snowing there… No, I’ll be back the day before classes start… I miss you too.”

  Interesting.

  There were plenty of places she’d rather be than sitting on the bathroom floor. But with her knees drawn to her chest and her face pressed against the tile, sucking in slow and steady breaths helped relieve the worst of the nausea taunting her tonight.

  Trey’s voice drew closer, calling out for her. Darn it, she’d wanted to ask him—well, grill him, actually—about his mysterious phone conversation earlier, but all during dinner her stomach kept her preoccupied. And laid out on the floor was not an ideal setting for snooping into her son’s personal life. Then again, what about her life was ideal lately? “In here, Trey.”