Perfect Piece

by Rebeca Seitz

“Hi there. I was about to leave for your house.”

  “Then you must be psychic because I’m calling to see if you’ve left yet.”

  Joy’s laughter traveled the line. “Scott’s on the golf course, too. I meant to be out there before Jamison left, but Maddie isn’t being the most agreeable of children this morning.”

  “Maddie doesn’t even talk yet. She’s nothing. These three, on the other hand, are demanding the park and we all know their invalid mother can’t drive them.”

  “Oh, stop. You are not an invalid. You’re a recovering patient who will drive again one day very soon. Tell the children Auntie Joy will be there to save the day in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Thanks, Joy.”

  “Save your thanks for my pie.”

  “You made pie? What kind?”

  “Now it wouldn’t be a surprise if I gave you all the details, would it? Get the children ready. I’m on my way.”

  Meg replaced the receiver, feeling a surge of happiness unlike anything since her surgery. The day shone brightly outside, her kids were full of sugar and could, very soon, run all of it off on the playground. And a pie baked by Joy was on its way to her even now.

  All in all, a pretty good start to the day. She considered hating her swift mood swing but decided to be grateful for it—for once.

  Meg clapped her hands. “Okay, kids. Let’s find shoes and backpacks. Aunt Joy and Maddie are on their way over.”

  “YAY!” Three sets of hands flew into the air.

  Meg’s heart lifted further at the outright joy on their faces. She really did have a lot to be thankful for and needed to not lose sight of that. “Come on, now. Shoes and backpacks.”

  Chair legs scraped against the floor as they left the table and darted out of the kitchen. Meg listened to their little feet pounding down the hallway. “James, help Hannah find her shoes and bring them to me!”

  “Okay, Mom!”

  See? She could do this. She had a very capable eight-yearold to help her out. Life didn’t have to be a building storm cloud. She could choose a white, fluffy cloud instead.

  Meg hummed as she cleaned up the breakfast mess scattered across the table. Today, for this minute anyway, she would choose to be happy.

  * * *

  JAMISON CLIMBED THE tee mound and looked down the fairway. A strong wind kicked up the tree limbs, which waved a welcome back to him. He felt like waving in return. Getting onto the golf course soothed his frayed nerves like nothing else these days. The peaceful carpet of grass, busy squirrels darting here and there, whine of golf cart motors, and snick of golf club to ball calmed him like aloe on a burn.

  He inhaled the clean air, filling his lungs and allowing nature to wash away the tension coiled in his soul. He’d thought to play nine holes and rush back to Meg. Now he considered staying out for eighteen.

  “You going to play in this lifetime?” Clay chided.

  Jamison grinned. “Yeah, yeah.” He addressed the ball, took a last look at the fluttering flag about three hundred yards away, and swung.

  His muscles burned from disuse. Only a month away and already he’d lost a bit of his form. Perhaps placing a golf ball under his right foot—an old Annika Sorenstam trick— would fix his swing. He knew his hips weren’t aligning with his arms and shoulders.

  Darin slid off the golf cart seat and walked toward the mound. “My, how the mighty have fallen.” He glanced down the fairway to the place just this side of the rough where Jamison’s ball had come to rest.

  “Hey, cut a guy some slack. I haven’t been out here in a month.”

  “Excuses, excuses.” Darin pushed a tee into the ground.

  Jamison shook his head, enjoying the ribbing. He took his place in the cart, waited in silence while the other three took their swings. Contemplated calling Meg to see how she fared at home. But what if she said she needed him to come back right away? He knew his feelings were selfish, but he needed some time away from her. Time to remember that he loved her, that he had a life, that he had friends, that this was just a small time in their lives and they would get through.

  He looked down the long carpet of grass and noted the three lays. All had out-stroked him. Terrific.

  He tried to feel bad about being outplayed. A month ago he’d have obsessed over each stroke, every tidbit or nuance from the wind to the bit of dirt on his club.

  Today he was just happy to be on the course.

  “So you decided on nine or eighteen?” Scott steered the cart around a bend in the path.

  “I’m leaning toward eighteen.”

  “Might as well. Joy’s with Meg, so that’s taken care of.”

  Jamison settled back into the seat, his happiness quotient expanding by leaps and bounds. “Then definitely eighteen.”

  “That’s my man.” Scott pulled the cart to a stop at the next hole.

  They played twelve more holes. Gradually, Jamison found his swing again and by the time they headed for the clubhouse, he had happily found his groove.

  “Thought we had a chance at beating you for a while there.” Darin parked his cart behind Clay’s truck and hopped out to unbuckle his bag.

  Scott unloaded his own bag and slid it into his car. “Please. Might want to keep those dreams in the realm of reality.”

  Clay pulled the flap on his glove and the ripping sound of Velcro cut through the air. “Then they wouldn’t be dreams, right?”

  “Touché.”

  After putting their bags in the vehicles and parking the carts in the cart bay to recharge for another day, they ambled to the Nineteenth Hole.

  Clay held open the door. “Who’s hungry?”

  “Me.” Scott walked through the entry.

  Darin lifted a finger. “Count me in.”

  Jamison considered calling home to check on Meg. But Joy was there, so everything had to be fine. No sense in cutting the day short. “Famished.”

  “All right, then. To the dinner spot, boys.”

  They settled in at a table overlooking a small garden. The sight reminded Jamison that Meg hadn’t planted any new flowers this year. He hadn’t tended her existing ones, either. Wonder if Jenny Sanders did gardening? He’d have to remember to ask her tomorrow during her interview.

  Clay gulped down half his iced water and set the glass on the table. “Okay, man, spill. How’s Meg?”

  Jamison looked at the faces surrounding him. Here was a chance to be real, to get some feedback and find out if they had any better ideas than he about how to deal with Meg. But these guys were married to her sisters and Meg might just kill him if she found out he talked about her.

  He sighed. “Fine.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” Darin threw a wadded up straw paper at him. “Come on, give. Kendra’s wandering around the house muttering under her breath like she does when she’s got a problem she can’t figure out, and I’m guessing that problem is your wife. That means I’ve got a vested interest in getting Meg on the road to recovery before my wife drives me insane.”

  Jamison chuckled. “When you put it that way …”

  “I do.”

  “Okay, truth be told, I don’t know what to do with her.” He described the mood swings, the lack of logic to her actions, the out-of-character tantrums, and the sense of dread in their house. “I feel like I’m walking on eggshells scattered across nails laying on broken glass most days. One wrong move, and I’m shredded.”

  Scott whistled low. “Wow, that’s pretty bad.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Darin toyed with another straw paper. “You thought about counseling?”

  Jamison shook his head. “The doctors say to give her time and wait it out. Any counseling we get now wouldn’t help long-term because she might be a totally different person a week from now.”

  “I meant counseling for you.”

  Jamison’s eyes widened. “No.” Counseling? Definitely not. That’s all he needed were the town gossips not only telling everyone where he chose to drink a glass of
water, but that he’d lost his marbles as well. “You know this town. They’re having enough of a field day with this. I can’t give them more to discuss.”

  “You can if it keeps you from losing your mind.”

  Darin shot him a knowing glance. “Or visiting dark bars.”

  Jamison averted his gaze. So the whole family knew. “Not a big deal. I only wanted a few minutes to myself.”

  “Hey, nobody’s judging here. Right, guys?” Darin looked around and waited for Scott and Clay’s nod. “Still, you’ve gotta admit that sitting down at Cadillac’s is going to stir the gossips a whole lot faster than a trip to a head shrinker will do.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t need counseling. I need to go to sleep and wake up six months from now when Meg’s decided who she is.” This talk killed his happy mood faster than baking soda on a grease fire. “Look, guys, I’ve had a good day here. First good day I’ve had in a month. How about we skip the bonding time and just eat?”

  He watched them exchange glances, only then realizing the entire outing had been more about the chance to talk to him than golf with him. He told himself that was a sign of caring, not manipulation.

  Which didn’t help it feel any less like manipulation.

  Darin finally spoke. “You’ve got a hard thing going. We only wanted to know if we can help. You want us to butt out, we’re gone. You’d rather spend time swinging a club than dissecting your woman’s motives, that’s cool by us.” He leaned forward. “But if you change your mind, you got six ears here and three brains that mostly work.” He looked across the table. “Though I wouldn’t count on burger boy over there.”

  “Hey,” Clay splayed a hand across his chest. “You break my heart. No more burgers for you.”

  “I’m just saying your mind ain’t been right since Clayton came home from the hospital. I’m chalking it up to sleep deprivation and praying you get over it in a few more months.”

  Jamison couldn’t resist. “Maybe you and Meg are on the same timetable.”

  They enjoyed a laugh. The conversation paused while a waitress set their plates down. Jamison’s mouth watered at the aroma of steak. With the family relying on church casseroles at first, then his cooking skills, he hadn’t enjoyed a steak in a month, either. He picked up his fork and knife, determined to wring as much enjoyment out of the day as possible.

  As he cut the meat, he thought about Meg. Maybe Joy’s presence put her in a good mood. Who knew? Perhaps he’d arrive home to find a wife who could smile for longer than two seconds.

  The steak tasted delicious, exploding in his mouth in a riot of tastes, peppercorn definitely among them. He could work a grill. Why hadn’t he grilled for the family? He’d fix that soon. They could grill—hmm, something easy—chicken for him and Meg, hot dogs for the kids. They’d love it. Meg might even sit out on the patio with him and talk. He still longed for conversation with her but knew her mind might not be up to the verbal sparring that had made their relationship special before. He prayed that wouldn’t be a lasting effect of the surgery.

  “Earth to Jamison.” Darin snapped his fingers in front of Jamison’s face. “Want to join us back on this planet?”

  Jamison swallowed the bite of steak. “Sorry. You were saying?”

  “I was saying—” Clay relaxed back into his seat—“what you need is a date night with Meg.”

  “Great idea, except that she hates going out in public because of her leg.”

  “It’s not any better?”

  “It is, but she says she never knows when it’s going to give out. You know Meg, she doesn’t want the town seeing her as anything less than what she was before the surgery.”

  Darin harrumphed. “The sisters worry too much about what this town thinks.”

  “Spoken by a man who hasn’t lived here all his life,” Clay said.

  “Who cares what people are saying? You’re telling me she’s just going to hole up in your house to keep people from talking? That’s crazy, if you ask me.”

  Jamison shook his head. “I can’t say I completely disagree with you, but it doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters what she thinks and right now she thinks she doesn’t want folks in town looking at her.”

  “So take her up to Nashville. Get lost in the crowd.”

  Jamison considered that, surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself. A night in Nashville would exhaust her, sure, but it might also give them some much-needed time together.

  “That’s not a half-bad idea.”

  Darin straightened and adjusted a nonexistent tie. “Thanks. I aim to please.”

  “Tandy and I can keep the kids,” Clay volunteered. “Anytime they come over, Clayton sits in his playpen, mesmerized. They’re like babysitters for us.”

  “Can you watch them tonight?”

  “I don’t know. Spencer has had the grill this morning and he’s my only backup. I doubt he’ll want to stay all day. But he’s doing lunch and dinner tomorrow, so that would work out.”

  Could he keep his good mood going that long? If Joy had successfully cheered Meg up, would she still be in a good mood by tomorrow afternoon? A month ago the question wouldn’t even have occurred to him. These days, though, he knew better than to count on a sunny disposition from his wife.

  “How about I call you tomorrow to confirm? If Meg’s having a bad day, I don’t want to drag her all the way up to Nashville.”

  Clay nodded. “Works for me.”

  Jamison went back to his steak, letting the guys’ conversation flow on without him. Pretty soon, he’d have to start spending more regular hours at the office again. The clients had been understanding thus far, but everyone had a limit to their patience and he worried he might be reaching theirs. Now would be a really bad time to lose their source of income.

  He pushed the thought from his mind like a debtor avoiding collection calls. A volatile wife gave him enough to worry about. So today he’d choose to focus on the golf course and a possible date with a happy version of Meg.

  Thirteen

  The next morning Jamison opened his eyes and turned his head. Meg lay curled on her side, sleeping, her face a beautiful mask of tranquility. One hand lay beside her on the pillow, those long, delicate fingers half-curled in relaxation. The other lay fisted beneath her chin. Savannah slept in that exact position.

  Meg’s long, pale eyelashes rested against smooth skin. Her full, peach-colored lips were partly open, like a rosebud just beginning to flower. He hadn’t looked at her in a long time, he realized now. But if anyone had asked, he’d still swear Megan was the most breathtaking woman on the planet.

  As he let his eyes roam across her face, he tried to figure out just what made her so gorgeous to him. Even with the crazy mood swings and the scare of the last couple of months, she still lay there like a goddess. How did she do that? How did that loveliness stay constant even though their world had slipped into chaos?

  He hadn’t known she was awake until her lips formed a smile. One ocean blue eye peeked out at him. “Good morning.”

  He smiled, loving that her morning voice came to him on a husky tone. “Good morning.”

  Both jewel eyes came open. “Taking in the sights?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Do I want to know how long you’ve been staring at me with my mouth open? Was I snoring?”

  He slid his hand into hers on the pillow. She’d never known the depth of her own beauty. He loved that, too. “It wasn’t long. And, no, you weren’t snoring.”

  “Thank goodness. Are the kids up?”

  “Listen.” He let his gaze roam the ceiling.

  “I don’t hear anything but the birds outside.”

  “Exactly. So all three must either be asleep or much better at stealth mode.”

  She chuckled and he squeezed her hand. “So I was thinking …”

  “Did it hurt?”

  So she hadn’t forgotten at least some of their conversational rituals. “A little. I thought we might go up to N
ashville this afternoon, just the two of us.”

  “I’d love to, but I’m pretty sure leaving an eight-year-old, five-year-old, and two-year-old on their on, alone, all afternoon and evening, still isn’t acceptable in this country.”

  “Good thing I found us a sitter then, hmm?” He scooted a little closer to her.

  “And who might we be dumping our children on today?”

  “Clay and Tandy. And Clay promises it’s a gift to them.”

  “A gift? Did he say that with a straight face?”

  “He did. Says our kids are entertainment for Clayton, like watching cartoons only better.”

  Meg grinned—she looked so much like Savannah that he couldn’t help but grin back. “So he’s using our kids to make his happy.”

  “Yes, which I find awful in the abstract and downright wonderful in the specific.”

  “Hmm, I think I’m with you on that.”

  “Does that mean you want to go to Nashville with me?”

  “Why not? I’ve been cooped up in this house too long anyway.”

  Gratitude for her continued good mood welled up in him like a tidal wave on a desperately dry beach. He drank it in, knowing the ebb would happen at some point but only able at the moment to appreciate the flow.

  * * *

  JAMISON WALKED BACK down the stairway at Tandy and Clay’s. The kids were so excited about visiting their aunt and uncle he’d barely gotten a good-bye hug before they scampered off to Clayton’s nursery to play with their “cool cousin.”

  He joined Meg in the van. “Okay, three kids effectively abandoned for the evening by their parents.”

  “Roger that.” Meg pulled down her visor and slid a finger along the CDs secured to the other side by a CD case. “How about some Martina McBride for the drive up to Music City?”

  Right now, he’d listen to Black Sabbath if it made her happy. “Sounds good.”

  Meg put the Greatest Hits album in the CD player as Jamison steered the van toward the interstate. He glanced at her. “Have you thought about where you want to eat dinner tonight?”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t decided on anything yet. I thought I’d see where we ended up first. Do you want to go shopping?”