Breakup in a Small Town

by Kristina Knight

  “Hello, sweetheart. How are things going at the B and B?”

  “Clean sheets and towels every day, and it turns out the steaks at the Slippery Rock Grill are just as good as what I could get in San Diego.”

  Garrett crowed, bringing Jenny’s attention back to the boys. He’d managed to knock the ball from Frankie’s hand, and was scrambling across the grass to pick it up. Frankie put out his foot, tripping his younger brother, then pushing his face into the grass.

  “Now, we go in,” Adam said, striding across the yard. Jenny reached Garrett first, set him on his feet. The little boy’s lower lip trembled, but his hands were in fists at his sides. Clearly, he was as mad as he was hurt.

  Adam grabbed Frankie by the shoulder. “Inside, buddy. March.”

  Frankie pursed his lips and scowled at his younger brother. “He’s such a baby,” he said as he started toward the sliding glass door.

  “You’re okay?”

  “I can, too, throw,” Garrett hollered after his older brother. “I’m not a baby.”

  Aiden crossed the lawn and ruffled his hand over Garrett’s head. “Nope, no babies here. What do you say we work on your throwing arm?” he asked, and he reminded her so much of how Adam used to deal with the boys that Jenny had to take a second look. But, no, Adam was marching Frankie toward the house, a tense set to his shoulders.

  Aiden tossed the football to Garrett. The little boy tossed it back, no longer looking like he wanted to tear after his older brother to push him to the ground.

  “I’ll be right back,” Jenny said, and didn’t wait for either set of parents to say anything. All four of them were looking from her to the door where Adam and Frankie had disappeared.

  “He’s just a baby.” Frankie’s voice carried down the hall from the kitchen. When Jenny reached the doorway, she saw him sitting across the table from Adam, arms crossed over his chest. “I was gonna teach him to throw, but he was being a baby.”

  “How were you going to teach him to throw by holding the ball over your head?” Adam asked. Jenny joined the two of them at the table. Frankie shrugged. “And the tripping?”

  Frankie kicked his feet but didn’t say anything.

  “You’re bigger than he is. That means you look out for him. You don’t push him down, and you don’t use words like stupid or dummy, no matter how you’re feeling inside.” Frankie twisted his mouth, and Adam continued, “How do you feel inside?”

  “Frankie?” Jenny reached across the table, pushing a lock of hair off his forehead. She wanted to ask Adam how he knew what to say to their son. He’d never shown an interest in discipline, had been content to be the fun dad. Where had this come from?

  A wave of tenderness swelled in her chest for him. Because he could have let the boys actually fight. Or he could have started throwing the ball with Garrett instead of dealing with Frankie, but he hadn’t. He was here, at this table, and he was talking.

  “Mad. Because he can’t throw the ball right,” the boy said after a long moment. But he didn’t look at either Jenny or Adam. He looked past them, toward the window over the sink.

  “I don’t think you’re mad about the ball, Frankie,” she said, needing him to know that she saw through whatever this facade was, too.

  “I don’t, either,” Adam said, and he slid his hand across the table to touch Frankie’s shoulder.

  “I just wanted him to do what I wanted him to do.”

  Control, Jenny realized. Like needing to know her schedule and Adam’s. Frankie still wanted to control everything around him.

  “We can’t make people do what they don’t want to do, Frankie,” she told him. She looked at Adam, who twisted his mouth to the side, much like Frankie had done. Only there was no anger in the set of Adam’s shoulders, only sadness.

  Adam’s gaze caught hers and she smiled at him. “We can only treat them how we’d like to be treated.” She didn’t think the little boy would understand the subtle differences between asking someone to treat you with respect and demanding they behave in a certain way.

  “It isn’t fair. I’m the oldest. I have to teach him how to play, but he won’t listen to me.” Frankie’s little fists clenched again, and he wrinkled his forehead.

  “Who said you have to teach him?” Jenny asked.

  He shrugged. “Dad was gonna, but he can’t play football anymore. I’m the oldest, so I have to teach Garrett.”

  “And when he doesn’t listen, it makes you mad,” Adam said, and Frankie nodded. “I can’t play football with you guys, that’s true. We can still toss the ball around, though. I can teach Garrett how to throw a spiral, and we can work on your catching.”

  “Really?” the boy said, considering the possibility that his dad might still play with him. It was as if a tight fist locked on Jenny’s chest, making it hard to breathe.

  “Really. Why don’t you sit here and think about apologizing to Garrett while your mom and I get the drinks ready for lunch?”

  Adam and Jenny moved through the kitchen, readying glasses, drinks and side dishes as if they’d done it a thousand times. Funny, it was getting harder and harder to remember Adam not helping, not being part of their lives. She knew the thought should make her antsy, but it didn’t.

  “Did I hurt him?” Frankie asked, when the rest of the barbecue things were on trays ready to take outside.

  “You bruised his pride a little,” Adam said.

  “I’ll go tell him I’m sorry.” Frankie got up and turned toward the door, then swung back around. “If I’m allowed.”

  “Go ahead, sweetie. We’ll be right behind you,” Jenny said. She listened as his footsteps faded down the hallway. “Thanks. You knew just what to say to him.”

  “I’m pretty sure Aiden and I had at least ten versions of that same fight through the years. Maybe not for the same reasons. That was about the tornado as much as it was about learning to throw a pass, right?”

  Jenny sighed. “Yeah. I think he’ll be angry about it all for a while. Your walking with them, us keeping to a schedule, talking through the rough points instead of spanking or yelling... We’ll get him through it.”

  “What about Garrett?”

  “Him, too. I haven’t wanted to bring up his artwork with him, not directly, but he drew another attack tornado this week.” She reached into the drawer and showed Adam the drawing, one with dark black clouds hovering over a white house. There were no people this time, and she wondered if that was an improvement. Whether it was or not, they couldn’t put off talking to Garrett—or to Frankie—about what had happened. “What do you think about sitting down with both of them after everyone leaves?”

  Adam nodded. “What do we say?”

  “That they’re safe, and that the danger is over, and that we love them.”

  “How do you know this stuff?”

  Jenny tilted her head to the side. “How did you know what to say to Frankie just now? You’re not a bad father, Adam. You were never a bad father. You have to follow your instincts.”

  And so did she. She had to stop reminding herself of what life was like before the tornado, or between the tornado and the laundry incident. Adam was trying to change. She had to trust that together they could both change.

  * * *

  “THANK YOU FOR a wonderful afternoon.” Margery stood stiffly near the back gate. Doug, Owen and Nancy were playing tag with the boys in the yard, but Margery hadn’t joined in. Adam wondered what his mother-in-law was afraid of. Running after a couple kids was the fun part of being a parent or grandparent. He’d like nothing more than to be taking part.

  There was no pang of sorrow at the thought that, for now, Adam still couldn’t run around after his boys. They could do other things. Watch movies. Toss the foam ball around, like they’d done after lunch. They could just be together.

 
“We enjoyed having you here. The boys have missed you.”

  Margery sniffed. “We didn’t want to intrude.”

  “You wouldn’t have.” Was it his imagination, or did her shoulders relax a little at his words? Was she as nervous to be talking to him as he was to her? The two of them had never had a close relationship, but since the tornado, it had been especially strained.

  The boys squealed, and Adam grinned when he saw Owen pretend to fold under Garrett’s flying tackle. The way he’d done a thousand times when Adam was a boy.

  Aiden and Jenny returned from inside. Aiden had volunteered for cleanup, but since he didn’t know his way around her kitchen, Jenny had joined him.

  “Thank you for lunch,” Margery said, and the stiffness was back in her voice. Maybe he’d imagined that whole shoulder sagging thing.

  Doug came over, and Jenny’s parents said their goodbyes. Margery hugged the boys tightly, but didn’t seem to know what to do with Jenny. Finally, she offered an air kiss, then retreated through the gate.

  “You’re looking well, Adam,” Doug said.

  “Thank you. I’m feeling well.” God, was it this hard for the millions of other married men to talk to their in-laws?

  “Well, take care.” Doug waved to the boys and followed his wife’s path through the gate.

  “We should get home, too. Thank you for the barbecue,” Nancy said, hugging first Jenny, then Adam. “It was so nice to all be together for an afternoon.” She shot a stern glance at Aiden. “Especially since one of you hasn’t been home in almost a year.”

  Aiden grinned and threw his arm around Nancy’s shoulders. “If I let you do my laundry, will you forgive me?”

  “Just how many loads do you have?” she asked suspiciously. “I am not a laundry service.”

  “That’s not what I hear,” Aiden teased, as they began walking toward the front of the house. Owen hugged the boys, then followed them.

  When everyone was gone, Adam turned to Jenny. “Alone at last.”

  “That actually went way smoother than I expected. You know, after I nearly decapitated you with the umbrella, and Frankie tried to plant Garrett like a tree.”

  “Speaking of. Should we?”

  She nodded, and called the boys to come inside with them. When the four of them were seated around the table, Jenny turned several of Garrett’s drawings over and spread them on the table. The boy traced his fingers around the lines on the page.

  “Dad and I wanted to talk to you guys. About the tornado.”

  “The tornado hurt Dad,” Garrett said, not taking his gaze off the coloring page.

  “Yeah, it did, but it also hurt Mommy and it hurt you and it hurt Frankie,” Adam said.

  “I didn’t get cut.” Garrett’s gaze snapped to his.

  Frankie scooted his chair closer to the table, then said, “I didn’t hit my head.”

  “It hurt your feelings,” Jenny explained, when Adam could only watch his boys watching him. “It might have made you feel scared or alone, but you aren’t alone. Dad and I are right here, and we aren’t going anywhere.”

  “You go to work,” Garrett reminded her.

  Adam motioned helplessly to Jenny, unsure what to say. He was here at the table with them, he walked them to school, but he was living in the RV. Even when he’d been in the guest room, he’d shut himself off from the three of them. Saying differently seemed like a lie.

  “Yes, I do. And you go to school. But there are people at work and there are people at school who help keep us safe. Like your teachers.”

  “Dad goes to work with you now,” Frankie offered. “And Mamaw and Papaw are there. And Uncle Aiden.”

  “They’re all there. And when you’re at school, you and Garrett can look out for each other, but you can’t be mean to each other. You can’t fight just because you’re mad or scared about the tornado. It’s gone. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

  “Really?” Garrett asked.

  “Really.”

  “Promise?” This time Frankie asked the question, and it made Adam’s heart hurt.

  “Promise,” he said, his voice sounding rough to his ears.

  Frankie threw his arms around Adam’s neck, then Garrett followed suit. Adam hugged the boys tightly.

  I promise. I promise. I promise.

  Adam repeated the words over and over in his head until Frankie’s grip around his neck loosened and Garrett slid off his lap.

  “Want to watch TV?” Frankie asked, directing his question to Garrett. The little boy nodded, but they looked to Jenny for approval. She nodded in turn, and the boys went into the living room. A moment later, Adam heard the television come to life.

  Jenny took his hand in hers. And it really did seem like a fresh start.

  * * *

  A WEEK AFTER the barbecue, Jenny ran her finger over the velvety leaf of a potted African violet. The plant had been delivered that morning, and once again the card simply read “Adam.” He’d sent her a plant, for no reason at all. The knowledge made her heart stutter a little in her chest. He wanted her back. She was getting what she wanted.

  Everything she’d asked for.

  This past week was the happiest she could remember being in...longer than she cared to admit.

  So why did she feel as if there was still something missing? Like another shoe might still drop?

  He was here, all the time. It was what she’d wanted—for him to be present in their life, to take an active role. So why did she sometimes feel as if he were hovering over her? As if she couldn’t breathe when he was around, and not in that exciting, he’s-going-to-kiss-me way. In a why-is-he-in-my-space way.

  He was part of her, down to her very soul. When she woke in the morning, her first thought was still of Adam. He entered her thoughts a million times throughout the day. She saw him in Frankie’s determination to master third-grade math and in the excitement Garrett had for every new thing he encountered. Adam was here—he was downstairs right now, and he’d be in the kitchen tonight—but he wasn’t really there. Not fully. Because the determination and excitement she remembered were missing. God, she missed him. Missed his enthusiasm, his passion for life.

  She wanted him not just living in the RV in her driveway and not in the guest room downstairs. She wanted her husband back. All of him.

  “Jenny.”

  She’d changed over the past few months. It was as if by getting what she wanted, she wasn’t getting what she needed.

  The thought made her head hurt.

  “Jen?” Aiden’s voice brought her back to the office she’d spent so much time making her own. She focused on him in her doorway, his shaggy hair and board shorts making him look way too California for a small town in Missouri. In October.

  “Sorry, I just spaced out for a minute there. What did you need?”

  Aiden crossed the room and put a couple papers on her desk. He watched her closely for a long moment. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” She stacked the papers on her desk, sliding them into a folder. Then she clasped her hands together. “Everything is fine.”

  “If everything is so fine why did you just put my notes for the next batch of cabinets into your folder for the distributorship?”

  “Oh.” Jenny blinked. She pulled the pages of notes from the folder. Aiden’s bold penmanship covered the page, along with a few notated drawings. “Sorry. I, ah...” She had no idea how to finish the sentence without letting Aiden know just how conflicted she was about the situation, not only at work but at home. He was Adam’s brother—she didn’t want to bring him into their marital problems.

  “He seems to be getting his legs back under him. Figuring things out.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, he does.” Jenny glanced out the window that overlooke
d the warehouse and saw Adam bent over a drafting table. “I appreciate you coming out, Aiden. I know Adam does, too.”

  He sat down across from her. “I was thinking, you guys don’t really need me. You’ve got the office part covered, Mom is answering phones like she never retired and Dad is keeping the truck crews on time. Adam’s back on the floor, designing.”

  The thought of Aiden leaving made Jenny’s stomach drop. No, his return hadn’t been the thing that put their world back in balance, but that first day had been the turning point for Adam. What would happen if Aiden left?

  “They’re already talking about heading to Florida after Thanksgiving.”

  “Jen,” he began, but Jenny talked over him. Because if this was Aiden’s way of bowing out of Slippery Rock again, she had to stop him.

  “He needs you here, Aiden. You’re the one who got him to come back to work—”

  “You did that, Jenny. You pushed and you prodded and you made him move into the RV. You woke him up. You got him back here.”

  Jenny blinked, choosing to focus on the RV part and not the she’d-saved-Adam part. If she’d saved him, if she’d brought him back, why didn’t things feel settled? “You know about the RV?”

  “Adam hates camping out, even in an RV, more than your mother probably would. The only reason for it to still be in your driveway is as a place for him to stay.” He shook his head, then pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “I saw what you saw, Jenny. That hollowed-out look in his eyes. The anger. Maybe not as much as you saw it, but it was there. I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. There were...just some things I wasn’t quite ready to face.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that. A football hero, just like Collin Tyler, Levi Walters and James Calhoun, Aiden had had the run of this town, or so it had seemed to her at the time. Still, California versus Slippery Rock was a big difference. He had to be bored silly, working on cabinets and furniture when he’d been building custom sailboats in California.

  “I guess you’ll be wanting to go back soon.”