The Bridge Between

by Lindsey Brackett

  Chapter 64

  Lou eyed David as he helped Cole navigate his t-shirt. If she didn’t know better, she’d call him giddy. But that would be ridiculous.

  “Mom, can you go out while we do my pants?” Cole asked, his voice still raspy weak. The shock of hair tumbling across his forehead made him impish—even if he didn’t want her to see his underwear. No matter she was the reason it was clean.

  She stepped outside the door and Judy waved her over to the station. “Y’all about ready to go?”

  “His father’s helping him get dressed. Guess that will fall to his brothers at home since I’m good enough to fold his boxers, but not to actually see them worn.”

  Judy snickered. “He is thirteen, after all. Dad can’t help him at home too?”

  “Oh, well …” She fumbled, uncertain. Did the staff not realize the situation? Why would they? The paperwork was a blur but surely she’d marked somewhere on there this was shared custody. “We don’t exactly live together anymore.”

  “Don’t exactly or just plain don’t?” Judy tilted her head, sizing up Lou the way she sized up Cole’s vitals. “Because you two don’t strike me as divorced. Strained a bit, but who isn’t when under a stressor like this?”

  “We’ve been divorced nearly five years.” Even as she said it, she heard how ludicrous she sounded. Had it really been that long?

  Judy huffed. “If that’s true, you’re the poster children for amicable.”

  “Lou?” David leaned out the door. He wore jeans and a polo, a grown-up, polished version of her boys—and the young man who’d knocked her down on the college green.

  But his voice alone made the flush start on her cheeks. Powerless to stop it, she ducked her head and called back, “Be right there.”

  Like a conspirator, Judy leaned over the counter. “My professional medical opinion is, if he can make you blush, you just might want to rethink that whole status.”

  “We’re … talking.”

  Judy arched a brow. “Your thirteen-year-old boy is probably ‘talking’ to a girl. You’re a grown up.” She swatted Lou playfully with a chart. “Act like it.”

  “Thank you, for all you’ve done.”

  “Oh, honey, he’s been a joy. Now take him home and feed him some real food.”

  She nodded and stepped away.

  “Mrs. Halloway?” Lou turned back. Judy’s expression had sobered. “Be happy.”

  Like a blessing she’d have received in church, Lou felt the buoyancy of the words stirring inside. Finally, she might have permission to be just that.

  ~~~

  David tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, out of time with the radio, until Lou reached over and stilled his hand while he waited to make the left-hand turn onto highway 174.

  “Please stop. You’re making me jumpy.”

  He slid one hand from the wheel and held onto her fingers. She didn’t pull away. In the backseat, Cole had his head against the window, eyes closed. Every now and then a wince of pain would flit across his brow and the crease between his eyes deepened. David should have both eyes on the road. Instead he had one on his son, and the other darting glances over at Lou every few moments.

  She let him keep her hand, but she gazed out the window. Her hair brushed behind her shoulders, the longest it had been since the triplets had been born. The neck of her pale blue shirt scooped wide enough he could see her collar bone. A tiny gold cross that had belonged to her mother nestled in her clavicle. He used to kiss her there, soft feathery kisses along her throat, hoping she’d tilt her head back so he could pursue more.

  David swallowed and refocused on the road.

  When they turned under the canopy of pecan trees that sheltered the farm’s drive, Lou gasped. “Look.” Along the fences supporting the rarely locked gate, tiny yellow roses had burst into bloom. She sighed. “Those are Mama’s sweetheart roses.”

  “Sweetheart?” In the back, Cole stirred.

  “They only bloom in the spring.” Lou twisted around to grin at their son. “You know, when love is in the air.”

  Cole pretended to gag, and Lou laughed. On the porch steps, J.D. and Mac waited, all dirty jeans and big smiles. David had figured they wouldn’t even make it into the house. His boys kept secrets about as well as fishermen told the truth about their catch.

  Lou hugged them. “What in the world have you boys been up to?”

  Cora Anne held up her hands. “Look, I did the best I could under the circumstances.” She bounded down the steps and side-hugged Cole on the way to her car. “I’m sorry to go, but I’ve got to run up to the museum and then meet Hannah at The Hideaway.”

  “Thank you.” Lou caught their daughter in an embrace that squeezed David’s heart.

  As Cora Anne pulled out of the drive, Mac beamed. “We’ve got a surprise.”

  “I hope it’s that you look like this because all your other clothes are clean and neatly folded and put away.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Dishes too.” J.D. glanced at David, excitement written all over his face.

  “I’ll have to go check this out.” Lou started up the porch steps.

  “But Mom—” Mac was cut off by David’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Let us get Cole settled first.”

  “Yeah, very sick person here.” Cole pretended the steps could be too much to climb, so Mac ducked under his good arm and helped him stagger as though he really were helpless.

  J.D. hung back, helping David unload the jeep, his brown eyes blinking trepidation. “You think he’s mad at me?”

  “Did he seem mad?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t be putting on emotions that aren’t there.” How he wished he’d said that eons ago to their mother.

  Cole made it all the way to the couch where the boys had prepared the Xbox. “At least my thumb still works.” He grasped a controller and propped his feet on the coffee table alongside his brothers. Lou opened her mouth, no doubt to admonish the feet on the table, but closed it quickly.

  “I’m going to see what we can pull together for supper.” She backed away to the kitchen, the boys already immersed in a world they could control. “You know I hate that thing,” she reminded David as she opened the freezer, “but at least it will keep his mind occupied for a bit.”

  “For a bit,” he agreed.

  She had her head in the freezer but pulled back to stare at him. “Did you do this?” The tiny freezer was stuffed with neatly labeled, foil wrapped casseroles and containers.

  “I asked Grace if she’d put together a few things.” Bless that woman and every other cook at the Presbyterian Church.

  “The end times could come and we’d still be eating lasagna.” Her sarcasm didn’t fool him. The slight tremor in her voice gave away her emotion. Lou had grown used to doing everything on her own. He had no one but himself to blame for that.

  He hefted one of the lasagnas from the stack. “Why don’t I get this going? Frozen casserole is one of my specialties.”

  “Oh, really? And what are your others?” They ought to close the freezer door before her nearness created enough heat in David’s chest to thaw all those casseroles. But he didn’t move.

  Instead, he leaned into her and whispered, “I’m getting real good at turning something sour into something sweet.”

  “What are you two doing in the freezer?” J.D.’s voice jolted them apart. Lou turned her back, searching, he was sure, for a dish to wash or a counter to wipe.

  He faced their son, the frozen foil dish now burning his fingertips. “Fixing dinner.”

  “Right …” J.D. stepped to the porch. “I gotta go check on … something.” He winked since his mother’s back was still turned.

  David showed off his salad-making skills while their dinner bubbled away in the oven, and Lou pretended to be impressed.

  “I mean, it takes a lot of skill to tear lettuce,” she joked, sipping her wine and seeming more at ease. He threw a carrot at her and she ducked, laughing. Th
en her brow wrinkled. “What’s the noise?”

  He cocked his head toward the living room. Yup. The boys had smuggled in those puppies. He’d know that girl’s yip anywhere.

  Lou’s eyes narrowed. “David, why do you look guilty?”

  Laying down the knife, he held up his hands. “Let’s just keep in mind I said barn only.”

  “What …” She scrambled from the table to the living room. He followed, hoping he was quick enough to see her face—and uttering a split-second prayer his gut had been right.

  Lou stood, hands on hips, studying their boys who had thrown their grandmother’s hand-crocheted afghans over themselves—and the mysterious wiggling lumps on the sofa. “What are y’all doing?”

  “Just playing Xbox, Mom.” J.D. was all wide-eyed innocence.

  In the middle, Cole cradled his damaged arm atop a heap of multicolored blanket. “Yeah, nothing happening here.” But then the puppy reared and they both yelped. Cole from pain—the pup from fear of suffocation, probably.

  David lunged and grabbed the boy puppy from Cole’s lap. J.D. scampered up, the girl tucked in his arms. Cole’s cheeks drained of color as Lou stepped around the coffee table and gaming wires to ease him back against the cushions.

  “It’s okay …” she soothed. “Deep breaths.” She breathed with their son like he’d seen her do in the NICU, sitting by the incubator, stroking tiny fingers and practicing breaths that matched the ventilator. Cole’s cheeks pinked again.

  “I’m going to get you an ibuprofen. Dr. Woods said you can have it in between the pain pills. Just be still.” Lou turned her eyes from Cole. On him, the blue had been gentle as summer sea, but David knew she was aiming a storm his way. “Then maybe someone can tell me why these dogs are in my house?”

  “Don’t be mad—” Cole panted a plea. “They wanted to surprise us, and look, Dad got you the girl puppy so you don’t have to be alone.”

  That hadn’t exactly been why, but before David could intervene, Lou stood. “Well, then, if she’s going to keep me company when all you boys are at his house, maybe she needs to start learning the rules of this one. Such as, no animals on the furniture”—she swung a heated gaze between the other boys—“or around your brother’s very painful, still healing, broken-in-three-places arm.”

  “I’m fine, Mom, you just scared her.”

  Mac interjected. “Yeah, Mom. Sometimes you have that trouble voice and it’s scary.”

  She crossed her arms and threw a glare David’s way. “I don’t have a trouble voice.” He resisted the urge to laugh—or agree.

  “It’s really deep like this,” Mac somehow managed to assume a falsetto that also carried thunderous tones. “You boys better get that homework done or I’ll throw the Xbox in the creek.”

  The boys and David exploded in laughter. The pups, unsure of what was happening, began to yip and struggle.

  The corners of Lou’s mouth twitched. “I don’t sound like that. David, do I?”

  He grinned and passed the wriggling dog to Mac, so he could throw an arm around her shoulders, casually of course. “Only when they deserve it.”

  Her light punch against his chest only made him want to embrace her more, letting this new life unfold around them. One where she laughed more easily and cried more readily and let him be a part of her carefully constructed world all over again.

  “Fine. I won’t use my trouble voice to scare these babies.” She reached for the girl J.D. held. “But how in the world did we wind up with two? I thought Earl said all his girls were spoken for.”

  “Breeder changed his mind when he saw her. Said she’d never be a good litter-bearer because she’s so small. And I figured,” he caught her eyes, back to their summer blue, with his, “you didn’t care about that.”

  “Not a bit. She’s perfect just the way she is.”

  “Can we name them now, please?” J.D. sat back down on the sofa beside Cole. “We decided you could name the boy and Mom could name the girl, but the rest of us get one veto each.”

  “How diplomatic.” Lou grinned at David over the pup’s head. Thank you, she mouthed. He nodded and winked—and hoped she’d sense more than you’re welcome.

  “Let’s name her Ravenel. That way she’ll always know where she came from.” She snuggled the pup close. “Except your dad will have to learn to say it right.”

  “Good luck with that.” He wrinkled his nose as if the name left a bad taste in his mouth when in truth, it made him eager to see how long he could run that family joke.

  Mac sat on the coffee table, letting the boy pup sniff at Cole’s knees. Cole reached out a hand and stroked the dog’s muzzle. “Can we name him Russell? Like the creek? Then they’ll both know where home is.”

  “What do you think?” Mac lifted up the dog and looked him in the eye. “Are you a Russell?”

  “Maybe Russ,” J.D. said. “And Rav, you know, until Dad learns to say it.”

  “Names they can grow into.” Lou slipped from David’s side. He felt the emptiness as soon as she pulled away. She passed Ravenel back to J.D. “Like you boys.”

  As she crossed back to the kitchen, she looked at him, eyes lingering in a way he hadn’t seen for a long time. A look that kindled all the hope he’d been nursing.

  One that told him she’d found her way home.

  Chapter 65

  When Lou came downstairs after tucking in the boys—as if they were toddlers again, and she’d never confess it but she missed those days sometimes—the kitchen smelled of coffee. At the kitchen table, David jotted a schedule for Cole’s prescriptions. He’d lined up all the medicines in their orange bottles like sentinels across a placemat.

  Seeing her, he propped his chin in his hand. The worry of these last few days had darkened his hazel eyes to the color of the coffee percolating in that old pot of her mama’s. “He’s asleep?”

  She dropped into a chair. “Soon, I think.” Weariness settled into her bones. They were home.

  Together.

  Even Cora Anne had breezed in after dinner, saying she needed a hot bath and a break from wedding magazines. She’d plucked Jane Eyre from her grandmother’s shelf of classics and retreated upstairs asking if they could all catch up in the morning.

  David poured Lou a cup of coffee. She knew it would somehow taste of this house—sweet cutting the bitter. Why she’d keep the old pot until it gave out. Some things didn’t need to change.

  But other things did.

  “The other two are in sleeping bags on the floor, insistent they’re taking turns keeping watch.” Safely accounted for with no IV drips and all twelve limbs spread akimbo across the tiny room.

  David tipped a tired smile her way. “They’re good boys.” Some of the worry faded from his eyes. “We didn’t ruin them.”

  She blew across her coffee. “No, we didn’t.”

  “I need to go back to work tomorrow.”

  Of course he did. She didn’t expect him to be here, all the time. She flicked her gaze toward the door of her office, creaked open as always. Her work would simply have to wait.

  David hunched over his coffee. “There’s a game—Mac and J.D. want to play but they don’t want to upset their brother.”

  Lou pushed her cup away. She and Cole would figure out this different way forward together.

  “There’s a position for next year they’ve asked me to consider. Ninth grade and JV coach.” He sounded hopeful, and she wanted to let him be.

  “Sounds perfect.” Lou bit her lip, willed back the tightening in her chest. “You’ll be busy next year.” She avoided his eyes, focused instead on the center of her table. Painkillers and the pill cutter replaced the salt and pepper. She grasped the bottle. “Better get another one ready. Nurse said stay ahead of it.”

  But when she positioned the white pill—still so little to be too large a dose—beneath the blade, her hands trembled and slipped, slicing off only a miniscule corner. Frustration and fatigue rose in her throat.

  David c
overed her hand with his. “Let me do it.”

  “No.” She jerked away. What if she’d been letting her emotions get the better of her? Reading into his gaze promises that no longer mattered? “You aren’t going to be here all the time. I can handle this.”

  He pulled her arm away and held it. His thumb dug into her palm and his eyes pooled again into dark irises. Intense and focused. “Who says I’m not going to be here?”

  She turned her head.

  But he put his other hand on her chin and made her face him. “This time you’re going to look me in the eye and tell me I have to go. You do that and I’ll walk away and end this. I’ll be a father and an ex-husband and we’ll live those separate lives you thought you wanted.”

  She couldn’t look at him. Her lashes matted with tears. “Why would you want to stay?”

  His exasperated sigh ended with a chuckle, and he drew her face close to his. “Because I love you. I have always loved you, even when you made it nearly impossible. Even right now, in this moment, when I don’t claim to know what you want.”

  “I want to stay here.” The admission came freely. “Liam’s going to bring me on full-time to conduct environmental research.”

  “Is that all?” David’s voice hitched. “Everything you want?”

  “No.” She gave him everything, heart wide open. “I want you. I want our family. I want our home. I want more than the marriage we had.”

  For once, he waited. Didn’t rush her.

  “But I need to know, David. Are we going to be a priority? It’s taken me over twenty years to believe I can be content with motherhood and Edisto. I’m here, now, and I’d rather do this with you than without you.”

  “Why?”

  She blinked, clearing her vision, and saw the smirk started at the edge of his lips. And she knew what he wanted. “Because I love you.”

  With those words, his hands kneaded her neck, gently, the way she soothed his knee. “I’d rather teach our boys to catch in the backyard than lose this all over again.”

  “I’m not saying don’t take the job—”