by Amanda Tru
“I talked to Gracie last night. He’s her doctor. She said he was just drop-dead. Like really good looking. And super nice.”
Laughter bubbled out of her chest. “I was just telling Blondie the same thing.”
“Yeah, but married. Why are all the good ones taken?”
“Widower. He told me just now.”
“A hot widower half a mile from your door as the crow flies. Practically in your backyard? I must say. I think you need to borrow a cup of sugar about four times a week.”
Gloria turned onto her street. “You are ridiculous.”
“Yeah. Ridiculously perceptive.”
“See you tonight?”
“You bet.”
The way her ex-husband Trevor had abandoned them on Noah’s fifth birthday, she might as well claim widow title. She received no child support, Noah received no visitation. She didn’t even know where Trevor lived.
Sometimes, she wondered how she made it through those first few months alone. Noah was a beautiful child, and she loved him with all of her heart, but his sleep patterns would have broken a weaker person. He fell asleep around eleven and woke up once or twice every night. He would wake by five every morning, ready and rearing to go. A lot that first winter alone was just an exhausted blur of a memory.
Two years ago, at the age of six, Noah slept through the night for the first time. Eighteen months ago, he started falling asleep around ten and not waking up until six. It amazed her how rested she felt lately, how energized.
She did have a great family support system, which she couldn’t imagine doing without. If she and Noah hadn’t moved in with her father, she would have completely lost control of everything. He’d never hesitated and always stood ready to share some of the parenting burdens with her.
She turned the truck into her driveway and thought about the day she drove the moving truck into this same yard, feeling defeated, broken, worthless.
Today she pulled up into her yard happy, content. The front door opened, and her father, Arnold Terry, stepped out. He was broad-shouldered, strong, Noah’s epitome of the perfect Viking. He waved and then walked down to meet the truck. As she put it into park, he opened the passenger door and said, “Come on. There’s a good Blondie. We missed you. Welcome home, girl.”
Gloria laughed and said, “Actually, the new neighbor has decided he wants to keep Fitz’s dog when she’s done with the pups. I think he wants to have some connection to his uncle.”
Her dad looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I’m glad you saw him. What did you find out about any kids or anything?”
Her father taught science at the Hooper County high school. Having been born a true Kentuckian, raised on a tobacco farm a few miles down the road, he was everyone’s epitome of the good old Kentucky boy despite leaving Kentucky and going to college in California. There he’d married an Orange County girl and didn’t move back home until his wife’s death right after Gloria’s eighth-grade year.
“Actually,” Gloria said, “no children. Widower. So, I’m afraid there will be no new fresh blood in the school this year. Or next year.”
With only two weeks left in the school year, her dad had started to feel restless, already ready for the next school year to begin. During the summer, he tended his garden and took care of his property, but the whole time he missed working with his students. She didn’t know what he would do once he retired for good.
Her father had set up a pen similar to that which Jeff had for the puppies, and in no time, they had the puppies transferred from the truck to the pen. Gloria snuggled each one, rubbing her face in their soft fur, laughing as little tongues licked, and little teeth nipped. In the pen, they ran, rolled, somersaulted, and played. Blondie walked over and stood by the fence, looking expectantly at Gloria and wagging her tail. Gloria let her into the pen, and as soon as she walked into their perimeter, the puppies attacked her with enthusiasm that made Gloria laugh and cringe.
“Won’t be hard to give these away,” her dad said. “They are so cute, and Blondie is a beauty. Once we put out the word, they’ll be gone quick.”
“I agree.” She checked the time. “I have to run and pick up Noah. You meeting us at Betsy’s before church?”
“Yep. I’ll move the pups into the barn and lock Blondie in there with them.”
She calculated minutes. “Want help?”
“No. I’ll see you at Betsy’s in about forty-five minutes.”
Gloria got back into the truck and checked her phone, making sure she had no animal emergency currently underway. With everything in the clear, she headed toward the interstate. The large children’s therapy center sat on the edge of town. It housed occupational therapists, speech therapists, and physical therapists. Noah saw all three. He had speech twice a week, occupational once a week, and physical with lots of daily homework once a month. Gloria burned the road up between her house and the therapist’s office. Thankfully, she’d seen such an improvement in Noah’s day-to-day quality of living that she never minded the miles.
She parked and walked into the waiting room just as Leslie Bertram came out with Noah. Noah hugged her hard, then went to the chairs and sat down, picking up his book. Leslie said, “So today we made a deal that if we talked about what I wanted to talk about for twenty minutes, I would let him talk about Vikings for ten minutes.”
Gloria laughed. “And that worked?”
“It took some redirection, but in the end, it worked.” She turned and spoke to Noah. “See you Tuesday, Noah.” He looked up at her and nodded, then went back to his book. “Noah, what do you say?”
He looked at her over the rim of the book and said, “See you Tuesday.”
There was a time when he would have argued with her about whether he needed to reply verbally. Gloria thought it was wonderful how he had quit arguing and just started learning how to do it the polite way.
It didn’t take them long to drive into town. Gloria parked at their church, then she and Noah walked one block over to Betsy’s Diner.
Betsy stood at the cash register. She looked strong, with cheaply dyed brown hair, ice blue eyes that looked like they’d seen plenty of life and had stories to tell, and a rail-thin body. Gloria lifted her hand in greeting, and Betsy nodded as she counted cash. As soon as she finished, she said, “There’s my buddy. How’s Noah?”
He held up his book. “Viking warship designs.”
Her face looked incredibly serious as she nodded. “Important information.”
Not seeing her father anywhere, they sat in their usual booth but left the menus alone. The daytime waitress Laurel came over. Gloria knew Betsy had taken Laurel in when she was fourteen, but she never asked what brought her to Charula and to Betsy. She had rich brown eyes, pale skin, and a thick frame. She always wore a black T-shirt, black jeans, and a black apron, and had a crazy color job on her hair. Today it was bright blue on the top, and the hair underneath was bright red.
“Your hair looks like Cookie Monster,” Noah said without even lifting his eyes from his book. If he had said that to anyone else, Gloria would have felt horror at her son’s insolence. However, it was almost a game on both their parts to see what he would compare her hair color to.
“You only say that because you’re not looking closely.” She waited until Noah looked at her, then lifted her hair so he could more clearly see the red. “It’s more like Cookie Monster is sitting on Elmo’s head.”
He stared at her blankly for a moment, then a giggle escaped from deep inside. He started laughing, then held up his hand so she would high-five him. “Good one,” he said, pointing at his head. “Cookie Monster sitting on Elmo.”
Laurel looked down at Gloria. “Special today is pan-seared trout.”
Gloria and her dad almost always got whatever was on special instead of ordering from the menu. “Sounds good. Bring two. And spaghetti and a salad for this one here. You know how he likes it.”
“You got it.”
Minutes later, Laurel bro
ught a perfectly prepared salad of spinach and sliced carrots. A cup of ranch dressing sat nestled in the bed of spinach. Noah shifted the bowl until he lined up exactly the way he expected it to line up, then waited for Gloria to prompt him to pray. As soon as he said, “Amen,” he picked up a carrot disk and dipped it into the ranch.
Gloria fought the utensils battle with him, but when it came to fresh veggies, she let it slide. Eventually, she’d force him to eat his salad with a fork, but for now, she was just thankful that he’d used a spoon for his chili three times in a row. Little victories, she reminded herself.
She smiled as she saw her father walk in, and her eyes widened when she recognized Jeff walking with him. They approached the booth. “Jeff here was walking from the hospital. I introduced myself and invited him to join us.”
“Good choice. This is our favorite place to come eat.”
“Oh?” Her dad slid into the booth across from Noah, and Jeff sat across from her. “Good food?”
“That and they don’t play loud music. Most places are too loud for Noah to enjoy on any level. Here, they know how to make food for him, and it’s quiet when there isn’t too big of a crowd.”
Laurel brought glasses of tea for her and her dad and a glass of milk for Noah. She looked at Jeff, who had done a double-take when he saw her colorful hair. She was never shy about it. She pointed at it and said, “Louisville and UK played baseball against each other this weekend. I had to show solidarity.”
Jeff chuckled. “Oh? For both?”
“Yay team, go sports,” Laurel replied in a droll voice.
“Well,” Jeff confided. “I just hope both teams had fun.”
Laurel grinned at the deadpan delivery. “Couldn’t agree more. What can I get you?”
Arnold leaned toward him. “We always get the special. Then it’s fresh, new, and exciting, and not boring.”
Jeff nodded. “What’s the special?”
“Pan-seared trout.”
He pursed his lips, then shrugged. “Sounds good. And a sweet tea.”
“Coleslaw okay? Or do you want a salad?”
“Coleslaw is great.”
She walked away, and Jeff rubbed his face with his hands. “I can’t imagine why you’re tired,” Gloria said. At his blank look, she added, “You’ve moved across the state, had movers bring your stuff while you worked all day, and it’s six-fifteen, and you’re not home yet.”
“Yeah,” he laughed. “Long day. I also have a patient in the hospital who needs a diagnosis. I’m stumped. I decided to get something to eat and hope that will help my thinking.”
“Good call.” Arnold tapped the side of his head. “Fish is good brain food.”
“Good point.”
They enjoyed dinner with Jeff. Arnold asked if he would pray over their meal and seemed impressed at his quick acceptance and his prayer. They chatted about Fitz and told stories as they remembered him.
It made Gloria happy when Jeff asked Noah about the book he was reading. Instead of Noah going down the Viking path, he and Jeff started talking about books. Jeff told him about some of his favorite titles, and Gloria recognized most of them. Noah set his book down and completely engaged Jeff on the subject of his favorite books, which then eventually and finally morphed into his favorite subject, Vikings.
After about a ten-minute conversation, Jeff looked at Gloria. “I’m going to have to do some research to keep up with him.”
She smiled and ran her hand down Noah’s hair. “I’m afraid you’ll never keep up with him. He’s the expert on this subject. But I know he’d appreciate you trying.”
They parted ways after dinner. Jeff had to go back to the hospital, and Gloria and her family went to church. But the entire night, thoughts of Jeff’s face while he talked with Noah distracted her. Parts of her heart she thought she had closed up forever started to crack open.
Noah threw himself into the front door like a linebacker guard going for the block. “No! No! No!” he screamed, over and over again, ripping at his hair. Sweat poured down his red face. “No! No! No!”
Gloria rushed toward him and grabbed a flinging hand. The strength in his little limbs never ceased to astonish her. Once she had a good grip, she lowered herself to the ground and crossed her legs, making a cradle out of them, then leaned forward and grabbed him by the middle.
He fought and thrashed and scratched and clawed, all the time screaming until she managed to get him between her legs. Wrapping both arms around him, stilling his arms, she brought one leg up and trapped him, tightly cocooning him with her body. Once he couldn’t move, his screams became whimpers, and she started humming in his ear. It never mattered what song she hummed. She had once tried actually singing, but the words overwhelmed him. Humming always worked.
He went limp, panting, sweating, staring off into space while she hummed “It Is Well with My Soul,” a favorite of hers. She squeezed, giving his muscles the compression that his brain craved. Five minutes later, she felt safe enough to loosen her grip. Freeing an arm, she stroked his hair with her hand, getting the sweaty strands off of his forehead. She placed a soothing kiss on his temple and said in a very calm and low voice, “So, what you’re saying is no shorts for field day?”
He responded in a whisper, “No shorts.”
“I think that’s fair. What do you think you should wear instead to play in the hot sun all day?”
“Can I stay inside?”
She swallowed against the emotion that wanted to cloud her judgment. “I think your whole class and all the other second-graders in the whole school are going to be outside. How about we make a deal?”
“If I don’t have to make a deal to wear shorts.” He pushed away, but not with violence nor aggression. Her rational son had returned.
Pursing her lips, she said, “Okay. Here’s my deal. I’ll let you wear your cargo pants if you put a bottle of water in the leg pocket and pack your swim trunks in your other leg pocket so that you can change fast like Superman if you change your mind.”
He mimicked the pursing of her lips and stared at her. The red face had receded, and other than small patches of red on his cheeks, his normal color returned. “How about I put them on under my pants so that I don’t have to go anywhere private to change? Is that a deal?”
Her heart bursting with pride for his ability to work out a compromise, she stuck out her hand. Noah started to shake it but snatched his hand away and held up a finger. “I’m not wearing shorts. I’m wearing swim trunks. They’re not the same thing.” She nodded her agreement. He placed his hand in hers and they shook on the deal. He pushed himself to his feet and rushed toward his bedroom. “I’ll be ready fast.”
Hands shaking, she said, “Okay! And go drink some water, too.”
The second he hit the top landing of the stairs, she yanked open the front door and went out onto the porch. Falling to her knees, she ripped her glasses off and covered her face with her hands and screamed a silent scream, sobs pulling up from deep inside of her. How was she doing this? When would she make a mistake, a wrong decision, and ruin that brilliant child for the rest of his life? How could she continue to navigate teaching and training him completely in the dark?
Despair overwhelmed her. She fell forward, crossing her arms in front of her and resting her forehead on her forearm. “God,” she whispered, “please help me. I feel so very lost and incredibly alone.”
She continued to pray, seeking wisdom with how to handle the next meltdown, and the one after that, the foresight to handle the next debacle at a meal or the next time she didn’t meet his expectations. “Help me, please,” she whispered.
“Gloria?” The sound of Jeff’s frantic voice startled her, and she jerked up. Horrified, she swiped at her face and her nose, imagining how red and splotchy she must be right now. She slipped her glasses back on.
She tried to speak, but it just came out as a croak, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Jeff, hi.” Pushing herself to her feet, she pressed the b
ack of her hand against her nose, praying it wasn’t running and finally noticed Blondie with him. “Did she go back to your house again?”
He looked at Blondie but then frowned down at Gloria. “What’s wrong?”
She cleared her throat and felt another tear escape the corner of her eye. “Sometimes, mornings are hard with Noah. And sometimes, the hard mornings come after hard nights. It’s not a big deal.”
He narrowed his eyes and stared at her, finally saying, “Yes, Blondie was at my house this morning, whining at the front door.” He gestured toward the barn. “Do you think the puppies are good without her now?”
“Oh, probably. They’ve been on solid food for about two weeks now. I think it’s safe to take her permanently.” She bent, and Blondie rushed up to her, wagging her tail. “You ready to be free, mama?”
Blondie licked at her tear-stained cheek. Gloria laughed and straightened. Jeff still stared at her with a narrowed look. “You sure you’re okay?”
“It’s the last day of school. Summers are much easier.” She stroked her hand down Blondie’s head. “He relaxes a lot more in the summer. Hangs with my dad in the garden. This year, he’ll have one of the puppies to take care of, so he’ll be fine.”
He stepped up onto the porch. “Gloria, I asked if you were okay. Not Noah. I have a feeling with you as his mom, Noah will always end up okay. So, Gloria, are you okay? Can I do anything for you?”
She smiled. The breeze carried the faint smell of his aftershave to her and cooled the sweat on her face. The idea that he would offer to help so readily filled her with an emotion that she wanted to pull out and examine when she had time. “I appreciate it, Jeff. But I really am okay. Thank you for asking.”
He tapped the side of his temple near his eye. “I like the glasses. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in them.”
She adjusted them self-consciously. “I hadn’t had a chance to get ready yet. I normally wear contact lenses.”
“I think they look nice.”
The door opened, and Noah came out. “I’m not bringing my backpack since it’s the last day of school.” He held up his lunch box with the Minnesota Vikings logo on it. He didn’t care about the football team, but he loved anything Viking. That lunch box was the closest she could get for him. “But I brought my lunch.”