As Tears Go By (17 page)

Her
face softened with the sweetest smile as she leaned close and kissed his nose.
“You confuse me, Braydon. Tell me something rotten about yourself so I know you
aren’t as perfect as you seem.”

Perfect?
Laughter tickled his throat. “If you think I’m perfect, Becca, you’re doomed
for disappointment. I’m just an ordinary guy.”

“Nope.
I want something rotten. Give me a regret.”

Drawing
in a deep breath he sank back on the pillow. Her ceiling needed Spackle and a
fresh coat of paint. “A regret? Okay. I regret not spending more time with my
grandmother. She’s sick now with dementia. Last time I was home she didn’t know
me at all.”

“Oh,
I’m sorry. Were you close?”

“Not
really. Not as much as we could’ve been.” His heart pinched with a sense of
inconclusiveness that would never get resolved. “How about you? What do you
regret?”

“My
marriage.” Her answer was quick.

“But
your marriage gave you Hunter.”

“I
could never regret Hunter. My life would be incomplete without him. I just wish
I didn’t marry my ex. Hunter’s the only part of our relationship I don’t
regret. But at the same time, I don’t know if Kevin would’ve strayed had Hunter
been a typical child. I didn’t have a lot of time or energy to be a typical
wife once I became a mother. I have no regrets in that department, because Hunter’s
worth every bit of my effort, but Kevin… I guess the real regret is that he
never seemed to try with us, as though losing us meant nothing.”

Not
knowing the right words after such a confession, he simply stared at her,
enjoying the way her eyes softened every time she mentioned her son and the
gentle play of a smile at the corners of her mouth. “You’re a good mum, Becca.”

Her
face transformed with a full grin. “Thank you. What’s your mom like?”

He
laughed. “Crazy. Awesome. We’re gonna have a big party for her and my father’s
fortieth anniversary. Wanna come?”

“When
is it?”

“Sometime
next year.”

She
turned, her face tight with confusion. “Braydon…a year’s a long time from now.”

“I
know. I also know how to tell time and do long division. What’s your point?”

Her
head shook against the pillow. “How do you know if we’ll still be together?”

“Are
you breaking up with me?”

“Are we
in a relationship?”

“Yes.”

“Well,
I’m certainly not looking for an escape, but…”

Turning
to his stomach, his weight pressed into his forearms as his shoulders lifted.
“Becca, I’m not afraid of commitment. Nor am I afraid of your circumstances.
Stop expecting me to bolt at the first glimpse of chaos. I was raised in
chaos.”

“You’re
right. I’m sorry. I’m just scared.”

“What
are you afraid of?” Truth be told, he was scared too. Every relationship prior
to this one had failed. Sammy had been an eye-opener, because with her he’d
thought it would be easy. Turns out if a woman appears easy, a guy really
doesn’t have a clue about her. All women were complicated as hell.

“It’s
frightening depending on others. I don’t have good luck with that.”

“Angel,
if you needed me, I’d be there. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night
and you have a bug bite that needs scratching. If you call, I’ll be there.” The
issue was garnering an invitation. She was still holding him at a distance.
“I’m not going anywhere. I…like you.”

Her
cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “I like you too.”

Leaning
close, he kissed her brow. “Stop worrying and get some sleep.”

Twisting
to his back, he adjusted the covers and tried to settle for the night. His mind
wandered and his thoughts drifted.

In high
school he’d dated a girl, Jenn, who was popular, but not very nice. Then there
were some fun years in college when he didn’t want to be tied down. When he met
Samantha, something told him she belonged with his family. He was right, but
she didn’t belong with him.

Losing
Sam to Colin was right, but difficult all the same. His ego took a hit on that
one. In the end Sammy said it best. They were great as friends, but nothing
more.

His mum
teased him constantly about trying to be perfect. He never really tried. In his
mind there was just a certain way things were meant to be.

He was
almost asleep when her hand crept onto his belly, stirring him.

“Braydon?”

“Yes?”

“Would
you like to come over this Saturday and meet my son?”

His
chest filled with true excitement. Her offer told him she was finally starting
to believe he was serious about her. “I’d love to.”

Chapter Eight

Saturday
morning Becca was a mess. Her hair was still wet from the shower, the house was
an absolute disaster, and Hunter was worked up over the approaching storm
clouds. She’d considered calling Braydon to cancel, but called Nikki instead,
digging for reassurance and courage.

“No.
You’re not cancelling,” Nikki announced. “Suck it up, Becca. Your life isn’t
perfect. He’s well aware of that. It’s time for him to get his feet wet and see
if he sinks or swims. You can do this.”

“I
know, but I have this horrible knot of anxiety in my stomach.”

“You’ll
be fine. Go to the bathroom and get over it.”

“How
can you say tha—” There was a knock at the door and she did a double take.
“What time is it?”

“Eleven.”

“Oh my
God, he’s early.” She turned in circles like a dog searching for the best spot
to lie. “Nikki, he’s an hour early!”

“So
answer the door, whacko.”

Becca
peeked out the window and frowned at the sight of a municipal truck. Glancing
to the door, her confusion was slightly relieved. “Wait, it’s not him. Hold on
while I see what this man wants.”

She
unlocked the doors as Hunter shouted. Tucking the phone by her hip, she greeted
the man in a mechanic-type shirt. “Can I help you?”

“Are
you the owner of the house?”

“Yes.”

“Here
you go.” He handed her a thick envelope. “We’re notifying all residents in your
neighborhood of possible interruptions to service. The county’s redoing the
sidewalks and we’ve marked certain days you’ll be without water and sewer.
There’s also information there about the trees lining the curbs and the customary
procedure for removal.”

She
blinked at the stranger, feeling like an idiot. Didn’t he know she was
expecting company? “What?”

He
checked his clipboard and double-checked the address on the mailbox. “Looks
like you won’t have use of water sometime during the ninth through the
fourteenth and that tree’s going to have to be removed. We’re recommending
homeowners contact their insurance and schedule a line inspection. There’s been
a lot of root damage reported lately and if it goes untreated too long you
could be looking at upwards of twenty grand in repairs.”

This
had to be a bad dream. She was having a hard time following with Hunter
shouting in the background. “You want me to cut down my tree?”

“I
believe you were notified about the tree several months ago.” He flipped pages
on his clipboard. “Yup. Says here they notified you back in September and again
in December of last year.”

“I got
a letter
suggesting
trees may need to be removed due to new sidewalks.
No one said I had to remove it.”

“Well,
the township can remove it, but you’ll be billed.”

Her
brow lowered. “How much?”

“About
two grand.”

“Two
thousand dollars? Are you out of your mind? I don’t have that kind of money.”

“I’m
sorry, miss, but the roots are interfering with the township renovations. They
notified residents nearly a year in advance to lessen the burden. There’s a
list of contractors in that packet I gave you. Maybe if you shop around you can
get a lower estimate.”

“But I
like my tree.”

“I’m
sorry.” He turned, and that apparently was all he had to say.

Backing
into the house, she locked the door and debated throwing a tantrum much like
her son was doing at that very moment, or perhaps falling into a puddle of
tears. Her name squawked from the phone at her hip. She’d forgotten about Nikki.

Lifting
the phone slowly, she said, “I have to cut down my tree.”

“What?”

“I
don’t know. They’re putting in new sidewalks and my
tree’s
somehow in the way. I’m also not going to have water for a few days, but I have
to look at the paperwork and figure out when exactly that is.”

“Can
they do that?”

“I
guess so. This is a nightmare.”

“We had
a tree removed a few years ago. The guy did nice work and was pretty
affordable. I can get his number for you.”

“How
much did it cost?”

Nikki
hummed as she thought. “I think it came to a little under twenty-five hundred.”

“
Dollars?
For a tree?
That’s obscene. If the township wants
it moved they should have to pay for it!”

“Okay,
calm down. Maybe call around and find out if there’s a way to get out of paying
for it.”

“That’s
not the point! I like my tree.”

“It’s a
tree, Becca.”

She
couldn’t explain it, but that tree had been there since she bought the house.
It was a good, sturdy, pretty tree. It didn’t deserve to get cut down because
it was in the way of some superficial project to make their neighborhood’s
already functional sidewalks better. “There’s nothing wrong with the tree.”

And how
the hell was she going to come up with the money to remove it if she couldn’t
convince the township the tree should stay? Hunter released a high-pitched
scream and she winced. “I gotta go, Nikki. There’s a storm coming and Braydon’s
going to be here soon.”

Her
friend sighed. “Try and relax, Becs. A little mess and noise isn’t going to
change his opinion about you and if it does, you’re better off without him.”

That
was the problem. She didn’t want to be better off without him. At this point
she really, really wanted to be with him. Reality had a funny way of always
interfering in the things she wanted, however, so she was preparing for the
worst.

When
she hung up with Nikki, Hunter was marching around the den, stimming, and
repetitively checking the windows. Storms upset Hunter and there was no way of
predicting if this would be a passing shower or her son’s personal terror torn
from the heavens.

Checking
the Doppler app on her phone, she grimaced as a large green mass moved over
their area. The forecast predicted forty percent chances of thunderstorms over
the next few hours. Time to get Hunter into a Zen place.

Glancing
out the window, noting the lengthening shadows, she gauged the storm would
start sometime in the next hour. Dark clouds rolled through the deep blue sky.
Her goal was to distract Hunter with activities that masked outside
disturbances and caused anxiety.

“Hey,
bud, how about some music?”

She
shouldn’t have stayed on the phone so long. Parading through the den, Hunter
yanked on his shirt and continuously flicked the right side of his face. Becca
tucked the packet from the township away and tightened the laces of her shoes.

“I’m
going to dance. Do you want to dance with me, Hunter?”

“Dance,”
he echoed as he marched in a circle, now jumping in place every few paces.

“Yes,
dance.” Opening the cabinet above the stereo, she shuffled through the CDs.

Locating
the one she sought, she placed it in the player and nudged the beanbag to the
side of the room. Dropping to her knees she invited him to join her. The music
started and Hunter opened his mouth wide the moment he recognized the opening
tune of
Paint it Black
by The Stones. “Let’s drum.”

Hunter
wandered
over,
his head tipped with curiosity, as he
made a sound of excitement, but quickly back stepped and continued to trek to
the window.

Becca
matched the fast drumbeat with her fingers banging the floor. Hunter shouted
and returned, this time dropping roughly to the floor. He loved this song and
some of his anxiety due to the oncoming storm was slightly distracted. He sang
the song about wanting to paint the red door black and they hummed the chorus
together.

Becca’s
palms stung from drumming and the backs of her arms pulsed with the oncoming
ache of the fast pounding repetition. By the time the song was over, her heart
rate elevated.
Sympathy for the Devil
was next.

Hunter
shouted the first line, begging to introduce himself, just as Mick Jagger sang.

Twisting
behind her, she reached in the music bin and grabbed a recycled water bottle
filled with grains. She held the beat as Hunter belted out the quick lyrics.

His
voice wasn’t designed for singing, but he was easily Becca’s favorite vocalist,
because when Hunter sang she heard his words, words that had been absent for
the first half of his life.

“Let’s
see your air guitar!”

Jumping
up and down, rattling the items around the room, Hunter did his best Mick
Jagger while Becca let out the “Hoo-hoos” of the backup singers. Glancing
between the blinds covering the window, she spotted spatters of drizzle hitting
the glass.

Distracting
Hunter from a storm was an exercise in endurance. She’d started doing this a
few years ago, and sometimes their impromptu concerts only lasted thirty
minutes, but sometimes they went on for hours.

There
was no way of predicting what time the storm would pass. Ideally, it would be
best if Braydon came later, once the weather settled, but she didn’t have time
to call him now that the rain was underway. She barely had time to think up
alternative solutions. Her mind was solely in the now and focused on preventing
a meltdown.

Gimme
Shelter
was
next
.
Already out of breath, she pushed to her feet and performed their
Gimme
Shelter
dance. Luckily, this one was a bit slower in tempo. Her arms
mimicked the swaying branches of a tall tree, stretching her tired muscles.
“Dance with me, bud.”

Hunter
studied her out of the corner of his eye and let his arms wave. There was a
flicker of lightening outside against the deep gray sky.

“Watch
my arms. Let me see your arms blow in the wind.”

Casually,
she cranked up the volume, anticipating the pound of thunder that would likely
follow the flash of lightning. When the thunder rumbled, she flinched, but
smiled because Hunter barely noticed.

The
song ended and she was panting from exertion.
Ruby Tuesday
started and
she directed her son to the upright. “Will you play for me?”

Without
hesitating, Hunter slid onto the piano bench and picked up the note. The piano
added to the vibration of the thunder and music, masking the storm further.

“Be
Jagger, Mom!”

Standing
to his right, she nodded and belted out her best,
“Goooooooodbye, Ruby
Tuesday!”

Hunter
sang as well. As his focus remained on the keys, she sidled over to the window
and closed the blinds the remaining centimeters, blocking all views to the
outside.

Her
attention dragged between her son’s performance and the door. Praying for
another piano song, her stomach tightened when she thought she caught the swirl
of headlights against the blinds. Thankfully,
Brown Sugar
was next and
Hunter rolled right into the riff.

Backing
toward the door, her head swirling with the overly loud music and throbbing a
bit from jumping around, she almost laughed. Had she actually entertained the
fantasy of Braydon walking in on some peaceful, quaint picture of homelife?

As she
twisted the locks, her heart stuttered with a bolt of pride and possibly
courage.
This
was her homelife and seeing her son smile through a storm
as he pounded on the ivory keys with The Rolling Stones,
that
was her
happiness.

She
pulled the door wide and smiled, “Welcome to my life. Come in.”

Braydon’s
face showed a fleeting trace of shock at her sweaty, disheveled appearance, but
she didn’t have time to worry. She had to get the door closed before Hunter
took notice of the downpour outside of their sanctuary. As she tugged Braydon
over the threshold, she peeked past the awning. Blue showed behind the clouds
in the distance. Thank God.

Turning,
after the last lock was engaged, she found Braydon beaming. “Wow,” he said,
tipping his head toward Hunter. “He can really play.”

Pride
pinched her heart. She smirked and nodded, having to raise her voice to be
heard over the music. “He’s wonderful. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll
introduce you.”

Braydon
hung back as she returned to the piano. Hunter played a few more songs and
Becca sung backup, blushing each time her horrid voice cracked in front of
Braydon. He was an outstanding audience, never once interrupting the show and
wearing a steady expression of enjoyment on his face.

When it
seemed the worst of the storm had passed, she lowered the volume of the stereo.
“Hunter, I want you to meet someone.” Her hand lightly touched her son’s right
shoulder. “Can you stand up, bud?”

Hunter
stood and immediately walked to the window, peeking through the blinds. His
eyes blinked as his mind made obvious observations. The ground and branches
were shades darker from before, now hanging low with the weight of raindrops.
The walks were sprinkled with soggy leaves and the color of the sky had
transformed from steel blue to gray.