As Tears Go By (18 page)

“Rain’s
gone, Mom. No rain!”

“Yes,
the storm’s over. See, that wasn’t bad at all. Would you like to meet our
friend, Braydon?”

Braydon
remained at the entrance to the den, just within Hunter’s peripheral. Hunter’s
fingers reached for his temple and twisted at the corner of his eye, telling
Becca he’d spotted their visitor. He vocalized short, repetitive hums as he
took in Braydon’s presence and Becca waved Braydon into the room.

Taking
slow steps and pausing about three feet away from Hunter, but only a few inches
from Becca, he said, “It’s nice to meet you, Hunter.”

Hunter
turned, still in an apparent good mood from their jam session and giggled. His
fingers curled and tapped over his lips, as his attention seemed drawn to
Braydon’s shirt.

“Can
you say hello to Braydon?”

“Hello.”
Taking a step back, Hunter’s attention turned to the piano, where he tapped a
key persistently.

“I
heard you playing. You’re very good,” Braydon complimented, but Hunter paid him
no mind.

“Can
you say thank you to Braydon?”

“Thank
you to Braydon.” He laughed at his own jest and slid onto the piano bench.

“Would
you like to show Braydon how you play?”

A
stream of notes pelted from the piano in reply. It wasn’t a song, but the
melody was eloquent enough to raise Braydon’s eyebrows. Becca grinned with
pride. This wasn’t so scary.

She
turned off the stereo. Hunter’s shifted his seating and segued into what was a
stunning performance. Glancing back to Braydon, she saw his lips part in awe
and there was a sudden tightening in her throat. It was nice, bringing someone
into their world and sharing the beautiful secrets she and her son kept,
especially when life calmed enough to notice such things.

“He’s
incredible,” Braydon whispered.

“He’s
my Hunter,” she whispered back.

“How
long has he been playing like this?”

“About
four years. I bought the piano from the church that closed two years ago and
since then he’s just blossomed.”

The
song concluded and Braydon clapped. “Well done, Hunter!”

Hunter
bounced and started another ballad. Braydon’s head tilted as he followed the
notes. “I know this. What is it?”

“
As
Tears Go By
.” Her eyes prickled. “If you don’t exclude The Stones,
this
—”
She patted her heart and smiled.
“—is my favorite song.”

The
warmth of Braydon’s fingers curled around hers. “It’s beautiful.”

Inviting
Braydon into her home with Hunter had emotions surging through her from all
angles. As the song finished, she wanted nothing more than to hug her son. He
was perfectly imperfect and in that moment she gratefully accepted all of the
challenges for these incredible gifts that they’d been given. Basically, she
needed to get a grip.

Pressing
her hands together, she suggested, “How about some lunch?”

“Lunch
would be great,” Braydon said as Hunter stood and bolted into the kitchen.

She
laughed. “Shall we?”

Braydon
followed her to the kitchen where Hunter bounced by the chart on the wall.
“What would you like for lunch, bud?”

“Hot
dog.” His fingers plucked the hot dog picture from the chart and moved it to
the square for lunch. He then chose apple juice for his beverage.

“Okay.”
She pointed to the task analysis on the wall. “Wash your hands.”

As she
followed Hunter to the sink and adjusted the water, Braydon kept in her shadow.
“Can I help?”

“Um, no
thank you, I think I have it. Are hot dogs okay with you?”

“Hot
dogs are fine.”

“Now
dry them, bud.”

Handing
Hunter a towel, he dried his hands and chattered as he made his way to the
table. Becca pulled out the hot dogs and plates as a pot of water heated on the
stove. Hunter stood and went to the look at the clock on the wall. He ran to
the window and tapped on the glass. The sky was hazy, but a softer shade of
blue as the sun now fought to return.

“Where
should you be, Hunter?” He returned to the table and rocked in his seat.

Becca
counted out two hot dogs for Braydon and two more for her and Hunter. Once
lunch was ready, Braydon helped her carry everything to the table. Before sitting,
she gathered a Velcro board with a cut up picture of an iPod on it.

The
second she sat the plate in front of Hunter he shoveled a cut piece of hot dog
in his mouth. “Wait, please. We’re not going to use our fingers today. Here’s a
fork.”

Hunter
whined, but took the fork.

“What’s
that?” Braydon asked, pointing to the Velcro board.

Speaking
loud enough to include Hunter in the discussion, she said, “Hunter, can you
tell Braydon why we use the iPod board?”

Hunter
aimed his fork at the food and said, “I get music.”

Becca
explained, “If Hunter uses his fork instead of his fingers, he can have some
music after lunch.”

Her son
struggled with the utensil, sneaking his fingers in to help pierce the meat
with the tines. Showing a bit of frustration, he picked up the morsel and
shoved it in his mouth. “Uh-uh. No fingers.” She pulled a piece of the puzzle
off the Velcro board with a scrape and Hunter groaned.

Lowering
her voice, she explained, “He isn’t always focused on what I’m doing, so
hearing the sound of the Velcro snap helps him register the change. We’re
working on table manners.”

As
lunch carried on, there was little time for adult conversation. Braydon
remained observant and asked questions when he didn’t understand the reasoning
behind a certain action, and she found his curiosity refreshing. Kevin never
paid attention to such behavior modifications. After lunch Hunter was given his
iPod and she and Braydon cleaned up the kitchen
together
—another thing she wasn’t used to.

Her
home was fairly open, so she kept a continuous eye on Hunter. He’d calmed since
that morning and was playing in the den while she and Braydon shared a cup of
coffee in the adjoining room. It seemed like the first time she’d caught her
breath that day. She glanced at the clock—2:00—not bad.

“Sorry
I didn’t have time to fix myself up. I must look pretty scary.”

His
fingers gave a gentle tug to her sloppy hair. “You look pretty.” Such
acceptance had a way of heightening her nervousness.

“I had
a hectic morning,” she confessed.

“Hunter
doesn’t like storms?”

“No. I
try to distract him, thus the concert you walked in on.”

“He has
amazing talent.”

She
nodded. “He does. I don’t know where he gets it from.”

“You
can tell he really likes music.”

“Music’s
probably our biggest motivator. He also likes trains, but music’s more
available.” Her attention was pulled when Hunter started banging on the wall.
“He does that sometimes,” she explained, without apology.

Braydon
made no show of annoyance. “So what’s new with you?”

She
sighed. “I have to cut down my tree.” A snort of derisive laughter slipped past
her lips. “Sorry. I don’t really have much excitement in my life. You’re
probably used to more stimulating conversation.”

“Not
really. What’s wrong with your tree?”

She
unleashed her frustration on the napkin, twisting it into little pieces.
“Absolutely nothing. The township came by and told me it has to be removed for
the new sidewalks. They’re doing something with the sewers too. The roots are
corroding the lines or something. I don’t know. They gave me a big packet that
explains everything.”

“Can I
see what they gave you?”

Taken
off guard, mostly because Kevin always let her handle things like this, she
blinked. “Sure.” After finding where she stuck the packet, she handed it to
him.

Braydon
paged through the information.

“Is
there a way to get out of it?” she asked hopefully.

“According
to this, I don’t think so.”

“Great.
I heard it’s around two grand to take down a tree that size. Maybe more.”

“Nah, I
can get you a better price.”

She
perked up. “Really? I don’t want the tree to go, but if I have no choice I’d
love to save as much money as I can. If I let the township remove it they’ll
bill me and their quote was way out of my budget.”

“I know
people. Why don’t I make a call and see if I can get them out here this week.”

“People?”
She laughed. “Are you involved with the tree mafia or something?”

He
chuckled. “No, they’re professionals—most of the time.”

Throat
tight with gratitude, she whispered, “I’d really appreciate that.”

Braydon
made some calls, as Hunter required some of her time. They ordered takeout for
dinner and then did a puzzle together.

After
the bedtime routine that Braydon waited patiently throughout, the house was
quiet and she collapsed on the couch, resenting her lack of energy. She didn’t
want him to go, but she also really wanted her bed.

“I have
some wine in my trunk. Want me to bring it in?”

“You
can if you want some. If I have wine I’ll probably fall asleep.”

“Do you
want me to go?”

There
it was, that grip of reality on her heart, tightening and twisting. She wanted
nothing more than for him to stay, but it had been such a draining day she
wasn’t going to be much fun. “I don’t want you to leave.”

He
turned, assessing her. “Sleepover?”

The
debate in her head lasted only a second. Why not just invite him? “Would you
want to?”

“Let me
think. Yes.” His answer was so fast it made her laugh. “I have a bag in my
car.”

“Look
at you, Mr. Optimistic.”

He
kissed her cheek. “I missed you. I knew once I had you I wouldn’t want to
leave.”

Her fingers
pulled on one of his golden waves. “Haven’t had me yet.”

“Is
that an invitation?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll
get my bag.”

* * * *

Climbing
into bed, Braydon placed a condom on the nightstand and pulled Becca close.
She’d showered, and her skin smelled of flowers and soft girlie soap. His lips
pressed into her shoulder and she hummed pleasantly. “What are you in the mood
for? And you better not say sleep,” he teased.

She
giggled and turned. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Today.
You handled everything perfectly. Not many people do.”

Her
praise was a tremendous relief. He’d been a nervous wreck about meeting Hunter,
because he really liked this woman and her son meant the world to her. He
wanted Hunter to like him. “Thank you for letting me
meet
him. I like getting to know this side of you.”

Leaning
in, he kissed her lips softly, parting them with gentle nips. After seeing what
an average day in the world of Becca was like, he found even greater empathy
for her day-to-day trials and wanted to do something nice for her.

Kissing
a trail along her belly, he drew down her panties. Her legs scissored slowly
against each other as he nibbled her thigh. When his mouth found her center, he
licked and kissed until she was moaning softly. His fingers parted her folds
and she arched into his touch. He loved the sight of her there, so pretty, pink
and delicate.

“You’re
so beautiful.”

He
teased her center and she opened like a flower. For some reason he didn’t want
to go fast. Taking it slow, he brought her to climax, her voice low and weighted
with desire. He reached for the condom.

“That’s
my job,” she whispered, her face flushed with a soft rosy glow.

He
handed it to her and she carefully slid the latex on. Easing her back down, he
crawled over her and looked in her eyes. For unknown reasons, he tried to
summon visions of past lovers in that split second, but came up short. All he
could see was Becca, an angel beneath him.

Pressing
into her, his body rocked with need and something much more potent. Something
was happening here, something he didn’t think either of them was prepared to
handle. They took their time, savoring each slow thrust, her hands holding him
close while he was buried deep inside of her.

His
eyes studied her through the shadows and he tried to catalogue the moment, wondering
why it felt so different from all the other times. Then it occurred to him.
This was making love in its finest form.

The
sudden thought left him staggered. He’d never been in love and wasn’t clear on
how to recognize the sentiment. Signs of authenticity were unspecified to him,
yet he wanted to define it then and there.

“Are
you okay?”