Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (43 page)

I was slumping but didn’t care enough to
straighten up. My back already hurt.

I set the cordless phone on the dusty
dashboard and got busy clearing out the garbage. About halfway
through, there was a din. I shut off the vacuum and strained to
listen.

The shrill ring of the phone sliced through
the tense silence, making me jump. When I saw the number on the
caller ID, I had to fight my instant annoyance. My brother meant
well, I reminded myself as I picked up. “Hello?”

“What is it I’m looking at, exactly?” He
asked over the sounds of rustling paper.

“Um, I sent pictures of a foot, a face, and
a penis. If I could see which one you are looking at, I’d tell
you.”

There was a faint shuffling that sounded
like it might be coming from the porch.

“Another boy,” Ronnie observed.

“Of course,” I said, hitting the button to
open the garage, rather than going all the way through the house to
open the front door.

“Happy Birthday, baby sis.”

“Oh, thank you.” I lingered in the opening,
expecting whoever was on the porch would make their way to me.

“Having a good one so far?”

“Yeah, a little crazy, too.”

“Have you told him yet? Because you need to.
What if he wants to be there when he’s born? Your son has a right
to know his father.”

Despite the fact that we spoke every single
week and he knew very well the difficulty I was having, Ronnie
still nagged. He’d been steadily increasing his petulant
insistence, taking it upon himself to act on behalf of my estranged
husband. So much so that I was getting aggravated.

“I know he does.”

“So act on it,” he commanded.

“I’m trying!”

“Alright, alright, calm down,” he soothed.
“So long as you’re trying. This kid’s a cutie. Doesn’t look much
like you, though.”

I chuckled. “He’s handsome, isn’t he? I
think I’m in love.” So far as I could tell from the sonogram, his
little face was sweet and round with a tiny set of full lips.

“Keep trying, Grace.”

“I will, it’s just, I worry how Evan’s going
to take it. He’s been so extreme; I’m afraid how he may react. And
the more time that passes, the bigger chicken I am.” I walk and
sputtered, moving toward the front yard. Someone was definitely out
there; I heard shuffling feet on the porch.

As I rounded the large shrubs at the front
corner of the yard, my eyes latched onto a moving mass of white
dragging over the front steps. It was fluffy, furry, and had a
star-shaped bow around its neck.

“Hey there, handsome,” I whispered. “Where
did you come from?”

The little dog whimpered, terrified, as I
knelt down and held out my hand. “I have to go, Ronnie. There’s a
puppy on my doorstep.”

“Give it back.” He joked. “I’ll talk to you
later. Look for a phone number on his collar.”

“Okay, big brother,” I answered icily. “Kiss
everybody for me.”

I set the phone down to follow after
the cutest little ball of fluff I’d ever seen scampering towards
the far edge of the porch and gently scooped the puppy into my arms
to get a better look at the little fella. A small tag on his neck,
held in place by the red ribbon, read
Nigel
.

I smiled.

He was all white, save the small patch of
black on his chest and the tracing around his eyes that made him
look like he was wearing heavy eyeliner. He also had a perfectly
squared, tiny black nose on his thin muzzle. He looked to be a
mixed breed and no older than a few months.

“Where did you come from?” I asked, looking
around the yard and front gate, afraid to hope that a certain
someone had remembered my birthday. But if he’d remembered, if he
cared, he wouldn’t have sent me divorce papers. “Come on, baby.
Let’s get you inside.” The air outside was sweltering.

Nigel was active and required a watchful
eye. I kept close tabs as he trotted around, making sure he planted
no stinky surprises. Fawning over the little bundle, I brushed out
his wavy hair and prepared a soft place for him to sleep. He was
soon exhausted from the exploration and passed out inside a laundry
basket lined with a blanket. I followed suit, lying on the couch to
watch my new puppy.

Keys jingled in the door. I sat up, rubbing
the sleep from my eyes as Caleb, Noah, and Lily barreled into the
living room, greeting me in unison.

“Happy Birthday!” Noah was holding a gift
box, Caleb had a grocery bag full of ice cream, and Lily, a
cake.

Little Nigel howled in fright. Their eyes
flew towards the noise. Caleb was the first to drop everything and
reach for the novelty.

“Nigel is timid,” I cautioned, “and probably
needs to pee.”

Caleb smiled hugely, gently taking the new
puppy to the back yard while promising to teach him to fetch. Noah
followed them out, completely taken in by the absolute
cuteness.

“Where’d the dog come from?” Lily asked,
tucking the forgotten ice cream in the freezer.

“I found him on the porch with a bow on his
neck.” I held up the ribbon with the name tag.

“Nigel?” She chuckled, “That’s the worst
name I’ve ever heard.”

“I like it.”

“Who’s he from?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t see anybody.”

“It has to be Evan.”

“No, Evan gave me these.” I opened the
drawer and handed her the paperwork.

Her mouth dropped open as she read.
“Asshole!” The curse came in a whisper. “I guess I don’t have to
ask how he took the news, then.” She set her hand on her hips and
gestured with her eyes to my substantial abdomen. “I thought he was
better than that.”

“No, Sheri brought them over.”

She didn’t answer as quickly as I expected,
too busy shuffling through the papers, reading through the lines of
legal jargon. “These haven’t been filed,” she pointed to the empty
box in the corner where the stamp and state seal should’ve
been.

“Sheri said he wants me to do it when I’m
ready.”

She pulled me close in a half hug. “I’d wait
on that if I were you. He may change his mind when she tells
him.”

I leaned my head on her shoulder and told
her about Sheri’s promise, all my hopes set in direct contrast to
my expectation of further rejection. Evan never wanted children, at
least not his own. I could not keep telling myself there was hope
when there was no reason to think otherwise. He’d always spoken his
mind and very rarely changed it.

Lily helped with dinner, since I didn’t want
to go out, and helped keep lively conversation throughout the
evening. She even picked up a movie on the way home. Though I’d
slept the day away, I was too tired to stay up for it.

Something was shaking, dragging me from the
depths of a dream where I stood staring at Noah. He was wearing
that red clown nose of his, but he wasn’t laughing. We were
outside, but I couldn’t tell where. I registered the jostling touch
while trying to drag my mind from a deep slumber.

“Grace, Grace. Wake. Up.” It was Lily’s hand
on my shoulder that produced the shaking.

“What?” Through groggy eyes, I searched her
expression. It was grim and unchanging in the dim light.

“Look.” She pointed to the television. I
must’ve fallen asleep watching.

The room was still dark as I focused on the
images that were something of a mystery; a birds-eye view of a
shoreline. It was the view from a news helicopter. The local
station’s number and logo were stamped in the bottom corner of the
screen. The camera swept from the roof of a dark house to the dark
water of the Pacific Ocean. Searchlights swirled over the water
while red, computer-generated arrows pointed to indicate the
current and direction of the high tide.

Confusion beset me on all sides as I looked
back to Lily. She was covering her mouth, crying. I moved towards
the screen, to read the words ticking across the bottom.

A search is underway
tonight for missing actor Rhys Matthews, 27, nicknamed Hollywood’s
King of Teen Horror, most famously known as the star of the
Time Redeemer
trilogy of films and,
more recently, for his stunning performance in the independent
film,
Triumph in the Sky
.
Matthews was last seen sleeping on the beach behind his home
approximately three hours ago. An unidentified witness reports:
“One second he was there, the next he was gone. The sand where he
was sleeping was all wet. He didn’t go back in the house; he
couldn’t have made it that far without being seen.”

The carpet flew up to my knees.

Lily was on the phone. I could tell she was
talking to Marcus, who was in the midst of planning his father’s
funeral. He said the Coast Guard was out in full force, as well as
experienced locals who’d volunteered to assist in the search, and
several news stations were lending air support. They were all
confident he’d be found as long as he could keep swimming.

“
He’s a strong swimmer.”

My heart grabbed onto the hope. A life
preserver in my sea of pain. The first night we swam in the pool—I
was surprised at his ability to keep treading water long after I
was winded. And he’d quit smoking at least once since then. That
could only improve his chances.

My face pressed into the rug, begging God to
bring him back. Promise after promise, if He would only give Evan
more time. I clenched the carpet fibers between my fingers. All the
while, vaguely aware of Lily at my side, saying things I couldn’t
understand. Whatever it was wasn’t important enough to ask. It
couldn’t happen again. He had to be okay. He had to be.

I looked back to the silent television that
was looping the same footage—showing a smiling picture of Evan in
the corner of the screen—as they panned the dark shoreline.

I didn’t know how long, but at some point,
the sound of the ringing phone broke through. Lily already had it
on her ear. “What is it, Marcus?” She gasped, listening.

My heart plunged, waiting for her to repeat
the news. I wanted to ask but I didn’t want to miss anything. My
eyes strayed desperately to the television. Nothing new. A small
part of me wondered if I’d be better off not knowing, as another,
more prominent, part demanded answers. I stared, apparently muted
by the shock, as the corner of Lily’s mouth twitched.

“Where?” Again, she spoke and did not
translate—hearing everything I wanted to know and giving nothing
away!

“That’s only a few minutes from here.”

Quiet again.

“Lily!” I demanded.

“Yes, right now. Thank you, baby. Bye.” She
hung up and looked with wet, red eyes. “They’ve got him! He’s in
transit.” She leapt to my closet and emerged with a hat, jacket,
and slip-on shoes. “Put these on in the car.”

I cried for joy as Lily told me about how he
was found a few miles down the beach from his house. A man taking a
night ride heard yelling and followed the noise. Evan was
unconscious when he found him, though. The man was unsure if he’d
hit him with the boat, or if he was drowning. He performed CPR and
towed him back to shore.

Sheri didn’t call me. Marcus said she was
trying to keep the news under wraps until Evan was admitted into a
private room where he could recover in peace.

There was no one outside. All eyes were
still fixed on the water when Lily stopped in front of the
emergency room entrance. I swung the door open and hopped out,
being mindful to carry my belongings over my belly. I was halfway
through the long hallway on the opposite side of the ER before I
realized I was alone. Without slowing, I flashed my hospital badge
to anyone who asked and started searching beds.

Five minutes went by and I was flustered. He
was nowhere to be found. Finally, I came upon Tia, a physician who
recognized me from cardiac. She told me Evan was in radiology. He
was stable and his vitals were strong, but he hadn’t regained
consciousness. She gave me the number of the room he’d be moved
into when they were done with their tests.

I wrote down my phone number and told her to
call me personally if there were any changes. She promised, as soon
as there was anything to report. After all, I was his wife. The
reference was comforting.

Until the doctors were done, there was
nothing to do but wait. I could not sit inside a waiting room, so I
made my way to the elevator and through the quiet halls, bound for
his room. I wanted to rush in there and check him out myself, but
in an emergency setting, the family needs to stay out of the way.
The staff works better and faster if no one’s looking over their
shoulders.

Inside his assigned room, I turned on the
television, wanting to keep an eye on what was being said. The
Coast Guard had already released information on how he was found—by
a retired Marine, no less—who wished to remain anonymous. It seemed
they knew everything except where he was being treated. It was,
most assuredly, only a matter of time.

The hordes of media were already
speculating—how exactly did this happen? Merely an accident or did
his rumored drug abuse and recent battle with depression play a
role? The “reporters” ran down lists of recent rumors—an
unconfirmed separation from me was among them—determined to make it
into more than just an accident. In between suppositions, they ran
a barrage of distasteful photographs. One in particular showed Evan
with an outstretched hand against what they said is the thigh of a
stripper. But I could tell by his hair style, that the picture was
a few years old. Still, I slammed the power button on the remote,
shutting off the television.

My phone buzzed. I snatched it in a flash.
“Hello?”

Tia gave me a quick rundown on his status:
he was fine, overall. No concussion, but he did have a significant
gash on the crown of his head. They were stitching it up now. The
MRI showed no brain injuries. His lungs looked good, though there
were trace amounts of fluid in one lobe on the right side. They
were starting him on antibiotics. The whites of his eyes were
yellow because he’d been drinking excessively for some time, he
told them so. Now they were running a battery of tests on his
liver.