Obsessive Compulsion (24 page)

“Of course.” He kisses the back of my head
then departs.

Once he’s gone, Momma eases me off her
shoulder and brushes the hair outta my eyes. “Hey there, baby
girl,” she smiles. “I need you to eat something.”

The very thought makes my stomach ache, and
I shake my head in protest. “I
can’t
.”

Her face goes stern. “Charlotte Susanna, you
know that word isn’t allowed in this house. You
can
, and you
will
eat that soup I made, and you’re gonna make sure Ian
eats all his, too. You both haven’t eaten since this mornin’, and
I’ll not have either one a’ you kids gettin’ sick on my watch. You
hear me?”

I sniffle. “Yes, ma’am.” I’m searching her
face for any sign about how upset with me she is, expecting at
least a hint of anger or disgust. All I see is worry and the same
love she’s always looked at me with. “Momma, I…”

“The next words outta your mouth better not
be ‘I’m sorry’,” she chides, reminding me that she was the one who
always instilled in me the devaluation of apologies. When you say
sorry all the time, it’s hard to tell when you really mean it.
There are always better things to say than ‘sorry’.

“No, ma’am,” I lower my eyes, because that’s
exactly what I was about to say.

“Look at me, sweetie,” she commands gently
and I comply. “It’s gonna be okay. Maybe not right now, or
tomorrow, but it’ll be alright. We should’ve told you so much
sooner, but we thought we were protecting you. I was afraid you’d
be angry at us for keeping it secret so long, or that you’d… We
didn’t want to lose you, too.”

It takes me a moment to put my thoughts into
words. “I’m not angry, Momma, and I’m glad you told me. It helps.
Things seem to make more sense now - things I couldn’t ever quite
seem to figure out. I’m just not sure how to get from this moment
to the next.”

“I know, baby,” she pulls me back into a
tight hug as the sting of tears hits my eyes. “Your daddy and I
have had twenty-five years to grieve. We’ve never forgotten Mary
Lynn, but we’ve had joy and happy memories to help fill in the dark
spaces losing her created. I’m so very grateful for that joy you
brought to us.”

“I didn’t,” I start to argue, desperately
wanting the blame to help harden my heart against this overwhelming
sadness, but she squeezes it out of me.

“I almost lost both of my little girls that
day, Charlotte. You were hit by the car, too, and you almost died
on the way to the hospital. Then you were in a coma for a week with
swelling on your brain. The doctors said chances were slim you’d
pull through.”

She pauses to suck in a stammered breath,
her arms circling me tight. “I prayed to God every single day. I
said,
Lord, you needed one of my girls for your host of angels,
and for that I won’t be angry, but you’ve gotta let me keep at
least one little light here with us
. The next day, you woke up
with bright eyes, a big smile and no memory of Mary or what
happened, so we counted our blessings and let Mary Lynn go.

“We count our blessings every single day,”
she stares into my eyes, leaving no room to question what she’s
saying. “At the very top of that list has always been you, and
because of you, we’ve been able to add so many wonderful things to
that list. You were a wonderful daughter to raise, you’re a
brilliant artist and you’re always trying to help others. You
brought Emma into our lives, and now Ian…”

She stops and smiles with a little wink.
“And maybe, you’ll bless us with some grandkids soon?”

“Momma!” The embarrassed whisper expels past
my lips, and I glance to the doorway as she lets out a mischievous
giggle. My entire face heats up, but it’s working. I’m not focusing
entirely on Mary Lynn anymore. It’s still there, like a bitter
aftertaste, but the present is coming back strong and I can
actually think about the future again.

A little boy with blue-green eyes, sandy
brown hair and a snorting laughter as he runs through the house,
making one hell of a mess. Oh, God. It’s adorable. I aint
never
wanted kids before, but that… I think I want that.

“Well, your father and I aren’t gettin’ any
younger,” she pushes in that motherly tone that says ‘I’m joking,
but not really’. It’s an art she’s perfected over the years. “Ian
is a good man, Charlotte, but I don’t think you need me to tell you
that. He’s got your daddy’s approval, which is a first, and
mine.”

A slow inhale puts that into perspective.
Daddy didn’t like any of the boys I ever brought home. He
especially seemed disapproving of Neil. Guess I should’a learned to
listen to my daddy’s gut instinct a whole lot sooner. “I won’t make
any promises, Momma. Not this time. I love him, and right now, I’m
just gonna love him with all I can, every day. If that leads to a
baby…”

“Or two,” she pushes with another snickering
giggle.

“Or two,” I sigh, giving in with a quiet
laugh of my own.

“Or three?” Ian’s amused voice is followed
by a snort.

Momma and I startle and glance at the
doorway to find him grinning at us like he’s caught a rooster in
the hen house. He
struts
into the room as Momma and I turn
redder than radishes. Setting the bottle of nausea medication on
the tray, he gives me that special smile that’s just between us,
then he turns to my mom.

“I can’t make any promises like that,
either, Mrs. McLeod. My condition won’t make it easy, but I’m not
at all against the idea. One thing I
can
promise is to love
Charlotte and count every day that she’s in my life as a
blessing.”

God, how long was he standing outside
that door?
Wait… Did he just say he wasn’t against the idea of
kids?
Mercy
…

Breathe, Charlotte
.

Right, breathing. I think I’m still
breathing. I think… No, all I can think about is that little boy
with a tiny little snort.

“I think John and I can accept that,” my
mom’s voice has me finally catching my breath as she stands from
the bed. “Thank you for takin’ such good care of our little girl. I
know it aint always easy, catchin’ a tornado.”

“Momma…” I sigh.

Ian snorts. “I think I’m getting pretty good
at it. Though, I think I should take out some sort of disaster
insurance policy.”

“Ian!” I scowl.

“Shush now, and eat your soup.” Mom heads
for the door. “Both of you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ian and I say together as he
sits back down on the edge of the bed. He hands me two pills and I
take them while still fighting off the heated flush on my face.
Wrapping one arm around my shoulders, he leans in, kisses my temple
then snorts right in my ear. “So, two, hu?”

Wrinkling my nose, I refuse to be outdone.
“Thought you said three? ‘Course, that’s a prime number, so we best
aim for four.”

He coughs but can’t argue my logic, so I
grin in triumph. Then it hits me that Ian and I just had the ‘kids’
discussion, albeit in a uniquely
us
way. I focus on getting
the soup to stay in my stomach while my brain attempts to digest
this new advancement in our relationship.

“John and Brandon are taking Emma out to
feed the goats,” Ian informs me through sips of soup. “She would
like to visit with you afterwards, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Of course.” I set my spoon down and lean
into his arm. I guess I must of spooked Emma pretty good. I think a
dose of Emma sounds like the perfect medicine to ease this
lingering sadness in my heart. Glancing up at Ian, I feel much
better already. “I think… I think I’m gonna be alright. And, thank
you. Thanks for doin’ all this.”

“You’re not mad?” he sounds surprised. “Not
even a little?”

“Oh, I plan on punishin’ you good for the
whole surprisin’ me in the car this mornin’, make no mistake about
that Mr. Rider.”

“Sounds fun,” he grins. “Did you remember to
pack your rope?”

“Hush up and eat your soup,” I mutter back
between lips twitching to smile.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Yeah, I think we’re gonna be just fine.

Four kids. I think I just agreed to have
four kids with Charlotte. The spoon shakes a bit in my hand as I
swallow. One will be a challenge for my disorder, but that’s a
prime number, so we’d have to have, at minimum, two. Side-glancing
Charlotte’s blue eyes and red hair, my mind and heart are
conspiring against me to push the number closer to six.

Little redheaded tornadoes wreaking havoc
through my ordered world. It’s the cutest damn thing my imagination
has ever given to me. One of those tornadoes stops just long enough
to grin real wide up at me with a ‘
Can’t catch me, Daddy!
’
echoing through my ears. The next spoonful catches in my throat and
sets off a coughing fit.

“You all right, sweetie?” Charlotte’s
grinning at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

Regaining control over the mini-panic attack
that had my heart racing, I nod. “Just went down the wrong
way.”

Or, maybe it went down perfectly. If I’m
thinking kids, then I know the next thing I need to do, and holding
it off any longer is only delaying the inevitable. “Are you
finished?”

She nods and I hug her close with a kiss.
“I’ll take these down to the kitchen and send Emma up, okay?”

“Okay,” she smiles as I stand.

Her hand lingers in mine for a moment longer
then she lets go. Gathering up the tray, I head downstairs to the
kitchen and set the dishes in the sink. Grabbing my boots, my
jacket and my nerve, I walk out the back door. A light glows from
the open doorway of the large barn and I can hear Emma’s bubbly
laughter along with the bleating of goats. She’s got a large bottle
and is hand feeding a young, black and white kid while Brandon
looks on with a huge grin.

“Ian!” Emma turns her beaming smile my way.
“I’m feeding a baby goat!”

“Late birth?” I ask John and he nods.

“Or very early,” he laughs. “Took me and
Carol… and the mom, I think… by surprise. She’s been havin’ trouble
feeding the kid, so I’ve been givin’ it a bit a’ help.”

Brandon swallows back a chuckle. “Emma named
it Twitch.”

I snort as Emma points at the kid’s tail,
which is going a mile a minute as it feeds from the bottle.
“Charlotte said she’d like to see you.”

Emma eases the goat back to its thin, wobbly
legs and it follows her as she hands the bottle to me. She peers up
at my face in silence for a long moment then claps her hands over
her mouth with a gasp. I swear, the girl is a mind reader and is
counting the redheaded tornados still blowing through my brain. She
lets out a musical laugh then skips out of the barn.

“I’d better go and keep her outta too much
trouble,” Brandon dips his chin at us then follows Emma out the
door.

“Good man,” John comments with a nod at the
door. “He and Emma fit together real nice.”

“They do,” I agree as the kid nudges my
knee. “And Brandon is one of the best men I know.”

John takes in several audible breaths, his
exhales visible puffs in the cold night. “How’s my other girl?”

“Better.” I walk the goat back into the pen
where its mom is waiting. The bottle is forgotten as they reunite
and the kid finds a teat to latch onto. “I think she’ll be okay,
but it’ll be a while before her head is clear again.”

He sighs behind me and leans on the rail. “I
knew it’d be hard, but I don’t think my heart was ready for the way
she looked at me. I broke my little angel’s heart today, and
nothin’ is harder for a father to do.”

“You’re a good man, John, and a great
father,” I speak honestly. I’ve grown to respect him as much as I
respect Brandon, and it hurts to see the sorrow etched into the
deep lines of his face.

“And you,” he says after a pause. “I can’t
thank you enough for takin’ care of her. You’re really in love with
my little girl.”

“I am.” I take in a long breath of cold,
hay-scented air. “And that’s why I need to talk to you, sir.”

John’s eyebrow raises and he leans more
deeply on the railing, as if he knows a long conversation is
coming. “I’m listenin’, son.”

Alright, Rider, he’s listening. Don’t
fuck this up. And stop twitching
.

Putting my hands in my pockets, I look John
in the eyes and try to be the man Charlotte deserves. “I know no
one’s perfect, but I can’t say I’m even close to it. I’ve been
living with OCD my whole life, and I’ve watched it get in my way so
many times. It’s always had its ups and downs, and there recently,
I was on a long way down. It was getting worse. Worse as it’s ever
been.”

I’m trying not to rush the words of this
speech I’ve rehearsed over and over in my head, and my eyes are
watching John for any reaction. I probably sound like a nutjob, but
I have to tell him this first so that he can, hopefully, understand
where I’m coming from. Maybe then he’ll understand where I’m trying
to go with his daughter.

John’s face remains calmly passive, so I
continue. “It’s cost me several things over the years – my father,
friends, damn near my degree and almost Brandon’s respect. I
started missing jobs and messing things up. It got to a point where
I figured, might as well just let it all go.”

John shifts as his expression changes into
one of concern, then he asks a question I knew was coming after
what they went through with Neil. “Were you thinkin’ a’ suicide,
son?”

“No, sir,” I swallow. “Not
this
time.
I’ve been on that ledge before, but Brandon and our family helped
me through it. I’ve come to understand how selfish it would’ve
been, and I haven’t considered that as an option since. I was
thinking about committing myself to a hospital on a more permanent
basis.”

I take my hands out of my pockets and watch
them shake, then put them back in with an exhale. “I’m almost
thirty, John. I was depressed, alone. I have great friends, but I
wanted… I just thought there was never going to be anyone who could
understand, who could put up with me and my damn twitching. Then
your two daughters show up, and everything changed.”