Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (28 page)

I touched my hands to my knees for support.
When he leaned in, I didn’t push, I hid my face in his shirt, torn
between kissing and shoving. He waited quietly while I gathered my
wits. But a deep-seeded fear lashed at me, curling up my spine, and
prickling my scalp.

What if he’s right?

“Please, love. You can’t teach them to be
afraid.” His arms cradled me while his words crushed me to bits.
“I’ll make you a deal—I promise to support whatever decision you
make, so long as you promise to think it through first. Compromise,
eh? Do what’s best for Noah, yeah?”

The only thing I really wanted to say,
scream really, was “
NO!
” But
what I actually said was, “I’m taking Arnold for a jog.”

The fall air was crisp. We were headed to
the park down the road. I planned to make a trip around before
heading back to the house to give my answer. If Evan needed to wait
a few minutes for me to repeat myself, then he could wait. Maybe
I’d go around more than once. I needed to blow off some steam.

The soothing beat of Arnold’s feet against
the concrete kept time with mine. It was an exhilarating rhythm
that helped clear my head and made life’s problems a little less
overwhelming.

As we left my street, a large man appeared
behind us. I pretended not to notice. I mean, the whole point of
the outing was to clear my head. I couldn’t do that if I was
letting every little thing bother me.

A half block later, I crossed the road and
peeked back. The man was still there, wearing flashy sunglasses,
though the cloudy sky seemed to promise a storm at any moment. His
acid-washed jeans and tight pink t-shirt weren’t exactly running
attire.

Arnold looked back and I corrected him with
a slight tug of the leash. He obediently turned to fall back in
pace with me. I made myself focus on the road ahead and moved
faster, which pleased the dog. As I crossed the street, heading for
the edge of the tree-lined park, Arnold started to pant. I realized
I needed to slow down and made a conscious effort to move at a more
leisurely pace. At this rate, we’d be home before I had a chance to
think, negating the purpose of the outing. Arnold complied,
obediently matching my measured pace.

“Who’s a good puppy?” I praised in the
generous tone he recognized. His tail wagged back and forth,
slapping my leg like a bullwhip every time it went right. I gave a
little more slack to the leash and let him out ahead of me,
hopefully saving myself a bruise.

My eyes focused on the deciduous trees as I
considered Evan’s reasons.

Noah was a good student and responsible. He
participated in so many things, sometimes it was hard to remember
where he was on a given day. He had been a great help to me and a
wonderful example for his younger brother. Logic that I could not
argue with. Evan did put a lot of thought into the gift.

My temper flared. In all his
thoughtful considerations, he neglected to tell
me
what he was doing. But he couldn’t help being
impulsive. His spontaneity was one of his best qualities. It was
the total lack of consideration that really bothered me. How could
he be so . . . insensitive? Didn’t he think of me at
all?

Rage unconsciously quickened my pace. We
were halfway around the park already. Once again, I made an effort
to slow.

I tried to put myself in Evan’s shoes. He
did have a tendency to overlook things that I found obvious. It had
to be because he was so much younger than me. I couldn’t blame him
for that. A person couldn’t help when they were born anymore than
they could help who their parents were. I’d made similar mistakes
myself at his age.

I shuddered at the idiom.
His age. . .

He’d never had a serious relationship
before, and that took getting used to. It was probably a simple
oversight on his part and nothing more. He did apologize, after
all. I was sure he’d never do anything like that again. He’d know
better next time and react accordingly. Case closed.

The anger left as quickly as it came.

We stepped onto the last segment of sidewalk
before the turn onto my street. I still had to deliberate over the
gift. The benefits for Noah.

I visualized myself handing him the key. How
happy he’d be, his face lighting up. Genuine smiles were hard to
come by with him. But just because it might make him happy didn’t
mean he should have it. What kind of parent would I be if I just
gave him everything he wanted?

And the roads were treacherous. Especially
for teenage boys. Statistically, young men were involved in more
accidents than any other group of drivers. They had the highest
insurance rates. Gas wouldn’t be cheap, either.

No
, I
reasoned, I really didn’t care about the costs. Digging deeper, I
asked myself the real question. Why didn’t I want Noah to have a
car?

The faces of my parents and Solomon flashed
in answer. The matching marble urns Aunt Rose had picked out. The
mangled metal of Sol’s car. The plastic bag filled with his
belongings sliding across the counter of the Coroner’s Office.

So my real fears—and there were so
many—all centered on
me
,
because of
my
experiences.
Though I tried to pretend it wasn’t there, in the back of my mind
there was always that constant fear. A whisper of a scream that
shouted some day, something beyond my control would swoop in and
take them all away from me.

Evan’s words replayed in my
head,
“you’re going to let your fear keep
him from something he deserves? That’s not like you . . .”
It wasn’t like me. At least not the
me
that he knew. Not the
me
that I wanted to be.

The fear that accosted me after Sol’s sudden
death ran rampant for months. I was an orphaned child all over
again. A single parent to misery. I was tortured, terrified for
everyone I loved. It cost me my unborn baby. It took months to work
up the courage to pass through the intersection where he was
killed. I decided since then that I wasn’t going to allow fear to
take anything else from me. But was this included in that decision?
I supposed it would depend on why I didn’t want Noah to have the
car. Was it my fear that he wasn’t mature enough to handle the
responsibility, or just plain fear?

Obviously, Noah would want the car. He’d be
licensed next week. I had put him through a rigorous driver’s
training course with an enhanced focus on Driver’s Safety. They
used a special vehicle that operated on a delayed reaction, to
mimic the brain when impaired by alcohol and drugs, to discourage
driving under the influence. Noah needed no inspiration in the area
of safety. Every day was the living, breathing consequence of
distracted driving. I knew he’d be a responsible driver.

The quivering answer in my gut was
nauseating. He had to grow up and I had to let him.

Rounding the corner at the bottom of the
hill, I came up along the road home and saw the stranger was still
there. As soon as I came within range, he spoke kindly to me, as if
we were friends. He asked how Evan and I met, how he proposed, and
why we were suddenly married.

To willfully ignore someone that was
speaking to me went against everything I was ever taught.
Walk in Love
, Momma used to
say.
Be kind, be courteous, be
helpful.

My heart filled with sympathy until he
asked why
the
Rhys Matthews
would leave a huge star, like Gretchen Bakker, for a plain old
nobody, like me. Ignoring him came easier after that.

I kept walking, lugging Arnold behind me. It
was that unexpected misbehavior that caught my attention and
sparked the memory of a neglected necessity. I forgot to stop for
Arnold. He probably needed to tinkle. Maybe more. But in my rush to
get out of the house, I also neglected to bring the doggie-doody
bags. I was also sincerely irritated by the man’s ceaseless
questions regarding things that were none of his business and was
not about to stop.

Guilt threatened my resolve and I slowed,
letting out the leash so Arnold could lift a leg if he needed to.
But he lunged back. I spun to see what he was doing and relaxed.
His ears were pinned back. He only wanted to smell the trailing
stranger.

But the man jumped away, kicking and
squealing in a high-pitched overreaction. Honestly, it was the way
most people reacted when they didn’t know how gentle he was.
Arnold’s size—considered large even for a mastiff—was the only
thing people saw. A stream of accusations and profanity poured from
the man’s mouth. He was convinced Arnold was trying to attack.

“He didn’t mean to frighten you. He just
wanted a sniff,” I said. “Really, he’s a gentle giant.” I patted
Arnold’s head and he sat back on his haunches, panting a dripping
doggy grin up at me.

Maybe I should have warned him of what I was
doing before I did it, but it was difficult to find a heart for
consideration when I was so annoyed—and the petty part of me was
delighted that Mr. Shiny Sunglasses On A Dreary Day was the one who
was uncomfortable now.

He didn’t respond, but launched into another
set of questions, encouraged that I spoke to him. I turned around
and started walking to the house. Nearly in front now, I picked up
the pace.

“I overreacted,” he called.

I turned back. “And I’m sorry he scared
you.”

A camera appeared from behind his back,
blinding me with a sudden flash. It was weird. He had no reason to
want my picture. Who was I? And the way he talked, while
enthusiastically hunching behind a camera. He wanted a courtesy,
yet gave none. He said he had a right to know, but ignored my
right, Evan’s right, to be left alone. It didn’t seem human.
Picking and prodding at every chance; hounding with relentless,
repetitive questioning. It was rude, unnerving, and most sincerely
strange.

Arnold’s ears turned forward. He seemed to
associate the redundant snapping sound with a feeling of
discomfort, intrusion. To him it was a threat. Not far from my own
associations. I tugged the leash, commanding him to heel, and asked
the meanie in pink to step back. He stepped forward, continuously
clicking.

Arnold responded to his proximity by lifting
a leg. I gasped at the surprising, ardent precision as he sprayed
all over my unwanted guest. My eyes were glued to the stream of
smelly, steaming urine jetting onto the man’s jeans and
flip-flops.

I heard the laugh before realizing it was
coming from my mouth. The sound signaled the absolute end to any
pretense of civility on the part of my company. The curses and
accusations flew once more, silencing my intended apology.

The whole matter was funny, a sort of
Providence, rather. And the more he swore, the funnier it became
and the less apologetic I felt. I chuckled as he called me every
name he could think of. I giggled at the insinuation that I was
after Evan’s money. It was the obvious tactic and so obviously not
true. I cackled when he threatened to have Arnold put to sleep.

“That’s why he married you,” he raised his
camera to get my reaction. His lips curled up, “because you’re
pregnant?”

“I don’t see how that’s any business of
yours.” With that, I turned to walk in the front gate and bumped
into Evan. When our eyes met, I knew he’d heard everything. A
protracted vein pulsed on his forehead. His hands were clenched in
fists.

Diffuse
this
,
I thought. It would only get worse.
I touched his shoulder and smiled, “Arnold peed on him.”

He stared at me for a moment before cracking
a smile. “I saw the whole thing from the path.” His posture
relaxed. The snapping started again when he stretched his arm
around me, but I maintained the grin. Arnold growled as we bid him
inside with us.

Back in the garage, Evan sat on top of a
large work bench. “The more I think on it, the more I regret not
feeding him to Arnold.”

I was hunched over the utility sink,
scrubbing the backsplash of urine from the leash.

“You shouldn’t have said anything.” Sheri
leaned towards me.

I wiped away an unruly hair with my forearm.
“I wasn’t trying to make your job more difficult.”

“It isn’t my job I’m concerned about.” She
glanced at Evan. “We’re going to be hearing about this one. Having
said that,” she turned back to me, “I do love your dog.” She
focused back on Evan, “Brainless move on your part, letting her go
out alone.”

He shrugged, “I don’t care what they say. We
know the truth. I don’t pay any attention to the shit—sorry,
love—the stuff,” he corrected “that blows around. So why should
she? Why should you?”

The aside was directed towards me and I
wondered if Sheri detected the difference in his tone as easily as
I did. The two words he spoke for me were sincerely repentant,
terribly sweet in contrast to the bitter way he spoke at her.

She returned the tart intonation. “She isn’t
the one that has to avoid questions about it.” Her volume
increased, “They have you connected with Gretchen one day, and
married to some unknown the next.”

Her eyes briefly shot at me, possibly to see
if I was offended by the reference.

“Where’s Marcus?” Evan asked me, making a
point of ignoring Sheri who was standing in front of him.

“I don’t know.” My shoulders sank. I hated
when they fought.

“Evan, are you listening to me?” Sheri
asked, stepping in his line of sight.

“Where’s Caleb?” He asked, solely training
his eyes on me.

As I started to answer, Sheri beat me to it.
“They went with Lily to pick up her mother before the party. Evan,
you have to think—”