Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (29 page)

“I know Sheri. Damn! Do you think I haven’t
thought of every angle a hundred times over?” He lowered his raised
voice, “But she’s not pregnant. We weren’t even together until
after we were married.”

“Evan,” Sheri smiled sweetly, “I don’t give
a rat’s ass when or where you put it to her.”

“Watch it!” I turned to look at him,
surprised by his icy tone. His eyes held a deadly glare. “I’m done
with you. Go. I have to talk to her. Alone.”

I wanted to disappear. We’d need to talk
about the way he treated her. I could not bear witness to one more
callous conversation. The mutual disrespect and cruelty was
intolerable.

The door to the house slammed shut.

A second later, Evan’s arms enveloped my
shoulders. I struggled to properly rinse Arnold’s leash as he
kissed my neck, sending chills all over before backing away.

“Have you decided?”

“Yes.” After leisurely wringing the harness,
I laid it out to dry on a utility shelf over the sink. When I
turned to face Evan, he was leaning on the hood of the truck,
looking model-sexy with his hair perfectly mussed and his black
v-neck tee. His eyes were bright with expectation as he ran one
finger over a bodyline.

“He can have the car but—”

“Yes!” He pumped his fists triumphantly over
his head, marching around the cavernous garage. “I win! I win!”

“I have a condition.”

“Give it to us then,” he waved his fingers
in a decadent come-hither way, inviting my stipulation.

He was so disgustingly cute and competitive
when we disagreed. I crossed my arms, trying not to smile. “He has
to get a job and pay you back and—”

“I thought you said one condition?”

“And,” I continued, “You promise to discuss
ALL major purchases with me from now on.”

“Done, and done.” His hands rubbed together
greedily. “It feels good to be right. Now, let’s make up.”

We were all talking
over one another. The joy in Evan’s eyes swelled as he
watched the family interaction around the table. Though he never
said, it was evident that one of his favorite parts of ordinary
life was conversing at the dinner table. A standard part of my
life—ours. He considered himself privileged to have a family to eat
with.

Lily and Marcus were involved in their own
conversation. Caleb was being his charming self, doing his best to
annoy his older brother. I served everyone’s drinks and took my
seat near Evan.

“I would like to say something,” Maria
pushed up from the full table. All eyes fix on her and the room
went silent. “My sister, Isabel, is not doing well. Her sons are
too busy to care for her, so next week, I am leaving for Mexico
City to help her.”

The questions rolled in. She’d be gone
several months, she suspected, and said she was selling her house.
Lily, Evan, and I offered solutions, offered to pay to keep the
house up until she got back, to have her sister brought up from
Mexico to be cared for by American doctors, but she refused, saying
her sister was older than she and might not survive the trip. There
was also the red tape of passports and visas to consider. In the
time it took to get them, she may get worse. Old age waits for no
one.

“Enough of me,” Maria cleared her throat and
raised a glass. “Noah, you are sixteen years old today. That’s a
very important age. It goes quickly, so be sure to pay attention
and make wise choices. I love you very much.” Her eyes filled. “You
have so much of your father in you. I know he is looking down from
heaven today and he is proud.”

We took up our cups and drank, solemnly
marking the resonant absence. Noah’s eyes welled.

Caleb’s curiosity was piqued—he wanted to
know about his dad. His inquiry lifted the mood, somehow. Maria and
Lily answered every one of his questions, and he was very pleased
to have their full attention. I chimed in when there was an opening
as Caleb wondered, in hope, if he shared any of his father’s
respective traits.

His expectations were met and lifted with
responses from all of us. He walked like him, he talked like him,
and he even had a mole in the same spot on his right hand and the
same slightly crooked pinky as his father. I was relieved at how
easy it was. The joy was there alongside the pain. I felt the
weight, but was not crushed beneath it.

We called to mind family gatherings, stories
about Solomon and what he was like at sixteen. Maria and Lily
marveled at Noah, how he reminded them both so much of his father.
From his build to his character, everything he had was a living
reminder of Solomon.

Evan began rubbing his temples. I touched
his back as he rose from his chair. He quietly excused himself and
stalked towards the bedroom.

When I entered, it was dark. A muffled gag
sounded from the closed restroom. It repeated several times before
the flush signaled his sick fit was over. I waited for him on the
bed. When he came out, his eyes were bloodshot, his complexion
pasty.

I touched his forehead. “No fever, but you
feel clammy.”

“I’m fine.”

I pulled back the blankets on the bed, but
he sank to the ground beside it. “You can’t get an apple from an
orange tree.”

“What?” I asked, unsure if I heard him
right.

“Have you heard the expression, ‘There’s
nothing new under the sun’?” He stared intently at the carpet
between his raised knees.

“Yes,” I crouched down on the floor beside
him.

“Are they really so much like their father?
I thought Noah had your personality.” His hand nervously pulled at
his eyebrow.

“Does that bother you?”

He scoffed and his sad gaze became
rough. “This has nothing to do with Sol, so don’t worry. It’s about
me.” He slouched against the bedside, setting his elbows on his
knees, and the flood gates opened. “I was wondering if I have any
of
his
traits.” He paused and
took an unsteady breath.

“It’s strange that I could be anything like
someone I’ve never met. To be a part of something I know nothing
about and loathe thinking of.” He shook his head. “I’ve wondered if
he was tall or lean—are my eyes hazel, like his—did he have
uncoordinated fingers? Was he prone to binge drinking and casual
sex or did he marry young, or both? Is there something I only
thought was mine to attribute to him?”

He looked to me.

“I don’t know what to say.” I had no
expectations when I came after him, but this was the last thing I
expected.

“If the similarities your sons carry, the
traits I recognize as being solely theirs, really belong to their
father, then how can I—who have never known my own roots—call
anything I have my own? Because a fruit only reproduces the same
seed.” His eyes begged for disagreement. “You can’t get an apple
from an orange tree. Can you?”

I shuffled closer, taking his hand away from
his pinched brow. “Orange trees produce oranges. But those seeds
make their own roots, Evan. They grow into a whole new tree,
separate from their origin.” He looked down and I touched his chin,
the way he always did to me. Silently asking him to look at me.

When we locked eyes again, I continued. “My
boys are very much like me and their father. They share traits but
they’re also unique. We share blood, yet we’re individuals, as are
you. Who you come from doesn’t determine who you will be, any more
than what kind of car you drive determines where you drive it.”

I waited, staring into his pained face,
waiting for his reaction.

“
But you’d never take a boat into the
desert.” He shook his head. “I don’t want children.”

I felt something in my chest constrict as I
turned away. My eyes immediately spied a small, purple shape on the
carpet in the corner. I wondered if Caleb had been chewing gum.

Evan touched my cheek. “Did I hurt your
feelings?”

“We never talked about it before,” I
shrugged.

“Thank you for listening.” He offered a weak
smile.

“Anytime.”

“You’d better get out there. They may think
we’re up to something.” I hesitated, but he insisted. “I’m good,
you go. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Back in the dining room, everyone was
clearing the table for the peach pie and ice cream. For the family
party, Noah opted to skip the conventional things like singing and
cake. My way around the injunction was a birthday pie, despite the
fact he considered himself
too
mature
.

Maria unceremoniously served the pie while
Noah started opening presents.

In all the emotion of the day, I’d nearly
forgotten how anxious I was about the truck. But the nerves came
back with a vengeance as I tried to take a few pictures. My hands
were shaking. When Caleb looked at me a moment too long, I sent him
to get the present I left in the bedroom.

Lily gave Noah a small, flat envelope, which
he promptly shredded. There wasn’t much that could fit inside a
birthday card, but Lily still surprised him. It was crammed with
gift certificates to his favorite stores, along with money. He was
pleased, and thanked her. Lily accepted, citing that he didn’t
express what he’d wanted for his birthday and she was not about to
guess. Marcus went next. Another wad of money, stuffed in a blank
card. Noah thanked him with a light slug in the shoulder and a
smile. Then, it was Maria’s turn. She gave him a gorgeous, handmade
quilt. Everyone made loud ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ as he unfolded it to
give us all a better look. It was large enough for a queen size
bed, all black on one side and golden brown on the other. The
blocks of fabric, inlayed in a lighter brown, created a detailed
framework. Inside each block was a picture of exotic African
animals. One showed a lion with a huge mane surrounded by several
lioness and their cubs. Another patch depicted a tiger, crouching
down in the tall grass on the golden plains, ready to pounce on an
unsuspecting Zebra as it drank on the bank of a narrow river. The
surrounding earth was cracked and dry. The details and stitching
must have taken her months.

When Caleb was about to burst from
excitement, I set the beautiful quilt aside and handed Noah our
gift. The card said it was from Caleb. It was the present I
intended to give Noah before I knew . . . my stomach lurched and I
took a deep breath to relax.

Evan was back and watching me. My anxiety
hadn’t escaped Lily’s watchful eyes, either. She questioned me with
a look. I waved my hand, dismissing my nerves and her curiosity.
There was nothing to be concerned about. It was just me, being a
big chicken.

She set her hand on my shoulder. “Do you
want me to take the pictures?” I nodded and handed over the
camera.

Evan’s lips touched my temple. “Keep it for
yourself, he’ll never know.”

Noah tore open the box and gasped when he
saw his dad’s old leather biker jacket. It was his favorite. I’d
had it cleaned and treated.

“Isn’t that Solomon’s?” Maria asked.

“Yeah, it was Dad’s.” Noah slipped his arms
inside, checking the fit of his new coat.

“You look very handsome, Noah.” Sheri
commented, handing him another envelope, undoubtedly full of
money.

Evan placed the large black key in my hand
as Noah gathered up the spoils, setting them on top of his quilt to
carry to his room.

I won’t let fear make choices for me.

“Noah.” I called.

He turned before entering the hallway.
“What’s up?”

“You missed one.” The small key felt like
lead. “Evan, would you?” I passed it back to him.

“Yeah, um, sure.” He cast a studious glance
before getting up.

I heard his excitement before I got to the
garage. As soon as my feet hit the concrete floor, my son was
hugging me.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Aw! I
never thought—not in a million years—you’d ever get me a car!
Thanks, Mom!”

“Promise to be careful.”

“Every second!” He vowed, pecking my cheek.
I hugged him back, fiercely.

Evan stepped in, laying down the terms of
the deal we’d negotiated and Noah agreed to any and all. Anything
to keep the truck.

I tried to smile, to enjoy the moment. He
deserved that much. I kept my feet planted in one spot as my son
stepped towards the driver’s seat. When he reached it, I could not
breathe. I wondered if I’d want to panic. Now I knew. I rested my
arm on Evan and concentrated on breathing.

His father would think I was being an
idiot.

Noah was cheering, checking out his new
truck. Caleb’s roar was more of a mock than anything. The reaction
from everyone else was quieter than I expected. Lily’s jaw was
hanging open, and Maria was also very quiet, aside from her initial
gasping.

Noah looked to me, begging permission to try
out his new present. I consented, with poorly veiled reluctance, to
a supervised trip around the neighborhood.

Only Marcus and Sheri made a show of
appreciation when Noah got in the driver’s seat. Sheri started to
clap, but stopped when she realized it was a solo effort. Marcus
jumped into the passenger side. He’d agreed to be the first, as
long as he got to check out the stereo. Noah, possibly guessing how
I felt, said he didn’t want music.

“It might distract me,” he explained with a
confident grin.

I relaxed a little, the hope that I’d made
the right decision being somewhat mollified.

Caleb asked to go, but the idea was shot
down. He barely made the request and three resounding voices
shrieked a negative.

Noah studiously went over a rehearsed
checklist, putting on his seatbelt, checking the mirrors, adjusting
his seat. He looked behind him, backing out of the garage and into
the street.

“How could you give him a car?” Lily started
in as soon as they were gone.

What I suffered to allow this was plain.
There was no reason for her to question my decision, except to
invite an argument. I was not in the mood.