For Life (Reclaimed Hearts Book 1) (5 page)
Cassie
On Sunday morning Grady announces that he’s taking the kids to Renée’s and they’re going to bring the little ones to the Fall Festival. Chloe and Caden are thrilled for a day out with their little cousins, but there’s no way I’m letting Grady take all those kids by himself. We’re talking five kids, three of whom are small children, and perhaps he forgets, but he wasn’t exactly around a lot when Chloe and Caden were that age. He doesn’t realize the sheer amount of gear required for an outing with kids who aren’t old enough to carry their own stuff, or how they get tired/thirsty/hot/cold/injured and need to be taken care of.
My kids look as shocked as Grady does when I offer to go with them.
“Cass, you sure?” Grady asks. “I can handle this, you know.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be there to help Daddy,” Chloe adds.
“I’d like to help,” I insist. “And I haven’t seen the baby yet.” All of which is true, but I don’t dare say that I think Grady would be completely overwhelmed by so many little ones.
“It’ll be easier with all of us there,” Grady concedes. “And I’m sure Renée will feel better having you with us.”
The kids roll their eyes at me as I toss my first aid kit and wallet into my backpack with several water bottles and a pack of baby wipes.
“Uh… I’m thinking Renée probably has baby wipes, but we won’t have the baby, Cass,” Grady says politely as he looks at me like I’ve lost it.
“Hands and faces,” I explain, and he shrugs but doesn’t question me again.
When we get to Grady’s truck, I make Caden sit in the front so he won’t have to fold his legs into the backseat and I’m relieved that I won’t have to sit in the passenger side myself. Something about that is just too strange. It’s weird enough to me to be in this house with Grady, and I’m trying my best, but I keep flip-flopping between irrational annoyance with him and flashes of nostalgia. I don’t want to feel anything for Grady, which is why I have avoided him for a decade. I don’t want to be reminded of the past, and I don’t want to have to worry about navigating a minefield of tricky emotions.
Suddenly I wonder if I should just get a hotel and leave Grady with the kids. But that feels like a cop-out, so I suck it up and try not to notice that the interior of the truck smells exactly like our Subaru used to. We drive to Renée’s, planning to walk to the festival, since it’s only a few blocks away from her house. My sister-in-law greets us at the door in sweatpants, freshly showered and smiling to appear normal for the sake of the kids, but I can tell she’s frazzled. She says her children have been home from her mother’s for an hour and her mom just left, and that worries me. Already she looks like whatever energy she’s given them in the past few minutes is all she has in her. The respite from them will do her some good.
Renée’s children are so tiny and full of energy, and they fling themselves at Chloe and Caden when we walk in the door. Noah, who’s four, insists on wearing his Spiderman wellies, and Renée apologizes and discreetly slips me his sneakers. Grady protests, but we both shoot him the mom glare and he shrugs. In half a block, when Noah’s little legs are exhausted from stomping around in his boots, I’m going to remind him why mothers always know best.
When I wrap my arms around Renée she feels smaller, and boneless, as if Carl’s death has sucked the fight out of her. She attempts a wobbly smile and I murmur that I’ll come over later by myself to help out if she wants me to. She nods quickly, genuine relief in her eyes, and again I’m struck by the fact that she’s even coping. It’s nowhere near the same, but when Grady left I felt unmoored for so long. There were days I could barely pull myself out of bed. I’ve secretly scoffed at her faith in the past, but if that’s what’s getting her through this then I take back everything I ever thought.
“Will you be okay with Sophie?” I ask. “It’s a warm enough day… I could always take her with me for a little while and bring her back for her feeding.”
Renée shakes her head. “It’s okay,” she says. “Honestly, I can’t stand to have her away from me, not for a second. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but…” She bites her lip and glances over at her tiny daughter in Chloe’s arms. “I’m afraid if I take my eyes off her, she’ll disappear. Just like Carl.” Her blue eyes well with tears and she looks away.
“Honey, it’s fine,” I assure her. “You stay here with Soph, and we’ll go burn some energy off these other three little monkeys of yours, okay?”
She smiles gratefully and I gather the troops.
When our caravan finally leaves Renée’s house, we’re pulling a wagon and pushing an umbrella stroller and we have three backpacks between us. Despite Grady gently teasing me about overkill, I’m not spending thirty dollars on bottled water or bringing small kids into a porta-potty without baby wipes and hand sanitizer. And when Noah and Jacob are too worn out to walk home, the wagon and stroller will come in handy.
The little ones crunch happily through the fallen leaves, shrieking with delight when Cassie and Caden swing them over the curbs. Grady and I bring up the rear in companionable silence. Around us the colors blaze in the sunshine, and there’s just enough crispness in the air to feel like fall though it’s plenty warm enough for just light jackets or sweaters.
The downtown is full, people and dogs milling about and vendors lining the blocked-off square, hawking crafts and costumes and delicious fair food. I take photos on my phone of all five kids having their faces painted (Noah, of course, opts for Spiderman) and shrieking down the bouncy slide. At lunchtime we spread a couple blankets down on the bandstand lawn and devour a picnic of greasy fair food with all the other families.
Addie’s been glued to Chloe all morning and begs her older cousin to French braid her hair. My girl does me proud by buying some ribbons at a craft stall and weaving them into Addie’s long blond locks, singing to her while she does it, just like I used to do with her. As I watch her fingers twist nimbly through Addie’s hair, I’m overcome with nostalgia for the days when Chloe loved me and wanted me around all the time. Now she barely speaks to me, and any attempts I make to engage her are met with silence or hostility. I miss my happy little girl, and I only see glimpses of her when she’s with other people.
Grady kneels beside me.
“You used to do that with her.”
I nod, tears pricking my eyes. “She was just that little not so long ago, Grady. What the hell happened?”
“I know,” he sighs. “Caden’s feet are bigger than mine. In my mind he’s still Noah’s age.” We both look over at our nephew, who’s charging across the lawn, a tiny Disney princess hot on his heels. Noah squeals and throws his head back in delighted laughter when she catches him and wrestles him to the ground.
“At least Chloe still talks to you.” I’ve never confessed my issues with Chloe to Grady, but he must know, because he looks at me sympathetically.
“She’s going through a tough stage,” he admits. “She isn’t all sweetness and light with me all the time, either. But it’s good to see her that way with these guys.”
“Yeah, it really is,” I agree.
Beautiful autumn days always make me unspeakably melancholy. Some of the best times of my childhood and early adult years happened in the fall, and I’m reminded of the passing of too many seasons, not all of them happy. I long for less complicated times, when every bit of joy wasn’t tinged with some sort of loss. So when Grady speaks again, I’m already cracking.
“Thank you, Cass.”
I shrug it off. “Renée needed a break, and you couldn’t have taken all the kids alone.”
“I meant—”
I interrupt him again. “Your family is my family. I wasn’t going to stay in Cleveland while you were out here alone dealing with this.”
He nods, and he’s quiet for a minute before he speaks again. “I appreciate that. But I meant thank you for Chloe and Caden. We have the best kids in the world, and I know I helped, but it was mostly you.”
I’m stunned by such a heartfelt admission from him.
“All those years when they were little...” His voice catches and he looks away. I’m grateful he does, because when he speaks next the gruffness in his voice makes something inside my chest squeeze. “Thank you for being such an amazing mother to our babies, Cass,” he say softly.
I lose it. Without a word, without looking back at him, I leap from the blanket and fly across the lawn, pretending I’ve got to get Noah, so Grady can’t see the tears welling in my eyes and threatening to spill down my face.
Grady
We had a good day today. Thank God Cassie came with us - I forgot how much work little kids are. Even though Chloe and Caden were a big help, I’ve never taken three little kids anywhere in my life, and it was an eye-opener. The energy and the noise -
wow
. But Renée’s obvious relief was worth it, and knowing my brother would give anything to have been there in my place, to have one more day with his kids, gave me some perspective.
Cassie was a champ. She had all those children in line, every minute, all day long. I was so proud of the way she handled everything with absolute grace. Completely unflappable. So much calmer than she was when our kids were smaller.
Because she’s happy now.
I swallow back my guilt and catalog, for the millionth time, all the things I could’ve done differently to keep her. Stopped drinking. Played fewer shows. Taken the kids places without her. Changed more diapers. Made the coffee more mornings. Told her I loved her every single day. Allowed her to sleep in now and then. Pestered her for sex less. (Okay. Maybe not
less
. Maybe just pestered her for sex at better times.)
I didn’t realize how hard it would be to spend time with her. I can push down the emotional stuff, but I’m only human and she’s gorgeous. I feel like a complete perv for lusting after her after the nice day we just had. She’s not mine to lust after, but it isn’t any easier to be around her now and not have her than it was when we were kids and she was the sexy, unattainable senior with a boyfriend and I was just some friend of a friend who had to work hard to find an in.
Somehow I hoped that it would be different once I actually spent time with her, that she would have lost that Cassie spark I fell in love with, that her tempestuousness would’ve hardened into shrewishness over the years. Then maybe I could forget her. But she seems more relaxed now. And I wouldn’t know it from the limited contact we’ve had in the past few years, but she’s just as fun-loving as ever. She must’ve laughed a hundred times today, and watching her with the little ones made me remember what a good mom she always was, even when we were young and stupid and parenting was all about making it up as we went along.
And Christ, she’s beautiful. Whoever said only men get better as they age hasn’t seen my Cass. She’s all woman, but she’s still got a hint of her girlish spirit - not to mention a soft body I want to squeeze and deep beautiful eyes. More than a few guys checked her out today, horny middle-aged men like myself who want to bask in that charm and beauty.
My kids said Adam was a good guy, but I wanted to kill that fucker. He was a tall, blond, smooth douchebag and I hated him. He got to be with her. Be seen with her. Make her laugh. Wake up with her.
Touch her.
Taste
her.
I was glad my kids seemed to like him okay and he wasn’t trying to be any kind of second dad. He respected my role in their lives and for that I give the guy some props. But he was more than ready to be Cassie’s husband, that was obvious from the first time I saw them together. Everything about the way he was with her screamed
she’s all mine
. And for that, I hated him. I hated him for thinking it, I hated him for having his shot, and I hated him for knowing that he, unlike me, wouldn’t screw it up.
When I heard he was gone I almost went to her house and got down on my knees to beg her for another chance. The urge was so strong I got in my truck and drove out of town so I wouldn’t do anything stupid. There was no way the woman who barely spoke to me for years was going to magically fall at my feet and be swept away by my confession of love. She was more likely to call the police. The timing wasn’t right.
And it’s still not right. It may never be right, but I had today. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get another day.
Cassie
Over the next couple days, we all spend enough time together that it gets less and less awkward to talk to Grady, although I make every attempt not to be alone with him because I don’t want him to say anything that will make me cry again. That emotional sucker-punch from the Fall Festival left me feeling vulnerable to him for the first time in many years. Every time it runs through my mind I have to focus on something else to take my mind off the emotion in his voice, the shocking intimacy of that "thank you" after so many years of being strangers.
But he doesn’t say or do anything else to upset me. We take turns spending time with the kids and Donna. I visit Renée, sometimes to talk, sometimes to babysit so she can have a nap or a shower or run to the store, sometimes just to be there with her while she cries for Carl. Her mom and sister are around a lot to help, which would be great, except they’re hard women to deal with and offer zero emotional comfort. They take advantage of her grief, swooping in to control things, criticizing her housekeeping and parenting. I see shades of my own narcissistic mother in both women, and I have to bite my tongue often. I know that if she were herself again, Renée would never stand for their abuse, and it’s hard to see her so broken. She’s always been a force of nature, so to see that life drained from her makes me feel a bit bruised inside.
On Wednesday I visit her and we talk a lot about the funeral. Renée’s asked Grady to deliver the eulogy, and he’s been thinking about it all week. I’ve watched him stare off into space and rub his jaw when he’s trying to find the words in his head, and he gets this look on his face that I’ve never seen before, a look that breaks my heart. Although he’s been affected in an entirely different way and he hides it better, his grief is as raw beneath the surface as Renée’s and Donna’s is.
Renée talks a lot about when she and Carl first dated. How she was a wild girl who’d never even been in love, and how Carl told her on their first date he wanted to settle down and nearly scared her away forever. How he proposed to her, how he cried when each of their children was born, how they agreed about everything but fought like cats and dogs about music and could never listen to the radio together in the car.
I know a lot of the stories, but it seems to help her to tell them again, as if in the re-telling she’s holding him close to her. I learn new things, too. Secret things she wants to get off her chest, like how she was on a date with one of his friends when she realized it was Carl she actually wanted and faked sick so she could go home and call him. The terror she experienced when she was first pregnant with Addie, sure that all her youthful indiscretions would somehow make her baby have problems. She confides in me how tough it was when she was first pregnant with Sophie, harder than any of her other pregnancies because she was more hormonal and sick, and how Carl accommodated all her craziness.
“He was so good to me, Cass," she marvels on afternoon as we're talking. "I’ve never known such a good man. We’ve got the best two men in all the world.”
And then she tenses as she realizes what she’s said. “Sorry — I wasn’t thinking.”
“No, it’s okay,” I reassure her. “Grady
is
a good man. I’d debate whether he was ever as good a husband as Carl, but he was young. We both were.”
“I wish you two had worked it out somehow,” she says with a sigh. “You were so in love. You made such a beautiful couple.”
I brush off her comments with a wave. “We were in love. Not sure we were a beautiful couple, but for a while there… Yeah, it was good. Really, really good.”
The understatement of the century.
“Do you ever wonder what might’ve happened if you guys had just…” she pauses.
“If we’d stuck it out? I can’t imagine. That would’ve been a train wreck. I hid a lot from you guys toward the end. I was so unhappy... I was dying in that marriage. It was too much.”
She nods thoughtfully.
“But he’s a good man, like I said. And I’m sure next time around he’ll be a much better husband to some lucky lady.”
“Nope," she says, shaking her head. "There’s not going to be a next time for Grady. He’s a one-woman man.”
“There was Yveta.”
She shakes her head again. “We all knew that was just him trying to get over you. She was such a nice girl, too, and I felt bad for her, but as soon as she got out here, she realized why he’d been holding back with her. She was smart enough to figure it out, although I think for a minute there she thought she might be able to change things. But Grad's heart was never going to be fully hers."
“What do you mean? They were together for a long time.”
Renée studies me for a moment. “You know that wall at Donna’s? The wedding wall?”
I know the wall she means. Our wedding pictures are there — mine and Grady’s, Renée and Carl’s, Grady’s parents, and the wedding portraits of both sets of his grandparents. Happy couples in chronological order of their wedding dates. It’s never bothered me that Donna kept our picture there, because I’ve always felt it was good for the kids to see photos of Grady and me. I have an album at home, which Chloe can’t get enough of, that’s full of pictures of Grady and me all the way from high school until the last week of our marriage.
“But surely she wasn’t upset about that… She knows he’s been married before.”
Renée’s lips curl up at the corners and I’m shocked at her hint of a smile. “So you haven’t seen him do it, then.”
“Do what?”
She shakes her head again. “I forget you haven’t really been around him since you guys split up.”
“Not really, no.”
“He looks at that wall every time he passes it,” she says, looking at me as if that’s supposed to be a meaningful piece of information.
“If anything, he’s probably looking at his parents,” I scoff. “Why would he be looking at our picture?”
“Oh, Cassie,” she sighs. “Do you really not know, or is this one of those things where you know but you’re pretending not to because you don’t want to face it?”
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” I answer truthfully. “And you’re starting to freak me out. What in the hell do you mean?”
When she takes my hand her eyes are shimmering with something that looks a little bit like hope. “Hon, we all know it. I can’t believe you’re really that clueless. Grady’s still in love with you.”
