Menopause to Matrimony (Fortytude Series Book 2) (12 page)

She puts the pizza in the refrigerator. Then with her nose wrinkled in curiosity, she returns to her chair across from me. “I don’t understand.”

Leaning an elbow on the table, I chew on my nail for a moment. “Did Kiran ever want children? I mean, he’s told me that he did, but we’ve never had an in depth conversation about it… Was it something that was really, really central for him?”

Geena laces her fingers on the table and leans forward. “Kiran and I have always been close, but as you probably know, he tends to keep things like that… protected.” She pauses to touch her lips, as if she too, has concerns about revealing parts of him that would make him feel exposed. “As you also know, he has a lot of lingering wounds from his past, being overweight… My impression?” She sits back in her chair. “He does have regrets and sadness about not having children, and it’s one more thing he beats himself up for. You know?”

My stomach twists. “You mean, he thinks if he’d never been so overweight, he would have found someone early in his life and had a family,” I confirm.

She smiles sadly and nods. “I probably shouldn’t be saying these things to you. Kiran would be hurt by it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to get you to spill all his insecurities and regrets. It’s just, this morning when I mentioned something about when Hayden was born, there was this look on his face. He seemed sad. And even though I already had my tubes tied years ago, and honestly, we’re too old to be parents, I think me having yet another procedure that… I don’t know…
solidifies
the end of having babies…”

There’s an ache in my chest at the thought, because I can’t imagine reaching this stage of my life without ever having children. Even though, at my age, the last thing I’d want to do is start over again, if I was able, part of me would consider it—for him. If it’s what he wanted.

“Is that what you meant when you said he doesn’t seem happy?” she asks gently.

“Partly, I guess.”

“Anna, I don’t know everything that’s going on.” She reaches a hand across the table for me to accept, which I do. “But all I can say is I couldn’t be more pleased that he has you. You’re such a sweet and funny lady, and I know he loves you dearly.” Her eyes begin to tear, and I yank my hand away.

“Okay, stop. Just stop. You’re going to make me cry, and I’ve been doing enough of that lately.” I jump from my seat and walk to the other side of the table to give her a big hug. “Thank you for listening, though. And thank you for being a mom to me.”

She smiles with a silent nod.

“Let’s watch a movie.” I take her by the hand. “But nothing that has the remotest possibility of making me cry. What do you think about
White Girls
?”

***

We’re about a quarter into the movie and I’m pleased to see that Geena is getting a few giggles from it when there’s a knock at the door.

My heart plummets to my stomach when I open it to see Carly standing there, mascara smeared, with Claire in her arms.

“Carly, what’s going on?” I guide her inside by the shoulder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, and coming over like this when you just had your surgery today.” She spots Geena on the couch. “Ughh! And you have company.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just come in!” I take Claire from her, who seems to be perfectly fine, and shower her head with kisses.

“Hi, Geena,” Carly says quietly as she sits on the sofa across from her. “I’m so sorry I interrupted your evening.”

“Nonsense!” Geena picks up the remote and turns off the TV. “We were just watching some silly movie.”

“Nana, I’m hungry.” Claire looks past my shoulder, twirling my hair with her finger. “Do you have any frozen pizza?”

“It just so happens we have some leftover pizza in the fridge.”

“I’ll warm her up some.” Geena rises from the couch and holds her hand out to Claire as I place her on the floor. “Come with Grandma Geena!”

Without apparent upset or concern over whatever is going on, Claire takes her hand and follows her to the kitchen, and I sit down beside Carly. “What’s happened? You’re scaring me.”

“There’s nothing to be scared about. I just need a break from him tonight.” She drops her head back on the sofa and stares at the ceiling. “I am so pissed at him right now! How long is he going to keep his head in the sand?”

I nervously lick my lips and wait for her to continue.

“She is not a regular kid, and pretending like she is isn’t going to change that!”

“Did you guys have a big fight over him spanking Claire?”

“No.” She exhales and rubs her forehead. “I mean, yes we had a fight, but it wasn’t because he spanked her.”

Geena emerges from the kitchen. “Should I stay in here with her so you two can talk uninterrupted?”

“No, she’ll be fine.” The dark circles under Carly’s eyes reveal her stress load. “I’ll just set her up to watch some TV in Mom’s room when she’s done eating. Is Kiran here?”

“No, he and Seth went out.”

She nods listlessly as Geena takes a seat on the couch across from us.

“I’m so tired of him reprimanding her for every single meltdown, like she’s trying to be a brat or something,” she continues. “All he seems to care about is what other people think. Michael said the same thing happened with his younger brother, only his mom was the one in denial.”

I lean my chin on my hand and give Geena a look. She returns a sidelong glance and shifts in her seat. “Who’s Michael?” she asks.

“Oh, he’s just this friend I have from school. His brother, who’s an adult now, has Asperger’s, so I’ve been talking to him about it a lot.”

“But, the doctor hasn’t said for sure that’s what it is, right?”

“No.” Carly lowers her voice so Claire won’t hear. “But there’s something wrong. Mom’s seen it, right?”

“Yes. And from everything that we’ve read, I think the doctor is probably on the right track, but… do you think it’s such a good idea to be bringing up Michael’s input so often?”

Carly crosses her arms and heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Great! You sound just like Jason.”

“I’m not saying your friend doesn’t have anything valuable to contribute, but… maybe you could just share that stuff with me from time to time. Not Jason.”

With exasperation, she shakes her head. “Why? He’s the one who needs to hear it.”

“And I am in total agreement with you that he’s in denial and probably handling Claire in ways he shouldn’t be, but… let me ask you this? Does this Michael guy even have kids?”

Carly’s eyebrows squish together. “Well, no. But I don’t see how that has anything to do with anything.”

“I think all your mom is trying to say is that it’s easy for someone to give parenting advice when they’ve never been one,” Geena offers gently.

I hold out my palm in Geena’s direction. “Exactly! And the fact that you bring up his advice to Jason, when Michael doesn’t even know what it’s like to be in your place, is probably a sore spot.”

Ughh
. I’m already regretting this conversation. She came here for support and understanding, and now it seems like I’m siding with Jason, and I’m totally not. I’m just trying to point out something she’s doing that’s probably making matters worse.

“Well, that’s just great,” Carly mutters and lowers her head. “So
I’m
the one who’s being a bitch.”

“Come on, Carly! That’s not what I said and you know it.”

“And for the record, he’s not giving advice, necessarily. He’s just lending a sympathetic ear.”

God, that’s even worse
.
I hope this guy truly is her friend and doesn’t have some ulterior motive. That’s the last thing she needs.

“Okay,” I concede and take her hand. “Okay. Do you and Claire want to stay here tonight?”

“Is that all right? Do you have the room?”

“Psh! You know we do. You’re always welcome.”

***

Later that evening, after Kiran’s return and Geena’s departure, Carly curls up against me as we sit at the end of the sofa watching
Frozen
, while Claire has fallen asleep in Kiran’s lap in the rocker recliner. Except for the fact that the girls are here because of an argument between Carly and Jason, this is sublime.

Amidst the warm glow of the floor lamp behind them, Kiran and Claire could be the subject of a Rockwell painting. With her rosy cheeks and slightly parted lips, her body is perfectly relaxed as her pudgy arm drops loosely off his lap. While rocking the chair, he repositions her arm onto her stomach and buries his face in her hair, closing his eyes.

My heart swells and breaks at once, and a lump forms in my throat. For a moment, I imagine that Claire belongs to the two of us.

Kiran opens his eyes and catches me watching them. Then he smiles and mouths the word, “Heaven.”

All right, Anna. Time to focus on something else.

I return his smile before turning back to the movie to watch Elsa sing “Let It Go” for the bazillionth time.

Shortly after nine o’clock, there’s another knock on the door. We all look at each other, puzzled that someone would be over this late, and I walk to the door to look through the peephole.

“It’s Jason,” I tell Carly.

“Lovely,” she says with annoyance as she comes my way.

I allow her to answer and return to my spot on the couch.

“Hey,” he says quietly when she opens the door.

“Hey.”

His hands are buried in his pockets, but he lifts one of them in a brief hello to Kiran and me. “I’m sorry to stop by so late.” When he notices Claire asleep in Kiran’s lap, with a pained stare, his arms drop to his sides.

“You’re totally fine.” I probably show a little too much enthusiasm in an effort to ease his discomfort. “We don’t even go to bed till later.”

Lowering his voice, he addresses Carly. “Can we talk?”

“Jason, I think we should both just take some time to cool off for one night.” Thankfully, she’s much calmer than when she arrived.

“I can’t sleep. I won’t be able to sleep with you and Claire someplace else. Look… I’m doing the best I can.”

Trying not to look at them, from the corner of my eye I see Carly stare at the floor. “I know. And so am I.”

“Hey…” I rise from my seat to approach them. “I don’t want to interfere, but why don’t you leave Claire with us for the night and I’ll keep her tomorrow? Give you guys a day to yourselves.”

“But you have work tomorrow,” Carly argues.

“So what? I make my own hours, and I can just bring her with me. All I pretty much do is paperwork anymore. I’m not seeing clients.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “Bring her with you? You won’t get anything done. Besides, Jason has work tomorrow, too.”

“I’ll take a sick day.” He meets her eyes. “I uh… could actually use a sick day.”

Carly looks back and forth between us—debating.

Motioning to the scene in the recliner, I say, “C’mon. You’re not going to take that away from the poor guy, are you?” Kiran responds with his most affected, pitiful expression, and Jason eyes Carly expectantly.

Finally, she exhales. “I guess it would be nice to have a day.”

***

Kiran carries Claire, who hasn’t stirred since she first fell asleep, as we climb the stairs for bed.

“Should we put her in my parents’ old room?” he whispers once we reach our bedroom.

“Actually, I thought she could just sleep with us. The bed’s plenty big.”

I get an extra pillow from the armoire and put it in the center of the bed, and Kiran lies her down. While he’s in the bathroom, I change her into her pajamas, and she still doesn’t wake. God, to be able to sleep so soundly!

At last, the three of us are in bed, and Kiran and I kiss each other goodnight over the sleeping angel between us. “Tonight was nice,” he says. “I mean, not for the kids, but…” He looks down at Claire. “This.”

“It
was
nice. If only she could be this agreeable while conscious.” We both chuckle.

“Maybe… we could do this more often?”

“Of course,” I say softly. “I’m sure the kids would welcome the break.”

We lie down, both of us facing Claire, and in the dark I see Kiran hold the small hand that rests on her stomach.

NINETEEN

The following day, I’m going through client treatment protocols at my desk while Claire sits in the cushy chair in the corner of my office. I so hope Carly and Jason take today to do something relaxing and maybe work out some of their disagreements as of late. Although, that doesn’t really fall under the category of relaxing.

The kids have limited Claire’s reliance upon the iPad over the past several weeks, so her new obsession has morphed into an mp3 player. No iPod for this little lady as she’d still have access to all those ever addicting apps. Music only.

Oddly, she is totally into Miley Cyrus at the moment. She’s way too young to be interested in
Hannah Montana
reruns, but I suppose she must have heard her on the radio at some point. She sits with a book and listens to Miley with earbuds, and I can faintly hear the same song playing over and over again. I turn my attention back to my work when Claire starts singing in her sweet little voice. “I adore… you-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooh.”

Smiling to myself, I take a sip of my coffee. That smile turns into a chuckle as she tries to sing along with the rest that she clearly doesn’t know. Though her words are mostly gobbledygook, she’s got the melody down pretty good from what I can tell. I’ve heard the song before, but never paid much attention to it. Since Claire is so captured by it, I get up from my seat to join her.

Lifting her into my lap, I ask to have one of the earbuds so I can listen with her. We sit in silence as I absently play with her curls, and in no time I am taken with the sound and words of this song.

It’s gorgeous.

Leaning back into our chair, I pull Claire back against my chest, and the sentimental, emotional me enters the building. It sounds completely corny and melodramatic, but without consent, my feelings for Kiran suddenly overwhelm me, all because of this damn song.

Mixed with the gratitude of having met him is the silent but present fear of loving someone so much. So much, that the thought of losing him is almost suffocating, and the image of Kiran lying on the ground in that restaurant forces its way into my head, as it often does.

A sniffle escapes my nose and I stare at the ceiling. Claire shifts in my lap so she can see my face, and I give her an embarrassed smile. She frowns at me, and without a word, wraps an arm around my neck and softly pats my shoulder.

I nearly lose my composure and take a deep breath. It’s the first time I’ve seen her exhibit any kind of empathy for another. Though I doubt she has a clue as to why I’m emotional, she senses Nana’s having a moment.

Pulling her into my arms, I squeeze her tight as we finish listening to the selection. “I think you just helped Nana choose the song for her first dance with Papa Kiran at our wedding.”

***

At lunchtime, Claire and I meet Hayden and Geena at a well-known area bakery to sample wedding cakes. Hayden normally has no interest in such mundane affairs, but he insisted on being present for this activity.

Ever since he was little, he’s had a gripping addiction to baked goods. Around the age of ten, he started making all sorts of baked items, from snickerdoodle cookies to German chocolate cake. From scratch. Luke and I thought for sure he would become a pastry chef or something of the sort, so naturally, he views himself as a connoisseur in that department. His cooking skills are not the best in other areas, but if it involves anything with sugar and flour, he’s all over it. Although I’m certainly not a baker, he comes by his love of sweets honestly as I have a bit of a sugar addiction myself.

The four of us sit at a corner table by the front window of the bakery. In front of us sits a sampling of creative flavors, including Lemon-Thyme, Toffee Temptation, and Grasshopper Heaven.

“Shouldn’t we be sticking to more traditional samples?” I ask. “I don’t want to choose something that people will dislike or find odd.”

“Don’t be so boring, Mom,” Hayden says. “Where’s your sense of adventure? No one wants to eat tired old white cake all the time. Or even chocolate.”

Claire takes a bite of the Zesty Mexican Hot Chocolate cake and immediately spits it onto the floor. “Ewww!” she complains. “That’s gross. I need milk, Nana. Milk!”

“Claire!” I reprimand in a hushed voice. “That’s what your napkin is for.” I hand her one before quickly swiping her chewed up cake from the floor while Hayden and Geena chuckle.

“Please, Nana. Milk!” she orders.

“I’ll get her some.” Hayden goes to the counter.

“And this is why we shouldn’t be considering cake that has chili powder in it,” I say. This experience reminds me of when I took the kids to the Coca-Cola store several years ago to sample flavors from around the world. While most of the flavors were tasty, a couple resembled mouth wash or parsley.

Hayden returns and sets a small carton of milk on the table in front of Claire, which she eagerly opens and begins chugging.

“Claire, what do you say?” I ask.

She takes a few more gulps before setting it back down. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Claire Bear.”

Just then, Gretchen enters the bakery with a gentleman about our age. They are laughing and talking, and she doesn’t notice me at our corner table.

“Geena,” I say quietly. “That’s Gretchen. The one Seth invited over the other night.”

She darts her eyes in her direction. “Oh! The one who said she really likes him?”

Hayden’s back is facing the counter, so he turns to look as well.

“No, no. Don’t!”

“Why? You know her, right? She’s going to see us. What’s the big deal?”

“Because I don’t know if that’s a date and I don’t want to make her feel weird.”

Clearly confused, he looks to Geena for assistance.

“Look, it’s complicated,” I explain. “I’m meeting her for lunch next week, and I’d planned to talk Seth up because he seems to genuinely like her.”

He rolls his eyes. “What is it with chicks?”

After placing their order at the counter, Gretchen turns in our direction and spots me. “Anna?” It may just be my imagination, but I detect some discomfort on her part.

Feigning my surprise, I say, “Gretchen, good to see you!”

She and her companion take the few steps toward our table, and I introduce Geena, Hayden, and Claire.

“So this is your lovely granddaughter!” Gretchen says, smiling, then turns to the man next to her. “This is my… friend, Dominic.”

He nods hello.

I try not to make judgments about people based on their appearance, but this poor guy looks like he may have been in suspended animation for the past forty years. He reminds me of our next door neighbor when I was growing up, with his printed polyester shirt, pants that fit too snugly, and gold chain hanging from his neck.

When Hayden turns back in my direction, away from Gretchen and Dominic, his eyes bulge in amazement.

The young woman behind the counter calls their order. “Well, it was good running into you. I look forward to lunch next week,” Gretchen says.

“Same here.”

Dominic has already returned to the counter to fetch their order, but Gretchen lingers a moment longer. “Please tell Seth I said hello.”

“Of course!”

As she walks away, Geena and I smile, exchanging knowing looks.

“What?” Hayden asks.

“She made a point to tell Anna to say hello to Seth,” Geena says. “That means she wants her to know that whoever this man she’s with is no one special.”

He leans forward with his arms on the table and brings his foam cup of coffee to his mouth. Before taking a drink, he squints at us and says, “Women are devious.”