Save Me (10 page)

I
t’s an odd routine Noble and I have established. I drive to Delaware every morning and swim. I’m home in time to have breakfast with Noble and then he works on paperwork, our taxes, or has meetings in preparation for the upcoming planting season. Running a farm is a business and his degree from the Rutgers Business School is an advantage. I think many people thought it was a waste of money at the time, but Noble is intelligent and he’s got the degree to prove it. Whether he’s negotiating contracts or securing a credit line, he’s as knowledgeable as the other side.

I’ve been swimming every day. At first a half mile was almost impossible, but now I’m able to bang out 5,000 yards and still make it home in time for breakfast. My old swimming buddy has been e-mailing me workouts and Noble bought me a waterproof iPod that makes the time fly by. It’s been the only way I can keep my sanity in the absence of work to focus on and having to watch Butch deteriorate a little every day.

There are lots of doctor’s appointments and phone calls, everyone trying to keep Butch as comfortable as possible for the rest of his life. When I asked Noble what he thought about me taking a leave of absence from work to help care for Butch, he hesitated. He said he didn’t want that for me, caring for someone to their death—that I’d been through too much already with the loss of my parents. I didn’t tell him I already promised Jason or that I owe it to Butch. I just hugged him and he said he would help me in any way he could. That’s Noble.

Today is different, though. It’s the beginning of March and Noble is out plowing the fields already. The weather is warmer today, at least sixty. This winter was cold, but we haven’t had snow since December. It’s actually felt a little boring. Noble had a truckload of mulch delivered for me and now it sits in a four-foot-high pile near the flower beds. I put on my old sneakers, my dirty shoes, with my old jeans and old shirt to match. Noble might make a farmer out of me yet. He was also kind enough to bring the wheelbarrow and shovel from the barn. When I get close to the wheelbarrow, I see a pair of work gloves in it with a note.

I shake my head. He’s really going to spend the rest of his life taking care of me. I rip the tags off the gloves and put the trash in my back pocket. They fit perfectly.

“Figures,” I say as I fill my wheelbarrow with the first load of mulch and head toward the flower beds behind the house.

The March sun is still cool, and once in the shade it’s almost chilly, until I’m on my tenth load; then I’m plenty hot. I crouch down on my hands and knees and push the mulch into the back corners, creating a rich bed of mulch to welcome spring.

“Helwo,” I hear, and my head jerks up to see a toddler, no bigger than Lily, looking me right in the eye. His are a light gray, and I instantly know who this little boy is. He’s beautiful, like his father, as if he spit him right out of his mouth.
No question of paternity.

“Hi there,” I say, with the voice I reserve for Lily. He takes two steps and plops in the mulch next to where I’m working.

“Pop Pop scary,” he says, and shakes his head.

“You know what?” I ask, and lie in the mulch next to him. “He scares me a little, too.” I nod my head exaggeratedly. His eyes bulge with disbelief. “Yes, he does,” I say, and add, “but I think he’s really a nice guy.” I sit up and watch him as he runs his fingers through the mulch. When I stand, his eyes follow me to the wheelbarrow.

“Do you want to help me?” I ask, and offer him one arm of the wheelbarrow. He gets his footing under him and walks to me. He grabs one handle of the wheelbarrow and I grab the other and we sort of get the empty barrow back to the mulch pile.

“Do you know how to count?” I ask, and he proudly nods.

“One, two, five, one.”

“Exactly, that’s very good. Why don’t you help me count how many shovels of mulch I get?” His eyes take in the huge mountain of mulch and I begin. “One,” I say, and he repeats it as I empty the shovel into the barrow. We continue for fourteen shovels. When we take the mulch back, I have to help him with his side, but we finally make it, counting our steps the whole way.

“One, two, three, four, five…seventeen, eighteen,” he repeats as I say them.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Jay,” he says, and I’m happy he wasn’t born with three heads as I had cursed him years ago.

“What name?” He breaks into my thoughts with a gentle pull of my hair.

“You can call me Annie.” Jay smiles at me and I think everything in the world is going to be just fine. How could it not be for this little boy?

“Jay! Jason Jr!” I hear Jason yell from the other side of the house.

“You better get going.” I point Jay in the direction of his father. He “runs” around the side of the house and after a few minutes I hear the sound of Jason’s old truck driving away.

I lie back and look at the sky dotted with small clouds throughout its deep blue background. Life is amazingly crazy. How could so much change in two years? Jay is here, Lily’s here, Butch will be gone soon, and through it all, life will go on. The clouds blow out and are replaced by an almost identical group, and I hear Noble whistling as he walks around the corner of the house.

“Wow, you got a lot done.”

“I had some help,” I say, and sit up as Noble sits down next to me.

“Oh yeah? Did Sean stop by?”

“Jason’s son was just here,” I say, and the joy drains from Noble’s face. “He said his name is Jay,” I add. “He also said Butch is scary, so we know he has a good instinct for people.” Noble’s jaw is clenching and his neck is red. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You and Jason are now going to spend your days hanging out with his son?” he asks, and the sound of bitterness turns my lip.

“Jason wasn’t here. Jay wandered up by himself. I never saw Jason.” I stand, brush the dirt off the back of me, and hold out my hand for Noble. He takes it and I help him up. “He’s just a little boy. Almost the same age as Lily. Can you imagine someone hating her?”

“I don’t hate
him
, Charlotte.” Noble walks away.

I woke up this morning knowing I had dreamed of Jason and Jay, but I couldn’t remember the details. Instead of being curious, I was happy with the unknown. I remember dreaming of the little blue bird again, too.
That freaking bird.
How many years has it been? That dream used to haunt me and I’m sure it’s because I was working outside yesterday that the bird nightmare returned. I left the wounded bird to be killed by a cat in Butch’s yard when I first moved home, before I was able to care for myself, let alone anything else.

Noble sleeps beside me, lying with his arm stretched out across me. Any other girl in the world wouldn’t be able to dream of another man with Noble sleeping next to her. I am a very special ass.

I drive to Delaware and swim harder than I have since high school. Every stroke punishes me and washes away the dreams of Jason. The woman in the lane next to me stops swimming and watches me. She asks what’s gotten into me today. But it’s what got into me years ago—Jason Leer. There’s got to be a way to get him out.

Noble’s gone by the time I get home, but my swim has cured the guilt from this morning. I text him.

I put my phone down and change to finish the flower beds. I collect the wheelbarrow and shovels from the shed and head back toward the mulch pile, which is considerably smaller than when I started this project. By the time I’m on my third trip for mulch, the sun is shining brightly above me. Jay runs out of Butch’s house and barrels toward me. The sight of him warms me until I notice Jason following him. I swallow hard and focus on Jay.

“Annie,” Jay says, and I search my mind for memories of Jason from our childhood. Was he ever this sweet? This child before me has known no darkness; he’s pure light. Was Jason this way before the death of his mother?

I hand Jay a small shovel I found in a bin of outdoor items we keep for Lily’s visits.

“Can you help me today?” I ask, and he nods, practically jumping up and down. Jay takes the shovel and examines it from every angle, happy to have his own tool. Jason’s now standing over us, watching our familiarity with disbelief covering his beautiful face.

“I was shocked when he counted to eleven,” he says, and I beam proudly at Jay. “But I almost fell over when he told me Annie taught him.” The smile on Jason’s face could start a war. I look at him without an ounce of guilt on my face. “You still got a little fight left in ya.”

“You’ve got the wrong girl. I’m tired of fighting,” I say, and take a shovelful of mulch from the wheelbarrow. “I’m happy now, remember? Stop working so hard to ruin it.” I throw the mulch in the bed and turn back for another shovelful.

“I’m moving back,” he says, and I stop shoveling. I stop moving, and thinking, and breathing.

“Back where?” I ask, unable to comprehend.

“Back here. I’m taking the season off to be with Pops. I want Jason Jr. to know him and I want Pops to spend his final days with his son and grandson.” I follow Jason’s gaze across the field. Noble’s tractor turns and heads away from us.

“Where are you going to stay?” I ask, the ability to formulate concern returning.

“We’ll stay at the Hardings’,” Jason says, and I close my eyes, angry, sad, and relieved at the same time. “But I plan on being here a lot. Is that going to be a problem?” he asks with an evil grin.

“For who?”

“For your husband.” He takes a step closer to me and my barrow of mulch.

“Does my husband have a reason to care where you live?”

“If he’s smart he does.”

I roll my eyes. “Noble will be happy Butch’s family will be with him.” I move a step toward the flower bed.

“And you? Are you gonna be happy?”

“More like annoyed, I’m sure,” I say, and offer my hand to Jay. We leave Jason standing by the flower bed as we awkwardly push the wheelbarrow to the other side of the house, counting our steps the whole way.

J
ason’s return is much less disruptive than I thought it would be. I keep up my routine of swimming and having breakfast with Noble every morning and spending time with Butch throughout the day. I stop by after breakfast and wait with him until Marie comes. He often comments he doesn’t need to be babysat, but the one day I skipped he asked me where I was when I finally arrived in the afternoon.

I usually leave Marie and Butch alone around lunch and try to catch up with Noble, but now that the weather’s broke, he’s not home for lunch often. I come back and have a cup of tea with Butch and help Marie make dinner. She doesn’t need the help, but it gives us a chance to exchange information on how he’s doing and brainstorm what more we can do. In between I pick up groceries and medicines, and cook and clean. Mostly I try to figure out how to make every single day Butch has left worthy of him.

Jason comes and goes randomly at first. He seems to be trying to figure out how he best fits in. He brings Jay most days and I try to facilitate a relationship between him and Butch, reminding Butch that sometimes his voice sounds a bit gruff and he may not be coming off as sweet as he sounds in his head.

“Annie!” Jay yells as he comes running into Butch’s kitchen.

“Stop the goddamned yelling,” Butch says, and I silence him with an angry sneer.

“Keep it up, Jay,” I say, and kneel down to Jay, who’s holding a mason jar up to the sunlight shining through the kitchen window. “Is that what I think it is?” I ask, showering Jay with amazement. “A cricket?”

Jay proudly nods, peering into the jar with me. He is utterly scrumptious.

“Go show Pops,” I say, and Jay hesitates.

“Butch, you have to see what Jason Jr. found,” I say exaggeratedly, and nudge Jay toward the old dragon. “I think he’s an excellent bug hunter.” Jason is satisfied in the corner of the kitchen. He likes Butch to be annoyed, especially because it’s me and his son doing the annoying. Jay takes the jar to Butch, who holds it up to the light and nods his head approvingly at Jay.

“You should let it go,” Butch says, and hands the jar back to a wary Jay.

“Yes. If you love something, set it free,” Jason says from the corner, and I roll my eyes at him. Jay looks like he might cry.

“How about this?” I kneel down to Jay and his cricket again. “How about if you keep him in the jar today and when the moon comes out tonight, you set him free to play with the other bugs?” Jay doesn’t give away whether he likes the idea. “You would want to play with your friends, wouldn’t you?” I ask, and realize Jay should be spending more time with children.

“He name Chomp,” he says.

“Chomp? I love that name. I’m going to change the sheets on the bed. Do you and Chomp want to help me?” Jay nods and follows me to Butch’s bedroom, carrying Chomp in his jar with two hands.

I change the sheets on my own bed when I get home and think of Jay and how much life he injects into Butch’s house. I shower and wrap a towel around my hair. The moonlight catches my eye and I look out the bathroom window. Jason and Jay are staring up at the sky, at the rising moon, and I let my eyes linger on it as well. It’s a half-moon, always twice as interesting as a full. So much is left to the imagination.

Jay screams and jumps around. He let Chomp go and is now chasing him. Jason’s laughing as his son runs in circles and I can’t take my eyes off them. Two Leer boys playing in the moonlight that called them home to say good-bye to their father. They are beautiful. Jason looks up at the moon again and I turn from the window and brush my hair.

“Do you want ice cream for dessert?” Noble asks as he walks in.

“No. I’m not hungry,” I say, and he watches me the same way I watch Jason. “Thank you, though.” Noble walks over and throws me over his shoulder and onto the bed, me laughing the entire time.

“You have no idea how beautiful the sound of your laughter is. I could listen to it all day.”

“You usually do when I’m with you,” I say, and roll on top of Noble. My wet hair sends a chill down my back and Noble covers us with a blanket to keep me warm, wrapped in his arms. “I think I’m spending my days with the wrong man,” I say, meaning Butch, but it’s true for Jason, too. Rather than try to clear up the statement, I kiss Noble and he makes me forget what we were even talking about.

After tossing and turning, I finally abandon my bed and leave for the pool early. I couldn’t sleep, the image of Jason in the moonlight haunting me. All the horrible thoughts I had of his baby have been erased by a friendship with a two-year-old who is impossible not to love. Somehow this pisses me off, too. It’s one more thing Jason has control over.

As I pull onto Woodstown Road, I pass Jason. He waves, but I am frozen by the sight of him. As usual, his reaction time is light speeds ahead of my own. I grab my phone from my bag and text him.

I smile knowing how much texts annoy him. And then I stop smiling when my phone rings. I answer but don’t say hello.

“Where are you going?” he asks, not bothering to say hello either.

“Is Butch okay?” I ask again. Apparently we are either naked or fighting…sometimes even those two intermingle.

“He’s fine. I couldn’t sleep,” Jason uncharacteristically gives in.

“Good,” I say to both. “I’ll see you later.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He doesn’t sound the least bit offended.

“I know,” I say, and hang up. I merge onto the Delaware Memorial Bridge and cross the river to the pool.

The first five hundred yards are the worst. They’re always the worst. I add in long sets of thousands and let my mind wander as I listen to the music on my iPod. By the time I finish my last lap, my face is purple and I am out of breath. I float on my back and let my body recover. It’s time for some short sets. Something to take my mind off things.

I clean my goggles and look at the pace clock at the far wall. My breath catches and I swallow hard. Jason Leer is sitting in the observation deck next to the clock. I don’t have to take off my goggles to confirm. I know it’s him. He is unbelievable…in every way.

I do forty fifties in individual medley order and when I finish I’m not sure if I can pull myself out of the water. I love these workouts. They renew me. I take off my cap and goggles and go underwater. I shoot up, locking my arms on the side of the pool and shifting to sit on the side. I stare up at the balcony. Jason is leaning over in his chair, his elbows on his knees.
Don’t you have anything better to do?
That’s the problem.

I half expect him to be in the women’s locker room by the time I get in there. I shower and change. I have yoga pants and a hoodie to wear home, never expecting to be anything but alone, not seeing a need for underwear.

“See you, Sue,” I say on the way out the door.

“Bye, Charlotte. See you tomorrow,” she says, and winks as if we’re in on a secret.

I walk out the door and Jason is leaning on my car. I roll my eyes and shake my head in disgust.

“Are you training for something?” he asks. I stare blankly at him, not trusting myself with emotions. “Because some guys were talking about you in there. About how you come every day and swim your ass off. They wanted to know why. What you’re training for.”

“How did you even get in there? You’re like a creep.”

“I told them I was your husband,” he says, and I can’t keep my mouth from flying open.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Are you competing in something?”

“No. I lost a long time ago,” I say, and walk toward my car. “Now get off my car.” Jason doesn’t move, but instead studies me and I would love to hear his thoughts on what’s going on because I have no idea.

“Come to breakfast with me.”

“No.”

“Annie, you need to eat. I just watched you burn a couple thousand calories.”

“Oh, I’ll eat. Just not with you.”

He turns to me and leans on the driver’s door. Why does he have to be so comfortable all the time? He really does piss me off.

“It’s strange to see you with Pops. Do you remember when you used to think he hated you?”

“He still hates me.” Nothing has changed with the way Butch treats me. I just choose to believe he loves me when he yells.

“You’re impossible to hate.”

I nod and purse my lips. “Yeah, well, you’re not. So get off my car.”

Jason laughs as if my anger is the most amusing thing to him. Just hilarious, I am.

I pull the door open and Jason moves over, shutting it behind me. I put the key in the ignition and turn the wheel with my sore arms.

I wish I could go out to breakfast with him.

I slap myself inside my head.
Never, ever, Charlotte.
I watch as he pulls out of the parking lot behind me and follows me back to Jersey. Maybe I should go back to work.