Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) (2 page)

Her precious son. Andy’s beautiful little face entered her mind, and her heart expanded as it filled with love for her only child. That three-and-a-half-year-old boy had stolen her heart in a way that no one could ever have prepared her for.

The past three days had been the longest she’d been away from
him since he’d been born. When the elevator doors opened, Lydia
was
suddenly overwhelmed, unable to be away from her baby for
another
minute. She rushed down the hall and knocked insistently on Matt’s
door.

“Hey,” Matt said in greeting. His voice sounded as it had for the past few years: flat and annoyed. They glanced at each other in brief acknowledgement.

“MAMA!!” Andy came running towards Lydia, arms
outstretched, a wide smile on his angelic face.

She crouched down to catch him in a bear hug and held him
tightly, inhaling the sweet scent of him. It smelled like Matt had used
an apple shampoo on their son, sweet and clean. She caressed his
thick bronze hair and dropped kisses all over his face. “Oh baby, Mama missed you sooo much!”

“Mamaaa.” Andy pulled back to look at her and smile again, then
buried his face in her neck for more hugs. She cooed in response, delighted, hugging him tighter.

“I’ll get his things,” Matt mumbled, and ambled down the small hallway towards his bedroom in the back.

“Did you have a good time with Daddy?” Lydia murmured against Andy’s ear. “You had fun?”

Andy pulled back to look at her again and smiled. “Dada.”

“Really? It was good?” she asked again, hopeful.

“Yah. Dada,” he smiled. She knew by the way that he said it and the expression on his face that Andy had genuinely enjoyed his time with his father. The first sleepover weekend had been a success. She breathed a sigh of deep relief.

Andy was speech delayed, or speech impaired, depending on
which specialist was phrasing it. He’d been getting speech therapy since the day after his second birthday, as soon as he’d qualified for services provided by the county. But even now, at three and a half, his vocabulary was a mere handful of barely discernible words: Mama and Dada, no and yah, up and down — those were clear; but dere, dis, won, mick, tee, and Emmo, which she knew referred to his beloved Elmo, were not as comprehensible, unless you knew Andy and spent time with him. Lydia often cracked that she spoke “fluent
Andy-ese”, but it was her usual habit to make a joke to cover for something that bothered her. It broke her heart daily to see her son,
who
was obviously bright, get aggravated whenever he tried to
communicate.
Sometimes, he bit, or hit, or threw things in his toddler-aged
frustration. Lydia understood that: in the same predicament, she’d want to bite, hit, or throw things too.

Matt, on the other hand, had never been as tolerant, sympathetic, or compassionate as she thought the father of such a child should be. He obviously loved Andy—she’d never deny that—but Matt was quickly frustrated by his inability to understand his son. His own irritation, and, she suspected, repressed guilt would bubble to the surface, and he’d lose patience, basically just thrusting Andy back at Lydia when he couldn’t figure out what his son wanted. She had been initially nervous and reluctant to let Andy stay with Matt for three whole days.

Now, she kissed Andy once more before standing up. He seemed happy, he was fine. She could exhale again. She smiled
down at him and smoothed his hair. “We’re going home now, okay?”

“Yah, yah,” Andy cried, jumping up and down with happiness. He looked up at her with his bright blue eyes, the eyes he’d inherited from his father. In Matt, the pale shade of blue seemed like ice, and left her cold. In her beloved child, the same shade of blue seemed nothing short of stunningly beautiful.

“Here’s his bag,” Matt said as he reentered the living room. He dropped the blue duffel bag without care at Lydia’s feet. “His coat’s in the closet, I’ll get it.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. They always tried to be civil in front of their son, knowing their fighting in front of him had done enough damage already. But it was difficult. They were still so angry at each
other, for so many things. She could feel herself tense up whenever she was near Matt, and knew he shut down around her almost altogether.

It’s a shame things have to be this way
, she thought as she cupped her little boy’s chin in her hand. Andy smiled up at her, hugged her leg tightly. She smiled back and caressed his straight, shiny hair.

“Come here, little man,” Matt said, using a warm, friendly tone that Lydia was convinced he reserved strictly for their son. Andy ran to his father and flung himself at him. Matt laughed and bent down to put Andy’s coat on him. He hugged the little boy tightly, kissed
his forehead. “I love you, Andy. Daddy loves you. I’m glad you
could stay here with me this weekend. Maybe we could do it again? Have another sleepover soon?”

“YAH!” Andy squealed in delight.

Matt laughed again, obviously pleased. “Okay, good. You’ll
come back and sleep over again soon. But I’ll see you in a couple of days.
I’m picking you up from Aunt Jane’s house on Wednesday
afternoon,
so we can have dinner together, like always.” Matt held up three
fingers. “That’s only three days away, okay, buddy? Three.”

“Yah.” Andy smiled. “Fee.”

Lydia smiled broadly, her insides warm with joy. Andy had
uttered a new word, made the connection. “That’s right, baby! Three! Can you say it again?”

“Fee!” Andy said, beaming at his mother’s excited praise.
“Feeeee!”

“Good boy!” Matt said, hugging his son once more before
releasing him. “Okay, go with Mama now. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“Fee, Dada.” Andy smiled.

“That’s right buddy, in three days. Okay, go on now.”

Lydia took a deep breath before saying to Matt, “Speaking of
three days, thanks for taking him, letting me be at Melanie's
wedding for the whole long weekend. I do appreciate it.”

Matt blinked. “Yeah, sure.” She’d obviously taken him off guard by saying something amicable. “It was good to be with him.”

“I’m glad you had some nice time together,” she said.

“Yeah, we did.” Matt smiled down at Andy and yawned. “But I’ve gotta admit, he can wear you out. I’m tired.”

She smiled faintly. “Yeah, he’s a little whirlwind.”

“Mm hmm.” Matt offered her a small, strained grin in return. “Well… okay, I’ll pick him up from Jane’s on Wednesday and bring him back to you at seven o’clock, the usual.”

“Alright.” She picked up Andy’s duffel bag and slung the strap
over her shoulder, holding onto Andy’s little fingers with her free hand.

“Bye, buddy.” Matt ruffled Andy’s hair once more before
opening his door. Almost as an afterthought, he said to Lydia, “So you had a good time at the wedding?”

A flashback seared through her mind: Sam hovering over her on the bed, shirtless. His warm skin and his muscled shoulders under her hands, his hot mouth as it trailed down her neck…

Lydia smiled broadly. “Oh, I did. I really did.”

***

“Moo! Moo! said the cow,” Lydia read aloud from the book. “Want to eat some grass?”

Andy giggled as his mother employed yet another silly voice and snuggled closer into her lap. He rested his cheek against her
chest, and Lydia let her free hand stroke his back as she continued to read his favorite bedtime story. His cotton pajamas felt soft beneath her hand.

She had read him this book every night for two years. She’d
memorized it and could easily recite it word for word if she had to. But Andy still loved it, wanted to hear it every night, and she loved that he loved it. It was their ritual. She'd read him three stories each
night at bedtime, but Eric Carle's
The Very Busy Spider
was always
the third one. She'd use a different voice for each animal, and Andy was thrilled by it each and every time.

When she finished the story, Lydia uncurled her son from her lap and tucked him into his bed. She crossed the room to turn out
the overhead light, flicked on his tiny night light, and sat on the floor beside his bed.

“Good night, my angel,” she whispered, kissing Andy's soft cheeks and caressing his hair. “I love you. Mommy loves you sooo
much.”

“Mama,” he cooed on an exhale, smiling at her. His eyes were already at half-mast.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” she smiled back. “Sweet dreams.”

Andy's blue eyes stayed fastened to her face, his eyelids
flickering as he yawned and fought falling asleep as he did every night. Lydia
sat in the stillness, stroking her son's shiny hair, as she did every
night. This was her enforced quiet time. Every night, as she waited
for her son to lose the battle and fall asleep, her mind would wander and she'd lose herself in her thoughts.

Tonight, of course, her thoughts were consumed with the events of the weekend: Melanie's beautiful wedding, seeing her cherished friends after so many years apart… meeting, and quickly falling for, Sam Forrester.

God, had he been a breath of fresh air. No, more like a
windstorm. A tropical storm, warm and forceful, leaving her breathless and dumbstruck.

Andy released the deep breath that signaled he'd finally lost the
fight and fallen asleep. Lydia dropped one last kiss on his cheek
before
getting up off the floor and leaving the room. She went to her
bedroom, changed into a pair of violet cotton pajamas, and went about the business of preparing for the next morning.

Forty minutes passed before Lydia could finally curl up on her
couch. She grabbed the nearby wool blanket her mother had
crocheted
for her while she was pregnant with Andy. It wasn’t the softest
blanket
ever made, but it was warm, and Lydia loved the colors her mom had chosen, a blend of three or four different shades of purple,
varying from pale lavender to deep violet. She wrapped the blanket around her legs and glanced over at the wall clock. It was just past nine; she tried to go to bed at ten each night since she had to be up early for work. She hated when her alarm went off at a quarter to six each
weekday morning, but that was the life of a teacher during the
school year. She had forgotten just how much she’d hated that part of it until she’d returned to it this September after a four year hiatus.

She glanced at her end table: glass of water, check. House phone,
check. Cell phone, check. She did one more quick mental rundown:
Andy’s snack and lunch were made, in the fridge, and ready to be put into his backpack, which was already packed and by the door; her overfilled tote bag for work was packed and ready by the door as well. His clothes for the morning were laid out in his room, and she had a pretty good idea of what she’d wear to work. All was set.

Finally, she picked up her house phone and called her older sister.

“About time you called,” Jane said in lieu of a greeting.

“Sorry,” Lydia apologized with a small laugh. “Andy finally just fell asleep and I had to get everything in gear for the morning.”

“How is my sweet little guy?” Jane asked. “I take it he survived the long weekend with his father?”

“Yes, he did,” Lydia said. “Thank God.”

“Thank God is right. You should’ve left him with me.”

“You do enough for me as it is,” Lydia said. “It was time for Matt to step up and do something. After all, Andy is his son. And hey, Andy actually had a good time. It seems the weekend went well for them. That's a
good
thing, Janie.”

“Hhhmph,” Jane snorted derisively.

“Listen, I’m exhausted,” Lydia said. “I just wanted to check in, but can we talk more tomorrow?”

“Sure. Hey, why don’t you and Andy stay for dinner tomorrow night? You can tell me all about your weekend.”

“That sounds great, actually,” Lydia said. “Because… I have stuff to tell you.”

Jane gasped. “Lydia Rose! Did you meet someone?”

“Maybe,” Lydia teased, unable to keep the smile off her face.

“Oh my God!” Jane cried loudly.

“Calm down,” Lydia laughed.

“No!” Jane laughed back. “This is so unlike you. I’m in shock. I love it! Wait a minute—did you, like, hook up with him? Wait, did you have sex?!?”

“Maaaybe,” Lydia said.

“Oh my GOD!” Jane howled. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. Screw that! Tell me now!”

“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, I promise,” Lydia said. On
the end table, her cell phone jingled to alert her she had a text message. She reached over for her cell and looked at it.

Hi, it’s Sam. I’m home. How are you?

Her heart swelled in her chest as a smile spread across her face. Sam had texted her when he got home, just as he’d said he would. This was looking promising.

“Janie, I have to go,” Lydia said quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

“I could strangle you,” Jane replied with a good-natured growl. “Fine. See you tomorrow. And I want every damn detail.”

Lydia hung up on her sister to turn her attention to her cell
phone. Sam hadn’t written in typical text usage, “how r u?” She instantly liked him even more. The English major in her bristled when people wrote messages like that, even though it was widely accepted and standard texting procedure. Sam had written out his words, like an intelligent adult.

Hi, all's well here
, she typed.
Just got my son to sleep. How was your flight?

She waited.

Fine, thanks
, Sam answered.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

She felt herself blush deeply with pleasure. He wasn’t playing games. He was as open and forthright as he’d been all weekend. He
was picking up right where they’d left off, kissing each other
goodbye in front of the hotel before she’d driven away. She smiled to herself and gnawed on her bottom lip.