Pain for Jeremy and the loss he endured has me starting for the stairs to offer him comfort, but before I take three steps, he shakes his head and stops me with his words. “Don’t. It’s okay. It was many years ago.”
I nod and hold my place.
“I better get going. I still need to stop by the pharmacy and grab Mom’s meds.” With a wave, he turns and gets in his Blazer.
I stand and watch as he drives away, beyond blessed to have two such wonderful people in our lives. Actually, we have quite a few people I consider very close friends. When we first moved to Cat’s Valley, I was so worried it was a mistake to uproot the kids from where they began their lives and where the memories of Will were, but it didn’t take long to realize it was the best decision I could have ever made for us. We’ve gained a family since moving here.
I go back in the house and find Daniel exactly where I thought I would, stuck in front of the television with a game controller in hand.
“Hey, kid,” I call.
He swings his head around to me for a split second before going back to the TV. “Yeah, Mom?”
“An hour, then I want you off to do your chores.”
“Okay.”
Leaving him in the living room, I walk down the hallway to Kelsey’s room. I tap lightly on the partially closed door before pushing it open. I find her on her bed with the notebook Alexander gave her on her lap.
She looks up when I sit beside her on the bed. I lean back against the headboard, mirroring her position. Although she has a ton of store-bought crossword puzzle books, she’s chosen to do this particular one since we’ve been back. The whole notebook isn’t filled, but the majority is.
“Are they difficult?” I ask.
After a moment, she gives me a single head shake.
I look down at the one she’s working on and see she’s about halfway through it. I’m curious to know what she’ll do when she finishes them all. She goes through them so fast, it’s only a matter of time before she’ll be done. I still can’t believe Alexander took the time to do this for her, knowing her obsession with them and not wanting her to go without. It was one of the sweetest gestures anyone has made for us.
“Do you miss him?” I ask, and look back at her. There’s no need to elaborate who I’m referring to. She already knows.
For a brief second, pain flashes in her eyes. She looks away from me and pins her gaze across the room. I’d bet anything she’s not looking at anything in particular. She just doesn’t want me to know how she feels.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, and drape my arm over her shoulders. “I miss him too.”
Surprising me, she leans her head against my chest. Tears prick my eyes, but I force them away.
We stay this way for several minutes before she pulls back from me. Her eyes are guarded once again, and I know I’ll get no more out of her.
I kiss the top of her head, then murmur, “An hour and then it’s chore time, okay?”
When I look in her eyes, they tell me she heard and understood. I slide from the bed and walk to the door. I look back and see Kelsey’s nose stuck back in the notebook. I quietly pull the door halfway closed before walking away.
Later that evening, I look down at the phone in my hand. Alexander’s name is pulled up. I want to push the button to call him so badly, to hear his voice, but I’m chicken. What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if he’s already forgotten about us? What if he was relieved when we left?
I toss my head back against the back of the couch and roll my eyes up to the ceiling. The kids are in bed and the house is quiet. For some reason, I feel antsy and restless, and the need to hear Alexander’s voice is getting stronger by the day. I feel like a schoolgirl missing her crush. I don’t know what it is exactly I feel for him, but whatever it is has grown quickly. Way too quickly to be considered rational. Feelings this strong for someone I really don’t know aren’t normal.
I run my fingers over the blank screen of my phone, and bite my lip. What if I just text him? It won’t be the same as talking to him, but maybe it’ll appease this need I feel. At least this way I can at least gauge his feelings toward me contacting him. He did put his number in my phone, after all. Of course, he told me to call him if the kids or I needed him, not just for random stuff or because I simply wanted to hear his voice. But then again, I do need him. Just not in the capacity he was referring to. I don’t even know in what capacity I need him. I just know it’s a need that keeps growing.
Blowing out a breath, I bring my phone to life. His name pops up on my screen.
Just do it, Gwen, my inner self demands.
With nervous fingers, I bring up a new text thread, hoping I’m not making a mistake.
Me: Hey. It’s Gwen.
I drop the phone in my lap, refusing to watch the screen to see if he saw it. My knees bounce, and I tap my fingers against the arm of the couch. Spotting my water on the coffee table, I reach for it. Just as I’m pulling the bottle away from my mouth, my phone vibrates. I jump and a stream of water wets my shirt.
“Crap,” I mutter, then cap the bottle and put it on the cushion beside me.