Beyond Shattered Dreams: (Sequel to Just Below the Surface), page 12
I back up a few feet until I feel my legs hit one of the chairs by the counter, then I let myself drop into it. “Retiring?” I feel like all I can manage are one word questions. “When? Why?” I look up at him. “Oh my gosh. Are they okay? Is someone sick?”
Ben steps toward me and kneels next to my chair. “No, no, nothing like that,” he says, calmly. Reassuringly. “They have been wanting to travel for a while.” He shrugs. “But they couldn’t stand the thought of selling this place to strangers. When I showed an interest the store beyond being an extra set of hands, Uncle Al began some conversations.” He chuckles lightly. “Aunt Mae already has a drawer full of travel brochures.”
“They didn’t say a word. I had no idea.”
“No. They wanted to be sure before they told anyone.”
“My job—”
“It’s still yours,” Ben says before I even finish my sentence. “If you want to stay.”
“I love this place—of course I want to stay,” I say without hesitation.
I look at Ben and I see relief in his eyes.
He places a hand on the arm of my chair and leans closer. “Anne,” he begins, but he’s cut off when the bell over the door chimes and Mick walks in with the mail.
“Mick!” I stand quickly, grateful for the interruption. That conversation was definitely going in a direction I was not prepared for. I walk to meet Mick halfway and take the few pieces of mail he’s holding out and let him know we don’t have any outgoing today. He nods, wishes us both a good day, and leaves.
In my nervousness, I whirl around to find Ben standing way too close.
“I need to get back to that bookshelf that came in yesterday, before time gets away from me.”
As I step around him, Ben politely lets me go without stopping me or trying to carry on the previous conversation. I’m grateful.
Because this is a subject I’m just not ready to dive into.
I slip into the waiting room and do something I almost never do. I close the door behind me, indicating I’d like some privacy.
Ben respects that, and I spend the next two hours alone with the bookshelf and my thoughts.
* * *
I decide not to tell Prescott right away that I’m applying for adoption of Posey. I definitely don’t want to complicate our relationship when it’s in such a fragile state. Prescott needs to focus on himself right now, and that’s okay. I’ll share about Posey when the time is right.
Posey has fallen asleep and after checking on her, I back quietly out of her room, closing the door nearly all the way, but leaving it cracked so I can hear her if she wakes.
Then I pour my tea, nestle into the couch, and call Prescott.
It barely rings and I hear his voice. I smile. He was waiting for my call.
“Hey.”
I smile just at the sound of his warm voice. It calms me after my awkward morning with Ben. I know I’m going to have to face the fact that Ben is interested in me soon enough, but but right now I block it all out and enjoy the fact that Prescott and I are in a good place. One situation at a time, I tell myself.
“Hey,” I answer back. “How’s it going?”
“You first.”
I laugh. “Well,” I say with an exhausted sigh. “I got some unexpected news today. Ben told me that Al and Mabel are retiring.”
“Really?” Prescott sounds just as surprised as I had been.
“Yep. They’re giving Ben the store. I’ll be working for him now.”
Prescott is quiet for a moment, and then says quietly, “I guess it’s a good thing you two get along so well.”
I smile to myself. Someone sounds jealous. “Yes, we’ve become good friends. Ben is like a fun cousin I just reconnected with.”
My tone is lighthearted, but Prescott’s is not when he says seriously, “I don’t think Ben thinks of you as a cousin, Anne.”
My face heats and I’m glad we’re not video chatting. “So,” I say, and even though it’s awkward to switch gears so fast, I’m desperate for a subject change. “Enough about me. How’s it going with you?”
“Actually…” he begins, and my heart skips a beat.
“Uh-oh,” I say, feeling a flutter of nerves invade my stomach.
He chuckles. “No, no, it’s not like that. I was going to say, actually, it’s going better than I expected.”
I let out a relieved breath and relax. “Oh. Good.”
“Wow,” Prescott teases. “It sounds like you were expecting the worst.”
“No, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay, Anne. I’m just playing around. I know you were nervous for me.” He pauses. “I appreciate it.”
He says it with such sincerity that I feel myself blush, even though he can’t see me. “Of course,” I say. “I want things to work out for you. So, tell me about it!” The excitement is back in my voice now. “How was your first week?”
“Emotional,” he says, but I hear the lightheartedness.
“Oh?”
He laughs softly. “There’s so much I can’t do.”
“Prescott,” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“No, hear me out. I’m not being negative. It’s true, though. There’s so much I won’t be able to do unless I get a prosthetic. Even then, I’m limited.” He pauses, but I stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He does. “But Anne, I can do more than I thought.”
My heart swells with happiness and hope. This is good.
“You know,” he continues thoughtfully, “I realized something in that old barn.”
“What?” I ask quietly, and I’m genuinely anticipating his answer.
“The old cars. Some of them had been in accidents. Banged up pretty badly.” A pause. “Missing parts.”
I swallow hard, my eyes welling with tears.
“George didn’t scrap them. He’s restoring them. He says they still have value.”
Prescott doesn’t need to say any more. I get his meaning. I silently wipe tears from my cheeks as I wait for him to continue.
“There’s an old Mustang. A real beauty. Missing the whole front bumper and grille. You should see how George talks to her, Anne. She’s not even whole, and he still handles her with care. Like she’s still worth something.”
I’m bawling now, and I’m surprised I’m not making blubbering noises.
“He’s called around to a few dozen places—dozens, Anne—looking for replacement parts. He wants the best. He won’t settle.”
Prescott pauses again, and I wait.
“I’m not going to settle, either, Anne.”
I sniff. Loudly.
“Are you crying?”
“No,” I say quietly. “Yes.”
Prescott laughs. “My Anne.”
My Anne. My heart swells, and just when I think it’s going to burst, he says, “How’s it going with Posey? I can’t wait to meet her.” I know he’s trying to lighten the conversation.
I wipe again at my eyes and take a steadying breath. “Good,” I say. “Really good.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
We both laugh softly, and since I’m not quite ready to go down the Posey road, I turn the conversation back to him. “So, are you learning some new skills?” We both know what I really mean. Are you learning to adjust to having one arm?
“Yeah,” he says. “Actually, I am. It’s different. Harder. But I’m navigating.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks for being patient with me. I know it hasn’t been easy.”
I decide to be honest. “No, it hasn’t.”
“Anne,” he says, and I can hear the seriousness of the coming question. “Why didn’t you just leave me? Let me be? Why did you decide to stick with me?” A pause, then, “I was kinda horrible to you.”
I swallow before answering, but I answer truthfully. “Because, Prescott. You may be altered just a bit, but you still have value.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Then I hear his low voice say, “I don’t deserve you, you know.”
This conversation is getting way too serious, so I lighten it by saying, “Of course you don’t. Now buy me something pretty.”
A bark of laughter comes through the phone, and I know that was the perfect thing to say. Prescott knows my love language is gifts, and he’s always teasing me about it. I can feel the old comfortableness easing its way back into our relationship.
We have a long way to go, but this is a pretty good start.
I can feel myself getting more relaxed by the minute, and with Posey sound asleep, I nestle into my chair and settle comfortably into the conversation.
And later, for the first time in a while, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
Chapter 19
Another Saturday is here and I’m taking Posey to meet my mom. She’s been in Colorado the past few months visiting her cousin Charlotte. Charlotte lost her husband recently and was having a hard time adjusting. My mom, Rose, (Or aunt Rosie, as Billie calls her) stayed with her while she sold their home and found an apartment in the same complex as one of her dear friends. Satisfied that Charlotte was doing well and in a good place, she arrived home to Michigan earlier this week. I had insisted that we wait until she was settled, but she couldn’t wait a moment longer to meet Posey.
So, it’s 8 a.m. and we’re on the freeway headed to my mother’s. Posey is in the back, settled in her booster seat, swinging her legs in time with the music. She’s looking out the window and singing along, getting only half the words right. It’s the cutest thing ever.
Fifteen minutes later we’re pulling into my mom’s driveway and she steps out onto the porch, smiling as big as I’ve ever seen her.
After parking, I walk around to help Posey out of her side, grabbing her backpack and snack bag. I don’t know why I even bothered with snacks. If I know my mother, she’ll have enough snacks for Posey to last a week, even though we’ll only be here half the day.
My mom is off the porch now, approaching our car. “This must be Posey,” she says, and her delight is evident.
Posey, ever the ham, beams and nods her head, causing her pigtails to bounce adorably. I inwardly roll my eyes. These two, I think. They’re perfect for each other.
Posey wastes no time and practically throws herself into my mother’s arms. My mother squeezes her and laughs, and my heart melts just a little. This is a perfect scene. After a moment, my mom hugs me as well. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Annie,” she says, letting me go and looking me over, as if to see if anything has changed drastically since she’s been away.
“Me too,” I say. “I have so much to catch you up on.”
My mom knows a little about what’s been going on. The basics. But I didn’t want to overwhelm her while she was knee-deep in her cousin’s affairs. I saved most of it for when she was home. Now, after she gets to know Posey a bit, we’ll chat when she’s playing with her toys.
As we’re walking into the house, however, she asks excitedly, “How’s Billie?”
“So great,” I answer. “She’s the cutest, Mom. Wait until you see her. We’ll be having her baby shower soon.”
“Oh,” my mother exclaims, “it’s been so long since we’ve had a newborn in the family!” She clasps her hands excitedly.
We make our way inside and settle at the dining table, where my mom has a bowl of assorted fruit, some pretzels, crackers, and a cheese ball. I see the punch bowl on the counter with little paper punch cups.
“Mom. How many of us did you think were coming?”
She waves me off and laughs. “I didn’t know what Posey might like to snack on, so I tried to cover all the bases.”
I shake my head. “I’m not even surprised,” I mumble humorously.
We spend the next half hour or so munching on snacks, answering each other’s questions and just enjoying our time together. I catch my mom watching curiously as Posey maneuvers around doing things her own special way, and my mom’s eyes light up with pride. I can tell she’s impressed with Posey already. We had talked a few days ago, and I filled her in as best I could with Posey’s background and situation.
“Wait til you meet her, Mom,” I had said. “You won’t believe how smart and independent she is.”
Posey is telling my mom all the different ways she likes to wear her hair, and my thoughts wander while they talk. I think about Posey, how she is different, but since she was born that way, it’s her normal. This is Posey. Happy, confident, innovative. This is who she is, and she is proud to be that girl, even if she looks different than most people. It’s clear that her aunt did an amazing job at building her confidence in who she is and teaching her to get creative when she needs to find a different way to do things. To live life. Then I think of Prescott, whose “normal” has been thrown into a tailspin. Everything he’s ever been, everything he’s ever done, even how he sees himself, has changed. He has to remake himself. Restructure his lifestyle. Relearn even the simplest of things.
Even though they have something in common—something very specifically life-altering—they’re coming at it from two different angles. Two places. Two worlds.
I wonder if I’ll ever see the pure joy on Prescott’s face that I see on Posey’s as she describes the ponytail she likes best.
A little while later, Posey is settled on the couch with some paper dolls. I can’t believe my mom has kept them all these years, but looking at the delight in Posey’s face, I’m glad she did. It takes her a little longer than average to put the paper clothes on the cardboard dolls, but once she gets the hang of it, Posey is as good at that as she is anything else she’s tried. I turn back to my mom and ask about Charlotte.
“Oh, she’s doing as well as expected,” my mom says, a grim look on her face. “I just can’t imagine how she feels.”
In a way, that’s not exactly true. My mom lost a husband, in a sense. Only he didn’t die. He chose to leave us when I was little. I barely remember him. He never made the effort to reach out over the years, so I don’t really feel like I’m missing anything. Uncle William—Billie’s dad—had always been a great father figure to me, and I don’t feel like I missed out on much. When he died, I truly felt the loss of the only father I had ever known, grateful I had had him in my life as long as I did. And my mother was amazing, filling in the gaps where she could.
As my mom chatters on about her visit with her cousin, I can’t help but think of Posey. What if I adopt her but never marry? Could I be enough for her?
My thoughts are interrupted when I get a text message.
My mom stands, grabbing our glasses. “Go ahead and check that, honey. I’ll refill our tea.”
I look down to see a message from Nicole.
Hey. Seems like Uncle P is in a really good place right now. We want to have a BBQ next weekend for his bday. Will you come?
I answer immediately. Of course I will! What can I do to help?
I had almost forgotten about Prescott’s birthday. I had been so engrossed in him getting back to a healthy state of mind, I hadn’t thought about much else. I’m glad his family is planning something for him, even if it’s on a small scale.
My phone dings. I will let you know as soon as the planning starts. Talk soon! (Blowing a kiss emoji.)
Setting my phone down, I glance toward Posey, still on the couch. She’s making the paper dolls talk to each other. Then I imagine her at the barbecue, surrounded by Prescott’s family. Should I bring her, or have her stay with Billie and Merrick? Do I want her to meet Prescott and his family now, or do I wait to see what direction our relationship is going first? I just don’t know what to do.
“Mom?” I ask, and she turns to me, heading back to the table with our refilled glasses.
“Hmm?”
“Was it hard? Raising me on your own, I mean.”
My mom sighs, but not in a bad way. “It’s certainly something I didn’t choose on purpose,” she says. “But the Lord always provided for us, and somehow, we made it work.” She looks at me quizzically. “Why ask now? Because of Posey?”
I nod, then drop my voice out of Posey’s hearing range . “I have decided to apply for adoption,” I say, and the look of elation on my mother’s face nearly causes me to laugh. I go on. “I guess I’m just wondering… can I do it? Can I raise a child as a single mom?”
My mom reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Honey, moms and dads everywhere are raising children on their own. It definitely has its struggles, but so does parenthood in general. No one is immune to problems and issues.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “You will be a fantastic mom.”
I notice her use of “will” instead of “would,” and I love her confidence in me.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, squeezing her hand back. “And, I know I have you, too. I won’t really be alone.”
My mom looks as if she might cry, so I quickly drop her hand and change the subject to something lighter.
But inside, it’s as if something settles, and even in the midst of everything changing around me, I feel like the little puzzle pieces of my life are snapping into place. And it feels good.
* * *
On our way home, even though she’s clearly exhausted, Posey chatters on about our day until she practically falls asleep mid-sentence. It makes me smile. She’s so full of life, and I notice that she tends to look more on the bright side of things, rather than focus on the negative. It truly makes her a joy to be around.
My phone buzzes several times while I’m driving, so as soon as I’m parked in my carport, I check it. Posey is sound asleep in her booster, so I’m in no hurry to rush inside.
There are several text messages from Prescott.
Hey. I was thinking…
Then, How about pizza at your place tomorrow evening?
A minute later, I’ll be going to church with Penny in the morning.
It’s cute that he’s trying to butter me up. I start typing an answer.
I don’t know. You’ll be meeting Posey, and I’m not 100% sure I’m ready.
I wait a moment, and his answer comes through.
Please, Anne. Give me a chance.
My heart breaks a little at how he must be feeling, but I don’t want to move too fast. I’ve been hurt enough and I want to be cautious. Then again, the progress he’s been making, though little, has been in the right direction. I know he’s trying. How long do I punish him for his mistakes?
