Page 75 of Courage, Dear Heart

“Make it three. I think I fell asleep. How long was I out?”

“Not long. Maybe thirty minutes? You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you. And you didn’t really miss anything.” He lowers his voice now. “It was me talking to Jamie and him nodding or shaking his head to answer me. Until he caught that fish and you woke up.”

I hug myself. “It’s three times now he’s made a sound. It’s not words, but it’s so much more than I expected. I’d always thought he’d start speaking later when he’s older.”

“He’s surprising us all.”

“And I have you to thank for it.”

“I didn’t do anything. Maybe the change of pace or scenery helped, but it’s been you and him and the therapists working together all along. The credit goes to all of you. And him the most.”

In this moment, I want to kiss him, tug his face tomine, mold my body to his. Desire grows inside me like embers turning into fire and threatening to consume me. Had we been alone, I would have pulled him into the blanket with me, pulled his body over mine. I ache with the thought of his weight pressing into me, his muscled body moving above mine. His scent, his taste, his hands on my body, caressing my skin, pushing away the loneliness. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. Awakened. Alive. Desired.

His gaze flits all over my face. He inhales deeply and releases a controlled breath. His chest expands in the fitted, well-worn T-shirt. His hands flex at his sides and he shoves them into the pockets of his cargo shorts.

And I swear he can read every thought crossing my mind right now and is doing everything in his power not to cross that line with Jamie standing a few feet away from us, searching for rocks at the water’s edge.

I clear my throat and take a step back. “Anyone hungry?”

Jamie waves both hands above his head like a shipwreck survivor trying to flag a plane above.

I laugh. “Well, then. Wash your hands and take a seat on the blanket. Let’s see what Grace packed for us.”

Jamie looks at his hands and at me and then around as if asking me, wash his hands where? I point behind him. Plenty of water behind you. His eyes widen and he turns to the river, eager for the new experience. Elliott helps him wash his hands and makes sure he doesn’t fall in by keeping a hand on his shoulder.

I unpack the basket and find a dish towel on top. “Here you go, dry your hands. Let’s see what we have.”

I lay down the containers in the center of the blanket. “We got cut-up fruit, cheese, finger sandwiches, potato salad, chips, and peanut butter cookies.”

Grace packed a small feast for us. This feels surreal. Sitting here, surrounded by this beautiful place teeming with life with my son and Elliott. The breeze rustles through the trees. Birds land a few yards away, looking for scraps. There’s deer grazing in the tall grasses in the distance. Wildflowers dot the greenery with pops of pink, yellow, and purple. Never in the last two years have I imagined I’d be opening myself to be with someone again. Someone other than CJ. I need to push out of the cocoon of safety I’ve created for Jamie and me and let go of the past. One cannot live in yesterdays. My guilt is the underbelly of fear. Fear of living a full life without my husband. Fear of being happy again. Fear of loving someone who’s not CJ. So much fear, it kept me trapped in a prison of my own making. And I didn’t even know I was a prisoner.

FORTY-ONE

Elliott

Grandma standswith Carmen at her side, both women smiling as we finish our breakfast. The lines age has given their faces don’t take away from their beauty. Their goodness radiates outward. They could not be more different. Grandma with her perfectly coiffed hair, light makeup, expensive clothes, and pale complexion. And Carmen, with her tanned skin, hair that’s still dark despite being in her sixties, and always wearing an apron over whatever outfit she decided on—it’s always jeans and some kind of kitschy T-shirt. Today’s choice is,‘Bake cookies and dismantle systems of oppression.’Grandma, who can’t even boil water as she likes to say, and Carmen, who can cook and bake with skills that rival professional chefs. Carmen has worked for Grandma for most of her life, choosing to move here when Grandma did. The two women have known each other for over forty years. They’re more than boss and employee. They’re friends, who often bicker over who the kitchen belongsto, but right now, they’re a united front. Not taking no for an answer. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

“We made plans with Jamie. Right, Jamie?” Grandma nods in agreement with herself.

Jamie gives Grace the thumbs-up with his free hand and shoves another bite of chocolate chip pancake with peanut butter sauce into his mouth—a treat Carmen made specially for him when she learned it was his favorite.

“We have everything planned,” Carmen adds. The barely there Spanish accent makes itself present. “We’ll make cookies and strawberry jam, and maybe even try our hand at ice cream if the mood strikes. You two go, have fun.”

Jillian hesitates, but Grace isn’t taking no for an answer. “Don’t worry. I can handle a six-year-old for a few hours.”

“And so can I.” Carmen points to herself.

Jillian smiles, the corner of her mouth lifting in a way that makes my chest tighten. She nods, relenting. “Thank you. I’m sure Jamie will love it.”

Grace pulls the chair next to Jillian and sits down, takes her hand. “Yes, he will. You need some time for yourself.” Her voice is low like she’s whispering a secret. “Don’t forget you’re a woman, too—not just a mother—and everyone needs a break from time to time. Everyone, Jillian.”

Jillian pulls Grace into a hug, blinking rapidly. “Thank you, Grace.”

“Now go upstairs and put on a bathing suit.” She turns to me. “You too. You must take her to The Spot.”

Jillian frowns. “The Spot?”

I glance at Grandma, mentally thanking her. Devious, old, little lady. Turning back to Jillian, I smile. “You’ll see.”

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