Here Without You

Reid plans to take River to the private beach owned by John’s parents. ‘John thinks he’s become an uncle,’ Reid says. ‘I had to talk him out of buying River a kid-sized sports car.’ I shake my head. John. ‘Did you pack that bulldozer you said he likes?’

I nod. ‘And the crane. So you can both play.’

We laugh and River turns to look at us. His sweet little face is so serious, but at least he isn’t frowning.

‘Ready to go, bud?’ Reid says, squatting down. River walks over and straight into his arms, and I bite my lip and keep my face turned from where I know Rowena is until my fake smile is back in place. I watch as Reid straps River into a booster seat in the back of his dad’s SUV, and hands him Hot Dog. ‘I’m guessing Immaculada is gonna get hold of that dog some time in the next few days,’ he murmurs, ‘and send it through the wash.’

‘Good,’ I murmur back. ‘I think we could stick him to a wall and he’d stay there right now.’ I run a hand through River’s soft hair, wavy and the perfect beach blond, like Reid’s. ‘Goodbye, River. Have fun with Reid, and I’ll see you soon.’ When I lean to kiss his forehead, he turns his face into mine. Not quite kissing me back, but accepting my kiss.

I’ve always said I would never need a man, and no boy would ever save me.

I was wrong.

DORI

Me: I’m ready to talk, if you’re free.

Reid: River is here for his second overnight. His bedtime is 8. Mom is reading to him now, and he’s looking pretty sleepy.

Me: Oh! I don’t want to interrupt your time with him.

Reid: Come at 9. He’ll be in bed – you won’t be interrupting. Please come.

Me: You’re sure it isn’t too late?

Reid: No such thing, Dori. I’ll open the gate – just park in your usual spot.

I have a usual spot, even if it’s been over two months since I’ve been here.

I take a deep breath and stare at the house where Reid grew up. It looks like a castle to me – a beautiful architectural monstrosity. But to him, it’s just home. He doesn’t see the world as I do – not because he wilfully refuses to, but because this is his reality. His celebrity is his reality. His career. His reputation. His son.

And he wants me to be part of this life of his.

Unbeknown to me, Mom was eavesdropping on our conversation on Sunday afternoon. I didn’t know until the next day. When she appeared at my bedroom door and asked if I had a moment to talk, I was separating the last of my clean laundry – hanging what I need for the coming week at home, packing what I’ll take back to Cal next weekend.

‘Sure, Mom. Kayla and Aimee aren’t coming to get me for a couple more hours.’

My friends planned a night out that included a movie: Hearts Over Manhattan, having no idea, of course, that it starred the mother of Reid’s child – whose existence was still a secret.

Mom perched at the end of my bed and glanced around my tidy room. ‘I’ve missed you, Dori. When Deb first left for college, it was difficult to watch her go, but her leaving didn’t silence the house – though it certainly quietened it.’

Deb, as tone-deaf as she could be, was the one who sang at the top of her lungs in the shower. She howled with laughter when talking on the phone or watching television. She banged pots and pans while cooking. It was impossible for her to enter or leave a room quietly. But she was so sweet and constantly happy that Mom and I, naturally more restrained, couldn’t criticize her innate exuberance.

Those memories are bittersweet now – rare moments that bring both laughter and tears, and leave my emotions a tangled mess.

‘You were only ten when she left for college,’ Mom said, smiling. ‘You still wanted to tell your dad and me all about your day, or help make cookies, or play with Esther. The house still felt full with you in it, and now, it’s so quiet.’

I slid a hanger through another shirt and hung it in the closet, unsure how to respond.

‘I was listening to some of your conversation yesterday. With Reid.’

I turned to face her, stunned. My mother had never been the purposefully overhearing, snooping around sort of parent. Neither of my parents was. Of course, that was before I spent the night with Reid last fall.

‘What he said – that you don’t think we know you, that you don’t think God cares about you – it’s true, isn’t it?’

I shrugged – because it was unerringly true. How can you tell a parent who’s always loved you that she doesn’t really know you at all? But I couldn’t lie to her, either.

‘You’ve been very patient with me while I figure some things out. Like the fact that you’re a smart, loving young woman, and it’s time I trust your decisions about who you choose to love. If my interference in your relationship with Reid is what’s caused you to think I don’t know you, Dori, I’m even sorrier. You’re my daughter, and I want what’s best for you. But that’s for you to decide, as hard as it is for me to admit.’

I crossed the room as she stood to hug me. ‘I’m sorry, Mom.’

Shaking her head, she said, ‘You have nothing to apologize for.’ She pulled back and took my face in her hands. ‘If you see something good in that boy, then there’s something good in him. I trust your judgement, Dori. I always have.’

‘There’s a lot of good in him, Mom. And I want to tell you about all of it. Well – most of it.’ I blushed, knowing Reid would laugh at that accidental disclosure.

A tap on my window breaks me from my reverie. I blink, because Reid is standing right there, waiting for me to exit my car.

As I release the seat belt, he’s opening my car door, and the hinges protest as they always do, though I’d swear they squeal louder when I’m parked in his driveway.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I’m glad you came.’ I fall in beside him and we walk inside. ‘He’s asleep. Would you … do you want to see him?’

I nod, chewing my lip.

Tiny lights line the baseboard along the hallway between River’s partially open door and the steps up to Reid’s room, like the aisles in nice theatres. Reid pushes his son’s door open and enters, barefoot. I slip my flip-flops off in the hallway and follow him.

The room is dark, but there are two nightlights, and after a minute, our eyes have adjusted well enough to cross the room. Along with shelves of toys, I spy a television and game console, a huge overstuffed chair, and a perfectly proportioned desk.

The bed is raised, with a ladder at the end, but isn’t quite high enough to be a bunk. His small body curled around a stuffed dog, River is wearing pyjamas covered in cartoon ants, of all things. Unmistakably blond, his hair is longer than it was in the picture on Reid’s phone. His lips are parted, the lightest snore emanating from him.

I’ve always loved kids, but knowing this little boy is Reid’s takes that appeal a step further. I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. ‘He’s beautiful,’ I say.

Reid stares down at me with dark eyes, his hair almost as light as River’s – no colour, as though he’s a black and white version of himself in his white T-shirt and dark jeans. He takes my hand and leads me from the room.

Instead of taking me to his bedroom, he steers me to a small parlour off the main living area, and we sit on a sofa, side by side. He turns to me and seems to brace himself for what I have to say.

I pull my Mary Poppins bag from my shoulder and reach into it, pulling out a gift bag. ‘It’s a belated birthday gift. I had to get creative, since you have everything. Or, you will now – after you unwrap that.’

Surprised, he opens the bag and flings the tissue paper to the floor. When he pulls out the T-shirt, he laughs. Aimee, Kayla and I scoured the local thrift stores for the last two days to find a MADD T-shirt similar to mine. They were horrified that I’d give Reid something ‘used’, but once I had the idea I couldn’t let it go. They forced me to swear I wouldn’t tell him they had any part in finding it.

‘Should I try it on now?’ he asks, one eyebrow quirking up.

Good golly, he’s hot, and I’d love for him to strip off his shirt and not put anything back on. But we’re not done.

‘I have one other thing to give you.’

He pushes the shirt and wrapping materials to the side while I reach into my bag and pull out the small velvet box. His eyes flick from the box to my face, and he doesn’t move.

‘What you said the other day – you were right. I’ve been disconnecting myself. I haven’t believed my parents know me. I haven’t believed that God cares about me, or my sister. I haven’t been sure he exists at all. And I haven’t had faith in a future with you.’

I take a deep breath and hold the box out to him. He swallows, jaw clenched, and opens his hand. When I place the box in his palm, he closes his fingers over it.

I lick my lips and take a deep breath of my own. ‘You said you have faith in us. You told me to come to you when I was ready to be fearless. The truth is, I don’t know if I can be fearless. I’ve lost myself, Reid, and I’m still so scared. But I’m ready to try. If you still want to, I’m ready.’

He blinks, stunned, and opens the box. Taking my left hand from my lap, he pulls the ring from its silk-sheathed slot and slides it on to my finger. The dark blue stone and surrounding baguettes fill the space below my knuckle, and somehow, it fits perfectly. He leans closer, his lips a whisper over mine at first, and then he kisses me deeper, gathering me closer, our breaths mingled and shared until we’re both winded, chests heaving like we’ve each run a mile uphill.

He stares at my hand in his for a long minute, his thumb caressing the edges of the band on my finger, before his eyes lift to mine. ‘When do you have to be home?’ His voice is low and tinged with an ache that echoes back from my heart.

‘I told them I might be a little late …’ I say.

Before I can say another word, he grabs my right hand, jumps up and strides through the house to his bedroom. He programmes an intercom system inside his door – the display reads: River’s room: ON. ‘I can hear him; he can’t hear us,’ he says.

Elbowing the door shut, he tugs me into the circle of his arms.

The second his mouth crashes into mine, I’m on fire. Engulfed. I open my mouth and he kisses me harder as I press against him, locking my arms around his neck. His hands are hard on my back, fingers digging in, sliding down to my hips, gripping me tight as his tongue thrusts deep into my mouth, stoking the fire at my core until it’s raging through me.

One knee slips up the outside of his thigh and he immediately grasps my leg, wrenches it higher and around his waist. As the other follows, he lifts me effortlessly, and I hook my ankles at his low back. Cushioning my head with his hand, he slams me into the wall. His lips leave mine with a loud pop, sliding down my jaw, raining kisses down my neck as I’m gulping in air. Seizing handfuls of his hair, I pull him back to my mouth, kissing him urgently, our tongues tangling.