CHAPTER 29
F rom the time Matt had walked into his house on Friday night, he’d worked. Sure, some of it could’ve waited until Monday morning, but he’d been in such a mood, work had been the only thing that he’d felt capable of doing.
If he’d concentrated on Kennedy, his parents, or his kids, Matt knew he’d be a lost cause. Those things were where his heart was. He didn’t mind that. In fact, he relished everything about Kennedy and was loving the way he was easing into conversations with both his kids and his parents.
But he was learning to compartmentalize them when he could. Otherwise, the work would pile up, and he’d had enough of that without adding more to it. People were counting on him.
No, he had an entire company and several dozen families’ financial futures in his hands. There was no way he could take any of that lightly.
He never would.
With that in mind, Matt had tried to find satisfaction in the things he usually did. He played jazz on his state-of-the-art sound system. He’d sipped his expensive French seltzer water, ate takeout from some of the top restaurants in the city, and tried to appreciate just how comfortable his home office’s leather desk chair was to sit in.
Little by little, he caught up on his e-mails and forced himself to concentrate on the wealth of reports that were waiting for his signature or comments.
And when he’d felt as if he was about to go cross-eyed from staring at figures and investment portfolios, he sat on his suede couch and watched sports. Took pleasure in the way the screen captured every detail on the football fields.
He even gave thanks for his job, the company, and his clients. He did have much to be thankful for.
It was only later, when he was lying in bed, that he realized he was thankful and proud and relieved not to be letting his clients or employees down . . . but he wasn’t all that happy inside.
Nope. He only felt hollow.
That was why he’d arrived earlier than usual on Monday morning—early enough to joke with the night security guard before he went off his shift at six. Throughout the day, he met with a half dozen employees, spoke with a handful of clients, and led a lunch meeting at a conference table.
He’d done almost the same thing on Tuesday.
Now that it was midmorning on Wednesday, things were starting to ease. He’d even gotten a half-decent night’s sleep the evening before. Once he’d put on his white noise machine, he’d stopped listening for the sound of crickets. That had helped.
Which was why he’d picked up the phone without thinking about the consequences.
But he should have known better. His ex-wife never called just to shoot the breeze.
“Hey, Helen,” he said, as he continued to glance at a printout of one of his assistant’s latest reports. “This is a surprise to hear from you. Everything okay?”
“Matt, why in the world didn’t you call me about Jonny?”
He took off his reading glasses. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, great,” she said sarcastically. “When are you ever going to stop playing games? Why do we have to go through this yet again?”
He closed his eyes and prayed for patience. And realized that his ex-wife sounded more upset than if she was simply in a bad mood. “Helen, stop.”
“Don’t tell me to do anything.”
Oh, boy. “Listen to me, okay? I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to back up a sec and give me more information. I’ve been looking at financial reports for the last five hours.”
She sighed. “Why did I expect you had changed?”
Feeling his patience slipping, he stood up and began to pace. “One more time, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What is going on with Jonny?”
“He’s been seeing a doctor about his blood pressure and cholesterol.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
He winced. “Helen, I’m sorry you didn’t know. I thought he would’ve told you.”
“He didn’t. Not until last night.” Sounding even more aggrieved, she added, “Matt, Jonny made it sound like I was yet another person on his list to confide in. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because he’s not a child, Helen.” Plus, Matt was having a hard enough time having a firm relationship with him without sharing his test results with everyone in the family without Jonny’s permission.
Then, of course, there was the small matter of him wanting to do just about anything but call up his ex-wife out of the blue.
“He may not be a child, but I’m his mother.”
Matt winced. She was really hurt. But the fact of the matter was that she was going to have to come to terms with her relationships with the kids just like he had.
In addition, there wasn’t much he could say about her feeling like she was another person on Jonny’s to-do list. He’d heard that he’d called Martin, Beth, and Kelsey about his medical issues, too. So he could understand her hurt, but he also realized that their youngest was a grown man making his own decisions.
There were two ways he could handle this. Listen to her rant and complain and then convey that he was not responsible for their adult children’s actions . . . or share some of his feelings, too.
Pushing the printout to one side, he chose the latter. “I know.”
“Matt—wait, what did you say?”
She sounded so surprised, he couldn’t help but smile. “I said I know you’re his mother. I also know that Jonny sounded like you were just another person on his list to tell because I got some of the same treatment. At first, anyway.”
“What are you talking about?” She truly sounded mystified.
“Helen, I don’t know how your relationships with the kids have been going, but things haven’t been all that great between them and me of late.”
“Matt, they all decided to become Amish,” she snapped. “ Of course we weren’t going to be on their sides.”
“I thought the same thing as you do . . . until I spent some time in Walden.”
“You went back?”
He wasn’t surprised that she sounded incredulous. There’d been many times—especially the first few years after they’d married—when he’d said that he would never go back to Walden if he had a choice. “Yeah. I’ve, uh, actually gone back several times.”
“Did you stay with your parents?”
“I did. For the first night. Then I found an inn. Another time I stayed in a hotel so I could get some work done when I wasn’t at the farm.”
“That was a good idea. Being without electricity gets old fast.”
Matt could practically see her smile. Boy, she’d hated letting her hair air-dry. He’d thought her scattered curls were cute, but she’d always whispered that she didn’t feel like herself. “I mainly stayed someplace else because Jonny is living with Mamm and Daed. I didn’t want to interfere. Mamm and Daed had enough to deal with.” He chuckled. “Besides, you know how their hall shower is.”
“The minute it gets hot, it’s time to get out because someone else was always waiting for their turn.” She laughed softly. “Matt, I used to think that I was never going to get all the conditioner out of my hair.”
“Ha! And here I thought you only missed your hair dryer.”
“Oh, I did.” Her voice softened. “Boy, I haven’t thought about those days in years. Remember how cold the halls were when we visited that time in early March?”
And . . . just like that, the memories returned. “Beth’s hands and feet were freezing.”
“Oh, the drama! It didn’t matter that she had on flannel pajamas and socks, she’d be near tears. Next thing we knew, she was worming her way into our bed.”
He smiled at the memory. “You didn’t mind too much.”
“Neither did you. Even though you always got the brunt of her kicks.”
Thinking about it some more, he said, “Remember when they all played chase in the dining room?”
“How could I forget! Your father told me that no Amish children would ever behave so badly.”
“And I told him that wasn’t true. And even brought up when my friend Thomas and I wrestled on the living room floor and knocked over the special cabinet.”
“The cabinet that your grandfather had made!” Helen moaned. “But even that wasn’t as bad as when the children broke your mother’s favorite serving bowl. I was so embarrassed.”
Sitting on the edge of his desk, he chuckled as the memories returned, each more vibrant than the last. “No worse than me. I felt like I was twelve again, especially when my mother lectured me.”
“I thought your father was going to kick us out until Martin hugged his legs and told him that he wanted to be Amish, just like him.”
Suddenly, that memory emerged from wherever it had kept hidden for years. “Daed got tears in his eyes before he knelt down and hugged Martin right back.”
She gasped. “Matt, I had forgotten all about that.”
“Me, too.” Half talking to himself, he added, “Maybe I’ve been wrong in thinking that them wanting to live differently was out of the blue.”
“Here’s my confession,” Helen added. “When Beth and Kelsey came over to tell me about their plans, I barely let them talk about it. I went right on the defensive, sure they were doing this to get back at me because I hadn’t been a good mother.”
Even though he’d had some of the same thoughts, he hated that she was so hard on herself. Some of those early years had been so hard on Helen. She’d essentially taken care of all four of the kids ninety percent of the time. He’d been so focused on making money and a name for himself. “You were fine.”
“I could have been better,” she said in a soft tone.
“We both could have been better. But we’re only human.”
“That’s true.” She sighed. “So . . . Jonny?”
“Helen, I think he’s fine. He got a wake-up call from the doctor, and instead of shrugging it off, he took the warnings seriously.” He paused, wanting to make sure he phrased his words in the right way. “He reached out to me because he’s on my insurance. He was worried about the price of doctors’ visits and lab work. I assured Jon that I would make sure he stayed on my policy as long as possible.”
“I wonder what he’ll do after that?”
“I have a feeling his boss at the bike shop is going to be willing to do something for him.”
“Or he could call one of us to help him pay for those bills.”
He nodded. “You’re right. He’s never hinted that he needs any help, but I think he knows we’ll both do whatever he needs.”
After a small pause, Helen said, “Matt, I’m sorry I lit into you the moment you picked up.”
“It’s okay.”
“Still . . . I’m going to do better. I need to stop being so emotional and flying off the handle.” She groaned. “About everything.”
“Hey, you were caught off guard. I should have told you what was going on. That would have been easy to do and saved you a lot of worry.”
“It sounds like we’re both going to do better.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll let you go. And . . . I’m glad I called. It was kind of fun bringing back some of those memories.”
It had been more than that. It had been awesome. “I feel the same way. Bye, Helen.”
“Bye. You take care, okay?”
“I will. You, too.”
After they’d hung up, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Remembered what their life had been fifteen or eighteen years ago. The chaos and the noise. The constant mess and the piles of laundry. Chicken nuggets and ice cream bars and apple slices and chocolate milk. The way all four kids had practically knocked him over when he’d walked in the door after a long day at work.
The way Helen had leaned into him when he’d put his arms around her.
He’d give anything to experience it all again.
Just for a little while.