Chapter 20
20
[Judd]
S imon Gilbert is nine years old and a little spitfire of energy. He’s also a foster kid, although Trudy calls him her grandchild. She was delegated next of kin even though she doesn’t have any direct blood relation to him.
Much like my brother Clay, Trudy has trouble turning away strays, and that’s how she ended up with a number of her nieces and nephews over the years.
She tried to take in most of us Sylvers as well when our mother passed. Stone was only twelve. Vale a newborn. Our dad’s addiction to alcohol happened rapidly and Trudy saw what was happening. She’d call him out on his behavior, but Dad didn’t want to listen.
“I find one of my kids at your home again I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping.” He’d threatened Trudy in our front yard one afternoon when she was dropping me off after spending time at her place. She also came bearing groceries that we desperately needed. In hindsight, I suspect she could hardly afford them as she had her own brood of kids to feed.
“You hush yourself, Flint . ” Trudy could glare like no one I’ve ever seen, but then her shoulders lowered, and she shook her head. “Violet would be so disappointed in you . ”
The string of swear words strung together after that comment had me running toward the old stable that stood empty because my dad sold off my mother’s beloved horses.
While Trudy didn’t come across as someone who’d take to idle threats, I’m not certain my father was joking when he added in that he’d kill her if she stepped on his property again.
Somehow, she snuck in help however she could, especially teaching Stone and Clay how to change diapers and potty train Sebastian.
“Babies raising babies,” she called it.
Between Mary Haven and Trudy Wallace, our mother’s best friends found little ways to be surrogate mothers that made a big impact. When I was older, I’d sneak over to Trudy’s house, despite my dad’s warning, but then I’d feel guilty being there. She had her own set of kids to raise, and I hated feeling like I was freeloading off her kindness.
In some ways, hanging out with Simon was my way of repaying Trudy for her compassion. Simon was sprung at her later in life. It wasn’t that Trudy didn’t want him; she was just done raising children when he arrived a year ago.
As for me, he felt like my redemption. I didn’t want the young boy feeling like he didn’t have a man in his life to support him, model for him. I demanded Trudy call me when she needed something for him or someone to watch him, like today, when she has an important meeting to attend.
Clay’s fiancée, Mavis, owned a house in the historic district which had a fire nearly two years ago. She eventually sold the property as is. A private investor purchased the space, and a new house will be built to replicate the original home. Unfortunately for the builder, design requirements are in place to match the aesthetic of the historic boulevard outside the business district. Trudy is on the approval board for the future build.
Trudy’s small home suits her. She had a larger property when her husband was alive but once her kids were gone and he passed from a sudden heart attack, Trudy wanted something that was just for her. That’s also when she went into real estate sales.
Simon finishes showing me his collection of summer clothes, the ones I financed after arguing with Trudy about it. He’s growing like a weed right now, and I know all too well about the discomfort of wearing clothes that are too small or too short, or shoes that are too tight. Hand-me-downs were a staple of my upbringing. Simon deserves better and he can have better because of me.
I adore Trudy and I’m so grateful to have her in my life. Being my mother’s best friend, she often shares little tidbits about my mom with me. About their childhood together and my mother’s love of plants and animals. She also taught me how to garden. I like to think Trudy is a good reflection of what my mom embodied. Kindness. Laughter. Compassion.
“Want to play catch?” I ask Simon. After years of tossing balls to Ford for his practice, I’m decent at the simple game, and Simon loves baseball.
He rushes to his closet for a baseball cap. Chicago Anchors, of course. My brother’s former major league team. With the cap on his head, he trots toward the kitchen with a spring in his step.
“You really have a stomachache?” I chuckle as I follow him.
“Nah, I just hate school.”
When we reach the kitchen, I stop and pull Trudy’s cookie jar on the counter toward me. I can never pass up one of her homemade snickerdoodles, and I remove one from the jar for me, and another for Simon.
“No telling,” I state as I hand him the cookie.
Simon motions zipping his lips and tossing the key over his shoulder. Then he turns around, pretending like he’s looking for something on the floor, pinches at the invisible item, and stands. He places his pinched fingers near the corner of his mouth and twists them like he’s uncaging his lips.
“Can’t keep my lips locked if I want to eat this thing.” He raises the prized cookie and takes an exaggerated bite.
I adore this kid. He’s quirky and spunky while introspective and smart. So freakin’ smart. He hates school because he’s bored, and I’ve talked to Trudy about him taking more advanced classes, possibly even skipping a grade.
For a little man, he has big concerns. What if Trudy dies next? Like me, both his parents are dead.
I’ve promised Simon I’ll always be here for him, and I intend to keep that promise, in whatever form that takes. He knows Trudy loves him. We’ve talked about it, but his fears run deeper. Without Trudy, who else will love him?
In my own way, I love him although I haven’t said the words. I’ve never said the words to anyone before, minus mumbling a shortened version back to Stone or Clay or Vale as they so freely offer them to me.
I smile at the boy chomping on his contraband cookie, and I take a bite of my own before heading outside where Trudy and Genie have taken a seat in the shaded section of her patio.
My eyes instantly seek out Genie, who is watching me with a puzzled expression on her face. Then she smiles, slow and lazy, before her cheeks flush. She’s so pretty. Like a sunflower that seeks the sun, only the sun wants to worship her like I do.
When Simon’s hand slips into mine, I’m drawn to him. He tugs me over to a plastic bin kept beneath the shaded overhang where a collection of balls, a variety of bats, and two mitts are kept. Simon hands me one leather glove before finding his, and we step into the grass.
“Don’t be telling my girl any secrets,” I tease Trudy, as I toss the ball to Simon.
“You only got one secret worth telling, Judd Sylver, and that seems to be this pretty thing sitting here staring at you like you set the sun in the sky.”
The ball Simon tosses to me hits me in the arm, because I turn to see what someone looking at me like I set the sun in the sky would look like. All I see is Genie watching me.
“She’s the one who set the sun in the sky.” I wink at Genie and return my attention to Simon.
“Woo-wee,” Trudy hums. “There’s a fire on my lawn. You two are scorching a line through the grass.”
I grunt and Genie laughs.
“Seriously, why didn’t you mention Genie before? You’re the one keeping secrets.”
“Wasn’t anything to tell until a few days ago,” I admit, lobbing the ball lightly into the air for Simon to catch. “But I’ve been waiting years for Genie to come back to me.”
I hear the soft clink of a plastic cup settling on a glass-topped table.
“I wasn’t the one who disappeared,” Genie counters, reminding me that I had. I didn’t show the night of prom, and I went away to college as soon as I could leave. A college we’d both attended, and I’ve been beating myself up ever since learning that fact. I’ve lost so much time I could have had with her.
“Well, you shouldn’t have been waiting, boy. You should have been chasing.” Trudy hums teasingly.
She’s right. What have I been waiting for? I should have sought Genie out years ago. Hell, I’d been around Janet Hurley often enough I should have asked about Genie. Where was she? How was she?
But I can’t dwell on the past, at least not on these concerns. What matters is Genie is present now and I won’t waste a minute.
Trudy announces she needs to go and proceeds to tick off a list of items. Lunch options for Simon. Time she’ll be back. Reminding me I have her number for an emergency.
“Go,” I reassure her. “I’ve got this.”
I’ve watched Simon often enough and spent enough time with him to know peanut butter and bananas on wheat is Simon’s favorite meal when lunchtime comes around.
As I slather peanut butter on one piece of bread, placing the bananas on the other piece, I glance up to see Genie watching me.
“What?” My mouth slowly curls, my face heating from her looking at me like she is.
Her eyes glisten. Those flecks of gold in them sparkling like pinpricks of light. “You’d make a great dad.”
My brows lift. I don’t trust myself to be a father. I didn’t have the best role model. I had Stone, though. He did what he could to keep me in the fold, but he hadn’t been able to protect me from the insults and injury of my dad every second of every day, especially when he went off to college.
I don’t know what to say to Genie’s compliment, because I don’t know how I feel about being a dad. If I’d ever be a dad. It’s just one more thing I’ve been thinking about lately. How I’ve not only been in solitude and wanting a partner, but maybe I want more. Like a family of my own.
The possibility feels too big to wish for.
At her comment, I offer Genie a shy smile and then proceed to make myself a classic PB and J, while Genie opts for peanut butter only.
The three of us picnic on a blanket in Trudy’s backyard.
Genie learns Simon loves all things Star Wars and she does a perfect imitation of Yoda speak.
We play three rounds of Uno before chasing each other around his playset.
Simon asks to play catch again, and we include Genie, who I quickly discover is hopeless.
“It’s that hand-eye coordination thingy,” she jokes about herself.
Unable to help myself, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and tug her to me, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re perfect.”
She doesn’t need to be able to catch a ball or win at Uno. She’s amazing as she is, and I’d like to tell her that every day.
When Trudy returns, Genie does a quick sketch of Simon. Skinny, long body, a bit distorted but a strong likeness of him complete with his floppy hair and dark rimmed glasses.
“For a quirky boy,” she tells him. “Thank you for making today a special day.”
“Even though it’s National Poem on a Pillow Day?” Simon chuckles, shaking his head like Trudy does. Genie told Simon about her job designing calendars and he asked her what made today’s date special. Besides National Roasted Leg of Lamb which made Simon snort, Genie told him about Poem on a Pillow Day.
“ You’ve made today extra special.”
Simon’s face beams with pleasure, while staring down at his gift. “Can you draw a picture of Judd and me?”
“Next time,” I suggest as Trudy stands nearby. Genie and I really should get in some hours of work today. Plus, I want there to be a next time, when Genie is here with Simon and me.
“Definitely,” Genie assures him, and Simon surprises all of us by hugging her around her hips.
When he tips back his head, Genie runs her hands through his hair. The way Simon gazes at her, it’s love at first hair tug.
I know the feeling, kid .
When we enter my truck, Genie is quiet a second while waving out the open window at Trudy and Simon who stand on their front stoop.
Then she turns to me. “That kid was awesome.”
“I know, right?” Pride warms my chest at how easily Genie and Simon took to one another.
“Today was a great day, like I told him.”
I agree. I want all the days with Genie. They’d all be great.
We’re both silent a second, letting the warm breeze of late afternoon filter through the open windows of my truck.
“Do you want kids?” Genie asks sheepishly, toying with the shredded hem of her denim shorts. “I mean, one day. Maybe?”
I risk a quick glance at her and then stare out the window. “I didn’t dare to dream about having kids. For a long time, I thought I’d be a terrible father, and I didn’t see myself finding a life partner anyway. When I learned to fight, I found an outlet for all this anger inside me.” I wave around my belly. “I started to feel better. About myself. About a future.”
“You aren’t your father,” Genie whispers.
I glance briefly over at her again. “Oh, I know I’m not. I couldn’t even create half the insults he conjured. Nor could I speak the way he did. It’s not in me to be that crude or rude or condescending.” Most likely because of how my father was toward me. “He said a lot of things that put me down, made me think negatively about myself.”
You’re weak. What a fucking coward .
“I’ve only had Stone as a role model,” I continue. “But more so Clay was an example of how to be with kids.”
“Why? What’s the difference?”
“Clay is just more easygoing. Stone isn’t a hard man. Just quiet and reserved like me, so he isn’t the best person to emulate.” I chuckle to myself. “He’s a good man, though. The best brother. They both are.”
“It must be nice to have siblings.”
I side-eye her, knowing she doesn’t have any.
“When my mother’s husbands come and go, so did any stepsiblings I might have had.”
I don’t recall anyone being her stepbrother or stepsister.
“Most of them lived with their moms, more than their dads,” she clarifies as if reading my thoughts. “Anyway, I just always thought it’d be nice to have a big family. A loving set of parents, who went the distance with each other.” Genie pauses a second. “But it’s one reason I don’t plan to marry.”
“Ever?” I question.
“I don’t trust the institution. Look at my mom.”
“You aren’t your mother,” I remind her, swallowing a sudden lump in my throat. “Remind me what happened to your dad.”
“He died.” Her quiet tone suggests that’s the end of the subject. “He was everything to me.”
“I’m so sorry, Genie.” I cup the back of her neck, needing to touch her.
“My mom was like that for me,” I whisper, giving us each a moment while my thumb still rubs along the column of her throat.
Then I clear my throat. “So no to marriage, huh, fiancée?” I attempt to tease her, but the words sound more like I’m being strangled.
“It’s so weird being called that” she states, adjusting the ring on her finger.
“For a few more days.” The idea makes my stomach instantly sour. Like I told Genie yesterday, I want her. Like I also told her, there is no pressure to be more, if she doesn’t want that from me.
I just want her time and a new friendship.
When Genie doesn’t speak, I ask, “What about you? You might be against marriage, but what about kids? Lots of women decide to have babies on their own, by choice. Enya did.”
Genie turns her head but doesn’t ask for details, and I’m glad as that’s not my story to tell.
“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it much. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve let too much time pass and maybe missed out on something special but now it’s too late. Other times, I consider that dream for a big family, and realize I’d like a life partner, if I believed in marriage. Kids would be part of the package.”
Genie goes quiet again.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a great mom, if you ever wanted to be one.” The way she interacted with Simon was priceless and she’d been amazing this weekend with my nieces and nephews. I know it’s not the same when a child is your own, but Genie has the loving, nurturing skills one needs to be a mom.
I stand by what I said earlier.
She’s perfect.