Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
POLLY
Sometimes an understanding silence was better than a bunch of meaningless words.
Mia Sheridan, Archer’s Voice
A ll day I’d been restless, the questions I hadn’t yet answered were turning over in my mind. It didn’t help that I received an email requesting a meeting between me and the school board president Brad Goldenstein—just him and I. Why would we want to meet with me alone? Considering what Rose told me about him, I had a feeling he was up to no good.
I finished up the last of my work after a full day of clinic, my restlessness turning into giddy anticipation as I walked to my car, thinking about the night ahead. I had a few books on my Tbr that I wanted to read. Maybe the kids would be so tired, they’d crash early, and I could get a jump start on them. Or maybe Jace would want to watch a few episodes of Treasure Dogs with me.
It was most definitely the thought of diving into my Tbr that had butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Or the thought of watching my new favorite TV show.
Definitely.
A text came in from Leah right after I started my car.
Leah : Don’t forget about book club tomorrow.
I’d briefly texted with Leah this week about how Jace was fairing with the kids and yes, she reminded me about book club. What I hadn’t done yet, was come up with a plausible excuse to miss it. Maybe if I didn’t answer her texts for the next twenty-four hours, I could feign an illness.
Leah : Stop thinking of ways to get out of this. Meet me at my house at noon. We can drive to Rose’s together.
Polly : I haven’t read the book yet.
Leah : Liar. And even if you hadn’t, no one would care.
Polly : Are you sure your friends are ok with me coming along? I don’t want to intrude.
Leah : Yes, I already told them you were coming.
Leah : Bring wine.
Seeing no way out of this, I sent a resigned text in response.
Polly : Fine. Have a good night.
I was able to detach from my worries about tomorrow as I listened to my audiobook on the way home. I loved books with quirky side characters. This one had a quirky grandmother who made dick flower pictures out of diamond art. Picturing my father coming home and finding a large gemstone dick flower canvas in the library made me laugh aloud, the smile staying on my face for the rest of my drive home.
An unfamiliar truck in my driveway had me gripping the wheel in panic, then relaxing as I recalled Jace sending me a text asking if his friend Sam could come over today.
“Mommy!” Ryla yelled, running through the open garage door, looking to have spent the entire day outside. Specks of dirt were in her hair and dark, muddy streaks were painted across her clothes and cheeks.
“You’re home!” Ryla cried, slamming into me and wrapping her arms around my waist, muddy clothes and all.
“Come see what we did! We’re in the backyard and it’s a secret!” I tried to keep up with Ryla, but my heels kept sinking into the grass. After finally taking them off, I walked around the house to the backyard and immediately came to a halt.
Heat prickled my skin. Jace wore a white, dirt-streaked muscle tee. His biceps bulged as he lifted something; I had no idea what. I was too distracted by the topknot holding half of Jace’s curly hair back, the bottom half of his hair clinging to his neck.
My mouth opened and closed like a fish. I had no idea I had a thing for muddy, sweaty men with long hair. But between the sweat and dirt and popping muscles I somehow made a mental note to ask Leah if she was aware of any books with a hot farmer trope.
“Zap!” A loud noise sounded from behind me, making me spin. A large square wire box that I hadn’t ever seen before hung from a pole. Slowly, I turned around in a full circle to survey the rest of the backyard.
It’d been completely transformed.
Gone were the flowering plants and baskets. Instead, I saw a half dozen raised garden beds containing what looked like marigolds and herbs, plus some other plants I couldn’t identify. Tiki torches were lit and scattered along the perimeter of the yard, citronella candles were burning and scattered every five feet, and there was another large wire box hanging up on the far side of the pool.
Looking up and seeing me, Jace halted, his expression immediately shuttering.
“What’s going on?” I called out to him. He seemed to take a steadying breath, then walk slowly toward me. Movement drew my attention as his friend Sam appeared from behind a group of trees in the far back corner of the yard, in the direction where an old shed sat on the property.
“Polly, you’ve met my friend Sam, right?” Jace gestured to Sam once we all met near the bottom of the stone patio stairs.
“Yes. We’ve met. Hello, again,” I said flatly to Sam, remembering being out here with those absurd baby goats.
“It’s so nice to see you again, Pol—” Sam glanced at Jace, who for some reason, was giving him a hard glare—“Ms. Alberton. I’m so sorry, again, for the mix-up about the clown and the petting zoo. I sincerely apologize and will be refunding you back your money as we discussed,” Sam said, reiterating the promise he’d made over an email earlier this week.
“Thank you.” I turned my attention to Jace, who continued to look more nervous than I’d ever seen him. “What’s going on?”
“We’re killing bees!” Ryla whooped from beside me, jumping up and down.
“What?” I asked, whipping my head to Jace.
“Ryla!” Sam yelled, backing up a few steps. “I have a few more trays that need to be loaded into the back of the truck and some buckets that need hosing down. Want to help me?”
“Yessssss!” Ryla grinned wickedly and ran around the side of the house.
“But you’re not going to spray me with the hose again, right? Ryla. . . .” Sam’s voice got fainter as he followed her to his doom.
Once they were out of sight, I placed my shoes on the ground and crossed my arms, waiting for an explanation from Jace.
I was not expecting what came out of his mouth.
“Max is afraid of bees and that’s why he won’t go outside.”
I played his words over in my head. “What? Max won’t go outside? Since when?”
Jace put his hands on his hips. “Apparently, he saw a video about a kid who got stung and almost died around the same time a bee landed on him in the pool a few weeks ago.”
My gaze fell to the pool. Max had been in the pool a few weeks ago with Leah and Ryla when I went to Sunday brunch. I gasped and covered my mouth. Jace was right. Ever since then, Max had avoided going outside. Now his panic attack outside the school last week made more sense. It happened as soon as we got outside. Shame filled me that I hadn’t noticed this about my own son.
“He told you this?”
“Not exactly. Ryla told me, then Max filled me in on the rest, eventually.”
Ryla knew, too? I surveyed the yard, at all the work they’d done, speechless.
“I researched bees today. The flowers that were planted in your backyard attracted a lot of bees. I took them out and brought in marigolds, mint, basil, anything with a strong smell. Sam had some spare tiki torches we put around the yard. None of it will kill bees, but a strong smell repels ’em. This way, at least the bees won’t be near the house. I have these zappers, too”—he pointed to the large metal contraptions hanging up— “to cut down on some of the mosquitos. I figured Max might be freaked out by any bug that could bite him, so that way we can cover our bases. Ryla had a blast. And I haven’t seen a bee in two hours.” Jace smiled and looked around the yard proudly. “I think Max might actually come outside now.”
I was silent as I listened to Jace’s explanation, watching him point out all the different things as he was talking. Even though I was grateful, because this might be the kindest gesture I’d ever received, shame was heavy in my chest. And defeat. I tried so hard to keep it all together. Why would Max tell Jace about his fear, and not me?
“And uh, I made this.” Jace ran over to the patio table and back, opening a little zippered pouch. Leaning in, my heart gave a little wayward thump as I took in the liquid Benadryl, hydrocortisone cream, an ice pack, and insect repellent.
“I thought Max could keep this close to him when he goes outside. The bug spray would be for anytime he goes outside and the Benadryl and ice pack are just in case he gets stung. He could use it right away. We could call it a ‘bee pack’, or something.” Jace shrugged. “I thought it might make him feel better.”
Jace bent at the knees to meet me at eye level, his worried eyes flitting between mine. “Polly?”
Emotion clogged my throat. I shook my head, not wanting to speak. Knowing if I spoke aloud, I’d cry.
He nodded. “You’re mad. I figured. I told Max I’d talk to you about it only on the condition that he’d talk to his counselor. And none of the yard was his fault. It was all my idea. I can take it all back. All I need to do is?—”
I launched forward, cutting off his words as I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding tight. Jace’s arms wound around me immediately, anchoring me, holding me up, keeping me together.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered, hanging on to him.
“Oh.” Jace breathed out more than said the word as we held tight together, his strong arms the only thing keeping me from absolutely breaking.
When I felt steadier, I gave myself one more moment before pulling back reluctantly. Jace’s hands trailed down my arms and loosely circled my wrists, like he didn’t want to let me go either. The loss of him made me feel heavy, weighed down by life and all of the stressors that came with it.
I gave Jace a small smile, picked up my shoes, and asked about my priority in that moment. “Do you know where Max is? I need to go talk to him.”
Jace glanced up. “He’s in his room.”
I was at the top of the patio stairs when I looked back, finding Jace was in the same spot, watching me go.
“Jace?”
His eyebrows raised, face hopeful.
“Thank you.”
* * *
I found Max in his bedroom, sitting on the ledge of the bay window that overlooked the backyard.
“It’s looking pretty good out there,” I called out, causing him to glance toward me. “Can I come in?”
At his shy nod, I went to sit next to him. My heart broke as I took in his demeanor, eyes downcast and sad, shoulders slumped.
“Is there a reason you didn’t tell me about the bees?”
Max shrugged and shook his head meekly.
Instantly, guilt filled me. My question was about me. About how it made me feel not knowing about Max’s fear. I realized that I’d been doing this a lot. I was so busy that I forgot to take the time to just sit beside him. To give him room to talk. I’d gotten so obsessed with therapy schedules and journal entries, so worried that Max could relapse, that I was talking at him rather than taking the time to sit and listen . So, I didn’t say anything. I simply looked out the window and waited, observing Jace work around the yard at first, then watch a soaking wet Sam return to the backyard beside a skipping Ryla.
It was a few minutes before Max spoke, but he didn’t talk about what I thought he was going to talk about.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“You know that picture in the library? The painting? The one that Jace moved?”
I nodded.
“Why don’t you ever talk about her?”
For a wild second I thought he was being existential and talking about me, like the me I was before my mother died, the me that I should have been. But then, like a punch to the stomach, I realized he was talking about my mom.
“Was she mean?” Max asked in a small voice, sounding younger than his ten years.
“No. Not at all. She was kind. Funny. Smiled a lot. Loved to dance and have fun. She would have loved you so much.”
Max appeared thoughtful as he continued looking out the window.
“I’m sorry I haven’t told you stories about her. I think it hurt too much. I missed her. I still miss her. It makes talking about her hard.”
Tears pricked my eyes, making my vision blur as I felt Max’s not so little hand grasp mine, which I hadn’t realized was pressed to my chest, right over my heart. I released a breath, somehow keeping my tears at bay. Bringing our hands down between us, I threaded my fingers through his and held tight.
Max squeezed my hand once, twice, then sent me a reassuring smile—something I always did when I walked him into school to provide reassurance. A gentle reminder that things were going to be ok.
With that simple gesture, Max showed me what he couldn’t put into words. That talking was hard. Putting your emotions and feelings into words was hard. And just like it was hard for me to talk about my mom, it was hard for Max to explain how he was feeling out loud. I knew this. It was part of the reason why his therapist and I agreed it was a good idea to have him re-evaluated by a neuropsychologist. But you don’t always need words to communicate. You can be there for someone with your words and deeds. It could be something as basic as a hug or elaborate as removing all flowering plants from your backyard and installing giant bug zappers.
Sometimes being there for someone simply meant showing up, sitting beside them, and listening.
I squeezed Max’s hand once, then twice. “I love you, Max. So much. I promise from now on, I’ll take more time to just listen.”
We sat quietly then, giggling as we watched Jace and Ryla sneak up on Sam with the hose, spraying him from behind, then giggling more as Sam chased them around the yard. As the minutes passed, I no longer felt disappointed that Max might not share anything with me today, because I understood that he eventually would, as long as I kept giving him the space and time to do it.
“There was a video,” Max began suddenly, “and a kid got stung on his face. His throat swelled up. He couldn’t breathe. He almost died.” Max paused, then whispered, “I don’t want to die.”
I wanted to scoop him up and never let him go. I wanted to wrap him up in Bubble Wrap and tell him that I’d fight off any bee that came his way. I wanted to confiscate all electronics and never let him watch anything again. But whether it’s bees, or a bear, or a human being, I couldn’t fight off all his demons for him. I was his mother. It was my job to protect him when he was too young to do it himself. Now that he was older, it was my job to equip him with the tools he needed to protect himself.
“Jace said I should talk to Frank about it,” Max added, referring to his counselor.
“What do you think?”
Max shrugged. “I think I probably should.”
I nodded in return, trying to blink back tears, the lump in my throat making it hard to swallow.
Max leaned forward, wrapping his arms around me in a hug. A tight hug. A hug that told me all I needed to know. That he loved me. That he didn’t know how to tell me.
And thank you for listening.