Chapter Thirty-Four #2
If I’ve learned one thing from Beverly this past year after going through a house renovation and planning our wedding, it’s that her attention to detail is astonishing.
Her back is turned as she concentrates on her table and talks.
“I want to keep the birthday piece of this party to under an hour. Roman can get very over stimulated at this age. We can do the presents and the cake first thing and then head outdoors for the adult supper and after-party. What do you think?”
I stand and mosey toward her, wrapping my arms around her waist. I can feel her body rise in a deep sigh as she leans against me. “I think you’re the most wonderful woman in the world. Thank you for planning all of this.”
“I’m happy to. I love you. And I love Roman.”
“Mama.”
We both look down to see Roman clinging to our legs. Beverly leans low and scoops him up, the three of us in a sort of family huddle.
“Silly baby boy,” she teases, kissing him on the head. “We need to get you freshened up and changed into your birthday overalls.”
“You need any help?” I ask.
“Nope. We got it, Daddy.”
I tickle the underside of Roman’s chin, his little body squirming as his joyous squeal fills the air.
This is what love and peace look like: birthday kisses and bubbles.
The anticipation of friends and family arriving to celebrate life.
Toys scattered in the corner. A soft kitten purring in your lap.
Long tables stretched across the lawn, ready for plates loaded with BBQ.
Carefully curated flowers from a favorite uncle.
Two loving, committed parents caring for their precious baby boy.
I’m truly happy in the present moment, grateful for what I have and who I get to love.
“I’ll put the ladder away and get those folding chairs set up around the tables.” I hold up my fist for Roman to see. Beverly picks up his little hand and taps it to mine in our signature bump.
“Before you go, I need to show you something.”
“Okay.”
“It’s on the highchair. It came yesterday.”
I walk a few steps across the porch to the highchair situated under a “Happy Birthday Roman” banner and pick up a small rectangular shape wrapped in red tissue paper. Ziggy takes the opportunity to rub up against my ankles. I pause and lean over, giving him a good chin scratch.
“I’m sorry I opened it earlier,” Beverly says. “I thought it was a gift for Roman. You know how I am with packages.”
“I do,” I chuckle.
I unfold the corners of the thin paper and turn over a familiar frame.
The photo staring back at me gives me pause.
It’s the same gift Beverly gave Whitney for Christmas: the antique picture frame with a photo of Whitney holding Roman.
He couldn’t have been more than two or three months old.
Her crooked smile staring back at me seems to challenge the darkness itself, the photo a reminder of how fragile even the fiercest spirit can be.
Thank goodness I’ve put the past behind me, forgiving Whitney and opening up space to love on my new family.
That she sent this photo doesn’t surprise me.
Beverly and I talked about inviting her to the party but thought better of it.
Besides, she’s on location, and I’ve learned through my director friend, Clint Conroy, that she’s thriving.
Even after everything this woman has done, I’m happy for her.
All I can do now is thank the Lord her life is on a better path and that she’s been given a second chance.
“Where should we put it?” Beverly asks.
I shift my focus from the photo to my wife’s beautiful face. Our eyes lock, and we both smile. I don’t even have to say it out loud. I know exactly where I’ll put it. And she does too. I’m happy we’re both on the same page.
“I’ll take care of it,” I reply.
“And I’ll get Roman ready.”
I nod and wave at Roman over her shoulder as she goes into the house. I stand there on the porch and gaze at the photo again. And I feel… relief.
Crossing the threshold into the kitchen, I marvel at the sunlight filtering in through the windows, the scent of flowers and food tickling my senses.
I continue into the formal living room and head straight to the corner where the ancient upright piano sits, the top portion filled with our family photo gallery spanning three generations.
My eyes scroll the images of me as a young boy fishing with my late father.
My mother and stepfather at my graduation.
Beverly’s dad smiling from behind an art easel.
Her mother Viola and her husband Mike standing on a theatre stage in Chicago.
Sylvia, holding Roman on Christmas morning, the two of them wearing matching pajamas.
Madison and George’s wedding photo in the Jamison barn.
Arthur grinning broadly while holding Roman right after we asked him to be his Godfather.
Toothless baby pictures of Joey and Roman in side-by-side highchairs.
Beverly wearing a cap and gown at her college graduation with Madison hugging her neck.
An old black-and-white photo of one of my first headshots when I moved to California.
Ralph and Rosie Jamison standing proudly next to a fully bloomed gardenia bush with the rustic red barn in the background.
Beverly and me kissing in the meadow right after we said, “I do.”
I pick up the pale pink rose quartz Whitney gifted to me on Christmas Eve sitting near the edge, her words from that night echoing in my mind:
“It’s a stone for giving and receiving love.”
I smile, and move one frame over to make room for a new photo—an image of a mother and her baby that some might say doesn’t belong there.
But doesn’t it? Whitney is part of our family tree.
She’s the birth mother of my son and someone my wife has kept in touch with, because that’s the type of woman Beverly is.
Whitney’s loving surrender is what brought me to this place of contentment. And I’m grateful.
I set the stone and the frame together among the others and take a step back, the history of love and sacrifice staring back at me with memories swirling through my head.
Someday soon, Roman will notice this picture and ask me about it.
Beverly and I have discussed how important it is to include Whitney in our family conversations as he gets older and can understand the significance.
Sharing a picture of his birth mother is a start.
There’ll be plenty of time later when we can explain the important role she played in creating our family.
For a split second, a flash of guilt jolts my system, knowing I wasn’t there on the day Roman was born. But then I exhale a deep breath and steady myself, knowing I’m here now.
I am a blessed man. Even though I wasn’t physically there for him on the day he took his first breath, I know I’ll always be there for his future.