Thirty-five
Peter
Sunday morning, the table felt empty since Tag, Jesse, and Rudy were all on the road.
Bea was cooking meals all weekend, and the breakfast she served, huevos rancheros, hit the spot to a degree only Tex-Mex truly can.
In a few minutes, Cooper and I would head to the barn so he could train me on the feed rounds.
Even though I didn’t love working the ranch, I didn’t hate it here.
And, surprisingly, it only took a few days for me to get acclimated to my surroundings.
True to their word, Tag and Jesse gave me one day with the ropes, but that was all I needed.
I’d been getting around fine with my cane ever since.
After my conversation with Dad last night, I’d been keeping a mental list of the fires I needed to put out, and the next big one was Bea. The last real conversation we had was an entire week ago when she came down to the fifth wheel after Sarah left the ranch.
The tearful words she’d said to me scorched my conscience.
“You changed, Peter. I hardly know you anymore.”
Taking my father’s advice would mean reaching out to her. She was right, I had changed. Because the Peter I used to be wouldn’t have let Bea’s wounds fester for days on end. Tempted to let hopelessness cloud my thinking again, I took a deep inhale and lifted my shoulders.
One fire at a time.
When she came to drop the dish bin on the table, I stopped her. “Bea.”
She froze. “Yes?”
How was she looking at me? Was there disdain in her brown eyes? Disappointment? Annoyance? I tried to push away my imagination and just lean into the darkness for once. “You free after dinner tonight?”
“I put Wren to bed at 7:30.”
“After that then?” I lifted a shoulder. “I thought maybe we could talk.”
“Okay. Come to my porch.”
***
My cane clacked over the gravel, the clicks echoing back when I neared a vehicle parked outside of Bea’s cabin. Chest tight, I slowly ascended her front steps, counting each stair as I did.
The mid-October air rested comfortably against my bare arms. At her door, I lifted my hand and softly knocked, not wanting to disturb Wren’s bedtime.
Bea threw the door open, a little breathless as a soft whine came from her hip. “Hey, sorry, Peter. She’s refusing to go down.”
“You want me to come back later?”
“No, it’s alright.” Bea came out to the porch instead of inviting me in. “We have these rocking chairs. Maybe if I nurse and rock her for a little bit while we talk, she’ll fall asleep. I’ll probably get interrupted though.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Do whatever you need to.”
A soft wooden groan filled the quiet as Bea eased into a rocker. “There’s one right behind you, too.”
Finding it easily, I sat down.
Bea talked to Wren. “Let Momma rock you while I talk to Uncle Peter.” Wren whined again but fell silent after a few moments.
Uncle Peter. That still sounded funny to me.
I had three nieces, and due to the nature of Hollie’s marriage with her first husband, I hardly knew her daughters.
And I didn’t know Wren either. Technically, I had an honorary nephew that I’d rarely spoken with.
The realization filled me with an inexplicable sadness I couldn’t put words to.
Part of me didn’t want to get to know them—I didn’t have much experience with kids, and I didn’t want to know the joy I’d robbed Sarah of.
But another part of me itched to at least try.
It felt like yesterday Bea texted the family group chat about the cowboy from Texas she fell in love with, and suddenly, here she was, shushing his baby on their front porch.
“You’re a mom,” I said, breaking the silence. “It still doesn’t seem real.”
“I know.” She softly laughed. “It doesn’t to me, either.”
“How is it?”
A smile stretched into her voice. “It’s the hardest and most wonderful thing I’ve ever done.”
I wasn’t the kind of person who rehearsed words or practiced what I would say before a conversation, but as silence fell over us again, I wished I’d taken a moment to plan. Sucking a deep breath, I held it, waiting for the words to arrive.
But Bea stole my chance. “I talked to Sarah yesterday afternoon.”
Stunned, I exhaled. “You did?”
“Yep.” She let the p pop. “I picked up the phone and gave her a call. You should try it sometime.”
Ignoring the jab, I pressed. “How is she?”
“She’s doing how you would expect. Barely concealing her rage but pretending she’s fine.”
That was Sarah all right. “What’s she been up to?”
“The usual. Working seven days a week. Jackie’s trying to slow her down.”
My jaw tightened. “She’s been doing that for a long time. I don’t know why. We have plenty of money.”
“I don’t think it’s about the money. She’s having a hard time being alone.”
And she would protect our savings account with her life. But I didn’t volunteer that information.
I let my head tip back onto the chair. “Did she mention me?”
Bea snorted. “Yeah, but you don’t want to know what she said.”
“I do, actually.”
“She told me…” Bea’s voice strained against rising emotion. “She told me she’s breathing for the first time in months.”
The words landed like a punch to the gut. I struggled for my next lungful of air, sufficiently stunned into breathlessness. The only response I could muster was a quiet curse.
“I’m kicking myself for drawing the wrong conclusions.
I knew you were struggling, Peter, but Hollie and I had no idea it was this bad.
Between conversations with you and conversations with Mom, it seemed like you were having a hard time being alone at home and were sad because working for the firm remotely wasn’t a good situation.
I had no idea my brother couldn’t even pull himself out of bed.
Or that his marriage was falling apart. When you stopped calling me back, I don’t know, I chalked it up to you having other things to do and didn’t think too much about it since we’ve had seasons where we talked less, but I should’ve pushed—”
“Bea.” I interrupted her spiral. “There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop this.”
“But how is that true? I refuse to believe that this was inevitable. Sarah has been with you through everything you’ve ever gone through. It feels so out of the blue.”
“Sometimes stuff just happens. There’s no point in trying to figure out where it all went off course. After the accident, we weren’t able to connect in the same way and we drifted apart.”
“That’s a wild take, Peter.” Bea scoffed, a note of disdain in her voice. “If Tag and I separated, I would want to know exactly what happened so I could go back and work through the problem together. But you sound like you’re okay with it.”
“No, of course I’m not okay with it. I just…” I sighed deeply, dread seeping through me as I thought of every layer I’d need to peel back in order to be honest with Bea. “I don’t believe I’m the best thing for Sarah anymore.”
“Why?”
It was the same question Dad asked, and I gave Bea the same answer.
She was quiet for a moment. “So, are you actively pushing her away? Is that what all the crap last weekend was about?”
“Saturday night wasn’t intentional, but, yes, I think a small part of me is actively pushing.”
“If Tag purposefully pushed me away from him, it would destroy me, Peter. I would never be the same. He is my entire world. And you’re Sarah’s.”
“I’m not her world, Bea. Not anymore. She knows if we stay together, there will be so many things she will never have.”
“Yeah, things like a broken heart.”
I half rolled my eyes. “I meant like a family and kids.”
“I don’t get it. Why can’t you have those things? Don’t you guys have a plan for IVF?”
“We did. We were actually supposed to meet with the reproductive endocrinologist the April after my accident. Sarah was so excited. We should’ve done it a long time ago.
Honestly, I should’ve married her years before I did.
I’ve done everything so slow, and I’ve been too cautious.
But I constantly feel like I need to prepare more because something bad is going to happen.
And, turns out, I was right. Bad stuff keeps happening.
I ask her to be my girlfriend and immediately get diagnosed with cancer.
Then I pop the question at nineteen and get cancer again.
Then I pop the question for a second time and have a grand mal seizure.
Then I schedule an appointment to start IVF and get in an accident that turns our life upside down.
You know how scared I am to have a kid, Bea?
I can’t even put into words the dread I feel.
If something happened to Sarah or the baby…
” My voice cracked. “Or if IVF didn’t work… I just…” Emotions choked off my words.
Bea reached out, her hand gently clasping my forearm.
“You know that list Sarah made when she was kid?” My voice was painfully tight.
“Her bucket list?”
“Yeah.” I took a deep breath, shocked that I was seriously about to dive into this.
“She gave me her list when we started dating and it turned into this whole big thing. It became the basis for almost everything we did together. It still is. Or was, until the accident, anyway…I feel like…man, this is terrible to admit…” I scrubbed a hand over my face as Bea gently touched my shoulder.
“No judgment, Peter. You being honest is good.”
“I feel like I’ve used that list to pacify her need for the next things in life…namely, marriage and kids. Especially kids.”
Bea’s silence stretched for a few rocks of her chair. “You mean you do things on the list to keep her happy so that you don’t have to proceed?”
“Yeah.” I could hardly press the word out.
Emotion jumped into her throat. “Why would you do that?”