Chapter Nineteen Lillian #2
Was he already embracing a bachelor’s way of life?
I reached for the jug of sweet tea. “She really is incredible. The way she managed after Dad died . . . That wasn’t the easiest time to be a single mom.”
“Right now isn’t particularly a walk in the park either.” He sliced butter into the pan, then dropped in a leftover PBJ. “For you, I mean.”
“I have Mom’s help.”
“And mine,” he said softly. “I’ll still be in town, and I found an apartment on the first floor so Rosalynn can visit easily.”
My stomach knotted and I set down the last half of my dinner. “I’ll be fine.”
The silence stretched again, no longer easy or peaceful. A log fell and sparks shot upward.
Grady tossed his paper towel into the flames. “I know you can handle whatever life throws at you. I just . . .” His forehead furrowed. “Tomorrow is important. We need to be heard, for Rosie, but it may not make a difference. You’ll be careful, right? I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I knocked on the nearby tree trunk for luck. “I’ll be loud but nonviolent.”
He studied the sizzling sandwich with exaggerated concentration. “I need you to stay safe. Because I care about you, but also because . . .” His throat moved with emotion. “I can’t do this alone.”
The words came out so softly, I almost missed them.
A scary hope flickered inside me. “What do you mean?”
“If something happens to you, I won’t be able to take care of Rosie on my own.” He scrubbed a hand across his chest. “I know that sounds selfish, given how I do a job that could leave you to handle everything on your own. And I’m sorry about that.”
Divorce was one thing. Thinking of a world without him altogether? Unbearable. I’d spent too many sleepless nights worrying about him battling large blazes.
Those fears had multiplied after a warehouse fire when he’d rescued a fellow firefighter, even needing to perform CPR while battling an injury of his own on that horrible day when a falling beam had hit him, fracturing his cheekbone. If he’d been knocked out . . .
Grady and I had both suffered nightmares after that. “You’re more than this career. There are other jobs.”
His gaze flicked toward his guitar. Just for an instant before he turned his unflinching attention to me. “What about health insurance?”
The question caught me off guard. Rosalynn and I had always been covered under his policy.
Once the divorce was final, though, I’d enrolled in a plan through my office, with our daughter staying on Grady’s policy.
Including Rosalynn on mine would be tricky because of her preexisting condition.
My new coverage might not even accept her at all.
That our child might be without a medical safety net . . .
My hand fluttered to my mouth. “Oh, Grady.”
“Exactly.” His suntanned face creased with worry and a deep fear. “I can’t lose my job, Lillian. Not now. Even if we win a settlement from the theater building, the medical bills are going to be steep.”
Except what about him? His health and well-being, physically and emotionally? “But you need to look after yourself.”
“I’m careful,” he assured me. “I won’t risk losing coverage.”
I couldn’t stop myself from mumbling, “I guess I know what issue I need to make posters for next.”
His lopsided smile tucked a dimple into his cheek, and I found myself smiling back.
I reached to clasp his hand in mine, his skin warm, familiar and calloused from hours stroking the guitar strings. He angled toward me and stretched out his other hand to wipe along the corner of my mouth.
“You’ve got a little peanut butter,” he said, “right there.”
I flicked my tongue to swipe it away and accidentally licked his finger. His pupils widened, his brown eyes going darker.
Clearing my throat, I eased back and scrambled to pick up the conversational thread where we’d left off. Tough to do with my heart trying to hammer its way out of my chest. “Um, but you promise you’ll tell me if you’re stressed at work, right? You can always talk to me. Even after.”
“I’m taking care of myself—for Rosalynn if nothing else.
When I need to decompress, I go out on the water.
Paddleboarding. Kayaking. Those bring me peace.
Just floating . . .” The stress and exhaustion etched on his face echoed mine.
He squeezed my hand. “I’m hoping after we finish the march from the White House to the Capitol that we might camp closer to the river instead.
I’ve already looked into equipment rentals. Wanna join me?”
That simple request stirred me as much as the glide of his thumb across my wrist. My heart pounded so hard against my ribs, I wondered if he could hear it.
Was this pocket of time together about more than peace and making our voices heard for Rosalynn? Our whole marriage had been about supporting her, even before the accident.
Could we also indulge ourselves in one last hurrah, to resurrect the desire that had brought us together in the first place?
It hadn’t been enough to hold us together when the winds of life tore apart our marriage, but we weren’t trying to repair a marriage.
We’d turned that page with the divorce. Perhaps after so much heartache, we deserved some time together to say a proper goodbye to our days as husband and wife.
“Yes, Grady, I’d like that very much.”