Chapter 13 #2
As she looked at him, this boy who had his father’s eyes and hair and who had called her something tonight that she was still quietly processing, she felt the happiness of being in this room instead of somewhere outside looking in. She was here. She was at this table. She had given him his party.
But she wasn’t his mother.
His mother was somewhere out there. Somewhere else, and she could only wonder if Vivian was thinking of her little boy today, wherever she was.
But Beckett was looking at her, his face still lit with the candles that were no longer burning, and asked, “Can we eat it now?” with such urgency that she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yes. We absolutely can eat it now.” She picked up the knife and began to cut.
After his second slice of cake, Beck climbed into Cole’s lap, with chocolate frosting still smeared at the corners of his mouth, and leaned back against his father’s chest, radiating the shameless satisfaction of a child who had eaten exactly as much birthday cake as he wanted.
The table had settled into that particular post-dinner ease that happens when the food is gone, and nobody is quite ready to move yet.
Susan sat at the head with her tea, quieter than she’d been an hour ago but still very much present, her eyes scanning the table as if taking inventory of something she’d been afraid she might not get back.
Conrad had his chair pushed back, his long legs stretched out, and for once, the careful front he maintained had loosened just enough to be noticeable.
Della sat beside Beckett with the composed authority of a six-year-old who knew this was his evening and was being generous about it.
Beckett stifled a yawn. “I’m glad you’re home, Daddy. I missed you. I didn’t like it when you were at the hospital.”
Cole leaned in to kiss his son on the top of his blond little head. “I know. But Grandma needed my help, and now we’re both home. We won’t leave you again.”
Beck looked over at his grandma and seemed to think for a minute. “You saved Grandma’s life, right? You’re a hero. That’s what families do, isn’t it?”
Cole seemed slightly embarrassed at being called a hero, but he nodded and glanced over at Conrad. “That’s right, son. That’s what families do. They show up when you need them.”
“Like how Aunt Sylvie got rid of the snake. With a big stick. She wasn’t even scared.” He tilted his head back to look up at his father.
“Is that right?”
“Yup. And then Della and I ran to our mommies. And it was okay after that.” He said it the way he said most things, plainly and honestly, like a child would when they had no idea they were handling a sensitive topic.
The table went quiet, the kind that settled rather than landed, with everyone finding something to look at other than Cole’s face.
Susan’s eyes dropped to her teacup. Conrad studied something off in the distance, while Sylvie reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Della’s ear with an unhurried hand.
For a moment, Cole was quiet. Jewel could see the slight movement of his jaw and the almost imperceptible steadying of his breath.
From across the table, his eyes found hers, and this time, neither of them looked away immediately.
There was something in his expression she recognized because she’d felt it herself—out in the yard with her arms full of a frightened four-year-old.
The feeling of being handed a gift that you hadn’t expected and didn’t yet know how to accept.
“Sounds like everybody was pretty brave.” His words came out unhurried and careful.
Beckett considered this with great seriousness. “Well, Della almost cried, but she didn’t.”
Della looked at him indignantly. “I said I almost did. That’s different from actually doing it.”
Beck just shrugged, unconcerned. “I cried. But just a little bit.”
Laughter eased through the quiet, and just like that, the moment slipped back into the warmth of the evening.
Della took a second slice of cake, while Susan chuckled softly at Beck’s expression as he watched his cousin eat.
The candles had burned down to nothing in their holders, and the plates were happily smeared with chocolate.
Jewel sat amidst it all, allowing herself, just for a moment, to feel how much she didn’t want any of this to end.
Finally, she got up to start clearing, needing something to do with her hands before the feeling took over her.
She carried plates to the kitchen, ran water in the sink, and stood looking out the window at the yard turning dark and blue in the early evening.
Through the doorway, she heard Beck’s voice, still talking, explaining something to Della with authority, and Della’s measured responses, Susan’s quiet laugh, and the low murmur of the brothers talking, actually engaging with each other.
She stood at the sink a moment longer than she needed to, taking it all in.
Until her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
She dried her hands and pulled it out, expecting nothing in particular. It was probably Sophie. The Buffalo area code stopped her before she fully registered what she was seeing. It wasn’t Sophie.
She opened it.
Hey, Jewel. I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, and I don’t blame you.
I was with Rebecca last weekend, and she was talking about her brother and mentioned someone named Ashley.
I don’t know why, but hearing that name connected to Robert didn’t sit right with me.
I don’t even know if it means anything at all, but I kept thinking about it, and I figured you’d rather know than not. Can we talk?
She read it twice. Then a third time, her thumb hovering over the screen without pressing anything.
From the dining room, a burst of laughter echoed, followed by Beckett’s high and uninhibited voice leading the rest. The sound traveled through her like something bittersweet.
All that warmth in the next room. All that simple joy.
And this cold, careful message sat in her hand like something that had been waiting for just the right moment to arrive.
She turned the screen face down on the counter and went back to the sink.
Whatever Carly wanted to tell her could wait a while longer.