Sweet Dreams
Page 153
But he didn’t speak, he just stared at me and the look on his face made my heart skip.
“Bub,” Tate called, seeing the look.
“Mom never made me pie,” Jonas told me, I heard Mack mutter an expletive under his breath but I crouched down and lifted an arm to Jonas.
“Come here, baby,” I urged.
“She never made me cookies,” Jonas said.
“That’s all right, come here,” I repeated.
“She never made me a cake, not once, even on my birthday. She’d buy ‘em,” Jonas went on.
“Honey,” I whispered, “please, come here.”
“You make me that stuff,” he told me something I already knew.
“I know,” I replied.
“You make me that stuff because you love me?” he asked.
“Yes, Bub, of course,” I answered.
“You love me,” he whispered.
“Yes, Bub,” I whispered back.
“Does that mean she didn’t love me?” he asked and tears instantly filled my eyes.
“No,” I answered firmly.
“Do you…” he swallowed. “Do you know I love you?”
I swallowed too and lied, “Yes,” because I didn’t know until just then.
“Do you think she knew I loved her?” he asked.
“Absolutely, baby,” I whispered. “She knew. She definitely knew.”
He didn’t move, but his throat did and I knew he was fighting back tears.
“Baby –” I was still whispering but before I could move or Tate could, Dad did.
“All right, son, you don’t know me and I don’t know you but I’m thinkin’ it’s time we changed that.” Dad put his hand on Jonas’s shoulder, Jonas looked up at him and Dad handed him the glass of brown milk. “Take that, we’ll walk, you’ll drink and we’ll get to know one another. You all right with that?”
Dad didn’t wait for Jonas to answer, he just guided him to the door, slid it open and pushed him through. His eyes went to Tate before he closed it. They communicated something I didn’t get since they were using male telepathy; Dad slid the door to and put his hand back to Jonas’s shoulder to lead him away.
“Sorry, Tate,” Mack muttered.
“Not a problem,” Tate replied. “This shit’s bound to come out.”
“Yeah, but not by me actin’ like a jackass,” Mack murmured, clearly kicking himself.
“He didn’t have a good Mom, Mack,” Tate shared and this so surprised me my eyes swiftly went to him. “She was a drunk and she didn’t give much of a shit about him. She’s dead but he’s in a better place with a woman who sits up at night and watches TV with him until he gets to sleep and makes him cupcakes. He’s strugglin’ with that, knowin’ his life is better without her in it, feelin’ guilt that that’s how he felt when it became permanent. He’s gonna struggle with it for awhile. It’s good you made it come out, he’s gotta let it come out and it’s best it comes out when people are around who’ll handle him with care.”
Mom, Carrie, Mack and me all stared at Tate. Then I moved to him, pressed my front to his side and wrapped my arms around him.
“Dad’ll handle him with care, Captain,” I whispered, my head tipped back to look at his profile and he twisted his neck to look down at me.
“I know that,” he whispered back and then his eyes went to Mom. “I’m pleased you’re here, Jeannie.”
“Family looks after family,” Mom replied softly, her eyes came to me and then went back to Tate. “But you already know that, don’t you, Tate?”
“Yeah,” Tate answered.
“You want coffee?” Mom asked, wisely changing the subject.
“Yeah,” Tate repeated.
“You take it black,” she muttered and walked to the cupboard.
I pressed into Tate, my body relaxing.
“Wow!” Carrie exclaimed and my body got tense again as I looked at my sister. “That is a pretty kitty.”
“Her name’s Princess Fancy Pants,” I blurted, Tate’s arm gave me a warning squeeze, I ignored it and finished. “She’s Tate’s.”
Carrie’s eyes flew to Tate and she giggled. “You named your cat Princess Fancy Pants?”
“Holy f**k,” Mack muttered.
“Her name is Buster,” Tate declared.
“Her name is Buster?” Mom asked, handing Tate a coffee.
“I like Princess Fancy Pants better,” Carrie decided.
“Tell your sister, she calls my cat that, she’s ejected,” Tate said to me as he took the coffee from Mom and I tried not to laugh.
“Um… Carrie, I was just joking,” I clarified. “Tate and Buster are tight. He’s protective and he really doesn’t like Princess Fancy Pants.”
Carrie watched Buster wind her way through Tate and my ankles and her lips were twitching when her eyes went to Tate then came to me and she murmured, “Right.”
“It’s going to be a long day,” Mom noted, her eyes on Mack. “Mack, pass me a cupcake.”
Mack grabbed a cupcake and handed it to Mom and I slid away from Tate and went to the sliding glass door. I looked until I found them, Dad and Jonas standing out in Tate’s drive, Jonas’s arm lifted to point at something.
I felt Tate move in behind me then I felt his arm around my chest pulling me into his body. I knew he was watching too and I knew he saw it when Dad said something to Jonas which made Jonas tip his head back and grin at Dad like he was exceptionally funny something my Dad could be. I knew this because Tate’s arm tightened reflexively.
Tate’s lips came to my ear.
“Special,” he muttered, I lifted my hand to curl my fingers around his forearm and I held on as I fought back tears.
* * * * *
Tate parked the Explorer in the parking lot of the funeral home, my family following us in their rental and parking on Tate’s side.
I undid my seatbelt, opened the door and jumped down then stilled when I saw Jonas had also jumped down and was instantly accosted by an older woman with lots of blonde hair. She was wearing a brightly colored gypsy skirt with sequins stitched in a pattern around the hem and little bells jingling at the bottom; a hot pink gypsy top that had flowing sleeves gathered at the wrists and a tie that gathered at the neckline; scuffed, fawn suede cowboy boots and lots and lots of silver and turquoise jewelry at ears, neck, fingers and wrists.
“Bub,” Tate called, seeing the look.
“Mom never made me pie,” Jonas told me, I heard Mack mutter an expletive under his breath but I crouched down and lifted an arm to Jonas.
“Come here, baby,” I urged.
“She never made me cookies,” Jonas said.
“That’s all right, come here,” I repeated.
“She never made me a cake, not once, even on my birthday. She’d buy ‘em,” Jonas went on.
“Honey,” I whispered, “please, come here.”
“You make me that stuff,” he told me something I already knew.
“I know,” I replied.
“You make me that stuff because you love me?” he asked.
“Yes, Bub, of course,” I answered.
“You love me,” he whispered.
“Yes, Bub,” I whispered back.
“Does that mean she didn’t love me?” he asked and tears instantly filled my eyes.
“No,” I answered firmly.
“Do you…” he swallowed. “Do you know I love you?”
I swallowed too and lied, “Yes,” because I didn’t know until just then.
“Do you think she knew I loved her?” he asked.
“Absolutely, baby,” I whispered. “She knew. She definitely knew.”
He didn’t move, but his throat did and I knew he was fighting back tears.
“Baby –” I was still whispering but before I could move or Tate could, Dad did.
“All right, son, you don’t know me and I don’t know you but I’m thinkin’ it’s time we changed that.” Dad put his hand on Jonas’s shoulder, Jonas looked up at him and Dad handed him the glass of brown milk. “Take that, we’ll walk, you’ll drink and we’ll get to know one another. You all right with that?”
Dad didn’t wait for Jonas to answer, he just guided him to the door, slid it open and pushed him through. His eyes went to Tate before he closed it. They communicated something I didn’t get since they were using male telepathy; Dad slid the door to and put his hand back to Jonas’s shoulder to lead him away.
“Sorry, Tate,” Mack muttered.
“Not a problem,” Tate replied. “This shit’s bound to come out.”
“Yeah, but not by me actin’ like a jackass,” Mack murmured, clearly kicking himself.
“He didn’t have a good Mom, Mack,” Tate shared and this so surprised me my eyes swiftly went to him. “She was a drunk and she didn’t give much of a shit about him. She’s dead but he’s in a better place with a woman who sits up at night and watches TV with him until he gets to sleep and makes him cupcakes. He’s strugglin’ with that, knowin’ his life is better without her in it, feelin’ guilt that that’s how he felt when it became permanent. He’s gonna struggle with it for awhile. It’s good you made it come out, he’s gotta let it come out and it’s best it comes out when people are around who’ll handle him with care.”
Mom, Carrie, Mack and me all stared at Tate. Then I moved to him, pressed my front to his side and wrapped my arms around him.
“Dad’ll handle him with care, Captain,” I whispered, my head tipped back to look at his profile and he twisted his neck to look down at me.
“I know that,” he whispered back and then his eyes went to Mom. “I’m pleased you’re here, Jeannie.”
“Family looks after family,” Mom replied softly, her eyes came to me and then went back to Tate. “But you already know that, don’t you, Tate?”
“Yeah,” Tate answered.
“You want coffee?” Mom asked, wisely changing the subject.
“Yeah,” Tate repeated.
“You take it black,” she muttered and walked to the cupboard.
I pressed into Tate, my body relaxing.
“Wow!” Carrie exclaimed and my body got tense again as I looked at my sister. “That is a pretty kitty.”
“Her name’s Princess Fancy Pants,” I blurted, Tate’s arm gave me a warning squeeze, I ignored it and finished. “She’s Tate’s.”
Carrie’s eyes flew to Tate and she giggled. “You named your cat Princess Fancy Pants?”
“Holy f**k,” Mack muttered.
“Her name is Buster,” Tate declared.
“Her name is Buster?” Mom asked, handing Tate a coffee.
“I like Princess Fancy Pants better,” Carrie decided.
“Tell your sister, she calls my cat that, she’s ejected,” Tate said to me as he took the coffee from Mom and I tried not to laugh.
“Um… Carrie, I was just joking,” I clarified. “Tate and Buster are tight. He’s protective and he really doesn’t like Princess Fancy Pants.”
Carrie watched Buster wind her way through Tate and my ankles and her lips were twitching when her eyes went to Tate then came to me and she murmured, “Right.”
“It’s going to be a long day,” Mom noted, her eyes on Mack. “Mack, pass me a cupcake.”
Mack grabbed a cupcake and handed it to Mom and I slid away from Tate and went to the sliding glass door. I looked until I found them, Dad and Jonas standing out in Tate’s drive, Jonas’s arm lifted to point at something.
I felt Tate move in behind me then I felt his arm around my chest pulling me into his body. I knew he was watching too and I knew he saw it when Dad said something to Jonas which made Jonas tip his head back and grin at Dad like he was exceptionally funny something my Dad could be. I knew this because Tate’s arm tightened reflexively.
Tate’s lips came to my ear.
“Special,” he muttered, I lifted my hand to curl my fingers around his forearm and I held on as I fought back tears.
* * * * *
Tate parked the Explorer in the parking lot of the funeral home, my family following us in their rental and parking on Tate’s side.
I undid my seatbelt, opened the door and jumped down then stilled when I saw Jonas had also jumped down and was instantly accosted by an older woman with lots of blonde hair. She was wearing a brightly colored gypsy skirt with sequins stitched in a pattern around the hem and little bells jingling at the bottom; a hot pink gypsy top that had flowing sleeves gathered at the wrists and a tie that gathered at the neckline; scuffed, fawn suede cowboy boots and lots and lots of silver and turquoise jewelry at ears, neck, fingers and wrists.
