Choices (43 page)

“I told you. You’re not the only one who loses control. You make me do stupid things, Laurel, stupid things, like smoke cigarettes. I don’t even smoke!” I hugged him even tighter to me a second time.

“Good! I’m glad I’m not the only one. Now, let’s do stupid things together.” He leaned his forehead into mine again, closed h
is eyes and sighed contentedly murmuring a quiet, heartfelt “thank you God.”

As I lay
in my makeshift basement bedroom listening to the call of the night, a few weeks after Brandon stormed into the baptism, I recalled the night before and the day’s events back to the forefront of my memory, holding it there until it shimmered over me and suffused me with a glow that radiated from the inside out.  He was staying in the basement with me once the kids had gone to bed. I let him in the basement door. Funny, it was similar to sneaking around my parents, except now my bosses are thirteen, ten and eight, not to mention a newborn, which is the bossiest of them all!

“Laurel?”
He nudged me with his foot.

“Hmm…I’m sleeping. Don’t you know you shouldn’t wake a sleeping mother or a sleeping baby? Where were you raised… on a farm?” He laughed.

“Well, now that you mention it, yeah, I kinda was raised on a farm sort of. My grandparents came to visit us more in Florida, than we came up to visit them. But the few times I was able to visit them at the farm, it was fantastic. I loved it. You know farms are really nice, healthy even.” He turned away from me and I rubbed his back.

“Sweetie,
I’m tired, get on with your point. Noah’s going to be up again in an hour.” I stretched and sighed. “Don’t worry about Noah; I’ll get up with him. You have milk in the fridge down here right?” I rolled over to look at him. We stayed in the basement now permanently. I wasn’t moving into the old bedroom not now, not ever. We needed to make plans but I was waiting for Brandon to take the lead on that one. I know we talked about Beth, but I just didn’t want to push anything. I was just thrilled to have him with me.

“Well, I was thinking we should move into the farmhouse.” He crinkled up his eyes and shielded his head as if I was going to throw the pillow at him.

“The farmhouse? Really? Why? That doesn’t make any sense to me at all? Why would you want to do that? Your mother and my arm…” I sat up now, alert with my full attention directed toward him.

He took a deep breathe and plunged in,
“I know it sounds crazy doesn’t it? For me, I see only the fact that you gave birth to my son there. It helps me feel connected to both of you since I wasn’t there.  I have good memories of happier times there and I want to fill the farmhouse again with more happy times and sweeter memories with our blended family living there and taking care of the small field of corn and the animals.”

“Oh, Jesus
, Brandon. The farm? Wow, I’m not a farm girl and well, the kids would love it that’s for sure, and they don’t know all the details about what happened and hmm…I’d have to think about it. I’m not sure. A lot happened there. I was so scared. I thought I was going to die there, me and the baby.” I hugged my knees to my chest.

“But you didn’t! That’s the beauty of it! You didn’t and what better way to celebrate that fact than to live a happy life there. I could start my own business with the money left over from Jo’s estate and her boutique and the money my grandparents left to me and we can live there.” Damn him! Will I ever be able to say no to him with those piercing eyes and those roaming hands, and the earthy smell of his musk?

“Stop looking at me like that! Stop roaming! You don’t play fair.” He reached through the sheets to tug at my flannel shorts and run his fingers delicately up the inside of my thigh.

“It’s been
six weeks, hasn’t it? Isn’t that what you told me six weeks? I know you had your appointment, Miss Organization. You had it marked on your calendar in the kitchen.” He grinned and nibbled at my neck and my earlobes.

“Oh, now you just cut that out and you know damn well I had my appointment yesterday and you also know damn well that I can never say no to you.” I sighed as he rolled down my flannel shorts, ran his fingers up and down the inside of my thigh, finding what he was seeking and gently parted my flesh and swirled a soft delicate finger right where it counted the most u
ntil he heard me sigh, roll down onto my back and welcome him with open legs. I smiled through my eyes that were slowly brimming with tears. He gently rolled on top of me, carefully so he wouldn’t crush my sensitive breasts. He was always naked at night when we slept. Always. “Hey, you’re not crying are you? We don’t have to. I’m hurting you, aren’t I?” He rolled away from me. “No, no don’t stop, don’t do that. Come back to me. Come back to me now. I’m cold.” He gently resumed his position. “No, I’m not crying because I’m hurting. I’m crying because I’m so happy and I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe we’re here at this point and we’re talking about where to live - together. I’m just overwhelmed and hormonal.”

He tugged at the nursing bra trying to remove it.

“Sorry, but that has to stay on or my breasts will become very well acquainted with my knees and that’s a friendship I don’t want to establish.”

“No problem. It’s sexy as hell. Damn, woman they’re huge and they’re all for me.”

“Only if you say please and you’re gentle with me.”

“The begging is a piece of cake. I’ve been doing that for years. Please, pretty please, with a cherry on top. See, I’m good at it, aren’t I. Lots of practice.
  Gentle, I’ll have to work at.” He kissed me long, slow and deep. You’re sure? Please, tell me if I’m hurting you, tell me to st…” I covered his mouth with my hand and I slowly and very gently guided him into me with my other hand remembering the first time when he gave me his son to carry and nurture.

“Oh, Brandon, you feel so…” I breathed.

“I know you feel the same.” He whispered in my ear.

The drive up the driveway was a mixture of dread, anticipation and just beautiful scenery. Winding along the driveway I could imagine Brandon playing along this road and foraging and running through the forest and the fields. The red farmhouse was huge and well maintained, Lester and Henrietta loved this land and their pride radiated throughout the farmhouse and the fields. I remember during high school watching them fix the front stone fence by hand, everyday. Gosh, I thought they were old then watching them work side by side hauling, mixing, setting stones and driving the backhoe. I loved the farmhouse back in high school and it really hadn’t changed a bit. The massive stone fireplace and hearth in the sitting room located near the front entrance, housed wonderful old family photographs of Jo, Henrietta, Lester and Brandon in happy times. It was a wonderful place to sit and read and sip hot chocolate on cold winter days bundled in one of Henrietta’s hand-lovingly crocheted afghans. Now, I would have to work hard at reminding myself that this beautiful spot could very well have been my final resting place, but I had a choice. I could choose to think that way or I could remember the beauty of the fireplace, focus on my son’s birth and look forward to singing many a Christmas carol by the warmth of its hearth surrounded by my family and friends.

The air was still and quiet and smelled of summertime and farmland; fresh, green grass, sunshine, heat, flowers and corn. The grass was overgrown and in desperate need of attention. The corn followed in the same vein of attention seeking desperation. Brandon hired a few men to maintain some chores
, just enough to keep it going until we were able and ready to take on the challenge of being the new owners.  It really was a lovely drive just filled with an exorbitant amount of tension. Brandon obviously sensed it and squeezed my hand and turned to me as if to say something, but just smiled instead and nodded his head toward the front entrance to the farm.

He hesitated with the key in the lock to the huge front door of the old farm house. I wasn’t feeling particularly steady on my feet either but I really wanted to support his idea of living at the farmhouse. I really had to work hard squelching King Cobra and refusing to remember the smell of blood and gunshots. Memories whirled through my head but I simply refused to give them permission to take up residence inside my brain any longer. I placed my hand over his and looked into his troubled eyes, “Go on. It’s alright. Everyone is safe; including me. Go ahead, turn the key and let’s take a look around.” I smiled and rubbed his hand with my thumb trying to soothe some of his pain.

“I don’t know, Laurel, maybe you were right, maybe this isn’t such a good idea -too many bad memories. I was just being stupid. It’s unfair of me to put you through this again, have you relive that nightmare again. And now I’m having my own second thoughts about seeing the place where my mother died.” He started to withdrawal the key from the lock and I quickly pushed his hand forward.

“No,
it’s a great idea and I’m fine and you will be too. The farmhouse really is glorious and all the kids will love it and once we make it ours and you create the plans to renovate it, it will be spectacular. Now, c’mon, no turning back now. Let’s go.” He unlocked the door and we walked over the threshold. It was the smell that accosted us both first. The heavy tang of blood and sulfur still clung in the air. There were still some residual blood stains on the floor, which made me cringe and some left over police tape which Brandon quickly crumpled up and threw in the trashcan in the kitchen. I rushed over to one of the multitude of windows in the sitting room and pushed a few open.

“See, not so bad.” He said sounding positive. “A little elbow grease and this place will be good as new.” The air was still and very warm. Because of all the sunlight that streamed through the multitude of windows, the dust motes hung in the air, creating their own version of beautiful artwork. I half expected them to come to life and ask, ‘well, what are you going to do now?’ He walked over to me and gathered me in his arms. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little green. I’m not going to force you and I want you to be happy too, so please tell me if you want to run, I’ll understand. Hell, I’m such a fabulous architect I could probably build us a beautiful new home.” He smiled and ran a tender hand down the side of my face. “Just say the word, Laurel and we’re gone. You are more important to me than the farmhouse.” I gave him a quick kiss and I shrugged out of his embrace and walked over to the fireplace in the sitting room first. “I gave birth to Noah right here, Brandon. God, I was so scared, so scared I was going to die and Noah too and I wasn’t going to see Vanessa, Brielle and Jakie or my sisters, Paul or the girls or you ever again. Yet, here I stand living, breathing…”

“She died over next to you didn’t she?” He stood next to me, shaking his head and rubbing his forehead with one hand.

“She isn’t standing and breathing anymore is she?” He sighed and rubbed his forehead even more. He almost seemed angry at me. I couldn’t quite ga
uge his emotions at that moment. He just seemed so raw suddenly.

“Brandon, I can only imagine how hard this must be for you. You’ve been so worried about me and the baby, have you given yourself any time to process what happened to your mother, your grandparents?” I started to take a step toward him but I stopped and waited instead.

He blew out a long, slow and shaky breath and dropped his hand from his forehead and rolled his head up to the ceiling and closed his eyes.

“Really, in all honesty, she’s all I do think about
- and my grandparents too. I can’t stop thinking about them. I always knew how intense my mother is, I mean was…” He corrected himself by rolling his shoulders and then lowering his head, opening his eyes and gazing at me with unshed tears.

“I know that everything she did, she did because she loved me so much but, from the beginning, taking me from total strangers, from a woman who gave birth to me…” He faltered and
shrugged again. “…I don’t know, I just can’t wrap my brain around that concept. I just don’t know if I can understand or forgive someone for doing something so horrible. It just doesn’t make any sense, any sense at all. I think of my birth parents, too, my mother, my real mother, especially. Every waking thought revolves around how awful it must have been for them; knowing that I was taken, knowing that someone stole their love, their dreams and hopes for their future. I know how I felt when you were gone, when I thought you…” He struggled with holding back his anger and his fear but I heard it in his voice. I saw it in his eyes before he scrubbed his hand over them.

“But Brandon, you survived, you lived, you went on. You’re so much stronger than you realize or know. It jus
t adds another layer to the feelings I have for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right I did. I met Beth and she eased some of it but I was hollow, empty. She was more of a distraction, more of just trying to do something noble for someone because I felt so lost. I don’t want to go through that again ever.” He spoke so quietly that it was difficult to hear him. “See, Laurel, what makes me go on, is knowing that I have a future with you, with Noah, with our blended and extended family. Knowing what Jo did doesn’t hurt as much when I hold you and Noah. It doesn’t knock the breath out of me, well, it does but for other reasons than hurt and pain. My poor grandparents, burdened with her horrible secrets, forced to live her lie too. I won’t do that ever again or anymore. I won’t be forced to live a lie which is what I did when I lived with Beth. I want to build a new foundation here with only you Laurel and the kids and fill it with truth and love and happiness.
And I want to start right now.” He reached into his deep pocket of his khaki cargo shorts and pulled out a lovely little black box, bent one knee and placed his other hand over his heart.