Forever Promised (52 page)

But he sat down with Benny for a good half an hour, grizzled gray hair—what was left of it—sticking out in tufts, rheumy blue eyes still sharp—and he held the baby, smiling so serenely into that scrunchy little face that JD stopped wiggling and just stared back.

“Lookie that,” Patrick murmured. “Lookie. See, Deacon was only two when I first saw him. He used to do that for his daddy. Get all restless and squirmy and sure as shit just calmed down as soon as you looked at him. See? See him? Just like Deacon.”

Patrick reached over and grabbed some Kleenex for himself, wiped his eyes, honked his nose, and smiled at Benny with a sort of worship.

“I remember when he took you in. I was so worried about him—he was so broken up back then. And I thought, ‘Oh God. These two—they could totally wreck each other.’ But not you and Deacon. You’re his sister and his daughter all rolled into one. And look what you gave him.” Patrick smiled down into JD’s face. “Look? The one thing Parrish ever worried about, did you know that?”

“No,” Benny said, too tired for tears. “I didn’t.”

“Yeah. Deacon’s daddy, he didn’t mind Deacon liking boys. But he knew Deacon always wanted children. When he was a little kid, Jon would come over, and when he left, Deacon would say, ‘If I had a little boy like Jon, I’d be home.’ See, even then. He wanted to be raising someone. It’s like horses. It’s what he was born to do.”

Benny fell asleep then, with the old man rocking Deacon’s baby in his arms. She woke up a little later, and Deacon was picking the baby up, shushing her back to sleep. He had the bracelet on, she realized. The one that said that he was the daddy. She didn’t have that bracelet on. She wasn’t the mommy. Not really.

She felt young. Young and disoriented and sad for things she couldn’t put a voice to. “Deacon, sing for Parry’n’me, ’kay?”

“Yeah, Shorty. Yeah. ‘I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord….’”

“Hallelujah”
was a good choice, she thought as she fell asleep. It went on forever.

There was the nurse, sometime after that, but the baby wasn’t in the room with her, so after her blood pressure, and the pad change, and the painkiller, she was out again. When she woke up this time, it was late afternoon, and JD breathed softly in the basinet. Kimmy and Mikhail were in the room, and when she narrowed her eyes, she saw Shane was asleep on the bed next to her.

“What in the—”

“Sh,” Kimmy murmured. “We got a new recruit in last night. I had Parry, so he dealt with her the whole time. He’s sort of wiped.”

Mikhail was standing next to Shane, and he leaned over for a moment and kissed his forehead while he slept. Shane was wearing sweats and a hooded sweatshirt, and his dark hair was mussed over his forehead, erupting into curls where normally it would be slicked back. Benny thought about his quiet confidence the day of the funeral, and how one Thanksgiving, they’d all been mostly thankful that Shane survived.

Mikhail looked up and caught her eye.

“Those children are
our
babies,” he said proudly, his hand absurdly tender on Shane’s cheek. “My cop here, he is the best parent.”

“I think he’s part of a team,” Benny said, remembering Mikhail’s heartbreak over the sound of her own right now.

Mikhail shrugged. “I can cook,” he dismissed and then cut in front of Kimmy to sit primly in the little visitor’s chair.

Kimmy didn’t notice. She was hovering over the basinet, her hands half in and half out, and Benny spared a moment of grogginess to realize Kimmy must be terrified of that sort of pain.

“Pick him up,” Benny said quietly. “We’re going to be aunties together; the least you can do is learn what he feels like.”

Kimmy did, JD going so gracefully into her arms that a part of Benny mourned for what Kimmy couldn’t have.

But that wasn’t what Kimmy was thinking. Kimmy’s eyes were closed, and her body was swaying to silent music.

Benny looked at Mikhail, and he was staring at his sister-in-law with bright eyes. Together, they watched Kimmy dance until the song was done, while JD simply made gurgling vowels, his first attempts at sound.

“Here,” Mikhail said, holding out his arms. Kimmy gave him the baby reluctantly, and Mikhail sighed, cuddling the child like a Prussian general, but protective just the same. He looked back up at Kimmy and said, “Kimmy, darling, Benny must be starving. We brought food in a cooler we left in the car. Would you want to go get it?”

Kimmy grimaced. “You couldn’t remember that when we brought the gifts, you little Russian bastard?”

“No, cow woman, I was too busy avoiding your great and powerful ass. It was in my way. Now make up for it and go fetch like the peasant you are.”

“Bitch.”

“Heifer.”

Kimmy bent and kissed his cheek and danced away.

Mikhail was left holding the baby that was not Benny’s.

“Benny, little one,” he said softly, “you and I must have a talk.”

“Don’t I get a day’s grace? I just pushed that critter out of my cooter, Mikhail! No big scary talks, right?”

Mikhail shook his head. “No, my dear. This talk must be held now. You look at this baby with such sorrow. I cannot help but think you need to hear this.”

Benny swallowed. “I’m going to need a tissue,” she decided and grabbed the entire box.

“You are very wise,” Mikhail said, smiling a little. JD was asleep in his arms, and for a moment, Benny wanted to ask for him back. But there would be no baby for Kimmy, no nephew for Shane and Mikhail. This baby was theirs as well.

“Babies are wonderful things,” Mikhail murmured. “Can you not see? All of the possibilities he has? All of the sunny days and the rainy days, all of the things we have to give him? We try to give to the children at Promise House, you know.” Sadness etched his face like acid etched glass. “Shane and I, we try to give them love, to give them parenting. It is difficult. They do not know how to take anymore. They don’t know how to accept gifts. You do.” Mikhail looked up. “We have brought you lengths and lengths of crinoline and taffeta and tulle. Kimmy and I, we have made our costumes for years. We will make you such a dress. Let us make you a dress for your prince, so that we may see you married.”

The light went on then. “All of you?” she asked, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“But of course,” Mikhail said. “Do you not see? You have given to all of us—not just Deacon and Crick. You have given hope to Jeff and Collin—they plan to have their own. You have given solace to Kimmy, who can’t. You have given….” His voice clogged, and his triangular face with that strong, no-compromise chin grew even tighter in expression. “You have given Shane and I comfort. All of the broken children, Bernice, yourself included, and we are all here at your feet, grateful, blessedly, blessedly grateful, for the gift you have given us. This baby, he is unbroken. We will keep him that way for as long as we can. You and me, we have seen children discarded, we have seen them beaten and hurt. This baby has no scars, no strikes against him. He will be cared for. We can erase the past with him, we can make a future that none of us had. Do you not see? We cannot thank you enough. Look at what you have done.”

Benny was crying almost too hard to see by then, but Mikhail was gentle with her. He stood up and dropped the rail of her bed and settled JD in her arms. She held him then, and for the first time, he didn’t feel like hers.

And that was okay.

When Drew came back that evening, he brought the iPod speaker from home. He played soft music and said blessedly very little. And then “Crazy in Love” by Beyoncé came on, and she smiled shyly. When she looked up at Drew, he was smiling back and holding a shiny, sparkly, baubly confection of an engagement ring.

It fit perfectly.

B
ENNY
looked beautiful on her wedding day—even if she wore sequined, beruffled white high-tops with her sleeveless princess dress.

August had been a brutal motherfucker of a month, so she and Drew had agreed to have the wedding in September, when the weather had gotten a little more sane, and Benny stood in the shade near the rock, looking amazing and regal and glorious in a dress that had been as lovingly stitched as Gabriel’s wings.

Drew? Drew was wearing a full tuxedo, courtesy of Jeff, who had taken care of every detail. No faux simplicity for Benny’s wedding, no scraps of burlap on glass bottles—Benny’s favors were tiny handbags emblazoned with the date and filled with lip balm and key chains and pens and paper, all with the graceful, simple curve from their wedding invitations, and their names, and the wedding date.

The flowers were all roses.

Benny’s sister stood there next to Kimmy and Amy, all of them wearing bridesmaid’s dresses in various shades of lavender and pink. It had taken a couple of months of careful, neutral acquaintanceship, but Missy had eventually been ready to move into their spare room and was working now as part of the family. She was more acerbic than Benny, and sometimes she could still be a flaming bitch. But she and Crick were a lot alike, and Deacon was coming to enjoy her company and her help. The week before, as Deacon had been leading Shooter around the ring in more penance, she’d shouted over the practice ring.

“Deacon, stop rehearsing your lines or that fucking horse is going to
kill
you!”

Deacon had looked up from an admittedly distracted state of practicing for the ceremony, and sure enough, Shooter was flattening her ears and looking to go apeshit. Deacon put the big horse in her place and then grinned at Missy.

“Thanks, darlin’—needed the reminder!”

She’d preened for the rest of the day. It hadn’t been until that evening that Crick had told him, “You think an adult
ever
thanked that kid for knowing best?” that he realized what he meant to her.

She looked grown-up and beautiful standing next to her tiny sister (pink dress and redhead complexion notwithstanding), and Deacon was proud to call her family.

In front of the women, Lila and Parry were holding hands, wearing flower girl dresses in the same colors. They were so thrilled to be together again, it was as though they’d never been separated, and Deacon was, as always, amazed to see how much Jon’s daughter had grown.

Shane and Mikhail helped to seat people with the aid of the children from Promise House. Watching Mikhail interact with a painfully underfed teenage girl made Deacon’s heart hurt. The two of them had more courage than anyone Deacon had ever known, because they knew what heartache was, and they threw themselves at it again and again and again.

Jeff and Collin ran water to anyone who asked. They were almost like a tag-team stand-up delivery service—Jeff would say the funny thing, Collin would be the straight man. Jeff told Crick that he and Collin were looking into adoption. Children. Hope. They all had it. Thinking about his son and his lover, Deacon could finally concede hope wasn’t the enemy anymore. Hope could do glorious things if you let it—and if you gave it a big hand and some painfully crafted faith.

The men—
his
men—all wore matching black suits like the one Deacon had, with brightly colored shirts that matched the girls’ dresses. Not everybody’s usual or casual, no, but not one person had complained about it—not once. It was Benny’s wedding. They would have worn leather and chains, but they were just as glad it was a simple suit.

And there, leaning against the rock itself, was Carrick James Francis, in a tuxedo too, and their son, James Deacon, suspended from one of those little baby front-pack things, his chubby bare legs sticking out and his pert little face peeping over the barrier that kept him still.

Deacon smiled at the two of them, and waved, and JD ignored Deacon (who, apparently, was just going to be Deacon, since he and Crick hadn’t gotten a handle on the two dads thing) while Daddy (that would be Crick) waved happily back like a little kid.

Deacon laughed and turned his attention back to his job, as uncomfortable as it was, and that was welcoming people to Promise Rock.

When he saw the cab, he almost blacked out.

And
then
he saw red. He strode across the stream to the gate and swung it wide open.

“
You
were supposed to have some big bad day in court, asshole!” he snapped, and Jon smirked, looking rumpled and sleepy in his best suit.

“
I
wasn’t able to get out of it until yesterday morning,” Jon said, but he looked entirely too proud of himself.

“Great—does this mean you’re presiding?” Because
fuck
had Deacon tried to get out of it.

Jon shook his head. “And deprive Crick of being able to say ‘My husband married my sister after she had his baby’?”

Deacon snickered, because Crick had said
just
exactly that.

“No, brother,” Jon told him when they could talk, “you’ve got this bit handled.”

Deacon tried to stay irritated, but it wasn’t easy when Jon was hugging him hard, and he was hugging back. “I’m so glad you could come,” he said, nakedly grateful. Amy and the kids had been able to, but it had hurt—bad—when Jon thought he couldn’t.

“I threatened to quit,” Jon said, his blond hair falling in his face, unkempt and unstyled, and then he shrugged, and Deacon knew he wasn’t kidding.

“Well, hell. For that, I’ll just have to officiate the damned wedding.”

Jon nodded, his eyes searching Benny out in the crowd. His smile was a little ruined by proud-uncle tears. “You know, sort of the least you can do.”

Benny’s wedding wasn’t small.

The kids from Promise House were there, as attendees and not attendants. Half the parents from Parry’s soccer team made it, and Collin’s entire family, as well as Patrick and his sister and some of Amy’s family as well. They’d needed to rent chairs for everyone, and not just for the reception. When Deacon stood at the rock itself, and Benny and Drew stood in front of him, he was looking at a crowd of eighty or so people who were all expecting him to know what in the fuck he was doing.

Carrick James and their son stood back by the reception book and looked at him that way too.