Pulled (51 page)

He was so beautiful. The sun shone down over us as I sat barefoot, squishing my toes down into the damp grass, my legs drawn to my chest. I watched as my son ran, untroubled and free, across our backyard. His blond curls played around his face as the faint breeze gave way to sudden gusts of wind.

“Mommy, watch,” he cal ed. As if I’d ever stopped.

He climbed the steps to his smal slide, his three-year-old legs quick and adept in his favorite activity. His hazel eyes flashed with excitement when he reached the top. He swung himself up and onto his butt, digging his heels into the slide to propel himself forward. His face shown euphoric for the few brief seconds it took for him to reach the bottom.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, giggles bubbled up from within him, his chubby, round face succumbing to a fit of laughter as he raced across the lawn and threw himself into my lap. I exaggerated the impact by shielding his body in my arms as I al owed us to fal back into the cool grass. Laughing, I hugged him to me and breathed against his head.

“You are getting too big, Andrew. You knocked your momma right over!”

He wiggled and sat up, grinning at me and showing al of his smal , white teeth. “Daddy said I’m a big boy now.”

“Yes,” I confirmed, my own smile fil ed with the intense love I had for him. “You are a very big boy!” He was back on his feet, darting away. He sang the first line of his ABCs over and over while he settled down into the dirt to play with his trucks, leaving me to gaze at the little boy I stil could not believe was mine.

Even though it had never been her intention, Vanessa giving up this child had been the most unselfish act she’d ever committed. She had given me a son, a child not borne of my body but created specifical y for me, just as his father had been. I’d known it the moment I had felt his pul , just as I’d known that very thing when I felt Daniel so many years before.

Without Vanessa, though, Andrew wouldn’t be here. As much as I couldn’t stand the person she was, it didn’t stop me from waking each morning and silently thanking her for being the vessel that had brought my son into this world.

As he played in the sand, the sun warming his pale, smooth skin against the cool breeze, I saw traces of her.

No doubt, Andrew was his father’s twin, his golden curls a near perfect match to Daniel’s at the same age with smal ringlets framing his precious little face and bouncing where they rested at the nape of his neck with each bounding step he took. Patrick had informed me on more than one occasion that most strangers thought Andrew was a girl, but I stil couldn’t bear to see the curls cut away. Julia would only laugh and run her fingers lovingly through her grandson’s hair, reminding Patrick that he had said the very same thing when Daniel was young.

Andrew already had Daniel’s smile, the same one that rendered me helpless. I found myself constantly grateful that Andrew was such a good child because I had no idea how I would ever discipline him. And those eyes, they were as if God had seen his perfect work in Daniel and simply replicated the same magic in Andrew.

Stil , Vanessa was there, seen in the faint freckles that ran over the bridge of his button nose and sprinkled out under his eyes and in the hint of red in his hair that could only be seen when the sun hit it just right. It was an odd feeling to be so indebted to someone I hated so much.

That day in the hospital had been a harrowing experience for Daniel. Vanessa had left without signing anything, and the hospital staff questioned whether Daniel was even Andrew’s father. Though
we
didn’t need medical confirmation that Daniel’s blood flowed through Andrew’s body, the state did. Daniel had wil ingly yielded to a paternity test that confirmed him as Andrew’s biological father. As stressful as that al had been, it had become the single most important day in my life—the day I went home with Daniel and my son. Nothing could compare to arriving in front of our house and walking through the front door with my family. It was the first time in my life I had ever truly been home.

Daniel and I didn’t sleep that night; we had simply sat by Andrew’s crib and watched our precious child as he slept, unable to remove ourselves from his pul . It was forever strong and bonded me to him in a way that I never imagined possible.

That April, on what would have been Daniel’s and my anniversary, I was given the wedding I’d always wanted, a simple one in which Daniel and I stood hand-in-hand in Patrick and Julia’s backyard and professed that we would love each other forever.

The very next day, I signed a petition to adopt Andrew, seeking that he not only be my son in spirit but legal y as wel . It didn’t take Wil iam Bailey long to track down Vanessa, and while I could never understand her reasoning behind it, she relinquished her rights to Andrew that day. Two months later, I official y became the mother of Andrew Daniel Montgomery. No longer did I have to live in fear that someday he would be taken away from me. He was mine.

“Andrew, sweetheart, Daddy’s going to be home from work soon.” I stood, dusted the traces of wet dirt and grass from my pants, and extended my hand to him. “We should head in and start dinner.”

His sweet face brightened at the mention of his father, and he barreled over to me, throwing his arms in the air for me to pick him up. I swept him off the ground and into my arms.

“Here, let’s get your hands washed.” I walked to the kitchen sink and leaned over it, running his hands under the warm water and washing the residue from his afternoon of play down the drain.

I kissed his forehead and set him on his feet.

Andrew went straight for his little table standing in the corner of the kitchen. He settled into the smal chair, picking a dark blue crayon, his favorite color. He set to work, drawing a picture for his dad, something he did most every day while I cooked dinner.

I looked around the kitchen I loved, warmed by its comfort.

“What would you like for dinner, Andrew?” I glanced down at my son, so intent on the picture he was drawing, his smal hand flying across the page as he scribbled his wonderful, indecipherable thoughts for his father.

“Macaroni,” he said, tapping his finger against his chin as if he needed to think about it.

Grinning at his expected response, I went across the kitchen to the large, walk-in pantry, and grabbed a box of his favorite macaroni and cheese. “Macaroni it is, then.” I pul ed some chicken breasts and broccoli from the fridge to add to our meal.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I reached for a towel, patting down my hands before digging the phone out to see the name on the screen. I grinned and answered it, propping it between my ear and shoulder. “Hey, Katie.

How are you?”

Katie and I were stil very close, though we didn’t get to spend as much time together as we would have liked. The last few years had been rough on Shane and Katie.

Nicholas had been sentenced to only three months in jail for his assault on me and ordered to undergo anger management classes. To me, the penalty had seemed much too lenient, but in the end, it had cost him his company. During the months he was away, their clients steadily dropped off, and no new contracts came in. People seemed unwil ing to do business with a company that had Nicholas’s name attached to it. Nicholas had always been about image, and he was forced to leave Chicago where people knew him for who he truly was. He’d sold his portion of the company to Shane and left town without a trace. Not that I’d looked.

Shane had changed the company name, and

Katie went to work for him. Unfortunately, their first year was incredibly trying as they tried to salvage what was left of Shane’s years of hard work. He’d used al his profits from Daniel’s building to buy Nicholas out, and Katie and he had struggled to stay afloat. Not surprisingly, though, considering Shane’s work ethic and skil , it al paid off, and Shane was able to rebuild his company into what he’d always dreamed it could be. By the time Katie gave birth to their son, Jordan, little more than a year ago, the business was flourishing, and she was able to turn her duties over to a new office manager so she could stay home to raise their son.

“I’m great, babe, how are—” She was cut off by the shril cry of Jordan, obviously coming through a baby monitor. Her voice was somewhat muffled but stil loud as she pul ed the phone away from her mouth, yel ing, “Shane, I’m on the phone. Get Jordan.” I was unable to restrain my giggle. Their house was screaming chaos every time I spoke with her, but it was a happy, loving chaos in which they al seemed to thrive.

“Sorry,” she laughed under her breath. “Every time I pick up the phone, one of my boys suddenly needs me for something.”

Even though she laughed, she was not joking. I couldn’t remember a single conversation we’d had in the last year that hadn’t been interrupted by one of the two of them, not that either of us minded. “No problem. Everything is good here, just making dinner.”

“Good. So, Shane and I are taking Jordan to the zoo on Saturday and wanted to see if you guys might want to meet us?”

“I’m sure Andrew would love that. What time?”

“Noonish? Thought we could just get lunch there.

Why don’t you see if Erin wants to tag along?” Erin had settled in a house just ten minutes from us, and we saw her at least a couple of times a week. She’d always show up unannounced, saying she needed to practice with my son for the children she hoped to have in the near future.

“Sure. I’l give her a—”

The sound of something crashing in the

background interrupted us. Shane yel ed for help, and Katie snapped, her voice no longer directed at me, “Seriously, Shane?” She grunted her mild annoyance into the phone,

“I’ve gotta go, Melanie, Shane just made a huge mess. See you on Saturday?”

“Yep, we’l be there.”

“Okay, bye.”

I clicked off my phone and poured the macaroni into the boiling water. “So guess what, Andrew,” I said, drawing his attention from the paper in front of him that was now nearly black from al of the different colors he’d mixed together.

He looked up, excited by the tone in my voice.

“What?”

“That was Katie, and she asked if you wanted to go to the zoo with Jordan on Saturday. Does that sound like fun?”

He nodded his head, emphasizing the movement.

“Yes, I love the zoo, Momma.”

I ruffled my hand through his curls and placed a kiss against it. “Good, because I love the zoo, too.” With the sound of the garage door opening, Andrew jumped to his feet, squealing, “Daddy!” He grabbed the picture he’d colored and raced down the hal to meet his father at the door.

My heart did its own little flip-flop, ever anxious for the reunion with its match. The door opened and Daniel’s voice boomed as it carried down the hal , “There’s my little man!” Shril laughter and commotion fol owed as the daily round of tickling and loud, exaggerated kisses commenced as soon as Andrew was in Daniel’s arms. Loud steps hurried down the hal as Daniel shouted, his question obviously meant for me as he cal ed, “Where’s Mommy?” I hol ered back, “Kitchen.”

They rounded the corner and came into view.

Andrew laughed hysterical y as Daniel carried him upside down over the shoulder. Daniel’s face was alight with love, glowing with complete joy. “There she is.” His voice softened when he spoke, his words holding more meaning than any other could ever know. He stood before me, the energy thick, drawing me to the man I could never live without. He flipped Andrew and set him upright on the floor before he reached out to wrap his arms around my waist.

He drew me into a closed-mouth, albeit fierce kiss, his touch assuring me he had missed me.

I grinned, my lips stil pressed to his, and murmured, “I missed you, too.”

He nodded, smirking against my mouth, lingering for a second longer. He stepped away, and brought Andrew back into his arms. “So, what did you and Mommy do today?”

Andrew proceeded to give Daniel a play-by-play of our entire day, his jumbled, sweet words clear to Daniel and me. He ended his speech by tel ing Daniel of our planned trip to the zoo this weekend.

“The zoo! I can’t wait,” Daniel said, throwing Andrew into the air, an act I had long since given up tel ing him to be careful about.

“Okay, guys, dinner’s ready.” I took two of the plates I had already fil ed, and Daniel grabbed the special one for Andrew. We al settled around the table in the breakfast nook. Daniel’s hand found my knee, his thumb caressing over the fabric of my pants, distance for us never an option.

“How was your day, baby?” He watched for my reaction as he speared a piece of chicken and placed it into his mouth.

I real y never had a bad day. Some were more stressful than others, but I had been given back my life, and I would never take it for granted. I never let the smal things skew that truth. Daniel always asked, though, because he real y cared, so I told him the truth.

“Perfect.”

He grinned and shook his head, knowing exactly what I meant. He lived his life the very same way.

“Oh,” I sputtered through my ful mouth, chewing and swal owing my food. “I talked to my mom today, and everyone’s coming out for the Fourth of July.” Mom came out to visit often, but Mark and my sister had only been here a few times, and I couldn’t wait to have the house fil ed with the rest of my family. In the past three years, we had al become very close. That piece of me had been lacking for so long, and I now found I couldn’t go long without seeing them.

The only missing person had been my father, but it wasn’t from lack of trying on my part. My chest tightened a little as I thought of him. Even though he had caused me so much pain, he was stil my father, and I had been wil ing to forgive him. I had reached out on more than a few occasions. I had sent him an invitation to our wedding and cards with pictures of my family on every holiday. I had also left him numerous phone messages, trying to get in contact with him. He never replied.

When he’d died last year of a sudden heart attack, I’d had to accept I would never reconcile our relationship. As angry as I was at him for being so prideful and unwil ing to al ow us to come to terms with our past mistakes, I would never deny that his death had been a huge blow.