The New Ever After (The New Ever After Series) (2 page)

Approximately Ten Months Later

Hank and I are at Pony Pasture for the afternoon. I’m sitting on the rocks watching him swim in the rapids of the James River. The sun is bright and the fish are splashing about in the water. I see his hands reach up in the air once. I think nothing of it. I think he’s trying to propel himself up. It’s not until I see his head bob up with his mouth open gasping for air that I start to worry. His mouth’s open, and he’s going to swallow water if he doesn’t shut it. And then I don’t see him. I don’t see his arms or the strawberry blonde hair on the top of his head. So I stand up. I hop across the rocks to try to get as close as I can to where he was. I start yelling his name, “Hank!” I start waving my hands. But I don’t get into the water. I search the surface to see if I can see him. I can’t see anything beyond the geese that are standing two feet in front of me looking for food. I reach for my phone, and it falls out of my sweaty palms and into the river. I start screaming again, “HANK!” No one answers. I can only hear the water running over the rocks and the paddling of the geese. I bend down and kneel on the rocks and reach my hands into the water and grab for anything I can find. I only grab the river plants, and I can’t find anything that isn’t slimy. I’m looking for his hands and the tears are falling faster and harder and I’m frantically yelling his name, “HANK! HANK! HANK!” But he won’t be able to understand it any more because my tears and the snot that is streaming down my face are muffling my screams. “HANK! HANK! HANK!”

And then I feel his arms wrap around me
, and all I can say is, “Thank God! You’re alive.” And the arms grip me tighter and wake me from my sleep. I open my eyes to see the tattoos, and I remember that he’s still dead and it’s not his arms that are wrapped around me.

Heather could hear George crying through the intercom. The birds were chirping right outside her window, so sunrise was imminent. With George and the birds, who needed an alarm clock? But today, she couldn't get up. She had pretended not to hear Emily when she had cried in the middle of the night, so Peter had gotten up and given her a binkie. He had gotten back into bed and kissed her on the forehead. A kiss while she was feigning sleep.

And then
she remembered the nightmare she’d had. Peter had comforted her and loved her while she screamed out for her dead husband. Peter made no secret that he loved her and he had every intention of always taking care of her. He had while she had her broken ankle and while she was hugely pregnant with the twins. And now he loved her and cradled her when she yelled Hank’s name in her sleep.

Heather loved him too
. She loved the way he was with her kids and with their babies. She loved the way he had kissed her and warmed her up when she’d had the chills after delivering the twins. She loved the way he would buy every kind of feminine product she could possibly need without batting an eye. She loved the way he was still so tender around the scar that was the entryway for their babies. She loved the way he had gone to get a vasectomy a month after the twins were born because they were certain five kids was enough. Mostly, she loved the way the sight or smell of him made her feel like she had a soda can inside of her that was about to bubble over. He made her whole body tingle, but today, even with all the love, she couldn't face the drudgery of the tasks before her. Especially after the terror she had faced while she slept.

Maybe it’s my age
, she thought. Forty had come and gone for Heather without much hoopla since the twins had been on their way and her first book was being published. But this year she had turned 41. And 41 felt harder and really old to Heather. Jenny, her best friend, told her to cut herself some slack. Heather thought that was easily said by a 38-year-old. Jenny thought it was probably the five kids that were making her feel old. But it wasn't just the kids. It was the extra wrinkles around her eyes and the spider veins around her knees. It was the saggy boobs and the need to hold the book farther from her eyes. It was the way gravity was taking its toll.

Richard, her agent, had asked Heather to write a little piece about being 41 to use for some promotional material
for her book. She had hemmed and hawed about it, but Peter had encouraged her. He wanted her to write more anyway. And finally, she had come up with something. Something she wanted to use as her mantra but had a hard time believing.

At 41, I don't care about the roots that show in between salon visits. I don't care as much about the veins on my legs that I've earned from carrying five kids. I don't care if there is a little jiggle when I walk. I won't give up my chai or my beer. I don't care about pretenses. I care about down and dirty love and friendship. I care about real and messy sprinkled with honesty.

At 41, I know where I'm going and honor where I've been. I don't care about being seen, the next new thing or dancing till dawn. I prefer intimate gatherings, conversations under the stars and things that tickle my whimsy.

At 41, I know what is true and worthy. I can spot honesty and goodness a mile away and know that kindness is the only thing that matters.

At 41, I can look to the future
filled with hope and a smile.

Richard loved it and had asked her to make a You Tube video of herself reading it. It went viral, and she had sold even more books. It felt good to Heather that even though she had no need to support herself, she could. She was making her way in the world and strangely was becoming both independent and dependent. Dependent on Peter and his love.

Bu
t here was part of her problem. She didn't actually feel like she proclaimed to in her promotional piece everyday. That's the way she wanted to feel and strived to feel, but really she just felt old. Jenny tried dragging her to Bikram Yoga and all kinds of breathing and meditation classes to get her to chill out and feel the happiness she had. None of it worked, and today it was going to take more than a mantra to help her.

She lazed in bed for a few extra minutes and forced herself to get up and take George and Emily downstairs. She plopped them into the playpen and let them play and watch a Baby Shakespeare DVD
. She turned on the coffeepot and got out three bento style Tupperware containers and robotically made the big kids' lunches. Three pb&js, goldfish, an Oreo cookie and chopped up strawberries. She wrote only two notes on napkins since Hayes had requested Heather not write him a note anymore because it wasn't cool when you were in seventh grade to get notes from your mom.

Peter walked down just as Heather had finished the lunches
. He greeted her with a kiss on her forehead and grabbed her around the waist giving her goosebumps all over. At least she knew she loved this man.

"Baby, what is it?" She knew her furrowed brow gave her away
.

"It's nothing
. Just the monotony of the morning. And for some reason, it's worse today than other days."

"What can I do to help?"
Peter asked as his fingers tickled her back.

Heather couldn't think of anything
. He did a thousand times more than most dads because he worked from home. He helped feed the kids and get them off to school. He took care of the twins and manipulated his writing schedule to give Heather lots of breaks. He doted on her every need. But right now nothing mattered. It was like Heather was hungry for something that she couldn't name and worried about something she couldn’t describe.

"Nothing
. You do so much anyway. I'm just moody today."

“Want to talk about your dream?”

“More like nightmare. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Baby, I’m here for you for whatever you need.”

He kissed her and wrapped his arms around her, and she felt even guiltier for screaming Hank’s name in Peter’s bed.

Peter made the twins their breakfast while Heather got the other three up and going
. She was mad at herself for feeling this way and that made it all worse.

How could a mother of five virtually perfect kids, married to the famous author Peter Adamson, living in this fabulous house without any financial worries, feel so
blah?
thought Heather. And blah was really the only way to describe how she felt.

Henry came downstairs with mismatched socks that went up to his knees and ate a frozen waffle, frozen
. Skipping the battle of the mismatched socks was the only option for Heather.

“You’re going to break your teeth on that waffle, Henry,” she said
not so gently.

“My teeth are strong, Mom,” he replied as h
e turned off Baby Shakespeare and turned on Sportscenter.

Hayes made his way down complaining that he needed some quiet to study for his Spanish test.

“Peter can help you. He knows Spanish,” said Heather.

“Of course he does, Mom,” he said with a little teenage snark
y tone. “But I don’t want him to help. I want you to.”

“Dude, just let me help you.
Your mom has her hands full,” said Peter ignoring the tone.

Hayes shrugged and threw his notebook on the table in front of Peter
. Peter quizzed him and deemed him ready to pass the test. Hayes walked off with a roll of his eyes.

Gracie walked down and Heather got out the tangle spray to try taming the bird’s nest on the back of her head.

“Mom, I hate this,
” Gracie started.

“That hurts, she continued.

“STOP!” she yelled.

"Gracie, you're almost in fifth grade
. If you don't like this, you need to figure out how to do it yourself," said Heather in a tone that she would definitely regret after Gracie got on the bus.

Gracie didn't care about her appearance
. She cared a little bit about clothes, but comfort was her big thing. Most of the time Heather was thrilled about that but not when she had to fight her to brush her hair or her teeth.

"
Why don’t you get your running clothes on? Let’s take a run as soon as Jenny gets here. She can watch the twins for an hour before you make plans for tomorrow's reading," said Peter.

"I will in a minut
e." Heather replied, slightly annoyed at his bossy tone and halfway thinking she must look like a tub of lard if Peter was suggesting a run. But the rational half that sometimes poked its head through knew that Peter didn't think that and he was just trying to help her release some stress.

Five breakfasts served, three lunches made, three backpacks packed with necessary items and one pot of coffee later, Heather and Peter kissed the three big ones good bye and sent them off to their respective schools
. She took Emily and Peter took George upstairs to get dressed. If the twins had been her first kids, she would have put them in coordinating outfits. But they were number four and five and clean was the only goal for Heather.

She
threw on some exercise clothes and walked back into the kitchen. Peter had already brought the twins down. Emily was bouncing in the swing suspended from the doorway, and George was crashing into things as he moved around in the walker. The twins had every toy or contraption Peter could find. He loved baby toys and obsessed over the next great thing for each of them. Heather heard the squeak of the laundry room door and without looking up knew Jenny was walking in.

"Good morning, sunshine," she said to Heather with a sarcastic smile across her face.

"Morning. Do you mind if Peter and I go for a quick run?"

"Not at all." A
s Heather and Peter's assistant, babysitting was sometimes in the job description. And Heather knew Jenny loved having cuddle time with the twins and would probably prefer it to answering some of their correspondence.

Peter knew it was going to be a tough day when Heather had woken up screaming during the night and then proceeded to pretend she was sleeping when Emily was crying. Waking up to his wife yelling Hank’s name and sobbing was hard for him to deal with. He knew she just needed time to heal, but somehow he was jealous that she was dreaming about her dead husband. He didn’t know who to turn to get Heather help with her nightmares. He hoped time would be her magic elixir.

H
is experience with women, other than the ones he had "loved and left," was limited to his sister, Janie. He was sure Janie was tired of getting texts from him looking for advice on what was normal behavior for a mom. He had texted her last week to see if it was normal to cut the box tops off of everything in the pantry. When she said yes, he went on to ask if it was normal to frantically head to Kroger for more when you realized you only had 28 box tops. Janie agreed that was normal too.

His quick entry into suburbia was not the easiest transition he had ever endured
. Many days he held his breath waiting to see what would freak Heather out or what crazy request would come from the baseball team or the PTA. It seemed like each request was more inane than the one that preceded it. Wacky hair, certain color laces in shoes, decorated baked potatoes. The first time Peter had gone to the kids' school to drop something off had been a disaster. He had rung the bell, and the office had buzzed him in. As he headed down the hall towards the classrooms, he was accosted by a group of office workers yelling at him to stop. He felt like he was under arrest. They asked him where he was going and reprimanded him for not stopping in the office. The shirt he had on, I Heart Soccer Moms, did not win him any friends either. The story was relayed to Heather on Facebook before he even got home, and she made sure to show him the wall post when he walked through the door.

From Tanya: Heather Meadows Adamson what's with your husband not stopping in at the office before he went to the classrooms? He almost caused a lockdown. And nice shirt too - I Heart Soccer Moms? Your kids don't even play soccer.

Peter had hoped to avoid his every move being monitored when he moved to suburbia, but that was proving to be a challenge. Suburban moms were stealthy in their ability to know everything and pass information quickly.

Peter appeared all ready to run while Heather laced up her shoes. Each time they ran together, he couldn't help but think of the first time he met Heather and picked her up out of a pothole on the side of the road. It had been love at first fall. They had started running together every once in a while after she was cleared to exercise again after the twins' were born.

They
grabbed Coco, headed down to the river from their backyard and ran along the path that connected to the county park system. Peter could usually tell that she didn't want him to be behind her by her constant insistence that he lead the way. Most likely she was afraid he would see her butt jiggle. But he wanted a view of his gorgeous wife to entice him on his run. But he also knew Heather found running on the trail tedious with all the obstacles, so before she asked, he ran in front of her setting the pace. When he stopped to let Coco go to the bathroom, Heather used the break to stretch her hamstrings, and Peter decided to broach Heather’s mood on the run.

"It's gorgeous out today," said Peter.

"Yep."

"We need to get you out of this rut," continued Peter.

"Am I really that awful? Am I as awful as Hayes?"

"No. He’ll come around. He’s just a moody teenager
. I just want to see you smile more. I get that you’re still dealing with so much."

He
knew that Heather had suffered major life changes and needed to be cut some slack. Losing Hank, finding Peter, getting pregnant with the twins, getting married, and publishing a book was enough to overwhelm most humans.

"I'm happy
. I just get tired of the same old routine all the time. All this school stuff is bringing me down. Too many commitments and projects. I keep forgetting all of the little stuff like Henry has to wear a red shirt or Gracie needs $4.53 for a field trip. These silly little things monopolize my mind. At least it's almost the end. And as far as my dream goes…Hank was in my life for thirty-two years. I guess my mind forgets he’s gone."

Peter took note of what she said and planned to do something about it
.

Maybe some time alone would help her work through some of the stress
, he thought.

“I think the kids will survive if you forget about some of the little stuff.”

“I know. But they’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want them to suffer because of my inattention to something.”

“They’ve handled the move and me pretty well I think.”

“It wasn’t really hard to move into a house with a pool, river access and a pool table. Hayes still needs some time, but I suspect that’s him being more of a teenager than anything else.”

They continued their run and made their way back home. He could see her shoulders relax as they made their way along the river. Just releasing some endorphins must have helped her. When they were done with the run, Heather went up to shower while Peter and Jenny conversed and conspired about the reading in Georgetown the next day.

After her shower, Heather yelled downstairs to Jenny to come up into her closet to help pick out an outfit. Jenny appeared a moment later and looked at the choices.

“Everything feels a little tight,” said Heather
. “It all shows off my muffin top.”

“You don’t even have a muffin top. What about this dress?”

“Makes my boobs look too big and shows off the skin underneath my arms.”

Jenny rolled her eyes and picked up a black pencil skirt and a bright green sleeveless blouse
. “This?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Ok. I know you can figure this all out on your own. You really don’t need me to do this.”

“But I like having your help
. You’re honest with me.”

The next step was what to read. Heather went through the old standard readings and decided she wasn't in the mood for any of them
. She had practically memorized the chapter about the call she received telling her Hank had died.

"I don't know what I want to read. I'm tired of them all
. To be honest, it gets hard to read about Hank after I’ve dreamt about him as well.”

"
I can only imagine. You’re almost done with these readings, and that will probably help you move on.”

“And every time I look at my book I find something wrong with it.”

“Stop. I do not need to tell you that you are an amazing writer. You can go on Amazon and read your 207 reviews. Just stay away from the three one star reviews, I know you’ve memorized them anyway,” said Jenny winking at Heather. “But you need to find something to read for tomorrow so get to work. I'm out, boss, and I'm leaving it to you to figure out.”

"Don't leave yet
. Just a few more minutes.”

"If I stay here any longer, I won't have time to
run to Starbucks and get my green tea or to meditate before the kids get off the bus. And with Matt working so much lately, I’m on my own."

"Why do you need to meditate anyway?"

"Because you and your aura have zapped all of my good energy, and I need to have a few cleansing breaths to remove all that negativity. You should try meditating. It might relieve some of that stress you're carrying around and it might even help you with your nightmares."

Heather rolled her eyes, opened the book again and set to the task of figuring out what to read. She didn’t want to talk about her night anymore.

"Bye, I'll see you in the morning," she said as Jenny walked out the door.