The Weight of Love (2 page)

“Mitchell!” Gage throws his arm around me, holding the tray of bread out to the side.

“Watch the sacrament, brother,” I whisper as I give him a smile.

“Oh, yeah.” He hands it to me.

I stare at the tray of broken bread. Right. I spent last night with Caroline, which probably doesn’t put me in the best frame of mind to take the sacrament. In the years I went to church, I never stepped outside of what I was supposed to be doing. I’ve never been in a position where I felt like I wasn’t worthy to take it. Maybe that means I should.

I hold the tray over for Mom. She takes a small piece of bread, doesn’t look at me, and bows her head back down. I’ve always wondered what Mom thinks about during sacrament. She sits with her head bowed and her eyes closed. Always. I find it amusing since she has less to be sorry for than anyone I know. Maybe it’s about something else for her.

Gage gives me another nudge as he passes the water. Fortunately he doesn’t say anything about me skipping both. That surprises me. His brand of autism comes with a startling lack of tact.

When
Gage is excused he sits next to me. He looks down at his lap, but leans in toward my shoulder. It’s a Gabe version of a hug. I rest my arm over his back and he squirms underneath me.

“Sorry,”
I whisper. I know there’s a lot of ways he doesn’t like to be touched. Sometimes I forget.

I sit back and look around at the faces as the
Bishop stands up again. Where do I even start if I want this again?

“With something small,” Mom whispers, “like being here for your sister’s baby.”

My eyes meet hers. Did I say that out loud?

“I love you, son.”

Once again I get hit in the chest with something so warm, so powerful, that I can’t pretend this part of my life doesn’t exist. And that maybe it needs to be more than just a part. This feeling means things in my life are going to have to change. And they need to change now. My life is about to turn into a mess. I hope it’ll all be worth it in the end.

A LITTLE OVER TWO YEARS LATER…

1

JAYCEE

“Bridger?” I bend forward until our faces are
level, but I don’t hold mine too close to his. I know he doesn’t like that. “Look at Mommy, please.”

His eyes flit to mine so briefly that if I didn’t know they were brown, I wouldn’t be able to guess what color they are.
How did I not notice this? It seems so obvious now that it’s on my list. His teacher’s been worried about him since the beginning of the school year. It’s his first year, Kindergarten. I figured it would just take him a while to adjust.

I was wrong.

Now my computer bookmarks are all on autism and asperger websites. I’ve read everything the special education leader at Bridger’s school has sent home with him. It all makes too much sense, which is crushing, because the list of things I should be doing with him to help is long, and I’m a single mom who’s short on time.

“Okay, Bridge. I
t’s time to go.” I stand up.

“Go where?”

“To the Allen’s house, remember?”

He jumps up in excitement, and I feel some relief at his reaction.
He definitely shows emotion. It’s crazy how the simplest things give me some hope that his life won’t be too different from mine. I wonder how much longer Bridger will be a puzzle?

~
~ ~

“There you are!” Sharon
Allen puts her arms around me as we step in the door.

“Thanks.” I hug her back. The Allen’s have sort of taken
over where my parents left off, which was the day after I joined the LDS church at eighteen. We’ve been close ever since.

Bridger kicks o
ff his shoes and heads for the downstairs. The trains are down there. It’s all he cares about when we come over. His dark shaggy hair disappears around the corner at the bottom of the stairs.

“Don’t worry.” Sharon smiles as I continue to stare at the corner where Bridger disappeared.
“Paul’s already down there.”

“Okay.”
I slide off my shoes and follow her to the kitchen.

“Your hair’s getting so long,” she comments.

“Oh.” I pull a chunk of blond over my shoulder and play with the curled ends. “Yeah, it is.”

“How did the me
eting at Bridger’s school go?” she asks as we step into the kitchen.

The whole thing hits me again. I stop in the doorway and lean on the frame.
“I don’t know.” My chest tightens and then fills. “I feel like the worst mom in history for not knowing, or seeing or…”

“Hey.” She turns to look at me. “We’ve all thought his little quirks were fun, Jaycee. No one expected words like autism and
asperger to be thrown around.” Her voice is full of sympathy, but it doesn’t give me any relief from the guilt.

“It just seems so obvious now.”
Now that I have lists, things to look for, things to watch.

“I’m sorry, but I want you to know what a special kid I think he is.”

“Yeah.” I step into the kitchen and pull a glass from the cupboard. “Yeah,
special
, that’s a word that’s been thrown around as well.” I push the glass against the water dispenser with too much force and it squirts on my shirt.

Perfect. I use a hand to wipe it away, but only succeed in spreading it.
Tears begin to burn at my eyes, but I just got here and Sharon’s had to watch me cry way too many times.

She rubs
her hand back and forth across my back a few times. “Here.” A towel appears in front of me.

“Thanks.” I stand back from the fridge, water in one hand,
towel in the other. And in what’s felt like a constant struggle today, I’m fighting back tears.

“How’s your new job going?”

“I miss cutting hair, but it’s nice to be in Bridger’s school. I’m suddenly not sure if it’s a good thing, or a bad thing. He knows I’m there, just not in his classroom. The main office is fairly slow. I do a lot of filing and answering the phones.” I shrug.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll still be cutting the missionaries hair and half the
women from church as well.” She chuckles and sits in one of the stools at the counter.

“That’d be nice.”
I already miss my clients and the satisfaction that comes with the job I’ve had in the five years since high school.

“Your sister said she’s set you up with someone from Tom’s work?”

Knots twist in my stomach again. “This Friday.”

“Are you looking forward to it?”
She rests her chin on her hand, her brown hair softly waving around her thin face.

“No.” Then I
finally find it in me to take a deep breath. “That’s the honest answer. I don’t know if I’m ready or not, and I guess I finally decided I wouldn’t know until I tried it. It’s just… I can’t imagine having less than what I had with Matt, you know?” Matt wasn’t perfect, but he loved me like crazy.

“Love comes in a lot of forms, and in a lot of w
ays. When you find someone else, and I know you will, you won’t even be able to make comparisons. It will be like comparing the way you feel about Bridger, to the way you feel about your sister. It won’t be the same, and it shouldn’t be.”

I love the Allen
’s. It feels like I learn something every time we get together.

“Thanks.” I take a sip. Maybe forcing myself to swallow will also alleviate some of the tension.

The oven beeps.

“Lasagna’s done.” Sharon stands up.

“You don’t have to make that every time we come over.” I know they do it for Bridger.

“I know your boy
likes it, and it’s easy.” She shrugs.

It hits me again how lost I’d be without
the Allen’s. I’m sure I rely on them way too much, but everyone needs people. Especially people whose lives seem to hold one disaster after another.

2

ELDER WORTHEN

Month 16.5, less than a year before I go home.

My new greenie looks petrified. A guy straight from the training center to here, and young. Barely eighteen. He’s nervous right now about having dinner with a church member. A
member
. I’m not taking him out to knock on doors. We’re not in the middle of an appointment or anything. Just dinner, with one of the people who live in our area. I don’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed. I
need
to be patient. I’m sure I’ll be moving out of here next transfer. Every six weeks our fate is prayerfully decided by our Mission President. Sometimes we don’t move, sometimes we trek across the state. And Alaska’s big. We cover some of Canada, too. There’s a lot of trekking to be done.

“You know that story about climbing up the mountain and the man dangling from the branch?”
I ask.

“Yeah, and the man knows that the Lord can make the wind
and save him. Bring him back to the top of the mountain.” He’s rubbing his hands on his thighs, staring wide-eyed out the window.

“The wind strong enough to knock him over
, but also strong enough to lift him back up. He just has to let go.” I look over at him. I’ve given this talk to every greenie I’ve gotten. One of the downsides to being the oldest missionary out here is that I tend to get the new guys and the guys who are struggling a bit. I feel like a babysitter more often than not, but the mission president in Alaska, President Moore, keeps reminding me that we all have different callings in the mission field, and this appears to be mine. I’m okay with it, even though I still get annoyed.

“Right.”
He’s not getting the reference.

“You’re at the top of the mountain, man.
Let go. Enjoy the ride on the wind. We all take that leap of faith when we leave to serve our mission.” I didn’t feel it though. I never did, not even when I first left. I’d had to write some extra letters and do some talking with my bishop and stake president just to come. I pushed hard for my chance to be out here. A twenty-one year old starting a mission with my past is an unusual thing, and not always allowed.

My legs, my heart, still feel like I’m climbing the mountain, working toward a reachable goal.
When I left, I knew I was heading for something good, something that would bring me good things. I still feel that way. I never felt the panic of being far from home.

“These are really great peo
ple,” I tell him. “The best kind of people.”

“Okay.”
He glances out the window and re-shifts his weight in the seat next to me. “Do we, uh…have to do a lesson?”

“Ju
st a quick thought or scripture. I’ll take care of it.” I’m trying not to laugh at the nerves of this kid.

“Okay, thanks.”
He breathes out, relieved.

I laugh.

“So, you’re a bit older?” he asks.

They all ask.
They all want to know the same thing. I can feel it coming.

“What held you back?”

“Life.” It’s what I tell everyone. “But I’m here now. Where I’m supposed to be.”

“That’s it?”
His nervousness dissipates with curiosity.

“I had an experience at the blessing of my niece and thought it was time I got out into the mission field.”
And kicked the girls out of my bed, but I won’t tell him that because it invites too many questions. Most of which lead to incredulous stares that I was allowed to come out at all.

“It’s just, usually girls, you know?”

“No. I don’t know. And
you
wouldn’t know. You got off the plane three hours ago.” I go from feeling bad for the guy, back to annoyed—just like that.

“Sorry.”
His head flicks toward the passenger window of our car.

I try to soften my voice back up.
“It’s alright. I just get asked a lot.”

“I bet.”

“I’ve been in this area for a long time so you need to really get to know the members because I’m sure to be transferred next transfer. The next guy to move in will be your senior, but you’ll know the area so pay attention closely. We have six weeks together.”

His nerves are back.
I can see it. He pulls out the notes I have scratched out from my last meeting with the ward mission leader and begins to study. Better a greenie than someone distracted and ready to go home. I have just over six months left and plan on making the most of it.

3

JAYCEE

“
Bridger, you get to play with Auntie Kyla!” I use my best bright voice, but it has no effect. I can hardly blame him. He’s still having a really rough time in school. I get notes almost every day. They’ll be starting testing on him next week. It’s all too much to deal with, but deal with it I will. There’s no choice.

“Why do you have to
go
?” His face is in a deep, concentrated frown and his voice has the edge of anger to it that he often gets when frustrated.

“Bridger?
Look at Mommy.” I lean forward. I’m always testing and re-testing him on everything. He doesn’t look at me. Maybe, sub-consciously I don’t want him to. His eyes are too much like his dad’s. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice for so long.

I feel a
pang in my chest. Two years hasn’t taken care of all of it, but it’s given me hope that I won’t carry this pain around forever. The weight of losing someone I loved as much as Matt doesn’t disappear quickly.

“I’m here, S
is!” Kyla comes in the front door, her husband Tom in tow.

“Come on in.”
I sigh.

“Is my little Bridger not happy to see me?”
Kyla has the best high-pitched made-for-kids voice.

He peeks out from underneath his shaggy
hair. He’s going to be able to be appeased. I let out a breath of relief. Then I remember Kyla set me up and my nerves are immediately back.

“How are ya, Jaycee?”
Tom gives me a hug as his wife kneels on the floor in front of Bridger.

“Nervous,” I admit.

“You shouldn’t be. Jeremy’s a nice guy.” He runs a hand through his light brown hair. “And I didn’t mean about tonight, I meant how are you just in general.” Tom and I look one another almost in the eye. It’s a good thing he found my shortie sister.

“Bridger’s tea
cher is still worried about him. I feel like a terrible mother for not noticing anything sooner, but I like my job and being at his school. Even though I’m just in the front office, it’s a lot better than him wasting away hours in daycare somewhere while I’m at the salon.”

“Good.”
He rubs my back a few times and joins his wife on the floor. He pecks her cheek as he sits. He can’t be close to her without touching her somewhere. I’m jealous, but it also makes me nauseous.

“How’s paperwork going?” After six years they’ve given
up on having their own children and have filled out adoption papers, but as far as I know, nothing’s been turned in yet.

Kyla’s face falls. “It’s done, and we keep praying, and it keeps not feeling right.
So, we have everything together, everything ready, and it’s sitting in a neat pile waiting for timing to feel right.” Her eyes glass over with moisture.

Both Tom’s arms go around her, and he gently kisses the side of her face.

“Sorry, Sis.” At least I got to do it all, even if it wasn’t always easy.

“It’s okay.” She shrugs. “Tom has an interview in Utah anyway.”

“Oh, right.” The one I don’t want to think about. I can’t imagine not living around my sister.

“Don’t worry, Jaycee.” He chuckles as he picks up a few
legos and starts building. “There’s no way I’ll get it.”

Now Kyla’s arms are around him, making
him
feel better.

“You look nice.”
She smiles up at me. My sister and I look so much alike. We both have the same petite frames, and eyes too big for a normal person’s face. Her hair is light brown and too thick for her small body. Mine is blond, but has the same problem. Fortunately, I have about five inches on her five feet and one scant inch.

I attempt to return her smile bu
t know it doesn’t come out right. My favorite jeans and a nice sweater were pretty standard wear for the salon.

I hear a knock at the door.

I push
out a sharp breath. “Crap.”

“Have fun. I
ts just dinner.” Kyla shakes her head as I walk to the door.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I don’t even know if I’m
ready
for this. Shoot, I don’t know if I even
want
this. I don’t want to be someone who gets married again just because she’s scared, doesn’t want to be alone, and wants to be the stay at home mom she envisioned. There’s no way I could marry again with anything less than what I had the first time. I can’t imagine that happening again, not like it did with Matt.

Now I have to laugh at myself because I’m thinking about marriage when I should be think
ing about dinner…with someone I’ve never met. I take the three steps through my living room into the open door of my dark entry. I really need to get a light in here. It goes on the list. Well, it’s been on the list. But the list is long. I grab the front door and pull it open.

He’s a medium height man with blond hair and warm brown eyes.

“You must be Jeremy.” He’s cute. Exactly my type. I think. Kyla picked good, but I still feel both nervous and weird about the whole situation.

“That’s me.”
His face lights up as I stand back to let him in.

“Hey
Jerm!” Tom calls from the floor where he, Kyla and Bridger are building a colossal wall out of legos.

“Bummer nickname,” I tease.

“Well, that’s Tom.”
He laughs and stands in the doorway between my entry and living room.

“Have fun you two!”
Kyla’s eyebrows wag suggestively.

“D
on’t do anything we wouldn’t do.” Tom winks.

I silently groan.
If they ever talk me into doing something like this again, I’m going to walk out the door as soon as I hear a knock and spare myself the comments.

“Bye Bridge!”
I wave big and smile.

He barely moves. H
e’s absorbed in his project. My heart sinks a little. How did I not notice these things about him? Being a working mom is no excuse for what I feel like I’ve let slide.

Jeremy walks back toward the f
ront door. It’s a short walk. I still live in the small cabin that Matt and I were determined to add on to and renovate. It goes on the list of things that never happened. That list seems to get longer instead of shorter, as time goes on.

I look back over my shoulder at Ky
la and Tom on the floor; his fingers trace patterns on her back. It’s really those little things I miss. Having someone to snuggle against when it gets cold, taking turns when Bridger needs something in the middle of the night, having a shoulder to rest against…

As we step outside, t
he cold air takes my breath away. Another reminder that Christmas is closing in fast.

“So, you know Tom from work, is that right?”
I stand back as Jeremy opens his car door for me. It’s a nice car, big, four doors and it smells new as I sit inside.

He
comes in his side and sits down. The car is still running and warm, taking the edge off the outside temp. “Yeah, I’m technically his boss, but we all work together, really.”

“Oh.”
I’m still fuzzy on what Tom does, but he and Kyla have been married for like six years so I shouldn’t be. It seems a bit awkward to ask now. He works for BP, British Petroleum, in their Anchorage office so I know it has something to do with oil and management.

“You know, Tom told me you were pretty
, but I still wasn’t prepared.” His eyes are very intense and staring. I feel like I’m suddenly under a spotlight.

Way too much.
“Oh, thanks.”

“I thought maybe we’d grab a bite at the Captain Cook or there’s this small restaurant—“

“I can’t go all the way into Anchorage tonight, not with Bridger at home.” It’s fifty miles each way. I can’t remember the last time I left him for that long to do anything but work. And two hours in the car with dinner inbetween? What if we have nothing to talk about?

“He’s five
, right?” Jeremy looks confused, like, if it’s not a baby, I can be gone as long as I want.

Now, I know I shouldn’t be annoyed
, but Bridger is a special kid. I’m learning this more all the time. It’s too much to explain to someone on a first date. “He’s just particular and has set schedules. If things get too mixed up, it’s really hard on him.”

“Okay.
Well I don’t know what’s in Palmer, so you’ll have to help me out a little.” His voice is relaxed and easy and he smiles warmly as he drives. He doesn’t mind sticking around the town I live in. Nice. I’d probably mind if I had something I wanted to do and my date’s kid messed it up.

I wrack my brain for someplace to go.
What do I choose? Casual and informal? He wanted to go somewhere really nice, but will it seem like I’m just trying to get a free meal out of him if I choose something like that?

“Oh, hey.” H
e points to a sign of one my favorite little places. “Live music tonight. You game?”

I breathe out in relief.
“Definitely.” If conversation doesn’t flow, I can listen to the music. Perfect.

Conversation does flow though.
Jeremy was engaged once, but the closer it got to the wedding the more he knew that it wasn’t the right thing. He says she was relieved when he finally spoke to her about it. It seems like their split was amicable.

He’s good-looking, gets along with Tom, has a good job,
is enjoying the chick-behind-her guitar music at the restaurant, Mormon like me. Perfect. As nice as it is to be out to dinner with no Bridger and with a man, that’s where the enjoyment ends. Shouldn’t there be something else?

I remember the first moment I saw Matt.
From that time forward I did everything I could to be close to him. I knew it. I felt it. Our engagement was short. Probably it was asking way too much for that kind of feeling to happen again.

But if it does
n’t happen that way again, how do I know if a guy’s right for me? Do I just keep going out with someone who’s good on paper and wait for the rest to come later? I have no idea.

~
~ ~

Jeremy walks me to my
door. Now what? All I can think is how much I don’t want him to try to kiss me.

“Thanks.”
I step inside. It’s cold out, which seems like a good enough excuse to go in the house.

“I’d like to take you out again.
Maybe next time you could set it up to come into town?” he asks.

He means Anchorage.
An hour away. I’m not sure how to work that. “Yeah. Maybe.” I’m completely non-committal. Mostly because I have no idea if I want to go out again or not.

I hang my coat in the entry
room. Kyla, Tom and Bridger must be watching a movie in my room. Bridger and I do that a lot before bed.

I turn and Jeremy’s too close.

“Thank you.”
His voice is soft.

He leans forward to kiss me, there’s no mistaking it.
My heart’s frantic, pounding. Do I want to kiss him? Do I not want to kiss him? Isn’t this way early for a kiss? The last lips mine touched were Matt’s.
Matt
. My heart aches at the thought of him. I dodge and kiss him on the cheek.

“Thanks for a fun night.”
I smile and walk out of the small, dark entry into my tiny living room.

“
Hey,” Kyla whispers as she walks out of the hallway. “He fell asleep while we were watching the movie.”

“What?”
It’s beyond unusual. I don’t think it’s ever happened before.

“He and Tom played hard.
Tom’s moving him to his bed now,” Kyla explains.

“Okay.”
Bridger never just falls asleep with the light and the TV on. Ever. My body starts to tense in the familiar need to take care of my kid. The one I’ve been neglecting without realizing. I need to go see if he has a fever. If he’s sick. It’s all I can think about.

“Did you two have fun?”
Kyla looks between us a few times.

I’m slowly wo
rking my way toward the hallway to the two bedrooms and Jeremy looks like he doesn’t know where to be.

“It was nice.”
My response is pretty non-committal, just like I seem to be.

“Hey!”
Tom puts enthusiasm into his voice even at a whisper level.

“Thanks you two, I’m going to go check on Bridger.”
I start toward the hall.

“I just came from there.”
Tom looks down at me as he walks by and toward Jeremy.

“But he never falls asleep like that.”
I stop before walking around the corner. I’m scrambling on ways to get everyone to leave without being rude.

“Well
,” Kyla pulls me into a hug, “you must be exhausted.”

“Yeah.”
I can feel my shoulders and chest relax as I realize that she’s getting everyone out for me.