Chapter 4
March 11, 2006
"I have no idea when he'll arrive, Rachel. But it will be sometime today. He's never missed the memorial service," Jerry said.
"Well, thanks for the warning, Jerry," Rachel answered. "I was going to take the kids to the skating rink this afternoon. Aaron's been dying to try out his birthday present." Jerry chuckled. "But maybe I should put it off. We ought to be here when he arrives, I think."
"Rachel," Jerry sighed. "Like I said, I don't know what time he'll get there. He never tells us. It could be midnight. Don't spoil the kids' day waiting for him."
"Okay," she said uncertainly. "It just doesn't feel right though. I guess I'm just a little nervous."
"I wish I could tell you that it'll be okay, honey," he said. "I just don't know."
"Well-thanks again. We'll see you all tomorrow." Rachel hung up and stood for a moment, lost in thought. Aaron tugged on her hand.
"Rachel? Are we still going skating?"
Rachel smiled down at him. He'd come a long way in the past seven weeks. "Yes, sweetie, we're going skating. Let's find Jemma and get your new skates collected and if you can get ready in ten minutes, we'll stop at McDonald's on the way there."
"Yay!" he yelled and raced off to find his sister.
Half an hour later as Rachel maneuvered through traffic on the way to the rink, she thought back to her first couple of weeks with Jemma and Aaron. Tim had been right. Jemma's nightmares were cause for concern, but Aaron had been the problem.
When she had arrived at the house the first morning, Tim was there with the kids. Tracy was at home, complying with the doctor's mandate. Jemma had been very eager to show Rachel all through the house, and had directed her to the bedroom Rachel was to use-between Jemma and Aaron's rooms. She had also solemnly shown Rachel her Daddy's and her grandma's rooms. Rachel noticed dust on everything and made a mental note to get in there as soon as possible to remedy the situation.
As they returned to the first floor, Tim had announced that he would be leaving. Aaron had burst into tears and begged to return with him to Aunt Tracy's house. Tim had hugged him and explained that Aunt Tracy couldn't take care of him right now, but that he would be able to visit very soon. Jemma had taken his hand and held it tight as Tim left. And it had taken Rachel the better part of the morning to get him to move away from the front door.
But slowly, over the next three weeks, he had reconciled himself to his new living arrangements. He stopped fussing when Rachel got him ready for bed and he finally decided that Jemma didn't have to be in the room every night. There were a few power struggles, but Rachel knew he was testing the waters, trying to find out how far he could push her and what she would do when he made her mad.
And then came the day, about two weeks ago, when he had spontaneously climbed up in her lap after dinner and begged for a story. She had hugged him and read to him for over an hour. And from that point forward, he had begun to blossom. She could hug him now at will and he returned her embrace. He had even taken to kissing her on the cheek as part of his bedtime ritual. And as he loosened up, Rachel discovered that he had a wonderful sense of humor and fun. And that he had a very sensitive side too.
She smiled as she thought of the afternoon, earlier this week, when the two of them had discovered the baby squirrel fallen from the nest in the tree. He had cried when Rachel said that they couldn't bring it into the house because it was a wild animal. But when she had allowed him to create a nest from some old rags and cotton, and told him to watch to see what would happen, he had calmed down. He had remained glued to the dining room window for the rest of the afternoon, and when the mother squirrel had retrieved her baby and carried him back to the nest in the tree, he had come to Rachel in awe to tell her about it.
"Did you know that the mamma would come get him?" he had asked.
"Well, I was hoping that she would," Rachel had replied.
"She must love him very much," he said softly.
"Yes, I think so Aaron."
He had simply put his arms around her neck and squeezed tight and Rachel had hugged him back. But she had no idea how much Aaron had read into that short conversation.
She pulled into the parking lot and took the children into the rink.
Kevin arrived at the house at two in the afternoon. He let himself in and called out, "Hello, anybody here?" No answer.
Just as well, he thought. Maybe I can get some peace and quiet before everybody descends on me. He prowled around the house, trying to get a sense of what he might expect later on. Things looked orderly and cared for. He took his bags upstairs and dropped them in his room. Nothing had been moved, but it was clean. Well, if nothing else, she was apparently a competent housekeeper.
He looked into Jemma's room. There were BSB posters on the wall. That was new. To his knowledge, Jemma hadn't expressed any interest in his work prior to this. Then he grinned in spite of himself. BSB wasn't the only interest she had. Over her bed was a large poster of all the Pokemon critters and on the back of her door was an autographed picture of nineteen-year-old Aaron Carter. He read the inscription-'With love to Jemma-my best girl, Aaron'. Over my dead body, buddy boy, he thought. As he continued to scan the room his gaze dropped to her nightstand. And the grin faded from his face. From somewhere had come a picture of him and Kristin from their wedding. He felt the tears starting, and he walked abruptly from the room.
The room next to Jemma's was apparently the one that the housekeeper was using. He didn't recognize anything but the furniture. He had a momentary flash of irritation at the thought that this woman was using one of the family bedrooms instead of the rooms that had been added to the house a few years ago, specifically for live-in help. But then it occurred to him that she was probably right to be where she was. She'd never hear the kids from those downstairs rooms if they needed her in the night. He noted books-some titles that he was familiar with and others that he'd never heard of. There was a workbasket sitting on a footstool next to the armchair, holding a partially completed knitting project. A collection of CDs. What a mix, he thought. Classical, Elvis, Clint Black, Bonnie Raitt-he grinned-and BSB. Hard to tell much about her from what was here. Not even her age. No photos anywhere. It suddenly occurred to him that he was snooping. He backed quietly out of the room.
He opened the door to Aaron's room. Baseball cards and slot cars jostled stuffed animals for space on his shelves. Football posters decked one wall. There was no evidence of either Kristin or himself in this room.
His mother's room was next. He walked in slowly, fearfully. But nothing had been changed. It even still held the scent of his mother's favorite perfume. He sat down in the rocking chair by the window and gazed out. His mind drifted away to a day four and a half years ago in this room.
Chapter 5
Coming Home
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