Page 25 of To Save Him

* * *

 

I HAD TO admit it to myself.  Driving the car down the road away from the house full of people, a trunk stuffed with an ice chest, boxes and bags of food, and accessories to make our picnic comfortable and fun, I felt lighter than I had in months. Years.

Annabel had taken some convincing.  Liam had said he had a practice that morning (golf, I thought, but I couldn’t remember) and told Annabel he’d join us as soon as he could, but she was acting a bit surly.  She liked sleeping in on Saturdays when she could—and shehad—but we were taking away from hermetime.

I guilted her into coming by reminding her that her mother needed a littlefamilytime.  Like JR, not once had she balked at the idea of Brandon being part of the family.  I would never ask them to take him on as a big brother—even setting my lust aside—and I didn’t think Annabel viewed him that way anyway, but they had readily accepted him just the same.

All we were missing was a big dog.

Annabel sat shotgun, the males in the back, and JR was already bending Brandon’s ear.  “How’s school going, honey?” I asked my daughter.

“Fine.”  I knew she loved school, so I figured she was just tired and didn’t want to talk.  Giving me a blow off answer was an easy way out.  “I have to help finish the design for the prom programs next week, but I think we’re ready.”

What a shitty mother I’d been.  I’d completely forgotten about prom.  “Do we need to take you shopping for a dress?”

Ah, but my resourceful working daughter had already been on the mission.  “I ordered it last week and gave them my measurements.  It should come Monday or Tuesday.”

“What color?”

My daughter pursed her lips before turning her head, and I caught her devilish expression before turning onto the highway.  “Cherry red.”

With her dark hair, ocean-blue eyes, and fair features, my daughter would look absolutely stunning in red from head to toe.  Yes, I was biased, but evenIknew Annabel was gorgeous.  “I can’t wait to see it.  Has Liam ordered his tux?”

“Of course, mom.  We planned it all out on Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh.”  Well, thank heavens my daughter was more organized than her mother.  “Youaregoing to let me take pictures before you head out?”

“Yeah.  As long as you promise not to post them on Facebook.”

I wasn’t going to remind my daughter that I rarely got on social media anymore, but that wasn’t the reassurance she needed.  “I won’t.”

“Thanks, mom.  We’re wanting to save sharing pictures for the next day.  You know, pick out the best ones and stuff.”

I shook my head.  “Don’t let me stop you.”  At least she was finally talking.

“Turn on the radio, mom,” JR piped up from the backseat.  JR was a lot like his mother in terms of music, and he and I had similar tastes.  He really got into whatever he was listening to, but if it was something he was familiar with and he was into a conversation, he wouldn’t rock out while chatting…even if he was jamming out in his head.  I switched on the knob and the station was playing a commercial, so I tuned it out, instead paying attention to traffic, a bit heavier due to one of our first warm weekends.  I was taking a short drive into the mountains where we’d be surrounded by evergreens, leafless aspens, a roaring river…and quiet.

Well, as quiet as a forest with water running through it could get.

I hadn’t been to this picnic area in a while, and even though I had memories of Mel and the kids and me there, my recollections of it were positive.  I seemed most at peace when I could connect with nature.  “Hey, mom.  Turn this up.  It’s Motionless in White’s new one.”

JR paid more attention to new music than I did.  Because I spent (orhadspent, prior to Brandon’s arrival) several hours a day writing, I did best when I played old music that I could tune out, leaving my conscious working brain’s free space to concentrate.  New music had to wait—I could listen to that while taking one of my walks or…like now.  In the car.  So I did as JR requested and adjusted the volume.

Annabel made a noise of discontent.  “Ugh.  I can’t get into this stuff.”

I smiled.  My daughter and I had a short but lively history of ribbing each other about musical tastes.  She’d felt like a rebel but really just knew what she loved—and she was into alternate music, particularly indie rock and experimental tunes…and some weird shit—thus, the teasing she got from me.  “Acquired taste, honey.”

I heard Brandon and JR talking but couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were talking music.

When we got closer to the picnic area, I realized that it might still be too cool for a day outdoors—in the high country, at any rate.  The air wafting through my open window made me realize that.  But once we were parked and unloading, we knew that—with jackets on and sitting in the sun—we’d be all right.  If any clouds hung around or the breeze picked up, though, we’d have to leave.

What struck me first was the sound of the water.  It was overwhelming and dominated anything else.  It almost spoke to me that early afternoon, making me feel not just like I had a connection to the planet but also to the people with me.  This had been a great idea, and I was grateful that we’d decided to do it.  The next thing to sink in was the smell—fresh and clean and green.  Fake air fresheners would never be able to capture therealsmell of pine needles and sap, no matter how hard they tried.  Mingled with damp soil from a recent rain, there was nothing else like the scent of the forest.

I almost felt like I was home.

I sensed that we all were feeling the same sense of peace and calm as we silently unloaded the car and set up everything on and beside the picnic table.  In a short while, we had a plastic (and cliché) red-and-white tablecloth spread over the wooden table, food and utensils out and ready.  JR said, “Can I go to the river for a sec and take some pics with my phone before we eat?”

---