Page 9 of To Save Him

The slight shrug of her shoulders coupled with hermehexpression told me all I needed to know.  “He seems all right.  I’m hardly ever home anyway.  I’m good with whatever.”

I hugged them goodbye and then went to the kitchen to doctor another cup of coffee while waiting for Brandon to get out of the shower.  I turned the pages of the newspaper again.  I should have instead been journaling, making good use of my time, but my emotions were too raw for that yet.  As for the newspaper, my mind was not on its black-and-white pages.  It was full of worry.  Full of regret.

And full of stimulating thoughts.

But I was also, for the first time in ages, full of hope.

Even as I glanced over the paper once more, this time trying to read instead of peruse and absorbing all the horrible and horrific things that made up the news (an infant death at a daycare and a short brushing-it-under-the-rug article about the county commissioners voting to give up part of our water rights to a richer area of the state, probably thanks to a clandestine meeting and money exchange under the table), I felt strange things inside, emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to experience in years.  Finally, I closed my eyes and tried to push out all the negative, all the garbage and baggage I lugged around on a daily basis, and let myself feel the good.  Deep down inside, I knew there was lots of good out there; I simply had to look for it and embrace it when I discovered it.

I was almost smiling when I heard a creak on the stairs as Brandon made his way down.  In just moments, he appeared in the kitchen, his backpack slung over his shoulder, and he was once again in jeans paired with a t-shirt, this time white.  “Kimberly, I’d like to thank you again for your hospitality.”

I nodded.  “Please have one more cup of coffee with me, Brandon.”

His eyelashes seemed to lower in slow motion as he blinked.  He shrugged off the backpack, setting it on the floor.  “Okay.”

I had already stood to fetch a fresh cup out of the cabinet and I filled the mug, placing the steamy beverage in front of him on the table.  Then I sat and tried to choose the right words—persuasive ones.  “Listen.  I can’t even pretend to know what you’ve gone through, but…I’d like to offer you the chance to get on your feet with me and my family.”  A deep breath.  Why was I feeling so nervous about this?  “I get the feeling that the road in front of you could be as lonely as the one behind, and sometimes it’s easier to make the journey with people by your side.”

Having taken a sip, he set the mug down.  “What do you mean?  Stay here—in your house?”

“Yes.”

“For…how long?”

“As long as you need.”  My brain told me it hoped I didn’t regret what my heart was committing me to—and I also hoped this conflict didn’t show in my eyes.

“I can’t afford rent, Kimberly.  I don’t have much money.”

“I don’t expect rent.  If you felt like you had to contribute, you could help me out around here.  I have a few projects I haven’t been able to get to—things I could use a man’s help with.  And you can find a job when you’re ready.  But, for now, I get the feeling you need some stability.  Some rest.”  Before I could stop the words from blurting out of my mouth, I said, “I want to be that for you.”

Brandon looked down, scrutinizing the rim of the coffee cup before answering.  “I don’t know what to say.”

It was an impulse, but it couldn’t be stopped any more than the sun could stop coming up every day.  I reached over and placed my hand on his.  “Sayyes.”

His brown eyes met mine and—just for an instant—I felt warmth and some deep need inside him…and my unfulfilled hope.  Hope that maybe I wouldn’t let him down, hope that maybe I would be there when others hadn’t been.  But it faded like a candle extinguished, whiffs of smoke fading into dark nothingness.  And I saw it in the blink of my eye.

Still, he answered, “Okay.”

 

 

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