Disclaimer: I don't own.
Author's Note: I know that I've lost readers and reviewers for both this story and Imagine, so I just want to give a special thanks to everyone still reading, and an extra special thank you to those of you reviewing either or both of the stories. It means a lot to me. I really do put a lot of work into the stories, so each and every word you guys leave for me is like chocolate. :) Hang in there with me...I think this one is going to end up a very nice story. Of course, that's easy for me to say, since I know what happens, right:)
Warning: Some language
I'm probably one of the sappiest mothers alive. I can't help it. When I was growing up, I was so lonely for a family, and now I have one. It gets to me at times. And at times, I have to remind myself that it's all real.
Like right now. Steven's downstairs making us breakfast, and I'm in bed, looking through a photo album. Katherine Tiffany Hyde, Volume I. The first few pages are all of her first day on earth. She was so tiny, but already beautiful the minute she was born. It's funny. Sometimes when I look at her now, I still see that little, reddish face captured in these pictures. I guess a parent never forgets those first moments with a child.
"Okay, breakfast is served."
I look up, and there's Steven. "A beer for breakfast, Steven? Isn't it too early?" I don't know why I asked. I know exactly what he's going to say. I close Katie's album and push it away.
He grins that same old smirk of his. "It's never too early for a beer, Jackie. Haven't you realized that yet?" He sits down, setting the tray over my lap. "There. Eggs and bacon."
And a rose in a vase, picked from our garden.
He sits close to me, and we start eating. See, I've learned how to get Steven to be sweet. Give him plenty of sex. It's one of the keys to his tender side. (It's also the way I convinced him to let me give Katie "Tiffany" for a middle name.)
"Looking at pictures?"
I nod. "Katie's baby pictures." I look at Steven. "Do you remember the night she was born?"
He grins. "I still have the scars on my arms from your nails. Of course I remember."
I smile, remembering how scared we both were. I stop eating and put my head on his shoulder. "You were so nervous." I'd never seen him pace so much, or twist his hands together so repeatedly as he did that night. He was so nervous that when he took off his glasses, he dropped them and then stepped on them.
"I broke my glasses." He gives me a playfully nasty look. "And you laughed."
My smile fades. "You never replaced them."
He stares into my eyes, and unlike when we were younger and so unsure of each other, I can see his love for me in them. He lets me. He wants me to see. "Didn't need to."
He kisses me, and wraps his arm around me. His breath, warm and even, gently beats against the top of my head, and I remember the first time he held Katie, the look on his face. It was the first time I truly saw love in his eyes, and I knew he'd love Katie forever. And then, after a few minutes staring at her, he looked at me. Up until then, I knew he loved me, but I didn't know how much. That moment, I knew he'd love me forever, too.
"She's almost grown up, Steven."
"I know."
Sometimes it keeps me up at night, this one question that I've never asked Steven. Never dared to, I suppose. I lay next to him and watch him sleeping, wondering. Now, looking at him, I know I have to ask him. I take a deep breath, my stomach tightens. "Steven, do you think...I mean, do you think we would have gotten back together if we hadn't had Katie?"
He sighs and looks up at the ceiling. His jaw tenses, and he's shaking his head every so slightly.
And I know what that means.
I look down at my hands. "So, no. You don't think we would have."
"Jackie, god, I didn't say that. I didn't say anything at all." He sounds irritated, and when he gets up, taking the tray with him, I look away from him, my eyes burning.
I don't want to see him walking away from me. Some things about Steven haven't changed. He still walks away from hard questions when he's not in the mood to deal with them.
The door closes, and I lay down, curling up on my side and cursing myself, tears dripping. Way to ruin an incredible night/morning.
"Jackie." His weight on the bed makes me gasp through a sob, but I smother it with my hand. One of his arms slips beneath my body, the other over me, and his hands settle on my stomach. His lips are close to my ear, and I shiver. I can almost feel a kiss. "Look, I don't know if we would have gotten back together if we hadn't had Katie." He snorts a little bit. "If you remember, I was an asshole at the time."
I giggle. "Yes, yes you were, Steven." He squeezes me, and I relax.
"Yeah, well, you were moving on with your life, Jackie. With Fez, for god's sake."
I roll my eyes. He still gives me hell about that. Not that I don't deserve it. Fez was completely wrong for me. He was safe, and after being so completely devastated by Steven, at that moment all I wanted was safe.
"But that night did happen, and we did have Katie, and we did get back together. That's what matters."
He backs away and rolls me over, and before I can say anything, he's on top of me, his eyes pouring down into mine. He smiles, and pecks my lips. "Remember everything I said that night?"
I nod. I do. Every day I remember. He'd been drunk, and grieving, but not so drunk he was sprouting nonsense. And besides, later on when he was sober, he said the same things to me. "Yes," I whisper.
"I meant it all. Then...and now." He brushes his lips over mine. "Even if it hadn't happened the way it did, I would have still loved you. You know I loved you then, even if..." He shrugs, rolls his eyes, and I giggle.
"Even if you were too much of a stubborn dumbass to admit it," I say. We kiss, but when I look up at him, I remember what prompted that night to begin with. And the same ache in my chest opens, the one that always does when I think of her. "I miss her, Steven."
His face clouds over and he rolls off me to his back. He stares at the ceiling. Even now, it's so hard for him, and to comfort him, I cuddle up to him, resting my head on his chest. He rubs the back of my head. "Yeah."
Steven speak for "I do, too."
The accident changed everything, for so many people. One stupid, drunken man behind a wheel, driving far too fast, and so many people were hurt.
I try to control the heat in my eyes, but I want to talk about her. Steven doesn't like to. I know it hurts him, and yet...talking about her makes me feel like she's still here with us. "I really could have used her help when Katie was born." I laugh slightly, thinking of all the things Mrs. Forman could have helped me with, of all the things I did wrong when we first brought Katie home. It took me at least three months to become truly sure of myself when feeding her or changing her diaper.
"You were great with Katie, doll," he says, his voice quiet. "Still are. With all the kids." He clears his throat, and I know he wants to change the subject. "So, hey, speaking of the kids. When is Dylan coming home? And Jake? Not till noon, right?"
I smile, rubbing his bare chest. God, I love his chest. The sculpt of it, the dusting of hair on it, his warm, smooth skin. "Yessssss," I purr.
He pulls me on top of him and smirks up at me, his hands moving to my backside. "So, why are we talking?"
Mmmmmm...
Yeah. Being shut up by his kiss is something I've grown to really, really, really like.
He's looking at me like I've grown a second head. And maybe I have. Lord knows it wasn't my brain that led me to Tommy Brady's house. My very recent ex-boyfriend. The guy who broke my heart.
And yet, he's the best listener I know. Even Christy has a tendency not to really listen. Tommy does. Despite everything, I know he'll listen to me now. He won't tell me I'm being a bitch, the way Christy did. He won't tell me that it's not really a big deal, the way Christy did. He won't try to extol the virtues of my parents the way Christy did.
I should have known better than to try to talk to her about it.
I lift a shoulder, clutching my bag tightly. "I just...can we just talk?"
He looks down. "Kate..."
"Not about us. I promise." I know that's what he's thinking.
He looks up and stares at me.
God, I wish he didn't have those eyes. I love those eyes. I love him.
This is a bad, bad idea.
Please, Tommy, please tell me to go away. Please!
With a sigh, he pushes the screen door open for me. "Okay. Come in." He gives me a crooked smile. "We'll talk."
I follow him.
This is a bad, bad idea.
Yeah. Twenty years ago if you had told me I'd be in a backyard, tossing a football to
my thirteen year old son, I would have accused you of being some government tool out to brainwash me. Suburban trappings weren't exactly what I had in my mind, and I sure as hell wasn't planning on having any kids.
But here I am, in a middle class neighborhood, in a backyard Jackie - yes, Jackie "No manual labor" Burkhart - keeps perfectly manicured, doing exactly that. "Go long, Dylan," I say, and Dylan takes off. I watch him as I pump my arm back and throw it. And as usual, he catches it well, just at his chest. Yeah. My boy's gonna be an athlete. I grin, and he beams back. "Thatta boy!"
"Steven."
I glance to my right, and Jackie's standing at the fence that separates our yard from the Lundgrens'. She looks upset, her lips are pushed into a thin line, and so I look back at Dylan. "Hey, time out for a few minutes, okay, kid?" Dylan nods and heads off into the house. Probably for a soda that he figures Jackie won't catch him drinking. She's big on limiting the kids' soda intake.
I walk over to my wife, and across the oak, fence that only comes up to Jackie's chin, a very uncomfortable looking Christy is standing there. She's shifting on her feet.
Tell-tale sign number one.
"Katie's not at Christy's, Steven."
I arch an eyebrow. "Where is she, then?" I look at Christy, and she's looking up, down, to the side, anywhere but at Jackie or me.
Tell-tale sign number two.
"Christy, where is she?"
With a typically indignant teenage sigh, Christy finally talks. "Look, when she left, she said she was going home. I just assumed that she did. I really..." She fiddles with her bracelet.
Tell-tale sign number three. This girl is lying her ass off.
I stare at her. "How long ago did she leave?"
Now she's scuffling her feet through the grass.
"About an hour ago."
Jackie takes my arm and hugs it to her chest. "Did she say she was going straight home? Was she okay?" She looks up at me. "She's been so upset about that boy..."
"She was fine, Mrs. Hyde."
Jackie shakes her head. "No. No. Something is wrong. I feel it." She presses her forehead to my shoulder, and I can feel her shaking.
Christy rolls her eyes, and I clench my free hand. Normally I like her. But she's being just a little too flippant right now for my taste. "All right, cut the crap, Christy. You're her best friend. What was going on with her when she left?"
She shakes her head, but then talks. "Okay, fine, whatever. Look, she was upset but it wasn't over Tommy."
"Then WHAT was she upset about?"
I take a deep breath, slip my arm from out of Jackie's increasingly desperate grasp, and wrap it around her shoulders. "Calm down, doll." I pull her close and kiss the side of her head. "Just take it easy." Jackie overreacts when it comes to the kids. Always has. Once, she left Jake alone in the living room for a few minutes. He was about two. He crawled under the couch. She called 911 and screamed that her baby had been kidnaped.
That's my chick.
"Look, I don't think I should be the one to tell you. She should..."
I shake my head. "Out with it. Now. Or your mom learns all about the pot you and Katie were 'experimenting' with a few weeks ago."
Hell, I'm not above blackmail, especially when it comes to my daughter.
Another roll of the eyes. God, why do teenagers have to be so freaking full of themselves?
"There was a note in the box she got this year. It...it said something about her parents never wanting her, trying to kill her...And it told her to ask her aunt Donna about it, so last night she went over there. When she came back, she was really upset, but she wouldn't tell me much, just that..."
She has the decency to avoid looking at Jackie.
"Just that Donna told her that you almost had an abortion and then three days after that, you were engaged."
Oh god...
My stomach drops. My heart does, too.
Wait, how does Donna know? What the hell? And what in the hell was she doing telling Katie? How does she even KNOW?
Jackie's looking at me, and I look down at her, my heart kind of in limbo. I'm not sure how to feel, truthfully. But she is. She's already tearing up. This is her worst nightmare. She's never wanted Katie to know. She always told me that Katie wouldn't understand, would think that she hadn't wanted her.
She's always right.
"Steven..." And then her eyes widen. She pulls away from me, her face flushing. "Steven, how does Donna know? I never told her."
I take a deep breath. My wife is about to break down. She's breathing hard, and if I don't stay calm, no one will. I take hold of her shoulders and look her in the eyes. "Okay, doll, just breathe. Look, we just need to find Katie and talk to her. It's all going to be all right." I glance at Christy. "Thanks, Christy. And don't worry. I won't tell your mom anything - or Katie."
I lead Jackie away, and she's shaking so hard.
She hasn't shaken this hard since...
Since that day in the doctor's office.
I swallow hard. Katie needs to know all of it. That's the only way she'll understand.