Chapter Three-Hundred and One
Beverly watched as John skipped rocks over the surface of the pond, noticing the way his muscles flexed and how much stronger he'd gotten over the months. He wasn't the skinny twig she'd given up all those months ago, now he was strong, healthy, and his dull tan had become a bright caramel hue. His hair was longer, richer in color, shiny with health. "I'm so sorry." She whispered, guilt flooding her chest at how sickly John had been before he'd been put into the foster system.
John turned to her, handing her his bandana to wipe the tears away. "Hey, I wasn't exactly an angel." He smirked, stepping down the path. "I'm still not."
She followed him, noticing the ring around his finger and the hemp cord on his wrist. She knew he never wore jewelry unless it meant something to him, an old habit from years of abuse. He'd always been very minimalist in his belongings, only keeping things that truly had a purpose or use in his life. "When is the wedding?" She asked, watching as he lifted his hand and twisted the ring around his finger.
"June fifteenth." He stated, touching the key at his throat.
She nodded, afraid that he would never allow her near her grandchildren or his family. He hadn't allowed her into the house when she and Sara had arrived, and she doubted he would ever trust her enough to let his children call her Grandma —if he even let her see them at all. "I'm happy for you." She smiled, her heart aching with how distant they were… all because of her mistakes.
"How long do you have left on your sentence?" He stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her with nearly black eyes.
"Ten years." She moved to touch her stomach, freezing when he clasped them in his own.
He smiled, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "Visit when you get out." He hated to think of her being around his children, but he hated the idea of her suffering alone even worse. "And write when you can."
She let her tears fall, pulling him into a tight hug. "Thank you." She cried, noticing for the first time just how large he really was. He wasn't that little premature baby she'd given birth too anymore, now he was a strong provider for a growing family, and only a true man could have a heart that strong beating in his chest.
Clarissa rushed over to John as he walked through the front door to the Clubhouse, frantically checking him over for any new wounds or bruises. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?" She asked, lifting his shirt, and running gentle hands over his torso.
He shook his head, taking his shirt off all the way to show her that he was unscathed except for the bruise that he'd had for a few days since Andy had accidentally hit him in the side with a baseball when they'd been playing around. "I'm fine."
She lifted his arms, still not satisfied with her examination. "What's this from?" She asked, touching a scratch so small on his bicep that it was nearly invisible.
"I got hooked on a rose bush." He stated, shaking his head at how she fretted over him. "Like I said. I'm fine." He gave her a hug, giving her a small kiss on the head.