"Barbara Jean?" Reba asked, wondering how this day could get any worse.
Barbara Jean, who was pacing the porch, tears staining her rosy cheeks. When she saw Reba, she ceased her pacing and let her hands fall to her thighs.
"Reba, we need to talk," she sighed, sitting on the porch swing.
"Please, I've had enough talking for one day," Reba protested, holding up a hand.
"I don't want to talk, Reba. But we should, this can't go undisturbed – I know you talked to Brock already, so you might as well talk to me."
"Barbara Jean, isn't the point of a marriage counselor not having to have these discussions on our own time?" But Barbara Jean didn't budge, and Reba couldn't say no. She sighed and sat next to her.
"Look, I know that you're just as unprepared as I am for this-" Reba began, but Barbara Jean cut her off.
"You aren't unprepared! And neither am I! Reba, it's totally obvious that Brock always loved you!"
"If you're so prepared, why did you act so shocked?" Reba shot back.
"I didn't think he'd actually come out in say it – at least not just so abruptly! And what do you mean, you didn't know?"
"Yeah, I just figured he loved me so much, he decided to leave me!" Reba snapped sarcastically, standing. "Barbara Jean, I had no idea. I honestly didn't think he felt the same way I did!"
Reba resisted a strong urge to cover her mouth with her hand. "Craap..!" she growled.
Barbara Jean, however, didn't look as surprised as Reba thought she would be. True, her eyebrows shot up about two inches, but other than that she made no gesture to say that she hadn't suspected it.
"Yeah…I suppose you knew that, too?"
"Oh, please, Reba, who doesn't?" Barbara Jean snorted, standing next to her.
"Gee, thanks." Reba muttered. "Barbara Jean, what is supposed to be worked out tonight? Really, nothing can be!"
"Really? You really think that anything you or Brock say is going to change my mind? I'm filing for divorce, Reba."
A silence fell over them like a blanket. She can't be serious, Reba thought desperately. No…she can't…
"Barbara Jean, what? You can't honestly think that something can happen between Brock and I!"
"Oh, I honestly do!" Barbara Jean laughed mirthlessly. "But even if I didn't, I can't stay with Brock when he's in love with his ex wife."
"Don't you love him?" Reba stared incredulously.
"Yes, but…" she shook her head, staring out across the lawn. Finally she took a deep breath and looked back at her friend. "You know how you mistook what Brock meant about loving you – the whole 'mother of your child', thing? It's like that. He's the father of my child, someone I've spent seven years with, but I'm not complete. I thought we'd build something that we could call love…but it isn't, it wasn't. Now it's just nothing. Reba he loves you, and that won't change. Nothing will change. It's over."
Reba couldn't speak. She just nodded, then put her arms around her. "I'm sorry, Barbara Jean. I truly am…"
Barbara Jean was starting to cry. "I believe you, Reba. You still are my best friend."
"Okay!" Reba broke the embrace. That was just a little too much for her to handle. But remembering what Van and Cheyenne had brought up, she said:
"Barbara Jean, would you and Henry like to stay over tonight? There's an extra bed in Kyra's room and Henry can sleep in Jake's room."
"It's all right, Reba, I've already checked into a hotel. For once I think I want to be alone," Barbara Jean sadly smiled. Reba tried to smile back, but realized that she didn't like this serious, unhappy side of Barbara Jean any more than the perky annoying one. Surely part of this woman had to be likeable…?
But I do like her, Reba thought as she and Henry drove away. I do. Not to a point where I'd actually consider saying that aloud, but she's actually a really sweet, kind, gracious…
"Okay, enough sentiment already!" she told herself aloud and walked indoors.
Cheyenne, Van, Jake and Elizabeth were sitting on the couch, watching TV. Noticing Reba enter, Cheyenne and Van exchanged a meaningful look before saying, "Hey, Mom, how'd it go?"
Reba pointed to Jake. Taking the hint, Van suggested to his brother-in-law, "Say, Jakey, how about you go upstairs and play that Gameboy?"
"Good idea, this show sucks!" he readily agreed, racing up the stairs.
"Well?" Cheyenne asked as Van turned off the TV and Reba sat in the armchair.
"He'll be over here tonight, he doesn't want to stay there. Kyra and him will be over soon."
"And…?"
Reba decided to play dumb. "And…he'll sleep on the couch and Kyra will be in her own room."
"Mom, you know that's not what we meant. I mean did you tell him if you love him or not?"
"Yeah, I told him." Reba answered, looking at her lap.
"Oh, good, what was the answer? Psst, Cheyenne!" Van leaned towards his wife. "Pretend to be surprised!"
"That's between the two of us," she stood and began to climb the stairs. "I'm gonna get some sheets and blankets – you two, do something to make yourselves look innocent."
As soon as she was out of earshot, Cheyenne muttered, "The answer was so-totally yes."
"Yeah, ya think?"
That night Reba couldn't sleep. It was good having the whole family under one roof again, and she did sometimes doze off for a few seconds. But she would then slip into too good of a family-dream and reach for the other side of the bed for Brock. Once her hand fell on empty sheets, she would jerk awake.
She'd often had these kinds of nights, which had usually been the follow-up of a very good day that reminded her of the days when she and Brock were together. Her usual solution was to go downstairs and watch a gory movie, but Brock was on the couch tonight.
Even so, she could go down and get something sweet to munch on. Pulling a satin robe over her nighty, she headed downstairs.
To her surprise, the TV was on, and Brock was watching Finding Nemo
"Stop!" Dory cried. "Please don't go away…no one's ever stuck with me for so long before…with you…I mean, I remember things better with you! See, P Sherman 42…40…2...it's in there! I know it's there- because when I look at you, I can feel it. And when I look at you…I'm home!
Please don't go away…I don't wanna forget…!"
"I'm sorry, Dory. But I…do."
Reba could not believe that Brock was watching this, or even why she was starting to feel teary eyed. How could Marlin do that to Dory? She loved him so much, was better with him, she'd been abandoned…where was his heart?
"It's dumb!" she heard Brock mutter and change the channel. Reba chuckled. Brock always claimed something was dumb when it made him emotional.
"Yeah…" she agreed aloud. Brock jumped, he hadn't noticed her standing behind him. Reba jumped as well at his sudden movement.
"Oh, Reba… I couldn't sleep." Brock said.
"Me either," Reba confessed. To avoid the uncomfortable silence she asked, " Want something to eat or something, which's what I'm going to get."
"Sure, I'll come with you," Brock stood and followed Reba, and had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. She was just as lovely in a nightdress, and he remembered this one.
"I got you those," he suddenly remembered.
"What?" Reba asked, flicking the light on.
"Those pajamas."
"Yeah, I guess you did," Reba tried not to let him see her blushing as she turned and pulled an upside-down bowl off of a plate of chocolate cake. "Ironic."
She cut the cake into two slices and set them on plates. They sat down together at the table and ate in silence, each wanting to say something that would lighten the mood.
Finally, Reba spoke. "Cheyenne and Van know something's going on. I had to tell them why you were staying over – they may be uneducated but they aren't idiots."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Kyra suspects something. She didn't ask why we were coming here, just muttered something about 'mid-life crisis part two' and went along with everything."
Reba smiled. "She really is a smart one. At least we know this daughter has plans, even if she is the most rebellious."
"And I wonder where she got that?" Brock said sarcastically, looking pointedly at Reba, who smiled sheepishly. "Really, I bet she'll be just like you."
"And Cheyenne is just like you…vain and everything," Reba teased. "Who's Jake gonna take after?"
They both sat for a minute in silence. Finally Reba muttered, "Maybe if he hadn't been introduced to Barbara Jean so early in life…"
"I'm sorry, okay!" Brock burst.
Reba was puzzled for a moment. She had forgotten about the separation – she had meant to make a funny. Being with Brock brought out her happy side. Once it sunk in that she had brought up something painful, however, she went red. "I'm sorry, Brock, I didn't mean to-"
"Forget it, it's not your fault."
Reba gaped, incredulous. "Not my fault?" she repeated. "Brock, this whole thing is my fault! If it weren't for me, Barbara Jean and you would still be together!"
"That's not fair to you – if it weren't for Barbara Jean, we'd still be together. It's my fault."
"Maybe it used to be, but your therapist was right. I'm causing all of these problems by just being around you! I could've tried to keep you away from me, Barbara Jean or no Barbara Jean, but seeing you was the best part of my day, and I just couldn't change that! It's my fault we all of a sudden love each other again." Reba had stood and was holding the island for support. All this guilt that had been bottled up for so long was pouring out too smoothly.
She didn't hear Brock get up, but the next thing she knew she turned around and he was holding her. His arms were wrapped tightly around her slender waist, and hers were around his. It was obvious he'd been working out, which made it so much more fun to feel him close to her.
Brock kissed the top of Rebas head. "Calm down, Reba. You know why it's not your fault? Because…you couldn't have kept me away. Seeing you was like waking up, I had to in order to know I was still alive. You could have locked every door, closed every window and hid, and I would have found a way in because I would after something I wanted and needed."
Reba could feel tears building up behind her closed eyes. She kept them closed until she felt them slide back down to where they came from and whispered, "I love you, Brock."
"I love you."
She felt him pull from her slightly, then look into her eyes as her tilted her chin, hesitated, and pressed his lips to hers.
Reba woke very suddenly. It was morning…it was all a dream.
She wasn't sure if she was happy or disappointed. In some ways she thought it was better that they hadn't talked last night, in some ways it was very rude to give her such a happy ending then take it away. She could clearly remember the kiss, and pressed her fingers to her lips. No, it can't have happened anyway.
"Morning, Mom," Cheyenne greeted her as she walked into the kitchen. She and Van were seeing what movies were playing over the counter.
"Morning…" Reba replied quietly. She could barely speak.
Two plates with cake crumbs were sitting on the table, exactly where they had been sitting in her dream…
Giving her head a livid shake, Reba gave them an excuse. "You two – how many times do I have to tell you to clear your plates?" she complained, stacking them and starting to carry them to the sink.
"We didn't have cake!" Van protested.
Reba dropped the plates. They shattered to pieces as they fell at her feet.
"Mom!" Cheyenne cried, looking over her shoulder to see what had happened. "Are you okay?"
"Just because we didn't have cake you don't have to smash plates about it…wait, are you hungover?" Van asked suspiciously.
Reba shook her head, still staring at a blank space of air in front of her.
"Craap!" she moaned, still not looking away.
"Mom, what is wrong?" Cheyenne demanded.
"I…broke plates?" It was more of a question.
"But why? You sure you aren't hungover – need an aspirin?"
"No, I'm not hungover!" Reba snapped. "But I thought it was a dream! Great, now I gotta clean these up…" she started for the living room to grab the broom from next to the door when she bumped front-first into Brock, just like they had at couples therapy. His hands shot up to her waist so as to keep their balance.
"..morning, Reba-" he began, but she quickly broke away from his arms and hurried to her prior destination.
"What's the matter with her?" Brock asked. "And what's with the glass on the floor?"
"Oh, nothing. Mom just got hammered last night, don't ask me why. Anyway she's been throwing plates, muttering, staring into space, ya know."
"Hammered?" Brock stared after her. Looking back at his daughter, he said, "There's no way she could have gotten anywhere near booze last night, I would have…heard her."
He knew she couldn't be hungover, because she hadn't had anything to drink last night. She and him had fallen asleep watching the rest of Finding Nemo on the couch last night, and he had carried her up to her room when she was still sleeping.
Why did she have to hide everything about him? Would she really rather have been drunk than with him last night?
He faced her as she walked into the kitchen with a broom and dustpan. "Reba, why did you tell them you were drunk last night?'
"I didn't!" Reba argued, glaring at her daughter. "That's messed up, Cheyenne, I told you I wasn't hungover!"
"Mom, you're hungover?" Kyra asked, stepping into the kitchen.
"NO!" Reba groaned, made a frustrated "UGH!" and whacked Van over the head with the dustpan.
"Geeze, you don't have to get violent!" Van complained, rubbing where she hit him.
"She's always violent," Kyra pointed out. Reba turned to glare at her daughter before scooping up the shards of glass.
"Gosh, wish I'd dreamed about getting drunk last night, maybe I'd feel better this morning!"
"Is this what you're mad about, you had a bad dream?" Cheyenne questioned, puzzled.
Reba gave Brock the tiniest of glances, but he caught what was bothering her – she thought it had been a dream. He understood – he thought it might have been until he saw her lying next to him on the couch. But she hadn't woken up – she really thought it had all been a dream. But obviously the cake plates had jolted her to realize it hadn't been.
"Yes." Reba answered shortly. Then she started to make herself breakfast, pretending that she Brocks eyes weren't following her.