Page 52 of Learning at 40

“She’s just sad, honey,” I say to the child who is a mix of both parents, with Anna’s dark hair and Ben’s blue eyes. “How about pizza tonight?”

For now, I’d like anything to detract from the eerie silence inside the house. With Mason gone to the beach and each of Anna’s children hiding in their rooms, I need to get us all out of here for a while.

“Where are the twins?” It’s easiest to reference them in this manner because if I say the boys, Mila assumes I mean Calvin and Bryce, her brothers.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, her own little shoulder heavy.

“Okay. Let me find them, and then we can organize dinner. Think about what kind of pizza you want.”

“Can Lorna come, too?” The two girls are nearly inseparable.

“Sure. Let me text Uncle Logan in a minute, okay?”

Mila nods, her expression still full of worry.

“Can you do me a favor and put this vacuum away while I look for Trevor and Oliver?”

Mila slowly smiles like she’s happy to have a task, and the grin reminds me of her mother, who is constantly busy. Anna loves to entertain, but she hates idle chitchat. She loves to be the one preparing, planning, and passing out items for whatever the occasion might demand.

As Mila has a job, I race up the stairs looking for my boys. They aren’t in my room, their room, or with either of the older ones. I hate to knock on Calvin’s door and don’t feel it’s my place to intervene, so I softly ask if he’s seen Trevor and Oliver. When he doesn’t answer, I knock again.

“Come in,” he grumbles, and I open the door only slightly.

“Hey, man,” I address him as he isn’t little anymore. Calvin is the exact replica of his mother in teenage male form, but he isn’t shy like she once was. “Seen Thing One and Thing Two?” Calvin loves to call them the nickname, and it certainly fits. With EarPods in, he shakes his head.

“Want to talk?”

He shakes his head again, glancing down at his phone. He’s not so much ignoring me as fighting to distract himself. His fingers fly over the screen.

“Pizza?”

Calvin tips his chin, giving me his approval even though there’s no smile in his expression. I’d love to tell him to give his mom a break, but they’re all struggling in their own way, and I wonder once more if the addition of my family is more harm than help. We’re almost to the one-year mark when Ben dropped the news on us as his closest friends. Of course, Anna already knew the diagnosis. The boys had been suspicious of Ben’s behavior and eventually guessed what was happening. Their father was dying. None of us could replace Ben. We’d never live up to the task, but I wanted Calvin to understand something important.

“I’m here for you.” I’m holding the doorknob and leaning against the jamb as I speak to him, wondering if he’s even listening to me.

“I know,” he mutters and squeezes his eyes shut, swiping at them with one hand and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ah, little man who is now big, please don’t cry.

“Can you shut the door?” It’s a clear sign to leave him alone. He doesn’t want a hug. He doesn’t want words. He wants his father, and I can’t help him with that.

+ + +

I tell myself I won’t panic over the boys missing until I get to River’s place. If they aren’t there, then I’ll go into full reckless mode. They like to wander off, typically together. I’d like to think they know better than to even consider heading to that beach without an adult, but they definitely know how to tempt fate and push my buttons.

When I enter River’s yard and don’t see them or her, I walk even faster to the tree house. Quickly climbing the ladder, I stick my head through the opening to the fort and pause. Trevor sits beside River, his head bent, his tongue waggling. His full concentration is on something on the floor that he’s coloring in frantic motions with a colored pencil. Oliver sits between River’s bent knees. She’s still wearing her scrub pants with a T-shirt. Her feet are bare as if she stepped right out of her shoes and met the boys here. Oliver is also hunched over like his brother, scribbling with slower movements with another colored pencil.

“Hey,” I softly greet them. River runs a hand over the back of Oliver’s head. He doesn’t answer me, but Trevor does with a matching greeting in a softer tone. He doesn’t look up from his coloring sheet. His tongue continues to wiggle.

River glances up and tenderly smiles. “I was just pulling into the garage when I saw two little creatures crawling through a hole in my fence.” Her gaze shifts to Oliver, and her hand strokes down his back.

“You should fix that thing,” I tease, but there’s no humor in my voice. I’m exhausted as I balance my arms through the opening and prop my chin on my crossed forearms to watch my boys interact with this beautiful woman.

“I can’t afford it. I know it’s ugly, and I’d love to rip it out, but even fence removal is expensive.” She says it so casually, not missing a beat in her attention to Oliver before reaching over and rubbing up Trevor’s spine. When he stiffens under her touch, she removes her hand, not offended or surprised.

I consider her yard for a second. The metal fencing runs up one side of the property, but the north side has a solid wood fence installed by the other neighbors butting up against hers. It’s private and sends a message. On the south side, where the broken fence is located, arborvitae was installed ages ago by Anna’s parents as a natural barrier to the yard.

“Everything okay next door?” River’s voice remains quiet as she peers up at me. The boys must have heard. I’d like to think they’re used to adults arguing as they’d heard Jeanine and I go at it often enough, but it’s sad to consider they’re accustomed to arguments because their parents constantly bickered. Jeanine and I were a rocket blast of insults and sharp attacks, using our attorney training to hold court in our own marriage. It was a disaster.