Page 53 of Sterling Fight

I’m almost forty. Even if I did plan to marry Judd, I don’t know that children could be a possibility, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint him. The inability to have children would be another reason Judd wouldn’t want to marry me for real.

The thought of children collides with a rumble of emotions I don’t recognize. Visions of Judd with his nephew Dutton the other day flit through my head. Then the tender moment between him and Simon. Judd would be a great dad.

And I don’t want Judd to have children with someone else.

Suddenly, my heart is racing and I’m struggling to find my breath. I reach for my sweet tea as if that will help regulate the hammering in my chest or restore my lungs which feel like they are constricting. I’m such a contradiction, which is another reason it was best I didn’t kiss Judd yesterday. I don’t want to cross fragile lines and complicate things.

We’re pretending.

But then Judd steps out of the house, his smile wide and his too-often sad eyes are filled with love and contentment as he watches Simon, and I realize lines have already been crossed.

Things are getting complicated.

And that’s the reality of pretending.

20

[Judd]

Simon Gilbert is nine years old and a little spitfire of energy. He’s also a foster kid, although Trudy calls him her grandchild. She was delegated next of kin even though she doesn’t have any direct blood relation to him.

Much like my brother Clay, Trudy has trouble turning away strays, and that’s how she ended up with a number of her nieces and nephews over the years.

She tried to take in most of us Sylvers as well when our mother passed. Stone was only twelve. Vale a newborn. Our dad’s addiction to alcohol happened rapidly and Trudy saw what was happening. She’d call him out on his behavior, but Dad didn’t want to listen.

“I find one of my kids at your home again I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping.” He’d threatened Trudy in our front yard one afternoon when she was dropping me off after spending time at her place. She also came bearing groceries that we desperately needed. In hindsight, I suspect she could hardly afford them as she had her own brood of kids to feed.

“You hush yourself, Flint.” Trudy could glare like no one I’ve ever seen, but then her shoulders lowered, and she shook her head. “Violet would be so disappointed in you.”

The string of swear words strung together after that comment had me running toward the old stable that stood empty because my dad sold off my mother’s beloved horses.

While Trudy didn’t come across as someone who’d take to idle threats, I’m not certain my father was joking when he added in that he’d kill her if she stepped on his property again.

Somehow, she snuck in help however she could, especially teaching Stone and Clay how to change diapers and potty train Sebastian.

“Babies raising babies,” she called it.

Between Mary Haven and Trudy Wallace, our mother’s best friends found little ways to be surrogate mothers that made a big impact. When I was older, I’d sneak over to Trudy’s house, despite my dad’s warning, but then I’d feel guilty being there. She had her own set of kids to raise, and I hated feeling like I was freeloading off her kindness.

In some ways, hanging out with Simon was my way of repaying Trudy for her compassion. Simon was sprung at her later in life. It wasn’t that Trudy didn’t want him; she was just done raising children when he arrived a year ago.

As for me, he felt like my redemption. I didn’t want the young boy feeling like he didn’t have a man in his life to support him, model for him. I demanded Trudy call me when she needed something for him or someone to watch him, like today, when she has an important meeting to attend.

Clay’s fiancée, Mavis, owned a house in the historic district which had a fire nearly two years ago. She eventually sold the property as is. A private investor purchased the space, and a new house will be built to replicate the original home. Unfortunately for the builder, design requirements are in place to match the aesthetic of the historic boulevard outside the business district. Trudy is on the approval board for the future build.

Trudy’s small home suits her. She had a larger property when her husband was alive but once her kids were gone and he passed from a sudden heart attack, Trudy wanted something that was just for her. That’s also when she went into real estate sales.

Simon finishes showing me his collection of summer clothes, the ones I financed after arguing with Trudy about it. He’s growing like a weed right now, and I know all too well about the discomfort of wearing clothes that are too small or too short, or shoes that are too tight. Hand-me-downs were a staple of my upbringing. Simon deserves better and he can have better because of me.

I adore Trudy and I’m so grateful to have her in my life. Being my mother’s best friend, she often shares little tidbits about my mom with me. About their childhood together and my mother’s love of plants and animals. She also taught me how to garden. I like to think Trudy is a good reflection of what my mom embodied. Kindness. Laughter. Compassion.

“Want to play catch?” I ask Simon. After years of tossing balls to Ford for his practice, I’m decent at the simple game, and Simon loves baseball.

He rushes to his closet for a baseball cap. Chicago Anchors, of course. My brother’s former major league team. With the cap on his head, he trots toward the kitchen with a spring in his step.

“You really have a stomachache?” I chuckle as I follow him.

“Nah, I just hate school.”