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“Was that alright?” Drew’s voice came from behind me, and I jumped. “Sorry,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder to steady me.
I grabbed the counter for support. “I didn’t hear you come up. You’re so quiet!”He squeezed my shoulder once before exiting the kitchen and going to set the table, proving my point and not saying a word.
Over dinner, I felt like we finally had a real conversation for the first time in weeks.
“Do you want to visit that church tomorrow?” he asked.
“Maybe,” I hesitated. “I don’t want them to cry in service. Are they old enough for the nursery?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But if they cry, I can take them out for you. Give you a break.”
“Really?”
“Sure. You’ve been working hard, Maria. You deserve it. If you want to go, let’s go. Mom’s right, you need some friends. You’re isolated. It’s not good for you.”
“Okay,” I shrugged. “I don’t see why not. If anything, it’ll get us out of the house.”
The church was every bit as friendly as Sarah Greenwood had insisted. Women came up to me and greeted me, asked about the boys, and showed me to the nursery. There were two kind older women sitting in rocking chairs, and they eagerly held out their arms when they saw me come in. The boys were swept away from me before I knew what was going on.
It was a little surreal. I kept looking down at my feet expecting to see their carrier seats. My arms felt empty and my hands fidgeted. I almost went back to the nursery to get them, but a chipper woman about my age found me, introduced herself as Julie, and dragged me around to meet people.
Sarah Greenwood had made some phone calls to her friends, and by the time I left the church that day, I had a list of people who promised to stop by our apartment with their hand-me-downs. There was a prayer group that met on Tuesday mornings for young moms, and they had somehow convinced me to agree to visit.
I felt overwhelmed, but strangely encouraged.
Back at the house, Drew asked me, “Was that okay?”
“Yes,” I said, nursing the boys. “I think you were right. It wasn’t good for me to be so isolated.” I felt like the fog on my brain had cleared, and I could think about something other than keeping my children alive. When had I forgotten I was an extrovert?
“You don’t have to do everything on your own to be a good mother, Maria. It’s okay to need help. Remember that.” His large hand cupped my shoulder, and his thumb brushed against my cheek. Then he pulled on his boots and headed for the door. “I’m going to run out and grab a few things. Do you need anything from the store?”
“I think we’re good… I planned pasta for dinner, is that okay?”
He studied me silently with his dark, deep-set eyes. For the first time in months, I really looked at Drew and saw him as more than the guy who was giving me favors. I’d forgotten how gorgeous he was; tall, commanding, broad shouldered and muscular, tanned from his hours of labor in the sun every day. Today, his hair was down, and it shone in the light that came through the open door.And there was kindness in his eyes thatwarmed my heart. It was the same expression he wore when he held the boys.
“Why don’t you take a break from cooking dinner tonight? I’ll grab a pizza or something.”
I smiled at the thought. “Oh… I haven’t had pizza in…” I laughed. “A year. It’s been a year.”
He nodded once. “Well, let’s fix that.” He pulled his ball cap on, tilting it and nodding at me once before he left the apartment.
I smiled and my mouth watered at the idea of pizza, and I relaxed at the thought of not having to cook.
While Drew was gone getting whatever he needed, a few of the ladies from church came over with bags of clothes and a few boxes of toys. They sat and held the twins while I went through the bags and took what I wanted to keep. I gave noncommittal answers about mine and Drew’s relationship, and after a few redirected comments, they seemed to realize I didn’t want to talk about it. But they seemed nice and made me promise to come to the Tuesday group at the café outside the library.
Drew came back with a pizza and a six-pack of his favorite beer, and we ate while he watched the boxing match on the TV. After we ate, he went outside and I heard thethunkof the tailgate of his truck. A minute later, he came inside carrying something large and bulky.
I opened the door for him and stepped back, my eyes widening as I watched. He had a rocking chair sitting on his shoulder like it weighed nothing, his strong arms flexing as he carefully navigated his way back into the apartment.
He walked right past me without a word and set the chair down effortlessly in the corner of the living room. Positioning it delicately, he stood back to examine his work.
“Needs a cushion,” he grunted, not looking at me.
I stared at the chair in shock. “Where did you get this?”
“Do you like it?”
“Drew, it’s beautiful.” The wood was stained a dark rich tone with hints of yellow and red, and the glossy finish almost made it glow.
