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As much as I want to rush to him and wrap my arms around him, I know there’s also a chance he feels as if I failed him. I have to be honest with myself that I did in some ways.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I tell him, stopping a few feet away.
Ryder looks back at Brent before turning to face me.
Tattered strings of my heart meld back together when he grins and runs into my arms. I laugh with so much joy when he knocks me back on my ass. I cry, clutching him to my chest. I hold him until he starts to squirm in an effort to get away from me smothering him.
I apologize, watching him stand back up. Like a little gentleman, he offers me a hand to get back on my feet. I let him think he’s strong enough to pull me up just like I’ve done since he was a toddler.
“How long do I have?” I ask Brent. “Are you the one supervising my visit?”
Brent angles his head to the side.
“Marta said he was home. You have an appointment in the office on Wednesday. She said you’d know when and where.”
“Home?” I shake my head, wondering if I fell and hit my head in the shower. Am I dreaming like Brent did for the last month, my mind creating my perfect world?
“She said Suzie called you, but I’m guessing by the utter shock you seem to be experiencing right now, that isn’t the case.”
I shake my head, swiping at the happy tears rolling down my cheeks.
His smile is wide, as he holds his hands out at his sides. “Surprise! Ryder is home.”
“Mommy,” my son says as he retakes the same obstinate position he had before he tackle hugged me. “Who is this strange man?”
Chapter 32
Bishop
All this child has done since Marta gave me very limited information and scurried away is stare at me in a challenging way that made me keep my distance.
I don’t know what it is, but I like the hell out of him.
He didn’t say a word to me. He just stayed near the dining table and glared. Even as he’s questioned Sunshine about who I am, he still hasn’t spoken directly to me.
Marta introduced the two of us, but the child didn’t speak to her either. It seems he’s not exactly impressed with the caseworker.
“She left some paperwork,” I tell her, pointing to the folder on the counter. “She said she had another appointment and let me sign off on it since she couldn’t wait.”
Her eyes narrow, and I know she is less than impressed that Marta would allow such a thing. It’s just one more way someone is telling her that she doesn’t matter, but I wasn’t going to argue with the woman and risk her leaving with the child.
“Do you have cartoon channels?” Ryder asks, distracted from his last question when he sees the large television in the living room.
I roll my lips between my teeth instead of following the initial instinct to step forward and show the child the numerous cartoon channels we have.
I should probably give them some space and go to my room, but I’m feeling a little selfish. I was inside of her not half an hour ago, and it just doesn’t feel right to walk away.
Ryder takes the recliner, and I drop onto one end of the sofa while Sunshine grabs the remote.
“You can sit with me,” the boy says, standing and waving his arm toward his seat.
Sunshine looks happier than I’ve ever seen her before as she takes a seat. She presses her nose into the back of his head, swiping at a tear on her cheek when he climbs up on her lap as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I’m witnessing the proof of her good parenting for the second time since she came out of her shower. Her first was giving Ryder some space and letting him decide if he wanted to be hugged or not.
He presses his cheek to her chest, his little arm clinging to her as tight as he can, as she pulls up a cartoon I have to imagine is his favorite. He grins with his eyes locked on the television.
He doesn’t squirm or try to wiggle away when she starts running her fingers through his overly long hair. This is what they do. I can tell you as a child who grew up with very limited affection that this little boy is loved and cared for.
There were times I’d go days avoiding my mother, sometimes afraid of repercussions when I was placed back in her care. It left me wondering why she fought to take me back. It wasn’t until I was older that I discovered the checks she would get for me as a child followed me. If I wasn’t in her home, she didn’t get the money. I imagine she would’ve had many more children she couldn’t take care of if my birth hadn’t come along with an emergency hysterectomy. It was something she often blamed me for, claiming I ruined her body.
