Such Great Heights - Sydney Logan Page 0,46
chuckle and gaze at the water. “They do look hungry. Let’s sit and watch them play. Then we’ll feed them lunch.”
The two of us find a spot on the grass and watch as the mother and her ducklings jump in and out of the water.
I take a deep breath. “Ryder, I want to talk to you about your mom.”
“She came to visit me.”
“I know. I’m so glad, son.”
“She’ll be back, right?”
“She’s supposed to visit every Wednesday.”
“What’s today?”
“Saturday.”
I can see the wheels turning, so I take his hand and count the days of the week on his little fingers.
“Four days,” he says.
“Right.”
I don’t say that it’s up to his mother to keep that appointment. We’re keeping it simple today.
“She’s different now.”
“Who? Your mom?”
He nods. “She plays with me now.”
Yes, that’s new territory for Natasha. I’m not surprised this made an impression on him. But there are other changes, too. Changes that are too subtle for a child to notice. She’s cooperative . . . so cooperative that it makes me suspicious. I don’t know if Natasha has really changed or if her new attorney has coached her well.
But that’s a worry for another day.
“Ryder, I want to tell you something. Mommy can visit, but she won’t be living with us anymore.”
Obviously. I mean, she hasn’t lived with us in months. But I wanted to start with the easy stuff.
“That’s what Dr. Jane said. Mommy will visit but she won’t stay.”
“Right. And that’s because Mommy and Daddy won’t be married anymore.”
“Why not?”
Such a simple question. Too bad the answer is complicated.
“Grown-ups do that sometimes. They love each other for a while, and then sometimes they . . . fall out of love. So they stop being married. It’s called a divorce.”
I shake my head. I’m not explaining this right at all.
“You don’t love Mommy?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Does Mommy love you?”
“No.”
“You don’t love Mommy, and Mommy doesn’t love you.”
“Right.”
He stares out at the lake. My heart races because I know I’m screwing this up.
“But Mommy and I love you very much. That will never change.”
“But you said grown-ups do that sometimes. They stop loving.”
“They stop loving each other. They don’t stop loving their kids.”
“Never ever?”
“Never ever.”
“So you won’t have a wife.”
I haven’t had a wife in years, but for my son’s sake, I simply nod.
“That’s right.”
His face grows thoughtful.
“Will ‘Livia be your wife now?”
I glance back at the picnic table where she’s waiting for us. My son has no idea how much I dream about that very thing happening. I know it’s too soon. That a thousand things have to happen before we get to that point.
But I want to get there. Someday.
“You really love Olivia, don’t you?”
Ryder nods. “You do, too.”
I don’t deny it. Why bother? I’m apparently terrible at hiding my feelings for the woman.
“Yeah, but that’s a secret, okay?”
“Why?”
“Because . . . I’m not ready to tell her yet.”
“I can’t keep secrets from ‘Livia.”
I grin. “Could you try? This is a good secret. I want to surprise her.”
“So it’s a good surprise?”
“Yes.”
“Can we have a surprise party?”
“Absolutely.” I’ll agree to anything at this point.
“Okay. But tell her soon.”
“I will.”
We grow quiet as we watch the ducks waddle out of the water and onto the grass.
“They look really hungry, Dad.”
I laugh so loudly that the ducks quack in unison. Ryder giggles, his eyes glowing with excitement.
Man, I love my kid. I can’t believe how much time I’ve wasted. I’d buried myself in my work, when I should’ve been home, taking care of my son.
But I can’t keep looking back. All I can do is fix it and move forward.
“Before we feed the ducks, do you have any questions about me and your mommy?”
“Mommy won’t live with us anymore. You don’t love Mommy, and Mommy doesn’t love you, but you love me.”
“That’s right.”
“And you won’t be married anymore.”
I nod.
“But she can visit me.”
“Right.”
“And Olivia’s going to be your new wife, but we can’t tell her because it’s a secret.”
“That’s . . . not exactly what I said.”
“And you love her. But we can’t tell her that, either.”
Just agree, Healey.
“Right. It’s all a big secret.” Satisfied and ready to talk about anything else, I hand him the breadcrumbs. “Feed the ducks, son.”
His tiny fingers eagerly reach into the bag, and I watch happily as he tosses the crumbs toward the ducks. After a few minutes, I look toward the picnic table, but Olivia’s already on her way, looking gorgeous as the sunlight shimmers against her hair.
“How are we doing?” she asks, joining us on