Allow your heart to rest in love

One of the barnevelders, probably Nadia, finally stepping into the coop for bedtime. 30 June, 2026, photo courtesy of my husband.

I was going to post an excerpt yesterday, but instead the better angel of my nature stepped in, insert smiley face here.

Yet this morning it is again sunny, chickens have been fed, and despite usually not coming off the wall until the light is on, as I stepped into the coop, three hens were already down, waiting to go outside. LOL! Hold on hens, you're still hanging in the run these days. Owl backed up as I entered, placing their feeder in its usual spot. I exited, walked away, then remembered to turn on the light for the rest, hehehe.

Anyways, all of this is to say here's an early morning post of much of yesterday's chapter. Greg is learning to trust, and Careen? She's still very much a work in progress, but then aren't we all? Insert another smiley face please.

Have a wonderful day!

Chapter 11

 

On New Year’s Eve afternoon Greg and Ross drove to a Santa Rosa motel where Chella said that Careen would meet them. Allegedly she wasn’t coming back, yet had something to give to Hugh. The message wasn’t clear enough for Chella to know what Careen had, or even if her presence was possible. But it was all they had heard from Hugh’s girlfriend in a month, if one didn’t consider the awful possibility that Hugh’s son no longer survived.

On Christmas Day Pams had started her period, and Greg ached both physically now that she was over it, as well as whatever might occur from all the sex they’d enjoyed in the last two days. It was lovemaking in a manner he’d never experienced, nor had Pams, but whether or not it led to conception was still a few weeks away. Greg hadn’t shared any of these thoughts with more than his wife, and as Ross clucked and grunted, Greg remained tight-lipped around Gilly’s….

No one was sure if the couple had reconciled; all Suze and Richard knew was they didn’t argue at bedtime anymore, and Ross was again sleeping with Gilly in her old room. Hugh thought Gilly’s mood was less angry, but Ross and Kevin hadn’t said anything civil to one another. They hadn’t spoken at all, mostly because after Christmas Eve, Kevin made good on his decision to not attend any further Lund family dinners. Greg hadn’t pondered that much, too enamored with his wife, who was waiting for him not on Mason Road, but at their house. Pams was fearful that Careen had indeed had an abortion, but now that Greg wanted their own baby, if the worst occurred for Hugh, the damage wouldn’t be so difficult for all.

Greg spoke inwardly with his brother, then Hugh told Greg to pay attention to the road. Drunks in the afternoon weren’t uncommon, and Greg sighed, then peered in his rear view mirror; the traffic was light as they passed Healdsburg, but the two lanes going south would increase to three soon enough, Santa Rosa as large of a city as Greg could want this close to home. He glanced at Ross, holding a map, then sighed inwardly; Ross had come along merely to get out of Gilly’s way. They’re not gonna last, Greg absently said to Hugh.

They might, Hugh seemed to retort inwardly.

Greg wanted to huff, but instead cleared his throat. “What’s the exit number again?” he said to Ross.

“Um, it’s….”

Inwardly Suze reiterated the directions, as Ross repeated the same aloud. Greg nodded to Ross, thanked his mother, then stared at cars ahead. He knew what Marie Sackett drove, Chella giving him a detailed description of the vehicle. But maybe this was a wild goose chase, Greg considered. If nothing else, it gave Gilly some space from Ross, Greg and his wife a break from sex, and maybe offered Hugh a little peace of mind. Maybe, Greg allowed as they passed the town of Windsor, Santa Rosa looming in the distance.

Ten minutes later Greg parked across the street from a dilapidated motel, a car appearing similar to Marie Sackett’s sedan in the small lot bordered by the U-shaped building. Richard didn’t know anything about this place, but it looked as though it had been around for fifty years, or very poorly maintained for the last twenty or thirty. Greg removed the key from the truck’s ignition, then gripped it. “She better be here,” he mumbled aloud, but didn’t pass that thought to his beloveds.

“Who the fuck knows,” Ross grunted.

Greg studied him, short blonde hair with hints of gray at Ross’ temples, a deep tan that was nearly the same tone as Gilly’s skin. It was summertime now in Melbourne, Greg considered, and maybe as a realtor, Ross needed to look the part of a sun-kissed Aussie wishing to share the nearby coastal properties with any who hired him. Greg then realized that other than Ross’ occupation, this man’s likes and dislikes were foreign to a similarly single-minded man just a couple years younger than Gilly’s…. Why hadn’t they married, Greg suddenly wondered. Maybe so right now in possibly splitting up there would be less to deal with legally, though Gilly had taken Ross’ last name, what was that about?

Greg sighed as Chella told him to pay attention to the motel. Ross also sighed, but Greg didn’t think he had any idea of all that currently rumbled through Greg’s mind. But maybe it was better to ponder bullshit instead of whatever Careen wanted to…. “There she is, shit,” Greg muttered aloud.

“Looks pregnant to me,” Ross said.

“She does,” Greg said aloud, sharing that assessment with his parents and brother. Greg unbuckled his seat belt, opened his car door, pocketing the key. He shivered while exiting the truck, then grabbed his jacket from where he’d stored it behind his seat. Putting on the coat, he cleared his throat, but didn’t need to tell Ross to stay there. Ross nodded, folding the map as Greg shut the door. Greg then walked slowly to where Careen stood next to Marie’s car.

Careen was dressed inappropriately for the cool weather, in a tight red spaghetti-strap mini-dress. She looked ridiculous, Greg told only Gilly, her small belly protruding as she shivered in the cold. She wore black flats, her hair cut to her shoulders, making her face appear very round, or maybe she’d gained some weight.

What do I say to her, Greg inwardly asked Chella.

Just nod. She’s been waiting for you, wasn’t sure you were coming.

Why?

I’m not certain.

Greg coughed, shoved his hands in his pockets as he crossed the street, then took them out, aware his body language was all Careen had at that moment as physical proof of how the family felt about her. Greg wanted to berate her soundly for running off and for whatever she’d done to the baby. She was still pregnant, but something was clearly amiss.

He breathed deeply as she stepped away from the car, wrapping her arms around herself as though for warmth. “Hi Greg,” she called, her tone apologetic.

He trembled, but smiled. “Hey Careen. Happy New Year’s Eve.”

The greeting was unplanned, but said in a causal manner, and he immediately thanked God for the laidback icebreaker. Careen nodded, seemed surprised by Greg’s nonchalant attitude. “Happy, uh, New Year’s Eve to you too. You and Pams have any plans?”

“Nah, just hanging out at home. She, uh, has a little cold.”

“Oh, uh, that’s too bad.”

“Yeah, but she’s better today.” The lie also slipped easily as though Greg’s speech was coming from a ventriloquist and he was the dummy, merely there to play some small role in a bigger drama. Drama was all Careen wanted, now that Greg was close enough to see she wore a ton of makeup like it was already eleven thirty at night and Marie was waiting to whisk them off to some wild party. She even sported false eyelashes, which made her eyes seemed to disappear from her face, but as she batted her lashes, one drooped, and she turned away from him as though trying to repair the damage. What did you do, he ached to ask, for despite changing his mind about not wanting his own offspring, the baby she carried was his son. Shit, Greg grumbled inwardly, not previously having allowed this level of attachment to Sean William Lund.

“You okay?” he asked

“Uh, yeah,” she said, nearly in tears.

Greg nodded, glancing back at the truck. Ross faced the other direction, looked to be rapping his fingers along the door. Greg appreciated the privacy, though wasn’t sure if Ross had looked away deliberately. Maybe if Ross and Gilly were actually finished, this for Ross was some weird way to say Goodbye to California, again giving Gilly time to herself before they spent many hours seated next to each other on the long flight home. They were leaving next Tuesday, but maybe that wasn’t soon enough for Ross, who continued staring at something on his right while Careen now wept, very softly, on Greg’s left. He cleared his throat, taking a few steps toward her. You sure you’re okay, he found himself asking her in silence.

She coughed, then faced him, that one eyelash missing. She looked utterly defeated, crying hard now, shivering in the cold. Instinctively Greg approached her, taking off his jacket, putting it around her shoulders while she lamely protested his actions, but didn’t shove the coat back at him. Then she put it on, maybe she had no proper jacket. She’d left all her things, yet had taken Hugh’s car, though it too was then left behind. “It’s okay,” Greg murmured gently, then said the same to her inwardly. Or maybe he was speaking to his wife, feeling her angst as deeply as he acknowledged his own.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he repeated, patting Careen’s shoulder. He wanted to ask if she had something to give him, a tangible item or even a message for Hugh. Instead he breathed deeply, hoping she would copy him. She did, for a minute, then began to cry again.

What is it, he silently said in as patient of a manner as he could muster.

Careen gazed at him, that naked eye like a hot poker. “I got drunk the day before Christmas Eve. Really drunk,” she repeated in a tone like she’d committed murder.

Greg wanted to throttle her, but he smiled, then cleared his throat. “Have you had anything to drink since?”

She shook her head, coughed, then moved away from him. “But I’ve been, uh, bleeding. Dunno if the baby’s still okay.”

A strong wave of fear reared through Greg, then it faded, leaving an echo of the pain that Chella had detected, what he told all those with whom he was telepathic. “Have you seen a doctor?” he said softly.

“What? No,” she huffed.

“I was just wondering.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, then dropped them to her side. “Marie totally wants me to get rid of it, you know.”

“Yeah, we know.”

Careen gasped, then squatted to the ground. The side of her dress ripped, but to Greg that sound was like Careen’s innards being released there on the pavement. God, please do something, he pleaded, though what could be done wasn’t clear. Save Sean, save my…son, Greg added. And let Hugh take this….

Careen stood, coughed, then stared at Greg. “Not sure what I’m gonna do with it now, I probably fucked it up completely you know.”

“Maybe,” Greg said, allowing a heavenly voice to speak through him. “But no matter what, if you have Sean, we’ll take care of him.”

The way Greg pronounced his son’s name seemed to seal an adoption that Greg hoped would occur, erasing the ills Careen had maybe incurred as well as any tie to the spelling of Sean she initially had considered. “Will you, would you, I mean, even if I’ve, if I, if….”

“He’ll be fine,” Greg said, again feeling someone pulling the strings from high above.

“Oh God, oh my God, I dunno, I, I….” Again Careen went to the ground, this time on her knees. Greg knelt beside her, rubbing her back as she sobbed and spoke, how sorry she was, how she didn’t mean to hurt any of them, how she loved…. She said Hugh in a way that made Greg wish to be sick, the level of her anguish far more than any of them had credited to her. She’s terrified of him dying on her, he related to his mother and Chella, then Greg apologized to his mom, hoping he hadn’t hurt her.

What I figured, Suze said in a flat, silent manner.

Tell her I’m praying for her, Chella said inwardly.

You sure about that, Greg replied in silence.

Yes, Chella answered.

“Chella’s praying for you,” Greg whispered to Careen, still on her knees, wailing loudly.

Immediately Careen stopped crying, though she sniffled. “She’s praying for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How would you know?”

“She, uh, told me before I left. Told me to tell you if I thought the time was right.” Shit, Greg thought inwardly.

Careen scooted back, tried to sit, but even with the torn seam, the dress didn’t permit that. Awkwardly she went to her feet, Greg offering to help, but she waved him off. She shoved her hands in the pockets of the coat, then pulled out some gloves. “Uh, you want these?” she said to him.

“Keep ʼem, and the jacket too,” he smiled.

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh. Anything you want me to, uh, tell, uh….”

She sniffled again, then wiped her face on her sleeve. “Just that I’m sorry, I mean, I’m sorry for taking his car. But you got it back, right?”

“Uh-huh, it’s fine.”

Careen nodded, gazed at her shoes, then spat on the ground. “If I don’t lose it, I’ll, uh, I’ll bring it to, uh, you. You all,” she added. She sighed, then continued. “If I don’t lose it.”

“I’m praying for you,” Greg said, offering a prayer for her then and there.

“Uh, sure, whatever. Um….” She put the gloves back in the pocket, then cracked her knuckles. “Tell Hugh I never meant to hurt him.”

“Will do.”

She sighed, then gazed toward the motel. “I’ll be good tonight. We’re going to a party in San Rafael. I’ll just drink soda.”

“Thanks,” Greg said, briefly wishing to throttle her again.

“Shit,” she muttered. Then she stepped away, walking toward what Greg assumed was the room she slept in last night. He didn’t wonder from where she got the money, or anything connected to the health of his son. All Greg knew was relief for her momentary sincerity. And gratefulness she hadn’t insisted he take back his coat.