Another Day
One of my blurbs posted toward the end of January featured Nick going to a funeral to support the widow, who turned out to be his long time beloved. Well, the blurb-bug continues to supply me with ideas so I've carried on the idea. Only, I've decided that the widow's son would be bettered suited at the age of four. I don't know if this is going to turn into a bonofied story. I'm really in love with the idea and continue to stew about potential shifts in the plot. So, we'll see. And, until then
The Blurb
“That’s quite an impressive Mater that you’re coloring, Benji,” Nick encouraged softly, pulling away from the brilliant world of his own Disney’s Cars coloring book to observe the youngster’s creative works. Of course, Benjamin said nothing to acknowledge Nick’s presence. Instead, he continued to scribble on the old beat-up truck with a dark brown crayon. Circles swirled about the paper with no collective reasoning; no words parting from his pursed lips. In fact, since arriving Grace’s home for the funeral reception, Benjamin had said not a word. Instead, he had clutched to his mother’s side and became increasingly fussy when others attempted to pull him away. Nick, already entirely uncomfortable being around the mourners that encompassed his friend in a shroud of belittling sympathies, decided it was no trouble to scoop the child into his arms. Benjamin fought briefly, but his younger sister seemed to soothe his potential hysteria as Nick carried them into the playroom. After all, the deceased was not his friend. He was here for the widow. So, gathering coloring books he had bought for some miscellaneous holiday, he had hoped to entertain them till the crowds of family and friends parted.
“’Icky,” the toddler, Isabella, suddenly grunted, pulling Nick’s attention away from the pained Benjamin. Glancing away from Benjamin, he smiled toward the one-year-old girl standing at his feet, chewing on one of the large plastic blocks from a large kit. Her large emerald eyes looked hopefully to him before outstretching her hands. Grinning, Nick leaned forward to help the little girl into his lap. “At least you’re talking to me, huh, Izzy?”
“’Ove, ‘Icky,” Isabella cooed in appreciation, offering him the block she had been chewing on.
“Well, thank you very much, Sweetness,” Nick retorted, taking the block before leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. Smoothing away the platinum curls that had fallen over her forehead, he smiled appreciatively when she leaned against him to smack a wet kiss to his nose. “You’ve gotten so big, Izzy. Last time I held you, I know you fit perfectly into the crook of my one arm, but I doubt I’d be able to do that with you now. And, Ben--”
Looking down, Nick sighed when he noticed the preschooler take his crayons and coloring book to the opposite table. Throwing them upon the surface, he then slumped into one of the chunky, blue plastic chairs to continue his work. It was heartbreaking to say the least, having Benjamin act as if he were infected with the worst possible case of plague. Especially when months before, Benjamin had been attempting to crawl into Nick’s luggage as a stowaway when he prepared for the Never Gone Tour.
“Don’t take it too personally, Nicky. He hasn’t talked since…” Grace’s intrusion trailed to the inevitable conclusion as she stood at the threshold of the playroom. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her body as she crossed her bare legs. The last of her friends and family had left with promises of returning soon; not that she had asked them to do so. If anything, she just wanted to be left alone with her children, Nick, and the hopes of not being asked to dredge up painful memories.
“He won’t even talk to you?” Nick questioned in surprise, watching Benjamin lurch up from the table to hurry toward Grace. Smiling softly when she bent down to receive the boy and heft him to her hip, he gestured there was room on the couch for them.
“Guess he doesn’t have much to say right now,” Grace murmured, running her fingers through Benjamin’s slicked curls while settling onto the couch. Tucking her bare feet beneath her, she shifted Benjamin into her lap, helping to curl her arms around him quite protectively. “Right now, I don’t think any of us have much of anything to say right now… Do you know how useless idle chatter is at this point in my life? Not that I’m saying--”
“C’mere, Gracie,” Nick interrupted gently before she could begin her usual habit of rambling because of her discomfort. Reaching for her hand, he tugged her till she fit perfectly against his side. Then, keeping an arm around her shoulders, he helped Isabella cuddle between them before burying his face in the softness of Grace’s golden curls. She had gotten a quick shower it seemed, wanting to gather herself before assuming her stoic place. Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a simple t-shirt, Nick couldn’t imagine her looking any better. Her hair damp and her skin soft from the lotion she always applied, she smelled of sweet vanilla; a familiarity Nick loved. And, before he could help himself, he murmured softly, “God, I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too, Nicky.” Touched by his confession, Grace brushed her fingers delicately down his chest, thankful that he had come to her aid. She supposed she had sounded quite desperate on the phone, begging for him to put aside his daily tasks to fly home, but it didn’t matter. He was here now. All the pain that had been built underneath their relationship vanished, because he had finally come back. So, curling her fingers in his white undershirt, she relished in his closeness. Typical of Nick, he had done everything in his power to dress down when returning to the house. His black jacket had been shed. His tie unknotted and tucked into a pocket. His dress shirt unbuttoned. “Thanks for taking care of the kids.”
“Not a problem. I’d do anything for you, Gracie.”