Surrender (9 page)

The flight to New York was hell.

To be enclosed in such a small space without room to move was pure torture when my body had once again grown accustomed to moving freely. I felt the energy buzzing through my veins, but it had to be tamped down, contained. After the first hour, it finally manifested itself in my restless, fidgety legs, earning me a dirty look from my seat neighbor.

“I'm sorry,” I said and turned to the window, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves. Outside, the clouds were thick and fluffy, the sky a light cyan that expanded into oblivion. And even though I could look out the window, I felt claustrophobic, unlike the time I'd flown in Neal's plane.

I sighed, trying not to think of him, but that was a tall order when I had nothing to do for hours. In this enclosed space, feeling caged, it was impossible not to think of the man who had tried his best to set me free.

I pulled out my phone and plugged in my earphones, listening to the song that I'd danced to on that small stage in Las Vegas, when I'd felt uplifted and hopeful. My muscles started to relax as I imagined myself how Neal must have seen me, flying around the stage with my skirt fluttering, and soon I relaxed enough to fall asleep.

—

I went directly to the audition, my nerves still in disarray. But the moment I stepped into that hallway and joined the other dancers who were waiting to audition, I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me. Being here, with my people—this was my jam.

They called us all into a large studio and taught us the choreography, going over it at a slow pace the first few times. I had always picked up choreography quickly, and this time was no exception as I executed the moves with very few problems. Still, I couldn't help but notice the other dancers in the mirror, couldn't help but compare myself to their lithe bodies and clean technique.

Six weeks was definitely not enough time to get back in top competitive shape, that much was clear. I didn't even know if it was possible to compete—certainly I was no longer one of the young and limber.

After rehearsal we were each given a number to pin to our shirt and, after a ten-minute break, were then asked to come back inside, where three new people sat at a long table, ready to pick the best dancers in the room. I stood near the back of the room and didn't realize until we started to dance that one of the people on the panel was none other than my friend Veronica. She wore her jet-black hair shorter, but everything else about her—her flawless chocolate skin, her wide engaging smile—was still the same.

The sight of her on the panel caused me to miss a step, but I recovered quickly, hoping nobody noticed. Veronica saw and gave an encouraging nod.

We went through the choreography several times, each time moving around the room so that eventually everyone had danced at the front. The people sitting behind the table made notes in their notebooks, eyeing each of us closely but leaving their critiques until the end.

—

After we were dismissed, I hung around and waited until Veronica was done talking to her peers. Then, with a sheepish smile, she came to me, throwing her arms around my sweaty shoulders as if no time had passed at all.

I hugged her back. “It's so good to see you,” I said. “You didn't tell me you were part of the show already. I thought I'd be auditioning
with
you.”

“Would you have come if I'd told you?”

I could have lied but she already knew me, knew there was no way I would have come back and auditioned for her. My pride wouldn't have allowed it. “Probably not.”

“Didn't think so.” She slung an arm over my shoulder and led me out. “Come on, let me take you out for a drink.”

After I changed back into jeans and a sweater, Veronica and I went to a bar that we'd frequented back in the day, sitting at “our” table like old times. She filled me in on her life since we'd lost touch, how she had started choreographing and had eventually earned a name for herself around town.

“So how do you think you did?” she asked over a Manhattan.

“I should be asking you that.”

She grinned. “You did great.”

“Really?” I asked, perking up. “Objectively speaking?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. You may be my friend but I'm still a professional. And you, my friend, have still got it.”

My face warmed from her words, from the validation of all my hard work recently.

“You'd better stick around for another day or two for callbacks. But you didn't hear that from me,” she said, adding a wink.

That familiar jubilation washed over me, the pure exhilaration of knowing you had beat out a large portion of those who'd auditioned. But that feeling was cut short by reality. “I can't,” I said almost immediately. “My son.”

“Julie!” she admonished. “You of all people know auditions aren't just a one-day thing!”

“I know. I just never thought I'd even survive the day, let alone get a callback.”

“Well, fix it,” she said as if it were that simple to leave my son for another few days. “You've got a real shot here. You'll regret it if you don't take it.”

I stared into my drink, wondering which I would regret more: missing this chance or abandoning my son.

“Julie?”

Veronica and I looked up to find Colin, another dancer friend, approaching us. “It's you!” He clapped his hands together then threw his arms around me, talking animatedly the entire time. “You dropped off the face of the earth! I heard you were living in some bumfuck town in Alabama.”

“Bumfuck, Texas, actually,” I said, swept away by his enthusiasm.

He put his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle, gaining the attention of the entire bar. “Hey, Shawna, Carolyn! Look who I found!”

Several other people joined us at our table, friends and acquaintances from my life a million years past. It was good to see them but I couldn't help but feel like time stood still here, that I'd aged while I was gone but my friends had not.

I wondered, for the millionth time, what would have become of me had I not stayed in Dallas. No doubt I would still be dancing, still hanging out at the same places with the same people. I might have become like Veronica, moving up in my career, or perhaps I'd still be doing the same thing, jumping from job to job, without any real security, destined to be put out to pasture before I was even past my thirties.

I knew then what my answer had to be.

I'd just opened my mouth to tell Veronica I wouldn't be coming back, when my cell phone began to ring. I excused myself from the revelry at the table and went outside to take the call, hugging my arms around myself in the chilly autumn night.

“Hello?”

“Julie!” Stacy said in a tone that immediately dropped my stomach to my feet.

“What happened? Is Will okay?”

“We're at the hospital—”

“What happened?” I practically shrieked. “Tell me he's okay!”

“The boys were just watching a movie when Will said his stomach was hurting. I thought it might have just been an upset stomach, but then he started running a high fever. We took him to the ER—”

“And?” My hands were trembling, my fingers struggling to hold the phone up to my ear. Every atom in my body wanted to start running, and to keep running until I was in Texas with my son.

“His appendix ruptured,” Stacy said. “He's in the operating room right now.”

I covered my mouth with my hand, unable to utter a word.

“I'm sorry, Julie. It happened so fast,” she said, her voice full of worry.

“Thank you, Stacy,” was all I could manage to say.

“I'll be right here, I promise,” she said. “So he'll have a familiar face to see when he comes out from under anesthesia.”

Bile rose up in my throat at the sudden thought that something might go wrong during the surgery. “I'm headed to the airport right now,” I said. “I'll let you know the details in a few minutes.”

I put away my phone and ran back inside the bar to grab my things.

“Where are you going?” Veronica asked, rising from her seat, no doubt alarmed by my panicked appearance.

“Family emergency back home.”

A look of concern rumpled her features. “But what about—”

I stopped her with a look. “I can't stay, V. I have to go.”

I barely managed to utter an explanation to the others before I was rushing out the door and hailing a taxi.

—

“What do you mean?” I practically shouted at the ticket agent. “Are you seriously telling me that none of the airlines here in this airport have any flights going to DFW right now?”

“Ma'am, I can't speak for the other airlines, but the next United plane leaving for DFW won't be for another four hours.”

I leaned my head down on the desk, no longer able to hold it up, and fought the urge to sob into my arms. “It's an emergency.”

The agent shook her head at me, genuine regret in her eyes. “I'm sorry. I can find a different route for you, but honestly, it would get you there the same time or later than the next DFW flight.”

I shook my head and walked wearily back to the American Airlines counter, resignedly purchasing a seat on the flight leaving in three hours. I honestly couldn't remember the next hour; I was on autopilot from the moment I walked away with my ticket.

I arrived at the deserted gate and took a seat, sinking down into it, covering my face with my hands. I refused to think about Will, sure that if I even entertained the idea of his death, fate would somehow find a way to make it come true. Hell, it had happened before—when I'd scoured the news outlets for news on Jason—it could happen again.

I remembered it vividly, the moment I'd found the clip on CNN .com mentioning that an Air Force officer had been killed by a sniper attack in Kabul. Even later, when his name was printed in black and white in the newspaper underneath his picture, I'd refused to believe it. Instead I'd crawled under the covers and lived in my fantasy world where the father of my child was still alive.

I was saved from the sorrow spiral by the ringing of my phone. I pulled it out of my pocket, surprised to find Neal's name appear. “Hello?”

“Julie. Hi.”

To hear his voice after all this time, admittedly, had a soothing effect on my chaotic mind. “Neal.”

“Are you home? I'd like to come over and talk.”

“No, I'm stuck in New York,” I said. “I'm trying to get home because of an emergency but the flight doesn't leave for another million fucking hours.”

“What's going on? Are you okay?”

I blinked the tears away. “It's my son. He's at the hospital and I can't get to him.”

“You have a son?”

I took a deep breath, not having the energy or heart to lie about Will, especially not when he was on the operating table. “Yes,” I said, sure that, any moment now, Neal would hang up.

He was quiet for a few beats then finally said, “What can I do? I'm in Dallas, so just tell me what I can do to help.”

“You're in Dallas?”

“Yes,” he said. “Do you want me to come and get you?”

“By the time you get here, the plane will already be boarding.”

“Okay, so, what?” he asked, his voice all concern. “Where is your son?”

“He's at Medical City Children's Hospital.”

“Okay, I'll head on over there right now.”

“Will,” I said before he could hang up.

“Will?”

“My son's name is Will.”

He let out a breath. “Okay. I'll call you when I get there.”

“Thanks, Neal,” I said softly then hung up and dialed Stacy, letting her know that a friend of mine might show up.

When all was said and done, I put the phone away and leaned back in my seat, still rattled but able to breathe a little easier.

The moment I stepped inside the hospital, I started running. My bag was bouncing everywhere and I looked like a raggedy mess, but I didn't care. I ran past the information desk and up the stairwell, no longer patient enough to wait for the elevator.

At the children's ward, I stopped at the front desk to tell them my name and then headed to Will's room. I opened the door as quietly as I could manage, my eyes immediately finding the little body tucked under the sheets on the bed.

I fought to contain my breathing as I entered the room, setting my bag down on the floor, and approached the bedside. With teary eyes, I bent down to kiss his forehead, fighting down the sobs that were threatening to erupt. He looked so tiny in the bed, so helpless.

“Mom?” Will cracked open his eyes, blinking up at me. “You're back?”

“Yes, I'm back,” I said, sitting on the bed and giving him a careful hug. “I got back as soon as I could.”

“It really hurt, Mom,” he said, his chin quivering. “I tried to be tough but it really hurt.”

I bent my head down and cried silently into his hair, the guilt finally proving too much. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I should have been with you.”

“Neal was here. He stayed with me even after Miss Stacy had to leave.”

I looked up and was surprised to find Neal asleep in the chair in the corner, his tall frame slumped over uncomfortably.

“It's okay, Mom. Neal said you tried your best to come back.” He patted my shoulder. “I know you got stuck at the airport.”

I glanced over at Neal again. “I couldn't get a flight back sooner.”

“Mom,” Will said, tugging on my sleeve until I bent down. He brought his lips to my ear. “Is he your boyfriend?” he whispered.

“No,” I said, hoping Neal wasn't listening. “He's just a really good friend.”

“You could marry him,” Will said sotto voce.

I shook my head. “I don't think so, honey. He's not that kind of friend.”

Our conversation was cut short when Neal began to stir. “Hey,” he said with a tired smile as he stretched his neck side to side. He rose to his feet, unfolding to his full height, and walked to the bed. “I thought we agreed you'd wake me up when she got here,” he said to Will with a smile, squeezing one little foot under the sheet.

“Sorry. I forgot.”

Neal's gaze found mine and we stared at each other across the bed for a long, charged moment. My eyes ate him up; I'd almost forgotten just how attractive he was. His wavy hair was a little shorter, the sun-bleached tips shorn off. It was a relief to see that I hadn't just imagined his masculine beauty.

“Thank you,” I mouthed.

He smiled at me, but his eyes were intent, letting me know that we had plenty to discuss. “You're welcome.” He cleared his throat and looked at Will. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Will's face lit up. “Hey, Mom, did you know Neal has no appendix, too? He has a scar on his stomach and everything.”

I faked a smile as Neal lifted his shirt to show me the scar that I'd already seen.

“Cool, huh?” Will asked. “I'll have a scar just like that.”

Neal grinned at my son, a genuinely warm smile that caught me unaware. “We'll be scar buddies,” he said and ruffled his hair. “Hey, I'd better leave you and your mom alone.”

“No, she doesn't mind—right, Mom?”

“Neal probably needs to get some sleep,” I said. “Where are you staying?”

“At the Hilton downtown,” he said. “And yeah, I need a shower and a shave,” he added, rubbing a palm along his scruffy jaw.

“I'll call you later?” I asked as he stepped away from the bed.

“Sure,” he said, picking up his jacket from the back of the seat. “No rush.”

“You
are
staying in town, right?”

He stopped at the door and gave me a meaningful look. “I'll be here, Julie. When you're ready to talk, just come find me.”

—

I slept in the room with Will. When the nurses saw that I wasn't about to leave his side, they brought in some sheets and a pillow, showing me how to turn the bench seat into a bed. I lay in that uncomfortable makeshift bed that night and tried to sleep, but my eyes kept popping open to watch my son sleeping; I found myself staring at his chest to make sure he was still breathing.

We'd stayed the night in a hospital only once before, back when Will was only a year old. We'd just moved into our own apartment and he was crawling on the floor while I was unpacking the kitchen. Apparently he'd found a paper clip on the floor and he swallowed it. I would never forget the instant panic when I heard him start choking, and the short-lived relief when he swallowed the paper clip then smiled.

I rushed him to the hospital that afternoon and there we stayed overnight to prepare for the procedure in the morning. I held him in my arms, so small and afraid, as we slept in the armchair.

The next day I called Kyle during the procedure, out of sheer loneliness. I just needed someone—anyone—to talk to, else I would have gone crazy from the wait. It was the first time it occurred to me that I was well and truly a single parent.

Kyle rushed over, like he always did, riding in on his white steed, trying to save the damsel in distress. “I haven't taken you off the insurance yet,” he said the moment he entered the waiting room. “I can go to the front desk and fix it.”

I shook my head because I knew what Kyle wanted. “I'll find another way to pay for it.”

“Julie, this will set you back tens of thousands.”

“I know.”

“Just let me help, okay?”

“I know you mean well, but Will is my responsibility.”

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving my face. “That was always part of the problem. You never really let me in, never really allowed me to become a real father to Will.”

“Kyle, I didn't call you because I wanted your help.” I was tired and didn't want to rehash the reasons why I'd wanted a divorce after only a year together. “Let's not do this today, okay?”

I told Kyle to go home, and when Will came out of the OR, I was the only one there to greet him. I took him home on my own with some difficulty, accepting that I would have to do everything on my own from then on. I didn't yet have a plan on how I would pay the bills, but I was determined to make it through somehow.

—

I couldn't sleep. My mind raced with memories and thoughts, with wants and regrets. Finally, at around four in the morning, I got up and took a shower in the room's private bath, glad that I had toiletries and a change of clothes with me. When I came out of the bathroom, a nurse was standing at Will's bedside, looking at his charts.

“We caught it early,” she said as she checked the IV fluids. “It hadn't spread too much. And the surgery went smoothly and without problems.”

“That's good to hear.”

“He'll recover in no time,” the nurse said. “You're welcome to go get some coffee or breakfast. I'll be here for another twenty minutes or so.”

“Thank you,” I said, realizing I hadn't had anything to eat for twenty-four hours, since before the audition. I bent down and pressed a kiss to Will's head. “If he wakes up, could you please let him know I'll be right back?”

“Sure thing.”

I stepped out of the room, closing the door soundly behind me, and walked to the elevator. When the metal doors slid open, I was surprised to find Neal standing there with his hands in his pockets, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Um, hi,” I said, running a finger through my damp hair.

He put his hand against the door to keep it open. “I couldn't sleep,” he said. He hadn't shaved and he wore his exhaustion like a mask, hiding his feelings.

“Me, either.”

He pursed his lips and gave a nod. I stepped inside the elevator, both of us knowing that it was time to start talking.

But neither of us said a word the entire way down to the cafeteria. I was keenly aware of his solid presence, felt both energized and apprehensive just walking beside him. A few times our hands brushed, and it took everything in me to keep from reaching out and grabbing him like I really wanted to. I'd made my decision about Neal three months before, and I needed to stick to it, no matter how much I missed him.

We bought some coffee and took it to a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, away from the rest of the world. There was a moment, before we sat down, when we said nothing but felt everything passing between us.

“Come here,” he finally said, grabbing a handful of my sweater and pulling me into him. My arms went around his waist of their own accord; I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek to his chest. I felt him take in a deep breath then let it out, the sound as calming as rolling waves. I could have stayed there longer, enfolded in his arms, but he kissed my head then let me go.

“So . . .” he said, holding out a chair for me.

“So . . .”

We sat down and sipped our coffees, watching each other over the steam.

“So you have a son,” he said softly.

“I do.” I set my cup down, keeping my eyes fixed on its inane coffee bean design.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“For many reasons. But mostly because you and I were supposed to be a simple fling.”

He blinked a few times. “He's a great kid.”

“I know. I raised him.”

“How old is he?”

“He'll be five in December.”

Neal looked away, his nostrils flaring. “He told me his dad died in Afghanistan.”

“Yes. I was pregnant with Will when his dad was killed.”

He was quiet for a long time, a tormented look on his face as he sipped his coffee. I could sense the turmoil in him as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

“So you said you came here to talk.”

He blinked a few times. “I did. I came here to give you something.”

“What is it?”

He stared at me for a few beats, then, without warning, he leaned forward, taking my face in his hands and kissing me. He tilted my head and deepened the connection, and I responded, a moan rising up from my throat. He tasted like coffee and mint, his tongue reaching deep as if he couldn't get enough.

Then I came to myself and pulled away, gasping for air. “Neal, this can't happen,” I said, keeping him at bay with a hand to his chest. I could feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of my hand as he leaned into me, could feel his muscles straining to keep control.

The skin between his eyebrows furrowed and he said nothing, only allowed me to keep him an arm's length away.

“Julie!”

Neal and I turned to find the owner of the voice stomping across the cafeteria floor, his dark hair mussed, lines bracketing his mouth.

“Kyle,” I muttered.

“Why didn't you call me?” he asked, walking toward us at a fast clip.

I stood up. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn't think I deserved to know about Will having an operation?”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, fighting to control my emotions. “We're not married anymore, Kyle. I know you mean well, but Will is not your son. You don't have to feel responsible for him anymore.”

“Is that what you think this is?” he asked in a hurt voice.

Neal stood up then and pressed his hand into the small of my back. “Hey, man, I'm Neal,” he said, holding out his other hand to Kyle.

Kyle was frowning but he shook the outstretched hand anyway. “Kyle.”

“My ex-husband,” I said, in case Kyle was planning on saying otherwise.

“I want to see him,” Kyle said, turning back to me. “Please.”

I turned to Neal, giving him an apologetic look. “We'll continue this later, okay?”

He nodded, his fingers squeezing at my back gently. “I can wait.” He bent down and whispered, “Just call me if you need me. I'll be right here.”

I nodded, though I knew it wouldn't be needed. Kyle Manning was the most even-keeled person I knew, so patient and eager to please.

Kyle and I were quiet on the way back up but the moment we stepped inside the hospital room, his face broke out into a wide smile. Will seemed apprehensive at first, knowing Kyle really only from photographs and stories I'd tell, but he quickly warmed up when Kyle started telling funny stories of when we were all together. I stood back and watched them interact, seeing the genuine affection in Kyle's eyes as he talked to my son. In that moment it was plain to see that he really cared for Will, that he'd come because he genuinely cared.

“Thank you for coming to see him,” I said to Kyle out in the hallway some time later.

“Of course. Believe it or not, I love that kid.” He looked at me, his brown eyes drooping down at the ends, giving him a sad puppy-dog look. “I loved our family.”

I took a deep breath to quell the burn of guilt in my chest. “I'm sorry things didn't work out between us.”

“Me, too.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“It was. I should have been a better husband, a better everything.”

“Kyle,” I said, touching his arm, “it wasn't your fault. Really.”

He nodded as he looked down at my hand, and again I was struck with regret that this gentle, wonderful man couldn't have been a bigger part of our lives. He was handsome and loving, without baggage or damage, and he had a big heart. Any woman would be lucky to have him. “Kyle, you're welcome to come and visit Will sometimes.”

“You mean that?”

“Yes. Just, you know, don't overdo it.”

“You sure Neal won't mind?” he asked as we walked toward the elevator.

“He and I aren't together.”

“Huh.”

“What you saw in the cafeteria . . . that was a good-bye kiss.”

“You giving him the heave-ho, too?”

“Kyle . . .”

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his palms out. “It's none of my business.”