“My water?” he started, but whatever else he said, Rebecca did not hear, because she had already jerked the phone away from her ear and yelled, “Grayson! Your dad wants to talk to you!”
The kid’s face lit up; he instantly dropped the hose, left the dog standing patiently. Rebecca winced, her heart sinking for Grayson as he rushed to the porch, struggling to take the stairs two at a time. He snatched the phone Rebecca held out to him, and she leaned back, looked up at the ceiling fan turning lazily above her head as he said, “Hi, Daddy! Guess what. We got another dog! . . . Huh? . . . No, it’s brown. The other one is yellow. He was eating out of the garbage can and Mom found him, and we haven’t named him yet. . . . Huh?”
Grayson stopped; the light began to fade from his face. Rebecca could not hear him breathe; he was holding his breath, concentrating on what his father was telling him. It probably took no longer than a moment or two for Bud to tell his son that he had chosen Candace over him once again, but it seemed to take forever for the disappointment to seep in before Grayson said quietly, “Oh!” And then, “But when can I come see you, Daddy?” Another long moment passed. “Well, can I come see Lucy? . . . Oh . . . okay,” he said softly, and handed the phone to Rebecca without another word.
She watched him walk down the porch steps to the dog, his head lowered, the spring gone from his step. “Way to go,” she said low into the phone.
“Don’t!” Bud snapped. “I can’t help that this stuff comes up on my weekend to have him. Look, I gotta go. Tell Gray I’ll call him later this week.” He hung up.
“Liar,” she muttered, and hung up, too. She sat there for a minute or two, watching Grayson halfheartedly try to get the soap off Big Dog and wondered, with her new, twenty-twenty hindsight glasses, if Bud had always been so dismissive of Grayson. The Lord knew she hadn’t been around enough—Rebecca had left a lot of the heavy lifting to Lucy. At the time it hadn’t seemed that way, but now . . . well, now she wished hindsight wasn’t so damn clear, because she rarely liked what she saw.
What was it the book Giving Up and Giving In: The Path to Spiritual Well-being said? Let the water rush under the bridge, but continue on across, or something like that, for the past is the past and the only direction worth looking is ahead.
What horseshit.
Grayson was still pretty down after his nap and even his favorite cartoon, SpongeBob SquarePants, wasn’t cheering him up. He was lying on his stomach on the thick looped rug with his head propped in his hands, staring morosely at the TV as SpongeBob made a stack of crabby patties. The dogs were lying curled on either side of him; the brown dog seemed very happy to have found a home, and a very congenial Bean didn’t seem to mind sharing it—assuming, of course, he even knew he was sharing it, which was debatable.
Rebecca was also in a pretty foul mood. Bud was always a downer, but add him to the fact that she’d had no luck in getting even a nibble on a job and could see nothing but long, empty days stretching before her, and she was miserable.
Seated in her office among a neat stack of résumés and the Sunday want ads, she had a variety of self-help books to study, including two new ones, courtesy of Rachel, who was really into spiritual astrology this month. Just last night, on the phone, she had excitedly reported that Uranus was in Rebecca’s house and was rising.
“What?” Rebecca had asked, confused.
“Uranus!” Rachel cried gleefully. “The last time Uranus was in your house was like 1920-something. Do you know what this means?”
“No, I—”
“It means that doors will open for you that you never dreamed would open! You are going to be able to draw from energy stores you didn’t even know you had! Things that seemed bleak just a few weeks ago are now wonderful new opportunities! Your karma is really going to take off, Rebecca!”
“Rachel,” Rebecca said skeptically. “First, take a breath. And second, do you really believe that stuff?”
Her sister gasped. “Of course I believe it. Don’t you?”
It was hard to argue with such enthusiasm, and Rebecca didn’t try. But she made a mental note to have a serious talk with Rach at some future date about all this new-age guru crap she kept sending her way. It damn sure didn’t feel like Uranus had suddenly moved in and taken up residence in her house, and there weren’t any doors opening for her that she could see. More like they were slamming shut.
With a weary sigh, Rebecca picked up her journal (a practice recommended in virtually all of her books and seminars, including Moira’s, so what the hey), into which she faithfully entered three positive things about her life each day. Before she attacked the new round of résumé distribution, she entered:
Positive Affirmations of My Life:
1.Shoes for all occasions
2.Dogs
3.
She was peeking back over previous entries hoping for a little help on number three when the phone rang. She propped her bare feet on the desk and picked up the phone, “Hello?”