Beyond the Borderline Bk. 02

"The best, Mom," I grinned. "Everything's right with the world when I'm with you."

"You say the sweetest things to your mom."

"Well, it's true," I replied seriously. "I'm double lucky – lucky to be alive, lucky to have such a loving mom. I'm never going to forget that."

Bringing us back to earth, Mom said, "I had a long conversation earlier this week with Dr. Sykes. He says that knowing you, you're going to try and hit the ground running now and that will only serve to make you crash and burn, because you still have a lot of healing to do. You may not feel it, but you're still pretty weak."

"I seemed to have enough energy last night, sweet lady."

"Don't go confusing the issue, you bad boy. Just in case you didn't notice, you slept over twelve hours since we did the nasty."

"That long?"

"That long. Here's the deal – this week, you can spend an hour and a half each morning at the kitchen. That will be enough time to make important decisions about the menu and ordering supplies, but that's it. If I hear you've been in front of a hot stove, I'm going to take a belt to your cute ass. In the afternoon, you can take a walk with the kids for twenty or thirty minutes. Next week, we'll add an hour to your kitchen time and another fifteen or twenty minutes to the walks. Week three, you can start doing a half day at the restaurant, provided you're only spending an hour or so actually cooking. You can walk as much as you want with the kids then. Week four, you're going back to Vancouver for a follow up visit with Dr. Sykes. He'll decide then if you can get back to things full time."

Mom kissed me gently then and looked at me intently. "I'll be watching you like a hawk, Ricky. I'm not going to have you screw up your recovery by overdoing things. My spies are everywhere. If you push it, I'll have to conclude that you're going to need extra rest. That'll mean no momma-nookie for you."

"Mom!" I protested.

"Do I have your attention now, my wayward son?"

Grumbling and sighing, I conceded defeat. "That's unprincipled, low down, underhanded, dirty blackmail...but, yes ma'am."

Smiling she gave me another hug and kiss to take the sting out. "Good. Now that we've got that out of the way, it's time to get our lives back to normal. Let's get some brunch and then I'm going to my study to get some work done. The Jason and the twins will be back from classes at 3:30. You can take your first walk then."

"Oh, one more thing, Ricky."

"Mom?"

"I love you very much, husband-son."

Under Mom's watchful eye, I slowly progressed. Dr. Sykes was right about my stamina. After my short stint in the kitchen and a walk to the cove with the little 'uns, I was whacked. I dragged myself through dinner and getting the kids squared away for bed and then trudged upstairs. In the back of my mind, and in the thoughts of my little head, I was looking forward to making love again with Mom. After all, we had a LOT of catching up to do.

I fell asleep in my clothes on top of the bed.

Mom took my shoes and socks off while I was asleep and covered me with the comforter. I slept until 10 am the next day. So much for youthful stamina.

Mom had gotten up early to go into Vancouver for a big meeting at her practice, leaving me alone for the day with Emmy while Jason, Deirdre and Anna were at school. I felt a little bit at loose ends, a slightly jangled mental itch of unremembered, unfinished business. I had been so focused on getting well, getting out of the hospital and being with my family that I had spent little, if any time thinking about the accident. Dr. Sykes had warned us that the process of working through the trauma might take some strange twists and turns, but so far life had seemed pretty normal, except for the occasional nightmare. I had those with some frequency while I was in rehab and it was tough to wake up alone in a strange place when they hit, but since my arrival home, I'd been doing pretty well. Mostly, my main problem was a mental itch I just couldn't seem to scratch.

I finally figured out that what I needed to do was to say my goodbye to Alain. Having missed his funeral and memorial service, it was gnawing a hole in my conscience, which I felt all the more acutely because of my previous experience when Gramps and Nana passed. I gave Mom a call and arranged to meet her at the cemetery in Victoria where Alain was buried. I coordinated with the front desk of the Inn to have someone drive us there, with Mom to bring us back. I hated my driving restrictions, but had to admit I probably was not up to doing the trip myself.

Surprisingly, when I got Emmy ready to go across the courtyard to stay with Marsh and Shawn, she objected strenuously. "I want to stay with you, Daddy! Please let me come with you, please!"

What's a dad to do? I spend most of my waking hours outside of the kitchen with the kids and I was loathe to spend any time away from Emmy, but I wasn't sure about going to the cemetery with our four year old. I made another consultation by phone with Mom and we agreed that Emmy could come along.

I remember very clearly standing at the graveside, scrunched under a too-small umbrella, Mom and Emmy flanking me as a heavy rain sluiced off the edges of our covering, splashing down to dampen our feet and ankles.

My melancholy was evident even to Emmy, who squeezed my hand as I contemplated the headstone. Emmy then profoundly surprised us both when she spoke.

"It's okay daddy, don't be sad. Uncle Alain is very happy now. He doesn't want you to cry."

"How do you know this, Emmy?" Mom asked.

"Uncle Alain kept me company when the bad thing happened and we got hurt."

Kneeling down carefully next to her, I looked into Emmy's eyes.

"Can you tell me about it, punkin'?" I asked gently.

"When the car crashed, I went to sleep. I woke up in a nice park with squirrels and birds and stuff. Uncle Alain was there with me, 'cept he looked way different. He looked a little like you, Daddy, you know, not old or fat or bald, but I knew he was still Uncle Alain too."

Pausing for a breath, Emmy went on. "Uncle Alain told me that he was going to stay with me for a bit before he had to go. He said he was waiting for somebody and then I would have to go back to be with you and Mommy, 'cause you needed me."

"We sat on a bench and watched the squirrels and birds and had a good time. Uncle Alain told me lots of silly jokes and made me laugh a bunch. After a while a really nice lady with long black hair came up to us. She was really pretty Mommy, almost as pretty as you. Uncle Alain jumped up and hugged her for a long time and they kissed real mushy, just like you and Daddy do, 'cept they cried some too. She kept on saying somethin' like 'juh temm, mon feece, juh temm'."

"After a while, the nice lady sat next to me and said that she was Alain's Mommy and that he was going to stay with her, because he had missed her so much, but I had to go back to you and Daddy so you wouldn't miss me like Uncle Alain missed her. She told me I would have lots of boo-boos to fix and it would hurt a lot, so I had to be real brave. She said she knew I was going to be a good, big girl and in the end, everything would be okay and you and Daddy would be very happy, so I came back."

"That's why Uncle Alain wants you to be happy, Daddy, 'cause he's happy now too, being with his Mommy."

Mom and I stared at each other in wonderment, hardly able to comprehend what our daughter had just revealed to us. The calm, matter-of-fact way in which Emmy related the events, as though she was relaying a description of a trip to the corner store, left us breathless with surprise. I suddenly had so many questions running through my head that I could hardly sort my thoughts out. As Mom and I looked at each other, a silent understanding seeming to pass between us as we tried to come to grips with what had just happened. In the end, we said nothing, simply taking Emmy in hand and walking back to Mom's car without a word.

The trip home was quiet, both of us left alone with our thoughts as we made our way back though the wind and rain, the only sound the squeaky metronome of the windshield wipers, as we made our way back to the Inn.

Our lovemaking that evening was exquisitely drawn out and silently intense, neither of us speaking, trying to convey all of our thoughts and emotions through touch and gesture alone as we strove to prolong our coupling together as long as we could. Each of us seemed intent on giving the other as much pleasure as was possible, with many pauses in our rhythm as we kissed, caressed and simply held each other, profoundly affected by our visit to the cemetery.

Later, as we lay spent in each other's arms, I whispered, "My beautiful mother-love" and Mom replied, "My wonderful son."

We fell quickly asleep, not stirring until late the next morning. As it was Saturday, we planned an afternoon walk together with the kids after I spent my rationed time in the kitchen.

We got up and fed the kids some of Marsh's homemade granola with fruit and while Mom got the coffee ready, I quickly whipped up an omelet for the two of us. Done in short order, we pushed our plates to the center of the table and both sighed contentedly.

Reaching across the table, Mom squeezed my hand and smiled.

"How are you feeling today, Ricky?"

"Damn fine. I'm alive, back home with the woman of my dreams and our wonderful kids. Life is good."

"That it is, darling, that it is. Do you think you have the energy for a picnic this afternoon? Emmy wants to take you to the cove."

"A hot date with a couple of my favorite girls? You bet. What should I fix?"

"Nothing, Ricky. Get over to the Inn and make sure they're set for the evening meal and I'll put something together. The kids are playing Mousetrap and will be occupied for at least an hour. We'll head out when you get back."

"As my lady commands," I acknowledged, heading to the door. Grabbing a gore tex shell, I headed out into the omnipresent drizzle and across the compound to my tasks. The walk across the compound was not very fun. I had acquired my own personal barometer after the accident. Cold, wet weather had a way of making me ache that never seemed to go completely away. To this day, I pick up a little limp and twinge when the cool and damp comes along.

By the time I returned, the weather had improved somewhat, the rain replaced by an enveloping, damp fog. My aches and pains had faded a bit, so I knew that the weather was likely to turn for the better soon. The fog was quite thick and cocooned us in near-complete silence as we made our way down the well-worn trail to the coast.

When we reached the junction of the trail to our cove, we paused, taking in the faint break of waves on the rocky shore and the slow drip of moisture off the evergreen branches that canopied the path. A breeze was stirring, slowly driving the wisps and tendrils of fog away from us.

Anna spoke up, asking, "Daddy, is it okay if we go around the point today? There's a little beach there we haven't been to before."

"That's okay by me, if mommy has no objections," I said, turning to Mom.

"I'm really not dressed for rock-hopping, honey. Besides, one of us has to carry the basket also," she said.

Glancing at my watch, I came to a decision. "It's also coming up on high tide. I don't think that's going to work, but tell you what, Anna - lets just cut across on top and see if we can find a way down once we get to the other side."

Fortuitously, we were able to find an old deer track that took us almost exactly where we wanted to be. After a brief reconnaissance, we found a safe path down to the beach. The fog was thick down by the water, with visibility reduced to no more than twenty or thirty yards, but the rocky shoreline was chockablock with all manner of interesting driftwood and there were tide pools galore for the kids to poke in. The beach was bathed with just a bit of surf, gentled by a shore break of larger rocks about a hundred yards off, so we let the kids run loose. Mom and I found a large log to sit on and sat watching the kids play.

Gradually, the breeze picked up, with a few fitful gusts that blew our hair into disarray. I sat with my head on Mom's shoulder, slightly winded from our little trek and closed my eyes.

I must have dozed off, because I was awakened with a start by the screeching of gulls directly overhead. The fog had broken up and the sun was now making a most welcome appearance, just warm enough to counteract the stiffening breeze. As I awoke, Mom kissed my cheek and opened the basket, handing me a sandwich and a Labatt's Blue.

It hit me suddenly, giving me enough of a jolt that I nearly dropped my beer.

Mom looked at me with immediate concern, asking, "Are you okay Ricky? Did you overdo it?"

Shivering slightly, I replied, "No, Mom. I'm fine. It's just...well, I don't know how to say it, but...this place...it's my dream beach, Mom. For sure, absolutely for sure."

Snuggling up next to me, Mom squeezed my hand tightly and kissed me passionately.

"My God, Ricky, My God. That's unbelievable. How on earth...?"

"I don't know, Mom. Life is just amazing and scary sometimes, isn't it? Remember our first night together? I memorized that quotation from Euripides. I think that old Greek dude was right."

"Not that I ever had any concerns about us, son of mine, but after this, if I had any doubts, they'd be gone as of this minute, blown to dust."

Trembling slightly, she pressed close to me, gently rubbing my thigh, scratching her fingernails lightly on the fabric of my jeans.

"The love of my life," she whispered to herself.

"What's that, Mom?"

"The love of my life," she said firmly and clearly, taking my head in her hands and kissing my lips firmly, as though putting a stamp on me.

Releasing me from her declaration of ownership, she smiled radiantly and then laughed, tossing her head back to move her hair from her eyes.

"Momma's going to fix you raw oysters for dinner tonight," she giggled.

"I'm getting hungry already, pretty girl."

"Two dozen should do the trick, I think."

"Two dozen? Jesus, Mom what would Dr. Sykes say?"

"Dr. Sykes be damned," she said curtly. "Tonight Mom is going to love her son for as long as he can stand it."

"I'm ready to accept my fate, momma-love. If ya gotta go, then what better way?"

"I'm only going to fuck you within and inch of you life, my son-lover, and no farther," she whispered lustily. "Don't worry. Mommy's always going to take care of you."

"Goody."

We had established a new tradition when Emmy turned six years old. When we folded Uncle Paulie and Auntie Gina into our extended family, we came to find out that Gina and Emmy's birthdays were only two days apart. It became a regular occurrence for our youngest to celebrate her birthday with her favorite aunt, an event she never missed, arranging her and Paul's schedule so that she was close at hand, even if touring. They both became regular visitors, initially dividing their down time evenly between Nashville and the Inn, eventually spending most of it with us, after Paul built an addition on their bungalow for a small recording studio. It became a rare treat and privilege to watch them work together as new songs and albums came together.

It was against this backdrop that we celebrated another pair of birthdays when Emmy turned nine. I had done my usual duties in the kitchen, making Emmy's best-loved food - a wood-fired pepperoni pizza and Gina's favorite as well, my Pacific Northwestern take on Bouillabaisse with crusty fresh baked bread from the Inn's kitchen. As we pushed ourselves back from the table, savoring the last of our wine, Emmy got up and took her favorite seat in my lap, arms around my neck.

"You make the best pizza in the whole world, Daddy," she burped contentedly. "I think I'm gonna 'splode."

"Well, be careful, punkin," I cautioned, bussing the top of her head. "I don't know if I have the strength for that big of a cleanup. There's already a boatload of dishes waiting to be cleaned in the kitchen."

"I'll try," she replied seriously. "Could I stay on your lap? I think that's safest."

"As long as you like, sweetbread."

Gina smiled as I enfolded our youngest in my arms. "Rick, honey, that was simply scrumptious. Y'all did some serious damage to my waistline with that meal. It was the perfect way to end three months on the road."

"Amen to that," Paul echoed.

"What are your plans now?" Mom inquired.

"Well, sugar, we thought we would set here for a spell. Besides, don't y'all have an anniversary coming up in about a week?"

"It's true," I affirmed. 'Will you be able to stay?"

"Wouldn't miss it, Rick. I think we should get together and kick out the jambs a little bit, don't y'all think?"

"That would be great, Gina. Have anything particular in mind?"

"I got me a few ideas, sugar," she grinned, casting a sidelong glance at Mom. "But first, I think me and Jen have to have a little hen party to discuss the details. I've already bounced a couple notions off her."

Turning to Mom, I arched an eyebrow in silent query. Smiling mischievously, she said, "You just sit back and leave this to me and Aunt Gina, Ricky."

"Oh God," I muttered theatrically. "It's a female conspiracy."

"Best stay out of the way of that particular freight train," Paul advised with a wry grin. "When those two get going on a project, you should just duck and cover," he concluded, mixing his metaphors.

"All y'all boys have to do is stay out of our way and everything will be just peachy," Gina replied silkily. "Speakin' of which, why don't y'all make your handsome selves scarce for a bit and do some cleanin' up? Little Em can sit with her Aunt Gina while you two are busy."

Paul grinned as he stood. "I b'lieve we done been dismissed, Rick."

"Gotta do what the bosses say," I agreed, as we headed to the kitchen.

At one point later, we heard Mom exclaim "Ohmygod, Gina! For real?"

Standing in the doorway, I called out to the dining room, "What's up, ladies?"

Grinning evilly, Mom answered quickly, "Nothing, sweetheart."

"Nothing, my ... uh, left foot," I shot back.

Gina immediately weighed in as well, replying, "Rick, y'all are my second favorite man in the whole wide world, but y'all need to butt out and M.Y.O.B. now, heah?"

Paul put his arm around my shoulder, drawing me back into the kitchen.

"Don't do anything foolish, Rick. That pair has the bit between their teeth now, I can tell. Just sit back and enjoy the ride."

"Guess you're right, bro. I sure would like to know what they have up their sleeves, though."

"We'll know soon enough. Let's finish up here. I've written a new lullaby that I promised Emmy I would play for her - a special present just for her."

The next morning all we settled into our daily routines and I lost track of Mom and Gina's machinations. Paul settled into the studio to work on several new songs and the ladies spent an inordinate amount of time in Mom's office. A couple of times, I also saw them talking with kitchen staff at the Inn, quickly leaving when they saw me approaching. Clearly, the "female conspiracy" was becoming an extensive and far-reaching endeavor.

On the day before our anniversary, Mom sent Paul and I on multiple errands, which I was sure were all manufactured to get us out of the house. When we returned to the Inn a half-day later, nothing seemed amiss, except for the smug glances our beautiful mothers kept exchanging with one another. Later that evening, after Mom and I made love, I attempted to sweet talk some information out of her. She wasn't having any of that, laughing as she extricated herself from my interrogating embrace, simply saying, "All in due course, my nosy boy, all in due course. You'll find out tomorrow."