I'll Be There For You

Things got a bit more complicated later that day when it was time to go home.

"Mom, can Brianna and Nicole sleep over tonight?" Annabelle asked. Peter's daughters fed both of Annabelle's interests. Nicole's love of anything outdoors meshed with Annabelle's developing interest in nature and Brianna's obsession with athletics and school provided common ground to Annabelle.

A moment later, Tyler weighed in, "Can Brandon sleep over, too?"

"Not tonight, guys. Mom has to work tomorrow, and you both have day camp. How about Peter and I talk about it? We can plan for a Friday or Saturday night." Peter looked at me and rolled his eyes.

I decided a sleepover wasn't such a bad idea. Peter had some reservations but wasn't completely against the idea. The following weekend, the kids decided they wanted to camp out in my backyard, which surprised me. There were more interesting things adjacent Peter's yard. Like the marsh, the pond, and a nearby wooded area. I think what swayed them in the direction of my house was the presence of nocturnal four-legged critters living around Peter's. Raccoons, skunks, a fox, and a fisher had been seen by Peter and his kids. There was even a bobcat sighting in the neighborhood, though neither Peter nor his kids had ever seen one.

Two weeks later, Peter came over with two tents and a bag with two dozen eggs and two pounds of bacon. The seven of us spent part of a Thursday evening setting up the tents in my backyard then met at a restaurant for Italian. The plan was a Friday night sleepover with Saturday a possibility if Friday went well. The kids insisted they wanted to camp out on their own. Peter was a bit skeptical, which was why we set up two tents. I figured we could keep an eye on them from inside and check a couple times to make sure they were alright. The presence of an "adult" tent wasn't without merit.

Annabelle and Tyler hadn't ever expressed an interest in camping. My idea of vacation was a beachside hotel room or a ski area condo. We spent a vacation at the Grand Canyon in a rim-side hotel room with a spectacular view of the canyon. Annabelle and Tyler loved every moment of the donkey ride we went on. My first glance at one of the mule trail cliff-drops meant I was terrified in both directions. But Annabelle and Tyler loved every minute. Neither ever complained about our vacations.

I'm not sure where my kids got their campout enthusiasm. Probably from Brianna. Nicole and Brandon had only gone camping once, when quite young. Peter told me a weeklong camping trip was an annual summer tradition before his wife got sick. I was surprised Brianna was so enthusiastic since camping trips had always been with her mother and father. I would have thought her mother's absence would have dampened her enthusiasm, but all three were excited to camp out in the backyard with Annabelle and Tyler.

Brianna's enthusiasm surprised me most. She had more fully developed memories of her mother. Brandon and Nicole were three and four when their mother died, after an illness that dragged out for two years. Plus, as a teenager, I would have thought Brianna would be less inclined to hang out with much younger kids. But Annabelle and Tyler adored her, and she was good with her younger siblings. Brianna was a delightful girl but socially a little awkward. Soon turning fourteen, she was going to be an academic senior at her high school. The students that would be in classes with her were mostly seventeen and eighteen. Most had driver's licenses, girlfriends and boyfriends, after-school jobs. Peter was nervous about the upcoming school year and a wreck about the prospect of her attending a university the year after that. He already had a stack of recruitment letters from elite schools.

I did a bit of campout night planning for the adults, too. Once the all-kids backyard campout was a go, my sister took the kids one evening while I shopped for a new mattress. Sleeping with another man in the bed I shared with my late husband was something I just didn't feel comfortable about. I took a half-day off work when the new mattress was delivered. I didn't mention replacing the mattress to Annabelle and Tyler. Or Peter, though I was looking forward to spending at least part of the night with him on it.

When I picked up Annabelle and Tyler from day camp, they were beyond excited. Peter, Brianna, Nicole, and Brandon arrived at my house about ten minutes behind us.

We had a campground dinner. Peter cooked hot dogs and burgers on my grill. I made potato salad, Boston baked beans, and devilled eggs. Pickles, lettuce, tomato, cheese for the burgers, and assorted condiments rounded out the menu. Once again, I marveled at the amount of food Brianna could pack away. Her brother and sister had healthy appetites, too. Annabelle and Tyler could also put away food when the mood struck. That night, they all ate heartily. I wondered what a weekly grocery bill would be like for the five of them.

After dinner, we got the kid's tent situated for the night. All five of them wanted to sleep in the same tent. Peter escorted his brood out to his SUV to haul in the camping "equipment" -- sleeping bags, including bags for Annabelle and Tyler, pillows, a battery-powered lantern, flashlights, a radio, and board games. He carried in a gym bag and a sleeping bag of his own.

I forced myself not to laugh when I saw his sleeping bag. "I'll put your gym bag in the guest room," I said. Peter looked confused but handed me the bag. He went outside to put his sleeping bag in the adult tent. Grinning inwardly, I walked down the hallway and dropped his gym bag at the foot of my bed.

I went outside and listened to the kids in the tent. They were having a ball. Getting set up to playSorry. Already arguing, but also laughing, about who got what color player pieces. It sounded like Brianna wasn't going to play, but referee instead.

Peter came out of the "adult" tent and joined me. He was smiling. Apparently as amused as I was by the kids.

"This was a good idea. It's nice to hear them having so much fun," he said.

"It is."

"You know, Sage, they've been kids and always acted like kids. Mostly they've been happy. But after their mom died, something was missing in them. Especially, Brianna. Somehow, the joy and child-like enthusiasm is back." Peter stopped talking for a moment, put his arm around my waist and pulled me against his hip. "You're why, Sage."

"Nonsense. I'm just their father's girlfriend," I said, feeling self-conscious. "More likely, it's because of Annabelle and Tyler."

"Maybe a little. But mostly because of you. They all call you Mama Sage, now."

"They do?" I'd only heard Brianna say it. And only once, a few weeks earlier.

"All the time. 'When is Mama Sage coming over? Can we go to Mama Sage's house tonight? How come you go out with Mama Sage sometimes but don't take us? We like her, too. The questions are getting difficult to answer sometimes. Brianna was still up doing her homework one night last Spring when I came home after we went out. When I went into her room to say goodnight, she wanted to know why I smelled like your perfume."

I choked back a laugh, though I couldn't completely suppress it. "You need to have the talk with that girl."

"It was a rhetorical question. She knew why. She turned back to her homework with a smirk on her face. And we had the talk already. When she was eleven. She was taking honors biology that year. I looked at her textbook and the course syllabus. They hadn't got there yet but the section on human reproduction was coming up. That kind of forced my hand. She may only be thirteen, but I'd wager she knows more about human reproduction than I do. She doesn't have the hands-on and relationship experience yet, but she understands the biological drive, mechanics, and biology just fine."

"My kids don't call you Papa Peter," I muttered a bit self-consciously. I still worried a little about what they thought of him. I didn't see any issues. They always greeted him with smiles. They didn't avoid him. Both initiated interactions with Peter and seemed fond of him. But I wondered if they held back a little because they subconsciously didn't want to "steal" affection or love they felt belonged to Brianna, Nicole, and Brandon. And didn't want to "lose" any of my love to Brianna, Nicole, and Brandon.

"I know," he said. "They call me Uncle Pete. But I only hear it when you're not right there." Peter changed the subject. "Where's my bag. I want to put my flashlight in the tent. And do you have a sleeping bag? I'll spread it out for you."

"I don't have a sleeping bag. C'mon, I'll show you to your bag." Peter followed me down the hallway into my bedroom. "There's your bag. But Peter, I'm not sleeping in the tent."

"You're not? I'm in the tent alone?"

I started to tell him our bedtime activities would be too limited if we were sleeping ten feet away from five kids with only air and two polyester walls separating us and the kids. But there was a stampede coming down the hallway toward my bedroom.

"Mommy, can you build a fire so we can toast marshmallows?" Annabelle asked. The whole gang was right behind her, Brianna a few steps behind. All looking at me with hope on their faces.

"Sure. You guys go get some wood from the pile and put it next to the fire ring. Not in it. We need small stuff and big stuff. Peter, there's a pruner on the wall in the garage. Would you cut some appropriate roasting sticks while I dig out the marshmallows?"

"Sure."

I went into the kitchen to find a bag of marshmallows and foraged in the recycle bin for some old supermarket flyers to help start the fire. By the time I got outside, there was enough wood next to the fire ring to build a fire to rival the Burning Man Festival effigy.

I only had a partial bag of marshmallows. They went fast. The kids kept me occupied so I didn't notice Peter slip away for a couple minutes. When he reappeared, he carried a shopping bag.

"Who wants s'mores?" he asked as he unloaded another bag of marshmallows, a box of chocolate bars, and a box of graham crackers.

I'm glad I wasn't standing between him and the kids. I might have been trampled to death. As far as I knew, Annabelle and Tyler had never had s'mores. The fire ring in the back yard hadn't been used since before Malcolm died. But Annabelle and Tyler knew what s'mores were and how to make them. I suspect it was a topic of conversation with Peter's kids once the campout was a go.

By the time they had their fill, it was dark. Peter herded them inside to get cleaned up and changed into their sleepwear - tee shirts, jersey shorts, and flip flops to wear on their feet between the house and the tent. Nicole and Annabelle changed in Annabelle's room, the boys in Tyler's. Brianna was more bashful about changing. She changed in the bath. When they returned, Peter had stoked up the fire a bit. The kids chased the few remaining fireflies before joining us at the fire, gradually growing quieter as it got later. Tyler ran out of gas first. The rest, except Brianna, followed in short order. Brianna was in good humor but mostly quiet.

Brianna stayed up much later than the rest of the kids. She was curled up on the patio love seat next to her father, leaning against his shoulder, her feet up and under her, hands between her knees, watching the dying fire when I came back from the bathroom. I could tell she was tired. It also seemed like she needed some cuddle time with her father.

There wasn't anything creepy about it. I thought it was kind of sweet. Several of my girlfriends had daughters about the same age. They were mostly the typical teen nightmares for their parents. Sometimes surly, sometimes distant, often moody, nearly always unpredictable. Displays of affection rare. And usually only during some existential teen crisis. I wondered if Brianna was in the midst of some kind of crisis, though surly, distant, moody, and unpredictable weren't words I'd use about her.

I took a nearby chair with Brianna between Peter and me. I wondered what she was thinking. She had to know her family dynamics were changing. Had changed. All the time spent in my company and the relationships she and her siblings had developed with Annabelle and Tyler testified to that. The three of us sat quietly and watched the fire turn into glowing embers.

Brianna popped up suddenly. She kissed her father on the cheek and said "Goodnight, Dad." Then she came over to me, bent over and hugged me, squeezing tightly. She kissed me on the cheek, the first time she'd done so, and said, "Goodnight, Mama Sage," and sleepily tottered off in the direction of the kids' tent. I watched as she stepped inside the vestibule. I heard the tent unzip. She turned on her flashlight, stepped inside, and zipped it up again. The light moved around inside the tent for a moment, then went out. I looked at my watch. It was after eleven.

I moved over to the love seat and curled up next to Peter with my feet under me. When he put his arm around me, I sighed. I'd enjoyed the evening, but I was ready for some peace and quiet now that the kids were down for the night.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" I asked after I'd been sitting with Peter for a few minutes.

"I would," Peter responded.

"I'll be right back."

"I'll go with you," Peter said.

Peter followed me to the kitchen and sat on a stool at the breakfast bar. I got a couple wine glasses out of the cabinet and took an open bottle of oaky chardonnay out of the fridge and split the contents between the glasses.

"Is Brianna okay?" I asked. "She seemed kind of pensive before she went to sleep."

Peter smiled. "She asked me if I was okay while you were in the bathroom. I told her I was. She got quiet for a minute and then asked me if you and I were going to get married."

"What did you say to that?" I asked.

"I told her we haven't talked about it."

"Let's not go there just yet," I responded. "I have mixed feelings about the way things are but combining households will mean major changes."

"Major changes?" Peter asked. "Not that I was planning to ask. At least not yet."

I took a deep breath. I had to choose my response carefully. "So much would change. We'd both have to move. Neither house is big enough for five kids. They all have their own rooms now. And their ages are such that sharing rooms will be or get awkward. We get along well with the kids as things are. I worry how that might change. We'd have to buy a car. Neither of us have one that will carry all seven of us.

Will your kids resent me parenting? Mine resent you for it? Being parent/stepparent to five is a lot. On the plus side, though, we'd get to see each other every day. And I'd get to sleep next to you every night. I'd really like that. I do enjoy spending time with Brianna, Nicole, and Brandon."

Peter smiled. "I'd like that, too. I hate sleeping alone. I don't think much would change with the kids. Sure, Brianna, Nicole, and Brandon would probably still come to me first. And no doubt, they'd push back against you sometimes. But I wouldn't be surprised if Brianna and Nicole approach you first for some things. You know stuff I can't, like what it's like to be a girl and deal with the changes becoming a woman entails." Peter looked at me and smirked. "I gotta tell you, it was awkward as hell for Brianna to talk to Dad when she got her first period. I dealt with it as best I could, but I took her to see my sister the next day. She didn't say a word about the talk with her aunt, but I got really big hug when we got home."

"I'm about done for the night," I said. "Shall we turn in?"

"I'll spread my sleeping bag out so we can sleep on top of it. Got a blanket and pillows to take outside?"

I took another deep breath. I had hoped for a night with at least some bedroom time with Peter, but I was worn out. The late glass of wine didn't help. All I wanted to do was sleep. "I'm really tired. I don't want to sleep on the ground, Peter. Plus, maybe it's not such a good idea for us to share a tent tonight. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. I see your point about sharing a tent." Peter put his hands on my waist. "Think I can get a kiss goodnight?" he asked.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I smiled.

We went outside together and checked on the kids. They were all asleep. Tyler was sprawled out, like always taking up room for two. He came in to sleep with me a few times when he was four or five after waking from a nightmare. Somehow, he took up the whole bed. Plus, he tossed and turned, kicked, and thrashed. I didn't get much sleep those nights. I used to think he was overactive in the womb. Fortunately, nightmares didn't happen anymore.

I gave Peter another kiss goodnight before he went into the hallway bathroom. I shed my bra and changed into a light jersey camisole and shorts pj's set and went to the ensuite bath to get ready for bed. While I was brushing my teeth, the bathroom suddenly turned ice cold. So cold my nipples hardened, and goosebumps raised on every square inch of my body. I felt a weight on each shoulder, and something brushed my cheek. I looked in the mirror, then turned and scanned the room. I was alone. And more terrified than I'd ever been. I expected to hear Malcolm for the first time in forever. But if it was him, if he was there, he chose not to speak.

I was frozen in place for a moment. I couldn't move my legs. But my immobility passed as quickly as the chill in the room dissipated. I finished brushing my teeth, went into the bedroom, grabbed a pillow and an old blanket from the closet and went out the back door into the yard. Peter's flashlight was still on. I ducked under the vestibule and dropped the pillow and blanket. After I unzipped the tent door, I tossed the pillow and blanket through and stepped in. Peter's surprised look greeted me.

"You changed your mind?" he asked.

"I decided I didn't want to sleep alone. That okay?" I responded as I zipped the tent door.

"Absolutely."

"Sleep," I said haltingly. "I don't want to chance waking the kids."

"Me neither."

Peter spread the sleeping bag out. I dropped my pillow at the head and spread the blanket out. I curled up on my left side facing the tent door. Peter spooned me, pulled the blanket over us, and put his arm around me. As soon as Peter was holding me, I relaxed. I clutched his forearm across my chest and held his hand against my left breast.

I lay awake for a while. Peter's soft, even breathing soon told me he was asleep. Holding me close comforted me without his realizing he'd done so. And despite being snuggled up close, his body tight to mine, his hand on my breast, he'd fallen asleep without getting an erection. I suddenly felt like I'd been relieved of a crushing weight. Gradually, I drifted into deep, relaxing sleep.

It seemed early when I woke. Peter was still spooning me. At first, I didn't think either of us moved during the night. But I soon realized my top had ridden up, exposing my right breast. Peter's arm rested on mine, his hand on my right shoulder. And unlike when I fell asleep, Peter had an erection, trying to go vertical, pressing uncomfortably hard against the back of my leg and threatening to find its way into my groin. His slow, even breaths suggested he was still asleep. I moved a bit, hoping to relieve the pressure and Peter stirred. I felt him stretch and heard him yawn. He kissed the back of my neck.

"You awake?" he whispered.

"Just woke up," I said softly. "Peter?"

He stretched and pulled me close again. "Yeah?"

"Could you do something about that? It's kind of uncomfortable."

"Oh, damn. Sorry." He slid back.

"Morning wood?" I whispered with a little grin he couldn't see.

"Yeah, it'll go away as soon as I can get to the bathroom. What time is it?"

"I think it's early."