Hold on to My Heart (Maine Sullivans)
She scooped up the chopped veggies and threw them into a large pot along with vegetable stock and corn cut from the cob. Spices went in next—cumin, coriander, garlic, salt, and pepper, and paprika to give it a kick.
After she covered the pot to let it simmer, she asked Nash, “Do you want to help me make cookies? Because tonight definitely feels like a cookie night.” Not only to help give Kevin some chocolatey-sugary comfort after being let down by his father, but to soothe herself too.
“I’ve never made cookies before,” Nash told her.
She felt that pain in her chest again at the reminder of his awful childhood. “After tonight,” she said in a gentle voice, “you’ll be a pro.”
Ashley got out flour, sugar, butter, and chocolate chips, then showed Nash how to measure and mix them. He was a quick learner, and she suspected they were going to be some of the best chocolate chip cookies ever made in her kitchen.
Once they were in the oven, he said, “Thank you for showing me how to make cookies. It’s one of the things most people learn to do at some point in their life, but I haven’t.”
“There are so many things you can do that most other people could never even aspire to do,” she reminded him. “You have exceptional talents, Nash. You don’t have to know how to do everything. None of us can. For instance, I’ve accepted that I’m brilliant with spreadsheets, but terrible at hitting a tennis ball.”
“Mom,” Kevin piped in, “tell Nash about that time you sent that woman to the hospital.”
She groaned. “It wasn’t quite that dramatic.”
“It was,” Kevin insisted. “The skin on her face turned all sorts of colors after you nailed her with the tennis ball.”
Nash laughed. “Remind me never to get between you and a tennis ball.”
“Like I said, we’re all great at some things, terrible at others.” She thought more about it. “There are also plenty of things that I’m never going to get a chance to try, which I’m also okay with.”
“Like what?”
“Well, there’s a crazy part of me that’s always wanted to go skydiving.”
“That’d be so cool, Mom!” Kevin exclaimed from the kitchen table. “I would totally jump out of a plane with you.”
The thought of seeing her son jump out of a plane made her stomach hurt. But before she could backtrack and say she was only kidding, Kevin held up the paper he’d been working on.
“I’m done. Want to see?”
Both Ashley and Nash walked over to the table. Kevin had drawn a remarkably good rendition of the outside of the van, plus a bird’s-eye view of the interior from the top. Maybe those video games where he built virtual houses with his friends weren’t a total waste of time.
“This is brilliant!” Nash said, genuinely enthusiastic about the drawings. “I wouldn’t have thought about making the upper bunk fold away into the right side of the van and become open shelving when it’s not being used.”
“What do you think, Mom?”
She loved that Kevin still cared about her opinion. Granted, she’d never stopped caring about her parents’ opinions, regardless of how old she was. Fortunately, they were always extremely supportive.
“I think it looks amazing,” she told her son. “I’m really impressed. Both with your design and your drawing.”
“Thanks.” Kevin turned back to Nash. “What would you do differently? And do you have any other ideas?”
Ashley was happy that he wasn’t so wed to his plans that he might refuse to listen to other ideas. She hoped she could take some credit for teaching her son how to be flexible and to see more than one side of things. It was a lesson her mother had taught her and her siblings—to have goals and be determined, but also to be able to roll with whatever came, because life rarely moved in a straight line. Ashley did her best to follow that advice, although it wasn’t always easy.
Especially when what came her way was a super-sexy rock star who made her pulse race…
“The only thing I might look at,” Nash replied, “is making sure there’s enough headroom in the bunk to sit up and read, or watch TV, or play video games.”
Her son’s face lit up. “What do you play?”
Nash grinned. “The better question is what don’t I play.”
“Mom, can Nash and I play Xbox before dinner?”
Knowing it would be better to allow a short time frame than to say no, which might prompt an argument, she said, “Dinner will be ready soon, so I’ll give you thirty minutes, but that’s it for the night.”
She knew Kevin would try to push for forty-five minutes. It was the art of negotiation as a parent. Let him think he was getting away with just enough so that he wouldn’t push too hard for things she really didn’t want him to do.