Page 12 of Falls From Grace
“No substance, control or morality,” Savannah said, her blue eyes narrowed.
“Oh, morality,” Brynn replied. “Is that some kind of a Southern thing?”
Now Savannah looked actually pissed.
“Okay, you know what? Come with me.”
Suddenly Brynn’s arm was in her grip and she was led in the opposite direction of her and Noah’s suite, along a long corridor and up the stairs into what was, to her surprise, clearly Savannah’s private wing of the house. They passed a few closed doors and came to one at the end, where Savannah shot her an unreadable look and then opened it.
The room was big, bright and open, with expansive views over the lake, and Brynn could hear a woman’s voice, cajoling just out of earshot.
“Baby?” said Savannah, walking toward the sound.
There was a thunder of small feet and a tiny dark-haired boy appeared in the doorway, pausing just long enough to beam a huge smile on his tear-stained face.
“Mama!” he cried, and threw himself forward.
Savannah dropped down to her knees and he flung himself into her arms. He buried his face in her neck and she buried hers back, kissing the nape of his neck.
“Hey darling! You had a good nap, huh?” She pulled back to smile at him. “Then you woke up and Mama wasn’t there!” He buried his face in closer and she stood up, snuggling him close, his short, chubby legs clinging around her waist. “I’m sorry, peanut, I came as soon as Megan called me.” She broke her attention just long enough to give Brynn a pointed look. Brynn just stared, understanding dawning.
The woman - Megan - stepped into view. She was a young white woman, slightly anxious-looking, casually dressed, with a thin brown braid hanging down her back.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her accent crisp and British. “I know you were out running, but he just really wanted you.”
“It’s okay,” Savannah said, stroking the child’s hair back. “I always want to know if he needs me. I’m never too busy. Not for my boy.” These last words she directed at the little face that had pulled back to look at her.
Remembering there was a stranger in the room, the toddler turned to stare at Brynn. His big brown eyes looked serious and concerned as he took her in, soft smudges of eyebrows and a sweet, slightly down-turned mouth. He had dark chestnut coloured curls. Brynn’s first thought was that he looked nothing like his mother. Her second thought was that oh wow, right, Savannah was a mother. Her third thought was that weirdly her insides had turned a little to mush because damn, that was a cute child.
“This is Mama’s friend Brynn,” Savannah told him as he took her in. “She’s staying for a little while.” Brynn told herself it was embarrassing to enjoy being described as the singer’s friend when the audience was a baby, but it didn’t stop the pleased feeling welling up inside her. Savannah looked at her now. “This is my son, Tucker. He’s two. And I’m very sure he’s never touched cocaine,” she said pointedly.
“Of course not,” Brynn said. “Not until he’s at least five, hey kiddo?” Savannah did not look remotely impressed with her humor, but Tucker lit up with a big smile at being addressed. He pushed at his mama to be put down, which she obliged, looking mildly incredulous as the child toddled away from her and lurked around Brynn’s knees, staring up at her. “Hey buddy,” she crouched down. He looked both shy and pleased and then grabbed her hand and began to pull. Brynn followed as he pulled her past Megan, who stood kind of awkwardly in the room just watching, and over to the bookshelf, where he pulled out a book seemingly at random and shoved it in her hands.
“Oh darling, Brynn doesn’t-”
“I got it,” she interrupted Savannah and sat cross-legged on the floor, turning the book over in her hands. “Oh, The Little Yellow Digger, great choice.” She began to read and within a page, Tucker had plonked himself in her lap.
Brynn felt extremely squishy on the inside now. It had been a while since someone had just wholeheartedly embraced her on sight. His body was warm and surprisingly heavy for someone so small, and he leaned back on her trustingly as she read. She finished the story and closed the book, but Tucker simply handed it back to her.
“Again,” he said.
“Tucker, no, you’ve already read that one,” Megan interrupted, walking over to the bookshelf and picking out another. Tucker and Brynn looked at each other. His serious gaze didn’t waver. So Brynn opened the book and started reading it over again. Tucker looked fascinated, touching each page and staring at the illustrations. Savannah came over and sat in a nearby armchair, and Brynn tried not to be aware of her eyes on her as she read. When he handed it to her again, she started a third rendition.
“Megan, why don’t you go take a break?” Savannah said to the young woman, who seemed both nervous and relieved to get to leave. As she grabbed her bag and disappeared out the door, Savannah seemed instantly to lose the rigidity in her shoulders.
After the fourth rendition of the story, the child finally seemed content it was done and pushed himself up to pull more books out, spreading them around him in a fan on the floor as he tugged them out in handfuls.
“Megan seems a little uptight for a dealer,” Brynn offered, and Savannah rolled her eyes, but couldn’t seem to stop a smile.
“I’ll take that apology about now,” she said wryly.
“Oh, I’m not apologizing.” Brynn raised her eyebrows. “It was a logical guess, given the information I had at hand.”
“I’m going to ignore that and just pretend you did, since Tucker clearly likes you.”
Tucker looked up at his name and smiled his blinding smile. Now he looked more like his mother. Particularly as she smiled back, her face full of love. Brynn wondered what it was like to love someone that much. There was a squeeze in her chest as she looked at the two of them.
“What’s his favorite thing to do?” she asked. “Reading books? Or…swimming?” She looked at Tucker, who bobbed up and down, clearly knowing he was being talked about. “Oh, or ice cream?” She wriggled her eyebrows at him and he squealed.
