The Love Series Complete Box Set (62 page)

There’s a recliner, similar to the one downstairs, set up next to the bed. I can tell by the gossip magazines spread across the floor that Katie spends a lot of time up here reading to Mom.

Mom is just lying there quietly, peacefully sleeping, so I take my post in the chair. Taking her frail hand in mine, she rouses from her nap and turns her head to face me.

“Hey, baby.” She pats our joined hands with her other hand and brings them up to her dried lips. Her voice sounds raspy and weak. Releasing her hands, I get her a cup of water from the nightstand and help her sit up. She reaches for the glass with shaking hands.

Smirking at her, I say, “Now, don’t drop this one. I don’t want to have to go and bandage you up all over again.” It’s all I can come up with to try and lighten the mood.

She laughs and I help her take a sip. Replacing the glass on the nightstand, she pulls the blankets up over her lap and situates herself up against the headboard.

We sit in silence for a few moments, and it’s awkward to say the least. What exactly is there to say? ‘So, I hear you’re really dying this time’ just doesn’t have the right appeal in this situation. The whole scene feels like it’s plucked right out of
Forrest Gump.
She’s dying. She knows it and so do I, but there’s nothing either of us can do about it.

The last five years, one of which was spent in jilted hostility avoiding each other while I finished up high school, the last four of which I spent actively avoiding all subjects relating to home, instantly vanish. Suddenly, the time that seems to stretch out evaporates and I wish I had more time with her.

“I missed you these last two weeks.” Her small voice breaks our silence. “I didn’t think you’d come back. I mean, I understand why you wouldn’t want to, but well, I’m just surprised to see you.”

Rubbing my hand over my face in a vain attempt to wash away the anguished look that’s taken place there, I sigh—yet another vain attempt to clear my emotions. “I . . . I’m so sorry that I just up and walked out on you and on Joe, and Katie too.” I didn’t realize until the moment the words passed through my lips, just how difficult it is to say “I’m sorry” and really mean it. My heart breaks with the love I feel for my mother in this shared moment of emotion. She had to apologize for so much more; she’s had to deal with a lifetime’s worth of guilt. I wish I could take it all away from her and give her just a little piece of happiness and joy.

“Shh. It’s okay, Reid.” She pats my hand comfortingly. “You don’t have to apologize for a single thing. I did this to us. I kept us apart for way too long.” Recognition dawns on her face. “This is actually the first Christmas that we’ve spent together since you were seventeen. My God, I’ve wasted so much time. I’m sorry, baby, but I didn’t get you anything.” She brings her hands to her face as she starts crying and wiping away her tears.

Grabbing back for her hands, I shush her silly concerns away. “Don’t worry about that.” I didn’t get her anything either, but I do have something that I can share that will hopefully brighten her day. I reach behind me into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. Unfolding it and sliding a picture out, I hand it to her. “I may have gotten you a little something.” Her eyes adjust to the sonogram picture and she looks at me in complete and utter disbelief.

Covering her mouth with her other hand, she tries to keep the sobs at bay. God, I hope I did the right thing. When she recovers slightly, she turns to me and her eyes are shimmering through her tears. “Are you . . . is this what I think it is?” Disbelief and hope mingle together and paint her words.

“Well, no
I’m
not. My girlfriend, Maddy, is.” Mom swats her hand at my dorky comment and my lips quirk into a goofy grin. “But yes, it is exactly what you think it is. She’s due at the end of August actually.” Studying the picture, she looks more alive than I’ve seen her look in the few minutes I’ve been in here.

She leans over the side of the bed and hugs me with all of her might—which isn’t much, but I can feel her love, even through her frail arms. Wiping away her tears, she hands me back the picture. As I’m tucking it carefully back into my wallet, Mom says, “I wish I could have met her. I know I’ll never get the chance to meet that dear, sweet baby, but I’d love to meet the girl who finally got to your heart.” She’s clutching her chest and trying desperately to swallow back her sobs.

“Well, if you really mean that, why don’t you let me go get her? She’s downstairs helping Katie and Joe with dinner.”

Her face absolutely beams with joy. Nervously patting the top of her head, she tries futilely to fix her hair. “I’m a mess though. I can’t meet her looking like this.” Her sadness momentarily vanishes as excitement over meeting Maddy sets in.

“Mom, believe me when I tell you this, Maddy has wanted to meet you for the longest time. She is most definitely not going to care what you look like.” Pinching my fingers together over the bridge of my nose, I laugh a little as I prepare myself to utter the words I’m sure every man has said about his woman. “She is the one who made me come back here in the first place. And I can’t argue that she was right about that.” I smile reassuringly at her.

“Alright, then. Bring her on up, but hand me that scarf first. No need to scare her away with this crazy-ass hair.” And there it is. Even in times of anger and pain and desperation, Mom finds a way to lighten the mood; she finds a way to maintain that quick-witted personality that saved her from the bottomless pit of depression that she surely would have faced from my father had he stayed around. I shake my head, and those thoughts away, as I hand her the scarf.

With her hair, or at least what’s left of it, neatly tucked under her scarf, I go get Joe, Katie and Maddy. Mom stops me as I’m about to leave her side. “Reid, I’d actually like to eat downstairs. I want to have a real Christmas dinner with my family.” Pushing her tray to the side, she continues, “I’m tired of being stuck up here and I think I have a bit of strength to make the trip.”

“Are you sure, Mom? I don’t want you . . .” She shoots me the ‘don’t-tell-me-what-to-do-I’m-your-mother-stare’ and I put my hands up in front of me as I surrender to her demands.

“Okay, you win.” I reach to help her out of bed and she moves slowly and painfully to the door. Unable to watch her suffer, I pull her arm around my shoulder and tell her to hold on.

She gasps a little as I tuck my other arm under her knees and effortlessly pick her up to carry her down the stairs. She kisses my cheek and whispers “Thank you” as we descend the stairs. When I walk into the living room carrying Mom, Joe stands immediately to help. “I’ve got her, Joe. We’re good,” I say as I gently place Mom down onto the loveseat.

She locks eyes with Maddy and the pain that was just in her face, dissipates immediately. Patting the spot on the couch next to her, she says, “You must be Maddy. Come. Sit.” Mom smiles a huge smile at Maddy and reaches for her hands as Maddy approaches the couch.

Maddy smiles warmly at me. It’s a smile of both love and pride. No matter how much stress fighting over my past has caused us, I can see now, that coming here, and dealing with it, as difficult as it may have been, is most certainly the right thing to do. It may not have been the easiest, but nothing worth doing ever is.

Sensing that Mom wants some time with just Maddy and me, Joe and Katie leave us alone, claiming that something in the kitchen needs their attention. When it’s just the three of us, Mom looks over to me. “You can go too, baby. I just want to say a few things to Maddy. Go on, we’ll be in there in just a few minutes.”

I stand and nervously rub my hands over my thighs. “Sure. I’ll be right in the other room if you need anything.” I glance nervously between the two of them and chuckle lightly as I see the light in their eyes.

They both shoo me away, obviously eager to talk about me behind my back. I just laugh and walk away. Mom is finally getting the chance to dissect one of my girlfriends—not that I ever had any, but if this is going to make her happy, then who am I to keep her from it.

Standing at the doorway to the kitchen, I take one last glance over my shoulder and catch Mom and Maddy smiling warmly at each other. Maddy’s hand drifts over her belly and I know they’re gushing over the baby. I leave them on their own, catching the faint echo of a laugh as I make my way to help Joe and Katie make Mom’s very last Christmas dinner.

Chapter 18

Friday December 28, 2012

Tapping lightly on the bathroom door, I push it open slightly. I catch a glimpse of Reid sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, holding his head down low in his hands. His tie is dangling through the loose grip of his fingers. I stand in front of him and run my hands down his slumped back, over the fabric of his freshly-pressed black suit.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look at me either. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me close to him. He presses his lips to my belly and says, “I love you.” He’s talking to the baby. When he pulls back from me slightly, he looks up at me and I can see the tear-stained streaks that run down his face. “I love you, too. I love you so much. I . . . I can’t do this. I don’t know how to.”

I run my fingers through his silky hair in a pointless attempt to calm him down. Calm is the last thing you’re feeling when you’re trying to get ready for your mom’s funeral.

Sadly, I know this from personal experience.      

Becca died in her sleep Christmas night. I can’t help but think that she was finally able to find her peace now that she and Reid had made their own.

He holds his tie out to me with trembling hands. “Can you help me with this? I can’t get my fingers to work.” My heart breaks at the uneven tremble of his usually steady and confident voice.

“Of course, baby.” I take the tie from him and slip it over my neck. Memories of my father teaching me how to tie a tie wash over me. It was on one of our Saturday Father-Daughter days that he taught me. I usually swallow down the memories of him and my mom, but rather than push this one away, I share it.

“I remember as a little girl, I was awestruck that my dad knew how to tie one of these. Watching him get ready for work every morning was always fun. He’d let me pick out what color shirt he would wear some days—though my choice was usually limited to a varying shade of blue. But watching him twist and turn his tie into a perfect knot always mesmerized me. My dad always told me that every woman should know how to tie a tie.” I recall as I cross the pieces of the tie back and forth over one another. “He said that every man is more than capable of looking like an idiot on his own. Why add the extra stress of having to tie one of these things around your neck to perfect the look.” Finishing up the last knot, I loosen it and slip it off of my neck and onto Reid’s. Adjusting it one last time, I press the tie flatly to his chest and finish my story. “The only problem was that he only knew how to tie it on his own neck. So that’s how I learned.” The necklace that Reid gave me for Christmas must have come un-tucked from my top as I was tying the tie because as I lean forward to kiss his cheek it chimes against his chest.

He pulls the charms between his fingers and brings them up to his lips. A fresh tear rolls down his cheek. “I just wish I’d had more time with her. I wish she would have been here to meet the baby.” He’s holding the “B” charm in his hand and I decide that now is the time to share something I’ve been thinking about since I first met his mother just a few short days ago.

Tenderly holding his face in my hands, I say, “I’d rather not have to get a new charm when the baby is born. I’ve kind of grown attached to this one, so I was thinking of ‘B’ names. If we have a girl, I’d like to name her Becca Joy after your mom and mine. I know that isn’t her real name, but it’s what Joe called her, and she was more alive with him than she ever was with your father, at least that’s what I can tell from what you’ve shared with me. Joe and Katie brought her happiness when she thought she didn’t deserve it, so I . . . I don’t know . . . I just thought it might be nice. You can tell me I’m crazy. It’s okay; I’ll understand.”

He doesn’t say anything right away, and instantly I worry that I’ve crossed the line. But when he buries his head into my neck and softly presses his lips to my skin, I know he can’t be mad. “I think that sounds like the perfect name. But what if it’s a boy? Do you have a ‘B’ name all lined up for that one too?” I can tell he’s teasing when that dopey grin crosses face.

The fact that he can be a little light and playful with me when we’re facing the daunting task of saying goodbye to his mom, brightens my heart and makes me love him even more than I already do.

With hands on hips to emphasize my playful attitude, I retort, “Why, yes I do, smartass!” He laughs at me and it feels good to let some of the tension go.

With a more serious tone, I offer him my boy name suggestion. “My dad’s name was Braden. So I was thinking that Braden Shane would be a pretty damn near perfect name for our son.”

Holding me close to his chest once again, his kisses the top of my head lightly. “Those sound like the two most beautiful names I’ve ever heard.” He’s still crying as he’s holding me and I can feel his body shaking. As his emotions settle, I hear him sigh and catch his breath.