by Ellie Wade
“Are you ready to go climb?” Alma asks Love when we’ve finished our donuts.
“Yes!” she answers.
I load the pumpkins into the trunk of the car and join the girls on the straw mountain. We climb, and laugh, and roll down the hill. Lee-Anne snaps some more pictures as Love, Alma, and I kick our arms and legs in and out like we’re making snow angels in the loose straw at the base of the hill.
It’s another incredible day with my family.
And they are…my family, and deep within my heart, I know that will never change.
30
Alma
Autumn passes in a whirlwind of cherished moments. Everything has fallen into place effortlessly. From the second I roll out of bed in the morning, Amos is there to greet me with a kiss and a warm cup of coffee. It’s so natural that it’s as if it was always meant to be this way.
The daily pain has vanished, and the guilt has subsided. I thought that Love had saved me from the ever-present heartache. The second she came into this world with her stormy blue eyes, chubby cheeks, and the spirit of her daddy, I felt relief. I looked at her, and unconditional love permeated every crevice of my soul. She healed me and pulled me back from the dark abyss that was threatening to consume me.
I think now that my love for her was so powerful that it pushed everything else down. I loved her so much that it was hard to hear the other noise. It never went away, though. The way in which Leo’s death shattered me left a permanent imprint. My daughter outshined that darkness, and in that way, she did save me.
From the moment I saw her heartbeat on that ultrasound, I’ve been living for her.
Smiling for her.
Laughing for her.
Loving for her.
It took Amos’s initial kiss and declaration to show me that I’d lost myself. I was no longer living—for me.
I am more, in this life, than Love’s mother. Yet my position in that role is what I clung to. It was my sanity.
The possibility of more made me face the demons.
The emotional fallout of a traumatic loss just doesn’t go away. It’s always lurking just under the surface, leaving its stain on every move I make. It’s sneaky in that it coats life with just enough darkness to dull the beautiful moments. I thought I was healed because I lived a life with so much beauty. But I was experiencing it through muted senses clouded by a sadness that stayed just out of reach.
Amos’s love ripped me right open, leaving me vulnerable and, for the first time in a long time, aware.
How was I supposed to heal from a pain I didn’t know I carried?
It’s taken a lot of self-reflection, strength, and determination, but I think I’m finally getting there. The colors of life are more vibrantly hued. Moments are crisper. The beauty is more powerful now that I’m experiencing it without the cover of grief.
It hasn’t been easy. Death is permanent and unsettling, and the trauma from it has an unrivaled staying power. It’s a daily decision to be brave and avoid sinking into the what-ifs and if-onlys. I can rationalize it all every moment of every day, and it won’t change the outcome. Or I can choose to be present and live every day to the fullest.
It was a conscious effort to let it go and say goodbye. Now, I can be fully present for each incredible moment that’s yet to come.
Our dwelling of three has become my happy place. In truth, this home has been my favorite place in the world since Leo surprised me with it years ago. It has a great vibe and has always radiated joy. The family within these walls looks different from the couple who ate takeout on a blanket on the floor in the library a lifetime ago. Yet it’s just as precious of a picture.
Amos’s transition from best friend to boyfriend has been seamless, at least once I accepted it. Love hasn’t seemed fazed by the change in the slightest. In fact, she seems happier than ever. I suppose for her, Amos is the only father figure she’s ever known.
My mother has picked up quite a few hobbies, supposedly—at least, something is occupying her time. She’s here for Love every day that I work. That hasn’t changed. Although we still see her a lot, she’s not here from morning until night like before. I thought, maybe, she was giving Amos and me some space, but I think it’s more than that.
I’d bet that she’s dating, and I have a feeling that it’s Luca. She won’t admit it, and I’m not sure why. I sense that she hasn’t let my father go, not fully, and the guilt is weighing on her. I’ve known that feeling, and it’s one she’ll have to work through. I hope she does find love again. She’s still young and should be happy.
I love when my mother is here with us, but it’s been pretty great spending so much quality time with just Love and Amos. We’re building something pretty special here.
The trial against Alivia, the Lair’s previous finance manager, is over. My lawyers made it as painless for me as they could, and I appreciate them so much. Alivia ended up pleading guilty in order to lessen her jail time from twenty years to ten. She’s also been court-ordered to pay the Lair back three hundred thousand dollars. I hate that it happened in the first place, and that someone I considered a friend is going to be in jail for a decade. None of it sits well with me, but the law is what it is and stealing was Alivia’s choice. I’m simply glad it’s done and resolved.
Love’s at my side, the two of us cuddled up together beneath the comforter. She leans into me, her eyes focused on the flat screen on the opposite wall. There’s a cartoon playing on low volume. I brush my palm over her silky hair and kiss her head. Her hair smells of the natural fruity shampoo we use.
Amos walks in with a wooden tray. “Are my girls hungry?”
Love bolts up, sitting tall. “Yes,” she says with a giggle. No matter how many times Amos serves us breakfast in bed, Love is as excited as always.
He pulls the legs of the tray out and sets it down over Love’s lap.
“For my littlest princess, I have chocolate chip pancakes, a bowl of fruit, and orange juice.” Love picks up a blueberry and tosses it in her mouth. “For my other princess, there’s a large cup of coffee, fruit, and toast with grape jelly.” He leans in and presses his lips to mine. I sigh as he lingers for just a second.
“I was in the mood for grape jelly toast today,” I say in awe, picking up the warm mug of coffee. “How’d you know?”
“Last night, when I ran out to grab a couple of groceries, you made a comment about the jelly getting low and possibly picking up some more. So I knew it was on your mind,” he says.
“You’re too good to us,” I tell him with all sincerity. “I love you.”
“Me too,” Love agrees, her mouth full of pancakes.
“I love you.” He leans in kisses the top of my head. “And I love you.” He repeats the movement, kissing the top of Love’s head.
He slides in beneath the blanket next to Love and extends his arm across the headboard. His hand rests against my shoulder, his thumb tracing lazy circles over my T-shirt.
“In about an hour, the parade will be on,” he says.
“What pawade?” Love asks.
“The Thanksgiving parade. I used to watch it every year with my mom. There are all sorts of floats, giant balloons, and marching bands. You’ll like it.”
“I want to watch the pawade.” Love nods.
“Okay, we’ll switch the channel when it’s time,” he tells her.
“Momma. Did you watch it with Gigi?” Love asks.
“No, Lovie. Gigi and your grandpa weren’t really into watching TV. But I’m excited to watch it today.”
Amos picks up a piece of melon from the tray and pops it in his mouth. “There’s a parade in Detroit every year, too. We should drive down there in a few years, when Love is a little older, and watch it live.”
“I wanna do that,” Love agrees.
“Then it’s a plan, Stan,” he says.
“I’m not Stan. You’re Stan.” Love laughs.
“Okay, I’ll be Stan,” Amos agrees.
The cartoon
on the television changes to the parade, and the three of us remain snuggled beneath the blanket. It’s the perfect morning, and I’m so thankful.
“The only thing we’re missing is the rolls.” I search the kitchen of the Lair. “Did the bread delivery not arrive?” Thanksgiving dinner needs rolls.
Jen comes flying into the kitchen, a giant bag of rolls in each hand. “I have the rolls. Eddy says he’s sorry he cut it so close.”
I take one of the bags from her. “Yes, Jen! You saved the day. Okay, let’s get these in the serving tins and out to the tables. People will be arriving any minute.”
Love enters the large kitchen, wearing an adorable dress in autumn colors of yellow, burnt orange, and red, complete with a poufy skirt and a bow tied around her waist. She’s so precious. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone.
“Look at me, Love bug. I need to get a picture. You’re the most beautiful little Thanksgiving princess I’ve ever seen.”
She poses, her hands on her hips, and gives me a big smile as I click a picture.
“Perfect,” I say.
“Can I help, Momma?”
I scan the space. “Um, sure, baby. Let me see.” I snatch up an extra packet of napkins from the counter. “Can you go find Amos and give these to him? It’s a very important job.”
“I can do it!” She grins, taking the napkins from me.
“Thank you for being such a great help,” I say as she runs out of the kitchen with purpose, holding the napkins tightly against her.
I wipe my hands nervously against my apron as I go over the to-do list in my head. Thanksgiving at the Lair is one of the biggest events we throw each year, and one of the most cherished. Everyone, from the guests to the staff, loves this day.
“We’re ready, boss,” Gustav, one of our volunteers, says.
“Yes? It’s that time?”
“It is. Guests are waiting outside. All the food is out, warmers plugged in, tables set, drink station ready. It looks great.”
I blow out a breath. “Okay, let’s do this.” I pat him on the shoulder and follow him out of the kitchen.
The huge gymnasium is decked out in autumn fanfare. Each table has a pale cream table linen and is decorated with a yellow, orange, and red floral centerpiece. Festive gourds, multicolored squashes, and mini pumpkins circle the flowers. Everything is so pretty. It could be a fall wedding. And all of it was donated by the wonderful people in our community.
I find Love fussing with some flowers and take her hand, leading her toward the door where people are starting to come in. Amos is already there, along with a line of staff and volunteers.
We welcome the families as they enter, each face—so special to me. Some of these people have been with us since the beginning, while others are new. They’ve allowed us into their homes and trusted us with their children. They’ve been open and vulnerable, showing us their flaws and being receptive to help. They’ve changed my life for the better. Our goal here is to help as many children and families as possible, but the truth is we do it because it fills us up and makes us all feel good. To be able to do what I do each day is something I never take for granted.
“Is this Leo’s girl?” a woman who I haven’t seen in a few years asks.
“It is.” I nod. “This is Love.”
The woman crouches down before Love. “You look just like him,” she says in awe, tears filling her eyes. “Just like him.” She stands and addresses me. “Thank you for the invitation. I had nowhere to go this year. I lost my Benny, in the same way you lost Leo, a year ago.” Her voice cracks. “I have no one, and this means so much.”
My lip trembles as tears fill my eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I say, wrapping the woman in a hug. “I’m sorry. I loved Benny.”
Benny came to us at the beginning. He was bright, a talented artist, funny, and kind…and now, gone. That thought is paralyzing. We worked with Benny for years. We must’ve failed him somehow.
I hold his mother as grief consumes me.
“It wasn’t your fault.” She rubs my back. “It wasn’t mine. It just was. My boy wasn’t meant to be here long, and that’s just something we have to live with. We all tried, and he was so loved. I came to tell you that he was here years longer because of you and Leo. I know that to be true. You gave me years with my son. This place is special, and it makes a difference. For all the Bennys, there are a hundred others that make it because of you. I came here today to thank you. I never thanked you. I was too proud, but you and Leo and this place were a blessing to my Benny. I need you to know that.”
I give her a tight smile and a nod. “Thank you, and thank you for coming.”
As the rest of the crowd trickles in, I’m inundated with hugs and blessings. Just this one day could fuel my soul forever. I love these people. It’s the most fun seeing our past kids that have grown up and moved on from the program.
Of course, Love is a hit. She’s going to be flying high for days from the number of compliments she’s getting. I love sharing her daddy’s legacy with her.
When everyone is seated, we deliver a little gift bag to each person in attendance and thank them again for coming. The bags are filled with fun finds—soaps, scarfs, cookies, candles, jewelry, muffins, and other goodies donated by our local vendors. Additionally, each bag contains a gift card to a Michigan-based store with everything from groceries to toys and clothes. I’m hoping the card will help alleviate some stress for these families as Christmas approaches.
Music plays as people eat and chat. Laughter can be heard all around us. It’s perfect.
After everyone clears out, we package up the remaining food and load it into my car, where I’ll drop it off at the local food bank.
“Let me drop it off, and you can get home to help your mom with the meal,” Amos says, setting a large tin of mashed potatoes into the trunk.
“Are you kidding? If anyone needs to help Lee-Anne, it’s you.” I chuckle. “You know you’re more talented than me in the kitchen.”
He takes hold of my hips. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You can make some great meals, and Thanksgiving food is your specialty.” He kisses me.
“Okay, but you know what I mean. You’ll still be better and more organized and calm when dealing with my mother.” I grin. Amos has the patience of a saint.
“Fine.” He places his lips against my forehead. “I’ll help your mom with dinner so something at your Friendsgiving is edible.” He chuckles.
“Exactly my point.”
“Is Love going with you or me?” he asks.
I look over to where she’s leaned against my car, picking at the ribbon on her dress. “Take her with you. Let her go home and relax. She’s exhausted. It’s been a busy day.”
“Okay, sounds good. See you at home.” He kisses me again. I love the way he says home. He extends his hand. “Ready, Love Dove? Let’s go see what Gigi is cooking up.”
Love perks up and runs over, placing her small hand in his.
“I’m going to drop this food off, and then I’ll see you at home. Okay?”
“Okay, Momma.”
I watch as my whole heart walks away, and the pressure in my chest threatens to burst. I’m so in love. With him, and her…and this life.
31
Alma
I bid Frank, the chatty food bank manager, farewell and step out into the alley behind the building. Before getting into the car, I dial Amos. The call goes to voicemail, so I hang up and dial my mother.
She picks up on the third ring. “Hey, Mom. Can you ask Amos if he needs me to pick up juice for the punch? I know we were low and can’t remember if he grabbed some or not.”
“Isn’t he at the Lair with you?” she asks.
“No, we finished up, and I was dropping food off…” My blood goes cold, and my entire body freezes. Dread pulls at me with its icy claws. “Amos isn’t back yet?”
“No, it’s just me so far.”
“Is Love back?” I snap.
&nbs
p; “Love’s with you,” she states, her voice raising in question.
“I gotta go,” I blurt out before hanging up and dialing Amos’s number again. He should’ve been home a while ago. Once again, I’m sent to voicemail.
My hands shake as I pull up the GPS app on my phone. Warning bells are screaming in my head. Something’s wrong.
Amos and I have had GPS apps on our phones for years. I rarely use it, but it comes in handy if I’m at work and wondering if he’s finished up with the home visit. I can click on the app and see where he is, so I don’t call and interrupt him if he’s still there. Or if he’s working off campus or at a meeting, and I want to know if he’s on his way home so I can warm up dinner.
My phone moves slower than usual as I frantically pull up the app and click on Amos’s picture. He shows up on the map, a mile from the Lair. He’s not at a store but at a residential intersection. Tears fall onto the phone’s screen, and I jump into my car and start the engine.
He’s not far, only a few minutes, but the drive toward his little dot on my GPS is agonizing.
“It’s fine,” I tell myself. “They’re fine. They’re good. Everything’s okay.” I talk to myself as I get closer to Amos and Love.
As I approach, the lights of the police car and ambulance cause panic to choke me, and I gasp for air as I pull up behind the police cruiser.
Throwing the car in park, I fling my door open and run toward Amos’s car. The front of the other car is crushed, and I want to crumple from fear, but I force myself to keep going. I need to find them.
On the bank in front of the ambulance, Amos stands in the grass, Love on his hip, as he talks to an officer. I run toward them and tackle them in a hug. Tears of relief flow.
“Oh my God. What happened? Are you okay?” I take a step back and pull Love’s arm out, checking her for signs of damage.
“We’re okay,” Amos reassures me. “Just a little fender bender. The stop sign took most of the force as she hit it. She just tapped our back corner. It was nothing. I’m sorry. I was going to call, but I’ve been talking to the officer and exchanging insurance information.”