by Erika Kelly
He sat forward, dragging his feet underneath the chair, and glanced out the plate-glass window. Nighttime.
After a long day of travel, he was about to catch the red-eye to Geneva. He caught the time on the electronic display board. Ten, which meant it was eight in Calamity. She should be home now. Bathed, hair smelling like baby shampoo. Coco was probably snuggling with her.
She’ll probably sleep with her tonight.
Not that he’d find out. Other than the two texts he’d gotten from the hospital, he hadn’t heard from Coco. He’d tried calling. She hadn’t answered.
Because she’s taking care of her daughter.
Seeing Posie laid out on the pavement like that? He would never forget the moment she’d reared back, eyes rolling back in her head.
In that moment, he’d known what it felt like for Posie to die.
And he just couldn’t do it.
I don’t have it in me.
Needing to get out of his head, he nabbed his phone and pulled up the calendar. Focus on business. It had always helped. From now until December, other than a weekend here and there, he was booked. Next year, too, most of the dates were already blocked off.
The hit of satisfaction he got from his full schedule faded, though.
Guilt plucked at his conscience.
He’d told Coco she could count on him, that he wouldn’t be that dad who sent postcards from the road and showed up twice a year loaded with weird things he’d picked up at gift shops around the world.
But he couldn’t give up his app…I’m not giving up my career.
It’s all I have.
And it was too new. This is a critical time—make or break.
His phone vibrated with a text. Coco? No.
What do you expect? You left her while her daughter was in the hospital.
Ann: I guess I’m not going to hear from you, so I’ll just have to throw this stuff out.
Wait—throw what out?
Beckett: What are you talking about?
Ann: Hey, I’ve been trying to reach you. I have a box of your things.
So, his mother wasn’t trying to make amends?
Beckett: What’s in it?
Ann: Stuff from your childhood.
Beckett: Ari’s, too?
Ann: Both. There’s some of her things.
Beckett: I want anything that was Ari’s. Just hold onto it until I’m back in the States.
Ann: I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. I’m out of time. Can you come in the next couple of days?
Beckett: I’m at the airport, boarding in twenty minutes.
Ann: Give me your address. I’ll mail it.
He thought about Ari’s stuffed dog, Boscoe.
Beckett: Do you have pictures of her?
Ann: A few.
Dammit. The last thing he wanted to do was visit his mom but like hell he’d trust her or the mail with the only remaining photographs of his sister.
Beckett: I’ll be there tomorrow.
If he put off his travel by twenty-four hours, he could still make it in time for his event.
But he’d be cutting it close.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Your destination is on the left.”
Pulling his rental car alongside the curb, Beckett thumbed off the GPS and leaned forward to check out the building. The nondescript two-story garden apartment sat on a busy street in Columbus, Ohio.
So, this is where she lives.
Cutting the engine, he checked his email for the apartment number, and then got out of the car and stretched. Unease kept him dawdling, but he didn’t have time. His flight took off in four hours.
He only wanted Boscoe and the photographs. Both would fit easily in his duffle bag. Climbing the stairs at the side of the building, he breathed in the smell of newly stained wood and the damp earth from freshly watered planters. At the landing, he raised his fist to knock but got hit with a flurry of emotions. Fear, anxiety, even a flash of anger.
No, it’s not a flash. Don’t diminish it.
His mom had done a selfish, unforgivable thing by abandoning him. Like everything else, she’d made Ari’s death about her.
Yeah, he was angry. He had every right to be.
No, dammit. He turned away from the door, hardly seeing the patch of grass dividing one apartment building from the next. If he wanted to be a good dad to Posie, he needed to cut the cord to his past. He had to face the truth, sink into it.
It wasn’t anger. His mom had hurt him. And it had started long before she’d walked out that door.
His entire life with her, she’d ignored him. Brushed past him in the hallway like they were strangers in a hotel. She’d never liked him.
That’s it right there. She didn’t like me.
He could feel it, the shudder that passed through him when she’d make eye contact and quickly look away, as if he repulsed her.
As he stood in the August heat, the sun hot on his face, he felt himself shriveling down to the boy who’d watched his mom walk out the door.
Every time I look at you two I see Ari, and I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t stand to see your faces.
The memory felt as fresh right then as it had seventeen years ago.
How could his mom have walked away? He’d just lost his sister, for Christ’s sake.
So, yeah, he wanted Ari’s dog and pictures, but he needed an apology.
Let’s get this over with. Turning, he knocked on the door.
It opened right away, releasing the scent of spices and cooked meat. His mom stood there in cargo capris, a black tank top, and bare feet. Her chin-length hair had streaks of gray, and her face was make-up-free. Her weathered skin had more wrinkles than his dad and Marcia, though they were all the same age.
She scanned him from his hair down to his boots. “Look at you, all grown up.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Come in.”
He stepped into her apartment, the tan carpet worn, the tables uncluttered. On the wall, he noticed some framed photographs, and he wondered if he and Ari were up there.
Funny how the first thing he wanted to say was, I have a daughter. Posie. She’s amazing.
But he wouldn’t. Not yet. He’d see how things went.
“You’re so big. Bigger than your father. I’ve tried to find you on social media.”
“I’m only on there for my business.”
“Oh, yeah. I follow your Xtreme Adventures page.” She brightened. “I’m green with envy. You’re living exactly the life I always wanted.”
What did that mean? “You’ve traveled the world.”
“Sure, but you get to earn a living doing it. I have to work for months to save up enough money to take a vacation. If I could be on the road as much as you…and get paid for it?” She blew out a breath.
“It’s been good. The app’s doing well.” He didn’t want to be rude, but…he really needed to get to the airport. “So…?”
“Right. Well, let me get us some drinks. You want a pop? Some water? Juice?”
“Nothing, thanks. I’m good.”
She gestured to the couch. “So, how does it work? Do you have a home base or something? Where’re you living these days?”
As he started to sit down, he got a blast from the past. “Is this from the San Antonio house?”
“It is. I didn’t ask for much in the divorce, but I did need some furniture. A couch, a bed, the dining room set. Everything I own…you’re looking at it. I travel light.” Her expression looked encouraging, like, You do too, right?
But somehow it edged him out to agree with her, even if it was true. “You said you can’t hold onto the box any longer. Are you moving?”
“Yep.” She grinned and clapped her hands. “You know the Portal Trail in Utah? I’m doing it. So damn excited.”
“Have you been training? That’s some of the harshest terrain I’ve ever ridden.” Three mountain bikers have died on it.
“Hell, yeah. I’m older now, so I have to be
real careful with my body. The last thing I need is to get hurt and stuck in the dead-end life of a worker bee. Can you imagine me in a suit and briefcase, heading off to the bank every morning?”
Time warped, and he could actually hear himself saying the same words out loud to his friends, to Coco, to anyone who would listen. Because that had been his refrain from the time he was a kid.
All this time, he’d just been regurgitating her words.
His mom didn’t notice his reaction, though. She kept on talking. “I’m riding my bike out there, so I’m taking off three months. I don’t want to pay for storage, so I’m leaving the furniture behind for the next tenant and getting rid of everything else. Come on. Let me show you this box I’ve been hauling around.” She headed into the dark, shadowed kitchen.
He followed her, noticing it appeared unused. “Still don’t cook, huh?”
It had always been a point of pride. She’d loved to say, “Oh, I can’t even boil an egg.” Hahahaha.
She waved a hand. “I’ve got way better things to do with my time.”
He remembered the bucket list she’d tacked to the refrigerator with a magnet. “Did you ever climb Kilimanjaro?”
“You bet I did. I try to take three vacations a year, a big one, and then two smaller road trips. I wanted to hit every single continent—that was a big thing for me—and I’ve done that. Climbed to the top of every mountain on my list.”
He gave her a curt nod. What could he say? Glad abandoning your family helped you reach your dreams?
“Last year, I did a dive in Truk Lagoon. You should do that, by the way. Amazing. And a microlight flight off the coast of Durban, South Africa. Got to see sea lions playing. Blew my mind. That’s another one you should do.”
And then it struck him. Hadn’t he just abandoned his family to realize his dreams? He grew clammy, queasy, as if she’d just spun around and sucker-punched him. Reaching for the counter, he lowered his chin, hit with the realization he’d become the one person he least respected.
I’m no different from my mother.
She lived for these experiences. So do I. Like her, he’d placed a higher value on travel than relationships. For some reason, he needed to see the photographs she’d taken the time to frame and mount on her walls. He returned to the living room. “How long have you lived in Columbus?”
“Only about a year. I’m a medical transcriber, so I can live anywhere. Before this, I was living in Alaska. You probably remember how I used to go on and on about that place. It was on my bucket list. And I loved it for the first few months, but the weather wears thin real fast. I met this guy…we hit it off…I moved here…”
“Oh, you live with someone?” He scanned the pictures—his mom in goggles, standing beside a helicopter. Another of her riding a camel. Another with her hair straight up in the air, arms spread wide as she parachuted out of plane. Grinning big in each one.
“No, it didn’t work out.”
Her life just felt…sad.
This is my future. A life of one extreme adventure after another—without Posie. Without Coco.
Suddenly lightheaded, he dropped to a crouch, hid his face in his hands.
What have I done?
The world went quiet, muffled, like he’d just put on a headset. His vision tunneled, until the only thing he could see was Posie flying around her bedroom in her fairy dress and Coco smiling at him with a look that said, We made her.
“You okay there?”
It’s not too late. I don’t have to wind up like her. “You know why I travel the way I do?”
“Of course I do. We’ve only got one life, and what’s the point of owning things and pushing papers when we can see the world and experience all it has to offer?”
“That’s exactly right. Because I drank your Kool-Aid.” And it was all fine and dandy until he found Coco and met his daughter. “You made it sound like there was nothing better than living out of a suitcase and seeing whale sharks, rafting the Inga Rapids, and caving in Mexico.”
The gleam in her eyes dimmed.
“But none of that comes close to seeing my daughter’s face light up when I pour sprinkles on her peanut butter. And the way she plasters herself to me when I read her a book? Beats reaching the summit any day of the week.”
“You have a daughter?”
“I’d give back every one of my medals if it meant I could’ve been there for Posie’s birth. Forget that. If I could’ve been there when Coco found out she was pregnant.” Coco. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. The moment she’d finally come to rely on him, he’d walked away. “Nothing I’ve ever done comes close to the simple act of sitting on the couch next to the woman I love more than any-fucking-thing on this earth.”
What am I doing, standing here talking to this woman who will never get it?
Gratitude roared through him. Posie and Coco had saved him from winding up like his mother.
All he wanted was to scrape off this feeling of loneliness and emptiness and get back to the two people who gave his life meaning. The only people in the world he truly, deeply loved. “I’ve got a flight to catch, so let me see the box.”
“Sure.” She patted the top of a small moving box. “It’s right here.”
He opened it to find a baseball glove. Anger burbled under his skin. “Why’ve you been carting this around?”
She shrugged. “It’s yours. I didn’t know if it meant something to you.”
“It doesn’t. I’ve never used it.” He pulled out video games for an outdated machine. Underneath those, he found a bunch of pristine teddy bears. “What are these?”
“When you were born, everybody sent stuffed animals. They were in your room.”
“Where’s Ari’s dog?” He dug through all the crap. When he saw the tattered brown ear, joy swept through him. Finally, he had a piece of her. Carefully, he lifted it out.
His mom frowned. “What’s that?”
He didn’t bother answering. “What about the photos? You said you had some of Ari.”
“They should be in there somewhere.”
He pulled out all the crap until he got to the bottom, where he found a gallon-size freezer bag filled with maybe a dozen pictures. The first one he saw was of the Grand Canyon. He’d forgotten about that road trip they’d taken. He’d been eight, Ari two. On the right side of the frame, the photographer had unintentionally captured the siblings standing side by side. Beckett had an arm slung around her shoulder, hugging her tightly to his body. “I don’t remember this.” Seemed a dangerous place for a two-year-old to stand.
“You were always looking out for her.”
That’s because you weren’t.
Holy shit. It all became clear. Posie hadn’t talked to him in the ER because he didn’t represent comfort and security. Coco did. She’d earned that place of honor by being there for Posie every single day.
And what did I do? He’d left her in someone else’s care. Just like his mother, he’d placed the higher value on jumping off a cliff in a wingsuit over taking care of his daughter. The only thing Posie needed was to sit with him on the couch—sandwiched between her parents—so she could feel safe again.
“I have to go. Have to get back to the airport.” At the door, he turned to her. “Take care.”
He’d come wondering if her apology might give him some insights into himself.
But it was the glimpse into his future that had set him free.
When he pulled into the driveway and didn’t see the green Jeep, Beckett crashed. Adrenaline, coffee, and a couple protein bars had gotten him from Columbus back home.
Yeah, that’s right. Home. He finally had one.
Idling, he glanced at the dark windows. Had Coco moved him out of the carriage house? Replaced the furniture with the boxes?
More importantly, would she ever let him alone with Posie again? He couldn’t blame her if she didn’t. But he’d spend the rest of his life proving he’d do a better job of taking care of her.
He glanced at the dashboard clock. Where would she be at two in the morning?
Jesus, was something wrong with Posie? Had there been complications? Maybe a blood clot?
He thunked his head on the steering wheel. Slow down. She might’ve just gone to stay at her parents for the night. He couldn’t ask, because she still wasn’t responding to his texts.
Parking, he got out and headed to his place, but before he could insert the key, he dropped his duffle bag outside the door and headed to the main house.
Climbing the porch steps, he let himself in, flicking on the light switch and heading into the kitchen. A coffee mug in the drying rack and the hint of roasted beans lingering in the air made him think they hadn’t left that long ago.
On the table, he found a hair elastic and a drawing Posie had made with her glitter markers. Two adults, a child, and a dog.
I want that.
He had to talk to Coco, let her know he’d never leave her again.
Because he wanted to give her and Posie the same sense of home they’d given him.
On the kitchen table, he found Posie’s crown—a sharp reminder of the accident. He’d never forget the twist of her hand in his, the way she’d darted off toward her bike. The skateboarders swallowing her up, surrounding her, knocking her down. Her body still on the sidewalk.
His little girl lying in a hospital bed.
She needed me, and I got in the car and drove to the airport.
I’m an asshole.
But I’m here now, and I’m not going to screw up again.
He headed up the stairs and treaded quietly down the hallway. At her doorway, he leaned in. Moonlight pooled onto the unmade bed. A pile of clothes Coco had left out—jeans, sneakers, long sleeve T-shirts—lay discarded on the floor.
He smiled. His little girl was fierce and full of energy, and he was going to love watching her grow into a woman as strong and kind and lovely as her mom.
And that was when he knew she hadn’t gone to her parent’s house. Coco Cavanaugh hadn’t bawled her eyes out after finding his note. She hadn’t fall apart.
She’d taken action.
And so would he.