Finding Forever

by Gael, Christine

  “If you keep eating those brownies, you’re going to need a backhoe to move you around the kitchen.”

  A chuckle bubbled to her lips and then became a belly laugh. Soon enough, she was hysterical, probably sounding like a mental patient as she cackled and wheezed.

  She was wiping tears from her cheeks and still trying to catch her breath when a low voice called her name.

  “Steph?”

  Cee-cee.

  “It’s us.”

  Stephanie couldn’t summon the energy to respond, but a moment later, her sisters stood in the doorway. They both froze, taking in the damage she had done and the hot mess that was her on the floor.

  They didn’t say anything as they watched her with wide eyes, and Steph sucked in a breath before lifting her head and facing them.

  “I need help,” she said quietly.

  “Oh, honey,” Cee-cee whispered, her face a mask of love and concern.

  Anna gave a slow nod and steeled her shoulders. “We got you, Sis.”

  Thirty minutes later, they were gathered in the kitchen. Anna and Cee-cee had picked the broken glass out of Steph’s foot and bundled her into the shower before returning to Pop’s room to clean up the mess she had made.

  The hot water on her skin had made Stephanie feel marginally better, enough to put her wet hair up and dress in a robe before meeting the others downstairs. Anna was pouring tea while Cee-cee held Steph’s hand in the chair next to her. None of them spoke for a while, until Anna brought over the three mugs and slid into the other chair.

  “We don’t look so hot, do we?” she asked.

  “No,” Cee-cee said, giving a dry chuckle. “No, we sure don’t.”

  “‘Like hammered shit’,” said Anna. “Isn’t that what Pop always…?” But she trailed off, clearing her throat and looking down at the table.

  “I’m sorry,” Steph said weakly, sighing and cradling the tea mug with her free hand. “I know this is a terrible time to dump this on you guys. You should be grieving, not dealing with my problems.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Anna told her. “We’re here for you.”

  Stephanie met her sister’s eyes and shook her head, her shoulders slumping. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “The truth is, I don’t know what to do, but if I don’t do something now, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to.”

  Cee-cee gave her hand a squeeze. “Why don’t you tell us what’s been going on, Steph?” she suggested gently.

  Stephanie swallowed the lump in her throat, her shame, guilt, and embarrassment only overpowered by her fear.

  “I’ve been having nightmares,” Steph replied, feeling her face heat up. “Not every night, but almost. I keep seeing Bryan on that pier, having flashbacks of him pulling the gun on me. That feeling of thinking I’m going to die, wondering if I’m ever going to see my kids again – that feeling keeps coming back, even though there’s no reason for it to. I’m jumping at shadows. Nothing feels safe anymore. I…” She dabbed at fresh tears in her eyes. “I thought everything would be better now that I know what really happened to Paul, and Bryan’s in jail. I have Ethan now, and Todd’s working at the clinic with me, but none of that has made me feel any better. There’s just this… this constant fear and anxiety that I can’t get rid of, no matter how hard I try.” She took a sip of her tea. It was bitter going down. “But I can’t afford to be afraid,” she continued. “I can’t afford to keep going like this, sacrificing my business and my relationships just so I can feel numb. Those meds helped for a while, but I don’t like what they’re doing to me. I don’t like what I’ve turned into.” Her voice cracked, coming out as barely a whisper. “I’m scared.”

  There was a long quiet moment as the others let her weep, and Anna rubbed her back while Cee-cee continued to hold her hand. “We’re here for you – whatever you need.”

  Cee-cee looked to Anna for confirmation, and she nodded. “Damn right,” she agreed.

  “Thanks,” breathed Stephanie, and for the first time since yesterday, she felt the knot in her stomach ease up a little.

  “I think we need a game plan,” suggested Cee-cee. “I think we should start with the meds. Anna and I can go with you to the doctor so we can figure out how to wean you off of them. That prescription was meant to help, but if it’s causing problems, then we’ll figure out another way. Maybe other meds meant for daily use. Or maybe a regular therapist – the best in Bluebird Bay. We can go to meetings with you – anything you need.”

  “I think we could all use some more time together right now, too,” Anna said. “We’re here for each other, no matter what. That’s what sisters are for.”

  “That’s right,” Cee-cee agreed, nodding. “We’re a team. We’ve got this.”

  Together, they began making calls. By the time all was said and done, Stephanie was exhausted and drained, but also hopeful, for the first time in months. The grief was still there…a sharp, fresh ache in the pit of her stomach. But that tiny ember of hope flickered in the darkness.

  “I love you guys,” she said, turning from Cee-cee to Anna and looking them in the eyes. “It’s going to be a long road, and I know I can do it.” She let out a shuddering breath, she nodded, straightening up in her chair. “Now, let’s call Eva so we can talk about Pop and give him the send-off he deserves.”

  21

  Max

  Max stared into the casket, her gaze running over the features of the man she’d grown up thinking was invincible. It had been less than a week since Pop’s passing, but for some reason, it felt like she hadn’t heard his gravelly voice in months.

  Family was a strange thing. There was no denying that Red Sullivan had been a tough man to love. He had been brash, and had the ability to drive people – especially his daughters – to the brink of insanity. But he had also been capable of humor and compassion. He had given Max driving lessons when she was fourteen, had ruffled her hair… he’d even tended to a skinned knee once or twice, and behind all of his abrasiveness, there had been love. Things hadn’t been easy for him of late, between losing his home and his failing mind, but he’d taken it all in stride.

  Eva had been right that day in the hospital. Pop had been a fighter. But the final bell had rung, and he was now at peace.

  Max let her gaze pass over him, trying to memorize every detail. The fabric of the suit they had dressed him in for the wake, his gnarled hands, folded over his heart, and his face, stone-still but tranquil. His closed eyes made him look like he was only sleeping, like at any moment he would wake up and make some crotchety remark.

  She looked up to seek out Aunt Steph, standing near the corner of the room, Aunt Anna’s arm around her waist as they spoke in hushed tones. Her eyes drifted to Ian then, and she felt herself soften as she watched him talk quietly to Beckett. She had been hesitant to bring him to the wake, but the idea of not having him there had seemed wrong – he had been there for her through the avalanche of grief, and that spoke volumes.

  If this tragedy had brought one thing home it was this:

  Spaces didn’t matter. Strip malls and leases and petty arguments didn’t matter.

  People mattered. Relationships mattered. Everything else was just window dressing. In spite of the wedge between them, in spite of her having to leave the bookstore, she was falling for Ian Thackery.

  Hard.

  “How are you?” came Cee-cee’s voice from behind her, and she turned around and pulled her mother into a hug as they stepped away from the casket to make room for other visitors.

  “Hanging in there,” Max replied with a nod. “You?”

  “Hanging in there,” echoed Cee-cee, glancing behind her toward Anna and Steph, who were leaning against one another like they might collapse. The rest of the people who Pop had known and loved were milling around the room. Grandchildren, a few close friends… and, of course, Eva, whose face was pale and drawn as she stepped up to Pop’s casket.

  There was the sound of papers being shuffled, and Max turned to see
that the officiant, a short, kind-faced man, had moved to stand behind the podium at the front of the room.

  “If we could all take a seat.”

  The guests began to move into the chairs that had been set up. Max slid into a seat between Cee-cee and Ian, reaching instinctively for both their hands as they waited for the others to assemble. Pop had always said he didn’t want a funeral, and they were going to honor that. A chance to speak at the wake had seemed like a fair compromise, and the immensity of the day wasn’t lost on anyone there. The mourners’ conversations trickled off, and for a long moment there was only the sound of rustling programs and clearing throats.

  When everyone had seated, the officiant looked out over the crowd.

  “It’s a beautiful thing,” he began, “to see so many people come together in celebration of a life. I didn’t know Red Sullivan all that well, but I’ve always thought that the true measure of a person’s character is the people who surround them. And I believe Red would be happy to see you all here.” He adjusted the microphone and continued. “Some loved ones have offered to say a few words, so I’ll turn this over to them.”

  Without another word, he stepped back, allowing Anna to make her slow way up to the podium.

  There was a long moment of silence before she spoke.

  “I guess I never thought I would end up here, talking to all of you guys on a day like this,” she began. “Pop had always felt immortal to me when I was growing up, and I’m guessing the rest of you probably felt like that, too. He was always such an intense personality… I mean, there are people who light up the room when they walk in, and then there are people who blow the dang bulbs out.” She gave a melancholy smile, and there were chuckles from the audience members. “I think that’s the thing I’ll remember most about Pop,” Anna continued. “His presence. He had such a strong character that it’s almost impossible to imagine the world without him. But that’s the thing,” she went on, swallowing hard. “He shared that character with all of us, and it lives on in everyone in this room. He made an impression, and that’s something that will never die.”

  She backed away from the podium, holding her head high and allowing Aunt Stephanie to take her place. Steph looked worn and tired, but the tension Max had grown used to seeing in her was, surprisingly, not there.

  “I had the good – and sometimes not so good – fortune of hosting Pop during the last year of his life,” Steph began, eliciting more quiet chuckles from the mourners. “I don’t think it’s any secret that we didn’t always get along. Pop was… Well, he was difficult. He could get on your nerves, you know? He had old fashioned ideas and, in some ways, he was a relic. That meant not being overly affectionate, or telling the people he loved how he felt. But I recently realized that he showed us love all the time, in his way. By asking if we’d gotten our oil changed, or kicking our tires to make sure they were full whenever he got into the car. By telling us we were strong and could handle anything life threw at us.” She cleared her throat. “Things haven’t been easy for me lately, but I’m now realizing how much more difficult they would have been if I hadn’t had Pop around, and for that, I owe him more than I can say. So Pop, wherever you are, I wanted to apologize for all the times we bickered. No matter how much I complained, I loved you – I always did, and I always will.” She took a shaky breath, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again. “Thank you.”

  Max watched as Steph stiffly returned to Ethan, Todd, Jeff, Sarah, and her husband Oliver, who all curled around her as she sank into her chair, looking like she’d had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  Cee-cee was up next, and Max gave her hand a squeeze as she stood up, nodding encouragingly at her mother as she took her place at the podium. “I thought maybe I would tell a story about Pop,” Cee-cee said. “This is something I’ve never talked about to anyone, but it felt… appropriate.” She took a breath. “When I was fourteen, I had my first boyfriend. It was one of those teenage summer romances, and I remember getting a few eye rolls from Pop every time I would agonize over which outfit to wear on a date or how much makeup I should use. Like most teenage romances, it ended. I was heartbroken. I remember crying in my room one day – I was totally inconsolable. I hadn’t left the house in a week. And Pop came in and sat down beside me, and he hugged me. I didn’t have to say anything – he just pulled me close and let me cry.” Her eyes were shining, and her voice was getting thick with grief, but she only paused for a second before she went on. “When I was done, he pushed me away and said, ‘Things get better, Cee-cee. It might not feel like it now, but time is medicine and things…well, they always get better.’ I guess that’s what I wanted to remember today, to remind us all th-that things g-”

  But then the tears began to stream down her cheeks, and her body began to shake with barely-controlled sobs. Putting a hand up to her face, Cee-cee stepped away from the podium, and Mick moved to help her down so Eva could say her piece.

  There was a long pause as the caretaker waited for Cee-cee to settle back down next to Max, and then she cleared her throat.

  “I only really got to know Red a handful of years back when he came into the diner all the time,” she began, “but one thing was always clear to me – he wasn’t known for his patience, and he hated small talk. So in the interest of not boring him, wherever he is now, I figure I’ll keep this brief.” She looked up at the assembled mourners and flashed a grin. “I took the job helping Red because I thought the extra money would be nice,” she said, “but also because I thought I could help a man who needed it. Turned out, he was the one who was helping me. He made every day special, and he brought so much laughter into my life during that time that I felt like a kid again. I fell for the cantankerous old coot hard.”

  Max glanced around at the others, some of whom seemed surprised to hear about the nature of their relationship. It was undoubtedly painful for Eva to have lost the man she had grown to love, but Max felt a surge of warmth in her chest as she continued to speak; Eva had made Pop happy in his last days – as happy as Pop was capable of being, at any rate – and for that, Max would be forever grateful.

  “One thing you all need to know about Red is that, as tough as he was, he loved his family. When the dementia started to really take its toll, he told me he never wanted to live long enough to not know who his daughters were, or to forget his beloved Rose’s face. And it shouldn’t surprise anyone who knew Red Sullivan that he was stubborn enough to make sure he got his way. I’m going to miss him, but I know he wouldn’t change it, even if he could. Now the rest of us will figure out how to move on without him, which is just like Red, isn’t it? Making a mess and letting the rest of us pick up after him.”

  The room broke out into laughter as Eva stepped back.

  “We’ll miss you, you old coot.”

  The officiant took Eva’s place and held up both hands, urging everyone to stand. “Please say your final goodbyes to Red and join the family at Stephanie’s house for a repast.”

  A sense of calm settled over Max as she said her last goodbyes with her aunts and cousins. Ian excused himself to get the car as she stood in the bright afternoon sunshine, listening to the chatter of the birds in the trees around them. She closed her eyes, allowing the emotions to wash over her.

  Just the knowledge that Pop would never have to suffer through his worst fear had already lightened the load of grief wedged in her heart. And like Pop said, time would do the rest, eventually.

  “Hey.”

  A low, male voice pulled her from her thoughts and she turned before freezing in surprise.

  There stood her ex, Tyler Martin, dressed in a dark button-down shirt, hands in his pants pockets.

  “Ty,” Max gasped, her heart hammering as she took a step closer in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard about what happened on Facebook,” he replied. “I wanted to be here for it all, but my flight was delayed. I only caught the last few minutes – I’m sorry.”
>
  “It’s all right,” Max told him. “Thank you, Ty. Seriously. It means a lot.”

  He nodded, looking like he was searching for the right thing to say. Finally, he sighed, shaking his head.

  “Damn it, Max,” he said in a low voice. “I’m so sorry about your Pop. Red was an institution in this town. He’ll be missed.”

  That was enough to make it all hit home for her once again, and Max felt tears well up in her eyes. She wiped them away and met his gaze.

  “Thanks, Ty.”

  Somehow, he looked both exactly as she remembered him and completely different. The time they had spent apart had changed him in some inscrutable way that Max couldn’t put her finger on. He looked older…or maybe just more mature?

  She cleared her throat, wrapping her arms around herself. “So how have you been?” she asked. “How’s the job? How’s France?”

  “It’s good,” Ty replied. “Like, really good, actually. I thought I knew about wine before, but I really had no idea how much there still was to learn. And having the master there to teach me is… Well, it’s a dream come true. Learning French hasn’t been easy, but I’m getting there – you remember how long it took me to get the hang of Spanish back in school.”

  Max chuckled. “Yeah. You were hopeless for a while, there.”

  He gave her a wistful smile, and for a moment she could see it all in his eyes: the what ifs, the fantasies, the regrets that she couldn’t be there to share it all with him.

  “You know,” he said slowly, “they read a lot of books in France. Are you sure…” he trailed off, leaving the question hanging heavy in the air.

  Max blinked, a little surprised – not by the suggestion, but by her reaction to it. She felt…nothing.

  No confusion, or urge to even consider his invitation to move to France. Sure, she still cared for him. But the heart-wrenching, soul-crushing wave of lost love she might have expected upon seeing him again just never materialized.