by H. M. Ward
“Then, he’ll come back.” She seems so certain. If someone I cared about suggested I was a gold-digger, I wouldn’t go back. Fuck that. Shit, that’s exactly what he said. Oh god, I feel sick.
Mom studies me intently, but finally stands, coming over to kiss my forehead. "I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to meddle. I never thought he’d actually make a move on you. You know that’s why his father is putting so much pressure on him, right? Because the kid is broke and his dad is bailing him out. Mr. Clement is a good man, but I’ve heard things about his son. I couldn’t ignore it any longer, not after I saw you two together. I am sorry, Gen. I'll come over in the morning and we can figure things out, okay?" Her earlier pique is forgotten now that she's gotten her way. She grabs her purse off the table by the front door and leaves, closing the door quietly behind her. I am alone with my thoughts.
Sinking down onto the couch where just an hour ago I was happier than I've been in a long while, I lift a shaky hand to my lips, still able to feel his kiss. What have I done?
Chapter 14
It's been almost a week since Daniel walked out of my life, but it feels longer. I don’t know what to think. Truth be told, I had a hard time believing that he really wanted me. I still do. I mean, look at me—I'm a thirty-three-year-old widow with a baby. I don't have the body of a woman his age, and I have a lot of baggage. My body is far from perfect, and I'm a lot curvier than I was when I was his age. Add in the stretch marks, droopy boobs, and my saddle bags, and it’s hard to see what he saw in me. Daniel either weaseled his way into my life at my all-time low or he saved me. Those two things shouldn’t be difficult to tell apart, but it’s harder than you’d think. My ego would fly knowing he chose me and I’d be crushed if he were here because of my bank statement—which I never thought to keep hidden.
Running a hand over CJ's blonde hair, I smile softly down at him. I love him to pieces and have spent the past few days rolling around on the floor, trying to make him laugh—trying to forget about Daniel. CJ knows I’m sad, because he throws those chubby arms around my neck and makes faces that always get a chuckle out of me before he returns to his toys. We talk about things and sometimes I talk about Daniel.
CJ hands me a block and gestures for me to put it by my ear. He picks up another and does the same. I smile at him. “Hello, is CJ there?”
“Mamamamama.”
“Yes, this is Mama. How are you today?”
“Ppppplllllbbbbb.”
“Yeah, me too. We should hang up and go get some ice cream. What do you say to that?” He throws the block with a whoop, and claps! “Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”
After I get him in his chair, we make sundaes. His is mostly one little scoop of vanilla ice cream and a mound of whipped cream. I hand him a spoon, but he’s so excited that he plunges face-first into the mound of sugar. Laughing, I say, “Wait! Wait!”
He looks up at me, his little face covered in cream, with that little lower lip quivering. I was going to tell him to use his spoon, but I smile instead and tell him, “It’s good, isn’t it?” He’s still ready to cry. “Should mama eat it like that too?” I get a vigorous nod.
I put more whipped cream on mine and hesitate. CJ is watching me closely, his little eyes widen and I can see hope dancing across his little face. Ignoring my spoon, I plant my face in the whipped cream and take a bite. He’s quiet until I look up, my face covered in foamy white cream. He giggles hysterically and goes back to eating his own sundae. When I stop, he prods me. I laugh and eat my food like a dog, licking and chomping at it, until CJ and I are hysterically laughing and the ice cream is everywhere.
My phone rings. I glance over and see my mom's name pop up. I ignore it. We haven't spoken since the night she caught Daniel and me, and I'm in no hurry to chat with her. My eyes snap back to the phone when it stops and immediately starts ringing again, and I get an awful feeling in my gut. My skin prickles and a shiver takes hold of me. I stare at the phone like it’s evil. I don’t want to answer. Something’s wrong, I can feel it.
"Hello?" The next few words shatter everything I know and my hand starts shaking so badly that I barely register that mom is speaking.
My mom's voice is heavy with remorse as she says, "Genevieve, please answer me. You need to get to the hospital as soon as possible. It's your father. I hate to tell you the news this way, but there’s very little time left. Please come down here."
I don't really know what happens over the next thirty minutes. But as I pull up to the hospital, I vaguely recall calling Lanie and asking her to come stay with CJ. My mother didn't tell me exactly what was going on, but her tone was enough to jolt me into action, no matter what's going on between the two of us.
My father has been my rock since Cade's death; he's the one who held me together when I thought I would crumble. Losing him so soon after my husband is unfathomable. Especially now that I've pushed Daniel away too.
He’s not dying. You don’t know that. Stop thinking the worst. Go find him. Rational me is yelling inside my head. I really need to let her out, but I don’t think she can handle what’s coming. I feel it.
Hurrying over to the information desk, I ask for Michael Howlett, but before she can even look it up I hear my name. Whirling around, I see my mom, tears streaming down her face and I run to her.
"What is it? You didn't tell me anything when you called. Is he okay?" The questions are flying out of my mouth faster than she can answer them and finally she covers my mouth with her hand and gives me an exasperated look. Granted, it's subdued by the tears streaming down her cheeks, but I'm used to this look and it calms me somewhat.
Taking my hand, she leads me to the group of elevators down the hall. "Oh, Gen, I don't know how to tell you this honey."
My heart clenches at the utter misery in her voice. "What? Please Mom, just tell me!" I'm starting to become frantic now. It reminds me of the way the chaplain slowly told me that Cade was gone. They didn’t burst into the room and spit it out. They came to it slowly, so that I knew what happened before he even said it. It was kinder that way, but the memories swirl behind my eyes and fear chokes me. This can’t be happening.
"Is he going to be okay?" I ask, my voice trembling. It’s the only thing I can think to ask and the only thing that she's not telling me. Maybe he's already gone and she doesn't know how to explain that I’m too late. Mom leads me down the hall. She doesn't respond until we're in the elevator and it begins to move.
"Oh, honey," she shakes her head and I swear I stop breathing. "No, he's not. They said he doesn't have much time left, but I wanted you to be able to say goodbye.” My legs wobble, but I'm able to stay upright as my mom clutches both of my hands in hers.
The elevator dings and she leads me down the hallway. It seems to get longer and longer the further we walk. I'm beginning to tremble when she finally reaches the room. Nothing in the world could prepare me for seeing my father lying in that hospital bed, wires sprouting from what looks like everywhere, and a machine beeping with each heartbeat.
It's all I can do not to break down at the sight, but I know I need to stay strong for my mother. She looks like she’s ready to fall apart. Together we walk to his bedside, each clutching the other’s hand tightly. Tears are streaming down my face as I look down at my dad. His eyes are closed and it's strange to see him lying so still. He's the kind of person who is always moving, always doing something. If I would've let him, he'd have done every project I needed done at the house instead of having Daniel do it, but I wanted to do it on my own. I wanted him to know that he didn’t need to worry about me.
"It's his heart," Mom whispers, her voice trembling. My own heart squeezes because I know it's bad. He's had two heart attacks in the past few years, and after the last one they told us his heart most likely wouldn't survive a third.
I suck in a shaky breath, before asking, "How long does he have left?"
She shrugs, before sucking in air and trying to steady herself. "The machines are the o
nly thing keeping him here. They said he won't wake up. I just wanted you to have the chance to say goodbye." A sob escapes her. "Oh, Genny, what am I going to do without him?"
Even though we've been fighting, I let it all go—everything. I can't let her stand here, knowing that she's about to lose her husband of forty years, and not comfort her. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder I pull her into me. She clutches my waist as sobs overtake her and her entire body begins to shake. There's nothing I can do to make this better, to make any of this easier, but at least I can be here for her.
After a few minutes, she lets me go and moves away, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She lifts her chin, and this is the mom I'm familiar with. The hard ass, the one who never lets anything affect her. "I'll give you a few minutes alone with him," she states before walking away from me.
The door clicks shut softly behind her, leaving me in here, alone with my dad. Pulling the solitary chair that sits against the wall over to the bed, I sit, taking his big hand in both of mine. My father has always seemed larger than life, a big bear of a man. But right now, he seems small. Instead of the smile he always had for me, and the booming laugh that he was quick to use, he's still... and silent.
"Hey, Daddy," I start, having to clear my throat before I continue. "I can't believe this is happening right now. Don't you know how much I need you? How much it tears me up that CJ is never going to get to really know you? He just started saying your name." My throat is thick with the sobs I'm trying to keep at bay, but it's a losing battle. Thinking about the fact that my son will never remember my father completely crushes me.
Turning his hand over, I trace his large fingers with mine, committing the feel of his hand to memory. These are the hands that picked me up when I fell down, that held me as I went through the hardest moments of my life. These hands were one of the first to hold my son, and God, he was so proud that day. I swear his chest puffed out as he looked down at his grandson for the first time.
"I'm your Pops!" he told CJ, his big voice startling him. That's one of my favorite memories of Daddy. That one, and the one of him walking me down the aisle on our wedding day. He was so happy. My dad loved Cade. He was the son he never had, the son he could take fishing or hunting, who he could watch NASCAR with.
I don't even notice the tears streaming down my face and falling onto our hands. This is the last time I'll touch my father. How is that possible? And why am I so focused on his damn hands?! I know my mom is going to be back in just a few minutes, so it's time to say goodbye.
"I love you, Daddy. Say hi to Cade for me, and be sure to tell him all about our little boy, okay? I'll make sure CJ knows all about his Pops and how much you loved him. I love you, Daddy." I choke on the final words and it takes a few tries for me to get them out. “Sleep well." Leaning over, I press a kiss to his warm cheek before standing up to get my mother.
I leave as she enters, giving her a few final moments with him before they turn off the machines. It doesn't take long, but I stand in the room beside my mother, our hands clenched together as we hold each other up. When the beeping slows, I can feel her shaking increase, but the worst is when it stops altogether. Mom's legs give out and we both sink to the hospital floor. The nurse in the room asks if we need anything, but I just shake my head. There's nothing she can do for us now.
We sit there on the floor for what feels like hours, while my mom cries for the loss of her husband and I cry for the loss of my father. Finally, her sobs quiet, and we help each other up.
Straightening her back, my mother walks over to the bed where my father's body lays and she presses a final kiss to his lips. "Goodbye, Michael. I love you," she says, as she trails her knuckles down his cheek before squeezing his hand once. Taking a deep breath, she turns her back on him and comes to me. "Take me to my grandson, Genevieve," she says, her voice stronger, but brittle.
Someone had already spoken to me about the funeral arrangements and who to call. I told them that I’d take care of everything. We’re supposed to say our goodbyes and the next time we see him will be at the viewing. I understand why she wants CJ. The hugs of a baby are healing for the soul.
Nodding, I follow her out of the hospital room and back downstairs. We take my car back to the house, and Lanie doesn't even have to ask what happened. It's written all over our faces. Fat tears roll down her cheeks as she embraces me, while my mom heads straight for CJ. Lanie keeps her arms around me as we watch my mother cuddle my son, oblivious to our stares. I've never understood how she can seemingly turn off her emotions so easily, but today, I wish I had that ability. I feel like someone shoved a pitchfork through my heart.
Lanie and my mom both stay the night at my house, and I'm so thankful that I'm not alone. I wish Daniel was here to hold me, but I can't call him, I can’t. We don't mention what happened today and I know it's because my mother is in denial, but I figure she deserves one night to not think about it. Especially since the next few days she's not going to be able to get away from it, no matter how hard she tries.
By the time I slip into bed at night, I'm exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that I haven't had since the Air Force came to tell me about Cade. I've been through all this before and now I have to get my mother through it as well. I just hope I'm strong enough to hold both of us up.
Chapter 15
I've been dreading this day since Daddy passed away. The past two years have been full of heartache and pain. I'm ready to see the other side of the coin. In two years, I've lost the love of my life and my dad. It just doesn't seem fair. I don't understand why I keep losing the men I love. First Cade, and now my father. I can’t fathom it, so I stop trying.
CJ and I have spent the past three days at my mom's so she wouldn't be alone. I feel bad about it, but I'm more than ready to get back to my own house. My mother is a neurotic control freak on a good day, but it's been heightened by about a thousand since my dad passed.
"Genny," she calls from down the stairs, and I groan inwardly at the possible reasons she's calling for me. Since we got here, she's needed me to go through Dad's closet to pick his outfit, take it to the mortuary, contact all the family she could think of, plan the after-funeral meal that will take place here at the house, and so much more.
Sighing, I make my way to the top of the landing so she can see me. "Yes, Mom," I answer, eager to get it over with. Mom is standing at the bottom of the stairs, wringing her hands together, wearing a fitted black dress and a hat box hat complete with black veil. That's my mom... she does mourning right. Meanwhile, I'm dressing, once again, in yoga pants and a t-shirt. At least the t-shirt is clean this time.
"Honey, Mitch is here from the funeral home, to set things up for after the funeral this afternoon. Can you show him where to put all the chairs? I just..." she covers her mouth with a hand as tears start to course down her cheeks. "I just don't think I can handle it." Her eyes are pleading.
“Of course, Mom.”
She leads me over to where they’re setting things up for later. As I start to move past her, she grips my arm so tightly that I'm pretty sure she's cutting off all circulation. "You know, Genevieve," she says in a syrupy, sweet voice. "Mitch is a nice man and, since he already has kids he probably wouldn’t have a problem with you already having CJ." She winks at me as I realize that the whole crying and pleading eyes thing was just an act to get me alone with Mitch.
I don't know how she knows all this information about him and I cringe inwardly at the possibilities. I wouldn't put it past her to send out one of those, "applications to date my daughter" forms that you see online.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I jerk my arm out of her grasp to hiss at her, "Please drop the matchmaking Mother. I can't deal with it on top of everything else." She has the decency to at least look chagrined, but she doesn't apologize for her actions.
I walk over to where Mitch stands, looking extremely uncomfortable after obviously hearing my mother's comments. I have no idea what to say to him, the fact that she would t
ry to set me up with the man in charge of my father's funeral completely blows my mind.
"Uh, hey, Gen," he stammers. I haven't really paid attention to him this week, caught in a cloud of grief over everything that's happened recently. He is kind of cute though, in a creepy mortician kind of way. Don't get me wrong, he might be a great guy, but I just can't see myself being the girlfriend or wife of a funeral director. I can barely endure this. I don’t know how this guy does it, day in and day out. It must make life seem so fleeting and pointless.
"Hi, Mitch," I say, hoping that the small smile I'm giving him doesn't encourage any romantic thoughts. We talk about unimportant stuff the entire time we're setting up, so I think I'm home free by the time we're done. But, nope, my life doesn't work that way.
"So, um, Gen." Mitch is squirming, actually squirming, as he talks to me. "Would you like to go grab something to eat sometime?"
Seriously? We're setting things up for my father's funeral and you're asking me to go get dinner? I just stare at him at first and he becomes increasingly uncomfortable. Finally, after a few minutes, I take pity on him, telling him that I can't because I need to be here for my mom and that I just got out of a relationship. “Thank you, but I’m not ready right now.”
“Well, if you change your mind, give me a call.” He looks crestfallen, which soothes my ego, and hands me his card. I smile at him as he walks away. After he’s gone, I suck in a breath of relief.
It’ll be funny one day, rational me whispers in my mind, Remember the time Mom tried to set you up at the funeral?
And that’s why you’re locked in a closet, I retort.
Once everything is set up and I've gotten CJ and myself ready to go, Mom and I head for the funeral home. It's the last place I want to be today, and I can't help but wish Daniel was here to help me through this. He's not though, and it's my fault. I'm the one who chose to believe the worst, but he also didn't say anything to defend himself, so I can't decide if my mother was right or not. Why didn’t he say something?