The minister droned on, reading prayers meant to comfort the living. Across from Gabe on the other side of the coffin, Randy stood, shoulders hunched, eyes never straying from the casket. His mother stood next to him, her hand on his arm. Karen’s stepbrother, who had flown in from San Diego, was on the other side of Randy. Karen had never been particularly close to him, but Gabe was glad he’d come. Betsy stood beside Gabe, Julia beside her. Dave number two had accompanied her. He was looking more and more like a keeper. Charles was there, and even Travis and Gregg had come.
So many people who’d known Karen, many her entire life, were there to say good-bye, to mourn her tragic passing. Gabe knew what some people thought of her suicide. If they only knew how she had actually been strong to survive as long as she did until that last fatal dose of pills ended her suffering.
“Now Karen’s husband, Randy, would like to say something.” The minister stepped aside, and Randy took his spot at the head of the casket. For a moment, he stared wide-eyed, as if the coffin had just appeared out of nowhere. Then he opened the piece of paper in his hand and cleared his throat.
“Karen was my wife. But first and foremost, she loved being a mother to Maddy and Mikey. They were everything to her. Her sun and moon she called them because, despite being twins, they are as different as night and day. She loved them with every part of her being, with her soul. She knew they were a gift, a precious gift that she’d had to wait far too long to get. Sometimes I’d catch her watching them play, and she’d have this beautiful expression filled with wonder and awe and love.” He wiped at his nose and exhaled.
“I tell you all of this because some of you might not understand why someone who had two beautiful children who meant the world to her would choose to leave them.” Tears spilled and streamed down his face, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. “You may think what Karen did was selfish. You may think, how could she have taken the momma of those children away?” His voice cracked as he shook his head, and his chin trembled. “Karen was never selfish or cruel. You see, Karen was sick for a long time. And despite all the treatments and all of the people helping and supporting her, despite her trying to get better, she didn’t. I’m guilty of not being there all of the times she might have needed me, and for that I can only apologize and hope that she forgives me. She tried so hard, so hard every day. And none of us can doubt that because, unless we’ve experienced what she did firsthand, we can’t say any different. I want to thank Karen for trying so hard for her kids and for me.” Randy looked up, his bloodshot eyes full of sadness. “And for Gabe.”
Gabe choked on a sob. Brandt squeezed his shoulder and took his hand into his own.
“Good-bye, Karen. I hope you found your light.”
Randy touched the casket and then walked to his mother, where he collapsed into her arms, sobs wracking his frame. No one was left unaffected by his words. Gabe fought to hold himself together. He just had to make it to the car. Maddy and Mikey were at home with a sitter, so Gabe had to get it together before they arrived home.
“Gabe. It’s time to leave.”
Gabe looked up. People were moving to their cars. Brandt raised a brow in question.
“Just a minute.” Gabe stepped forward and laid his hand on the casket, the deep mahogany wood warm to the touch from the sun. The dozens of flower arrangements surrounding the burial site perfumed the air with that too-much-of-a-good-thing flower smell. He ran his fingertips over the wood. He wondered how to apologize for not being there.
All he could say was, “I’m sorry.” Then he left Karen behind.
Brandt took his arm and led him to the car. Before Gabe even hit the passenger seat, the tears flowed. By the time Brandt slid into that car, Gabe was sobbing.
“So sorry, baby.” Brandt pulled Gabe to his chest as the wretched sobs took over his entire body.
AS HE sat on the deck, Gabe clutched the paper he’d received earlier. The sun was setting on the day of Karen’s funeral. He’d come out to get some air and a break from the twins. He couldn’t imagine their confusion. Mommy was in someplace called heaven, and she was stuck there. Daddy wasn’t there for them. And they weren’t in their home. The afternoon had been rough, with temper tantrums and sour faces and tons of tears. Thank God for Betsy, Brandt, and Julia. Gabe wasn’t sure what he would have done without them.
He sipped his wine, wishing the wine was whiskey or something equally as numbing, and wondering how people recovered from such a tragic loss. As a counselor, he knew how to help people process their grief, but helping was so different from living the reality firsthand. He’d never known the depths of despair and heartache one could endure and still have their heart beat. As Karen’s husband, his greatest fear had been finding her dead. As a counselor, his greatest fear had been not being able to save someone from the ravages of mental illness, to lose them to the disease so sinister yet at times invisible to those closest to the person.
Gabe thought of Randy, probably home, hopefully with his mom and family. He’d lost so much through no fault of his own. Karen, through her misguided efforts to get what she so desperately needed, had turned to deception. Randy hadn’t even wanted the children. Maybe that’s what had spurred her to say what she had.
Many kids Gabe counseled shouldn’t ever be with their sperm donors. Some were abusive, drug addicts, gamblers, workaholics. Not all were bad. Many were good people without parenting skills…. Like Randy. But people could be taught to parent. Gabe didn’t need to be taught and was ready for the job without hesitation.
So why did he feel so guilty? Why had a hard ball of guilt shoved itself under his ribs? Gabe’s yearning for kids of his own had dug deep into the pit of his gut long ago. He recalled so many times, waiting with Karen for some stupid stick to reveal two lines and grant him his wish. The heart-crushing ache when only one line continually appeared had been etched forever into his memory. He deserved two lines. He deserved what those other dads had with their sons and daughters. The laughter, the tears, the challenge of raising them to be good people. Watching parents, he’d smiled tremulously as they pushed their children on the swings and taught them to hit a ball, held their hands when they crossed the street, loving them for all they were worth.
Gabe wanted that.
He couldn’t help but feel deceived. Karen had wanted the kids to be somewhere that they were wanted. But Randy had been the daddy in their eyes since birth, and that was special, right? God, he wanted that special feeling, the feeling that, hey, these are my kids, and that makes me the luckiest man on earth.
His breath caught in his chest, and he exhaled. Looking at the paper in his hand, he believed himself to be a good person, a good man who’d finally been gifted with everything he’d ever wanted. A loving partner and two beautiful kids. Would he still be a good person now that he had everything? People knew that you were a good person by your actions, what they could see. It’s what they couldn’t see that mattered as well, and you had to judge for yourself if your motives were selfish or altruistic.
Gabe furrowed his brow. Maddy and Mikey were his kids. His kids, and he would give them everything they needed and wanted. A good life with him and Brandt. That’s what Karen had wanted for them, and that’s what he would do.
Draining his glass, he stood and stretched, the day fading into evening. Inside, he placed his glass in the dishwasher. As he entered the living room, Maddy shouted, “Daddy!”
Skipping a beat, his heart stuttered, then shifted into overdrive. He clutched at his chest, eyes darting to where Maddy was playing with her stuffed dogs, her babbling mostly incoherent, but clearly there was a mommy and a daddy dog.
Brandt looked up from where he was reading the paper in the chair. “You okay?”
Gabe’s gaze went from Brandt to Maddy, then to Mikey, who jumped on a minitrampoline Julia had brought over so he could contain his nuclear-like energy to one spot. “Unca Gabe! Jumping. Tramoline.”
“Awesome.” Unca Gabe. That’s who he’d a
lways been to them. Their uncle. Brandt looked at him expectantly. “No. I’m not okay. I have to something I need to do. Can you stay with the kids? I won’t be gone long.”
Brandt stood. “Of course, but where’re you going?”
Gabe held up the paper that he hadn’t set down for hours. Earlier, he’d shown Brandt the document that further solidified his role as dad. “I have to deal with this now.” If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he would sleep.
Brandt glanced to the paper in Gabe’s hand, then back.
“I want you to be careful. A grieving man isn’t a rational man. He might not hear what you’re saying.”
Gabe smiled and chuckled. “Giving the counselor advice?”
“No. I’m giving my partner, who I love, advice.”
“Love you too.” And Gabe had to be grateful for what he had, even if he feared losing it all someday.
THE HOUSE was dark. Getting out of his car, Gabe frowned, seeing Randy’s truck in the driveway. Maybe he’d gone with his mother, which would be good for Randy, not so good for Gabe. He had to return the letter to Randy that handed over parental rights to Gabe. Everything Gabe had yearned for in one piece of paper.
Ringing the bell, Gabe listened intently for any noise to indicate Randy was home. Nothing. Another ring. Nothing again. Right then, even if Randy wasn’t home, he wanted to go in. He’d lived there with Karen for so many years. Their house. Legally so since the house was still in both of their names. In their divorce, he’d agreed to sign the house over five years after the ink had dried on their divorce papers. He hadn’t really known Randy and feared him taking advantage of Karen or, during a manic phase, Karen using the equity of the lien-free house. A wound from his past. Her extravagant spending spree during her first manic phase so many years ago had nearly wiped them out. But they’d gotten through that.
Gabe tried the door, but it was locked. He circled around to the garage and tried that door. Open. He stepped inside the darkened space and went up the stairs. He tried the kitchen door and again was granted entry. Flicking on the light, he looked around the large kitchen with eating area. He’d become accustomed to thinking of this as Karen’s house, yet when he’d received the letter from Randy declaring him a father, he’d envisioned living there with Brandt and the twins. Meals around the kitchen table, family games in the living room, bath time in the huge antique tub upstairs, bedtime stories in the room Maddy and Mikey now shared, then later having separate rooms decorated to fit their personalities, and holidays, birthdays, graduations, and grandchildren. Gabe had envisioned their entire lives, and it had been wonderful.
Wandering through the foyer, he stopped at the doorway to the living room. Sprawled in the rocking chair next to the fireplace was Randy, chin to his chest, eyes closed, funeral suit rumpled, blond hair mussed, bottle of Jack Daniel’s dangling from his fingers. The bottle was nearly full, so maybe he wasn’t dead drunk. Or maybe he was on his second one.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Gabe?” Randy hadn’t opened his eyes, hadn’t moved. His words weren’t slurred, so possibly he was sober enough to talk.
“What are you doing sitting here alone? Where’s your family?”
Randy raised his head. His eyes shone bright in the light from the kitchen. “Told them to go home.”
“Why’d you do that? You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Why not? Might as well get used to it, right?” Randy raised the bottle to his lips and swallowed several large gulps, then gasped and coughed. With a strained voice, he asked again, “Why’re you here?”
Gabe lifted his hand, holding the paper. “I have your letter.”
Randy grunted. “Couldn’t even give me one day, could ya? Figures. You’ve wanted those kids since the day they were born. Now you got ’em.” He lifted the bottle and took another drink.
Gabe went back into the kitchen, grabbed two glasses, then returned to Randy. Without asking, he took the bottle. Randy merely narrowed his eyes. After pouring them both a generous amount, he handed Randy a glass. He accepted the offering and didn’t throw the liquid into Gabe’s face. That was a start.
Gabe settled onto the couch and sipped the alcohol. The burn felt so right for such a terrible day.
Randy laid his head back on the chair. “So, now I have to sit here and drink with you as well. What the hell? Kind of like drinking with the enemy, isn’t it?”
“Is that what you think I am, Randy, the enemy?”
He merely shrugged.
“I’m not taking anything from you that you didn’t freely give to me.”
“They’re your kids. Always have been, even if they called me daddy. Karen was always yours too, even though you didn’t love her. Turns out I was the one-too-many-people in our marriage.”
Gabe wasn’t sure that was entirely true, but he let it go. He could admit that he’d been too entwined in Karen’s and the twins’ lives. He’d own that.
“I loved her with all my heart, and it sucks not to be enough, you know? I mean, at first I was, before the twins were born, and then everything fell apart.”
Gabe narrowed his eyes. “Is that why you don’t want them? Because they changed what was between you and Karen, because they’re just kids and—”
“Stop!” Randy sat forward, a fire in his eyes, liquor sloshing in his glass. “I’d never blame those kids. I love them with everything that I am. I would do anything for them.”
Gabe clenched his jaw. “Then why didn’t you fight for them, Randy? Why did you sign your parental rights over to me when you damn well know that you’re their biological father?”
Chapter 26
RANDY WAS silent, his eyes closed, brow furrowed.
“Tell me, Randy. Why would you give them away like that?”
Randy stood, face twisted with anger and grief. “Because that’s what she wanted. She wanted them to be with you. Why else would she have lied to me? Why else would she tell me those babies are yours and not mine?” He slung the glass of Jack into the fireplace, and glass and liquid exploded, coating the brick walls.
His shoulders sagged, chest heaving, grief his only remaining expression. Slowly, he sat back in the chair and his head fell back. Tears wet his cheeks and glistened in the light from the kitchen.
Gabe let the silence surround them for a few minutes. Randy stared off into nothing, not moving except for the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“She wasn’t thinking straight. You know that. She couldn’t rationalize what you said about not wanting the kids. All she heard was the father of her babies didn’t want them, and she knew someone who did.”
Randy huffed. “I told her what I meant when I said that. At first I didn’t want them, and being a parent wasn’t something that came natural to me. But I tried hard and learned, and there were so many good times. I don’t want you to think there weren’t. You know, times when I thought she was finally on the road to recovery, and then…. She could be so up and down, but I don’t blame her. But part of me wants to be angry with her.”
“It’s normal to be angry with someone who decided to take their life and leave you behind. I’m angry with her for what she put us all through, for putting us in this situation. Anger is a part of grief, and it all sucks no matter what you feel.”
Randy looked up at the mantel beside him. His gaze was on a picture of his family on the beach. Gabe knew that had been taken on Cape Cod. A family vacation. Randy’s family.
Gabe lifted the letter he held between his fingers. His moment of truth. His chance at happily ever after. Only that was a myth. Life was hard. Life was unfair. Life was a son of a bitch that gave and took. The measure of happiness was within a person. Each person had to define their level of happiness by their expectations, wants, and greatest desires. He’d been so wrapped up in wanting what he didn’t have, he thought he couldn’t be happy without it. Time to redefine his definition of happy.
He stood, going to Randy, determined to finish the task he’d come to do. The man
looked up, face still wet, all hope leached from his eyes. Gabe opened the letter and held it so that Randy would see that Gabe had signed the declaration. Randy’s eyes went straight to the signature, and Gabe thought he saw his breath hitch.
“I came here to give you a choice. I do love the twins. So much that I want to do what’s right for them. I’m not their father.” Gabe’s grief surged, his eyes burning. “You are. We both know that. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be filing this with my lawyer and the court. But I know you’ll be good to them. You’re a good father. That can’t be taught. Parenting skills can.” Gabe took in a deep breath.
“You have a choice. Accept this paper and I move in here with Mikey and Maddy. You can still see them, spend time with them, be a part of their lives. Or tear up this paper and the twins come home to live with you, here in this house. I’ll place the house in trust for them. It’ll be their house. Not mine.”
Randy eyed Gabe with suspicion. “Why would you do all that?”
“It was really Karen’s house, and they should—”
“No. Why would you give me that choice? You got what you’ve wanted. You’ll be a better father than me anyway.” He waved his hand toward Gabe. “Apparently you’re like God or something.”
Jesus, what had Karen done to make Randy feel that way about Gabe? “Not sure where you heard that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” So many, and the guilt of Karen’s death now weighed heavily on his shoulders. He couldn’t help but feel responsible. Maybe no one was responsible. Or everyone was. Or Karen was. So many people to blame.
“Karen didn’t think so.” Randy wiped the wetness from his face with the back of his hand.
“Doesn’t matter now, does it? Karen’s gone. We’re the ones left behind to make the decisions, no matter what Karen said or thought she wanted.”
“You’re saying she was wrong?”
Happily Ever After Isn't Easy Page 20