by Wendy Smith
Grace snuggles her head into my neck. She needs me more than anything right now, just as I need her.
I turn, and we leave the room. Mandy stands just outside the door. She gives Grace a caring smile, and not for the first time, I am grateful for her presence. “Thanks, Mandy. For everything.”
She nods. “You’re welcome.”
Another time, another place, I might have asked her out. She’s been brilliant with Grace, and in a lot of ways, she reminds me of Lane with her sweetness and gentle manner.
But the last thing I’m looking for is a Lane replacement.
“Good night, Grace.” She taps Grace on the nose, and Grace lights up. It’s so warming to see. She fixes her gaze on me. “Good night, Brad.”
I smile and nod. But it’s forced, and I hate the way I feel right now. I have to be strong for Grace, but inside I’m falling apart.
I’ve known Lane since we were in elementary school. The world is such an empty place with her gone.
“Good night,” I force out.
The weirdest feeling in the world hits me as I drive away from the hospital.
I feel like I’m abandoning her. Even though she’s dead, that thought will haunt me for a long time. I know it. It’s silly and irrational, but I guess it’s part of the grieving process.
If I’m honest, that started a while go. Right from the moment Lane told me she was going to die. She was the calm one. I was the one who fell apart at her feet.
She was the one who spent weeks drumming into me that I couldn’t fall apart when it happened. I’d have to be strong for Grace.
All I want is to bury myself in a bottle of bourbon.
Instead, I’m going to take my daughter home, do whatever she needs, and work out my grief later on.
Grace is quiet in the back seat. I take a glimpse at her, and she seems lost in thought, examining that little blue bunny in her hands. I leave her to it. There’s no point in disturbing her.
When I turn into the driveway, she yawns.
“Tired, baby?”
She nods.
“I think we’ll go straight to bed. I’m tired too.” I pause. “No school tomorrow.”
I pull up outside the house and shut off the engine. She’s out of her car seat by the time I open the back door.
“Come on, beautiful girl.”
She smiles a tired smile at me. We’ve been at the hospital since early this morning, knowing what was coming, and now, with those eyelids hanging so low over her blue eyes, she looks dead on her feet.
Holding her hand, I lead her up the front steps and unlock the door. She heads to her room to put her pajamas on, and I go to my room.
For a moment, I’m by myself, and I take a deep breath.
Lane.
The months of knowing this was coming isn’t helping.
Lane.
Her absence will leave a hole in my heart that will never be filled. Life’s so unfair sometimes, to take someone so young and full of life.
Lane.
“Daddy,” Grace calls.
“Coming.”
I walk down the hallway to Grace’s room to find her sitting in her bed. She smiles as I approach, and hugs me tight when I sit beside her.
“Daddy, is Mommy in Heaven?” Grace asks, lying down.
“What do you think?” I pull the blanket up over her.
“I think she is.”
“Me too.”
“Daddy?”
I smile. “Yes, Grace?”
“Do I have to stay here? Can I sleep in your bed?”
She’s already sitting up before I give her the answer. “Of course you can, baby.” I sigh. “We’re going to pack up Mommy’s place soon. Think you’ve got space for all your things here?”
“We can make space.”
I nod. “I’m sure we can. Come on, then.”
She takes my hand as she stands. I’m so sorry that this is the reason she’ll come to live with me full-time.
She jumps on my bed and is under the covers before I tug my shirt over my head. After I slip into my pajama pants and climb in, she snuggles against my chest.
“Daddy?” she whispers.
“Yes?” I take a deep breath, the smell of her fruity shampoo so familiar and grounding.
“Mommy will miss us.”
I bite back the tears. “Of course she will. Your mommy loved you so very much.”
“Good night, Daddy.”
It doesn’t take long for her breathing to even out as she falls asleep.
I envy her.
I’m not sure if sleep will come as quickly to me.
3
Molly
I drop a box of donuts on the table in the center of the room.
“What did we do to deserve this?” Tom beams.
“I felt like donuts. Sue me.” I pick one up out of the box and step back.
“You know you’re all over the news, right? Are we merging with Darryn Phillips?” He picks up a donut and takes a large bite. “In a business sense, not a personal sense.” The words are mumbled as he sprays crumbs everywhere.
“Well, he’s given me an offer to buy the company, but I don’t like the guy either way.” I take a big bite, chewing and swallowing it down before stuffing the rest of the food in my mouth.
“That’s a relief.” Mark walks to the table and picks up a donut. “I don’t want him anywhere near our stuff.”
“Enjoy the donuts.” I turn and head toward my office. Mollab’s core programming team is small and loyal. I started the company, but these men and women have helped me grow it into the monolith it is today. I still can’t believe it some days. And at the top, there’s an overgrown child in charge. Me.
“I’ve got a ton of messages for you,” Miranda says as I walk past her desk and into my office.
She follows me as far as the doorway. “Darryn Phillips keeps calling.”
I shrug. “He’s persistent. I’ll give him that.” Sitting at my desk, I look around what I like to call organized chaos. I know where everything is on my desk, but no one else does.
“There’s a difference between being persistent and harassment.”
Chuckling, I nod. “I can handle him. Believe me, I’ll take it further if he does.”
“Good. I can’t believe he’s not getting the message.” She stands there as if waiting for something.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“He’s on line one.”
I slam my head against the back of my chair. “Okay. I’ll talk to him and tell him to go away again.”
Leaning forward, I press the flashing button on my phone.
“What do you want?”
His deep chuckle down the phone leaves me rolling my eyes. Darryn Phillips is so sure of himself. Me? I’m sure of only one thing. He’s a dick. “I thought that was obvious.”
“Well, the answer to both your questions is no.”
“How about I give you more time to consider?”
“How about you shove your proposition up your—” I stop. Miranda’s eyebrows creep up. “The answer’s no, Darryn.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Like I said, I can give you a little more time to think about it?”
“You can give me all the time in the world. It’s not going to make a difference.”
I hang up the phone and pick up a print-out of Darryn’s proposal that’s been sitting on my desk the past few days since he couriered over yet another copy. Turning, I feed the whole thing into the shredder. It makes a pained sound as it chews up the offer, and I dust my hands together once it’s done.
“Feel better?” Miranda asks.
“So much better. I think I might go and get another donut now.”
Her lips quirk. “You left a box of donuts in a room with a bunch of boys. Do you really think there are any left?”
I chuckle. “I guess not.”
“I’ll leave you to it.”
She leaves, and I’m left in the quiet of my office for a few
moments before she opens the door again.
“Is it Darryn again?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Your mother’s on line two. She said she tried your mobile, but she got your voicemail.”
I slap my forehead with my palm. “I didn’t turn my phone back on.”
She nods. “I figured as much. Anyway, she sounds upset, so I’ll leave you to take it.”
I pick up the receiver and tap the flashing light.
“Mom? Is everything okay?”
She lets out a sob. “Oh, Molly. I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but …”
“Tell me what? Are you sick? Is Dad?”
“It’s Lane.”
My heart seizes. “Lane? Is Lane okay? Does she need anything?”
“Molly, Lane died last night. She had breast cancer. I didn’t know.” The words tumble out in a rush, and at first, I’m not sure if I’ve heard right.
“What? If Lane needs help, I can—”
“Lane’s dead, love. I don’t know the details of the funeral yet, but I wanted you to hear it from me rather than reading it online somewhere. I know you haven’t spoken to her in years.”
My stomach rolls. How can Lane be dead? My beautiful, sweet, forever happy Lane?
Brad.
What the hell must he be going through?
“Molly? Are you okay?”
“Umm I think so. I need to … I don’t know what to do.”
“You’ll come home for the funeral, won’t you?”
I swallow. “Of course.”
“It’ll be good to see you.”
The only time I’ve seen my mother in the past ten years has been when I’ve flown her and my father out to see me. I’ve not been to Nettle Downs since I left for college. For so many reasons.
Now, it seems it’s time to face my past.
“I’ll start planning. Just please let me know when the funeral is.”
“Of course.” She pauses. “If I see Brad, is there anything you’d like me to say in the meantime?”
No. Shit. “Just tell him I’m so sorry.”
“It’ll be good for you to see him, I think. And you can meet his and Lane’s little girl. She’s such a delight.”
“Sure.”
My heart thuds as we end the phone call.
Lane’s gone.
She never did a thing to hurt anyone, and everything I did, I did because I loved her.
Lane was my best friend.
And I broke her heart.
When I’ve got myself together, I open the door to my office.
I’m not sure how much work is going on judging by the laughter coming from the open-plan office, but it’s comforting.
“Are you okay?” Miranda asks from her desk.
“I need to go away for a few days. Personal stuff.”
One of her eyebrows rises. “You haven’t taken time off, well, ever.”
“I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
She stands, and all but pushes me back into my office. “I’m gonna ask again. Are you okay?”
I bite my lip. How do I even say the words without breaking down? “Lane died.”
“What?” Miranda is the one person I’ve told my whole story to. I blame a late night of gaming and a bottle of tequila. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”
Blinking back tears, I know I’m shaking, and I can’t control it. “I … I never got to say goodbye.”
Miranda’s arms are around me in an instant, and I’m sobbing on her shoulder like I never have before. This isn’t me. I don’t cry. I vowed never to again ten years ago when I left Lane and Brad behind.
“You need to take some time off,” she says softly.
“I’ll take a few days to go to the funeral.”
Miranda releases me from her embrace, but grips my arms. “No. You need to go and vanquish these ghosts from your past. You’ve held all this in for far too long.”
I lift my right hand, pushing a loose lock of hair back. “There’s too much to do. What with planning for early access to the new game, and our stand at E3 …”
“Those are both weeks away, and you can work from your mom’s place. You need to face this sooner or later, Molly, and this seems like the perfect opportunity.”
I don’t have anything else to say. She’s right. It’s time for me to face Brad. I’m sure he must still hate me for what I did. I would if I was him.
But Lane’s the important one right now. I have to say goodbye, even if it’s just by attending the funeral.
For the first time in so very long, I’m homesick.
It looks like I’m taking some time off.
4
Brad
All I see in the grocery store are sympathetic faces. I hate it. People I know steer clear of me, and I can only imagine it’s just to give Grace and me space.
“Daddy, can we get chicken nuggets?” Grace asks.
I frown. “You know what your mother thought of those things. I can get some chicken and …”
I swear to God her pupils dilate on command, and she gives me the full-on puppy-dog look. “Please, Daddy?”
I’m so screwed. “Fine. Let’s put a bag of them in the shopping cart. Just this once.”
What a joke. We’ll end up with them next time too.
To hell with it. If it makes Grace happy, then I’ll buy them.
She’s so excited at something so simple. Shit. If it’s this easy to keep her happy, I’ll feed her chicken nuggets at every meal.
I roll my eyes at the sight of Mom’s car in the driveway.
“Grandma.” Grace points.
“I see her, baby.”
After pulling up beside Mom, I walk around to let Grace out and pop the trunk as Mom gets out of her car. As much as I love my mother, there’s no way she’s getting unfettered access to my house. No matter how often she hints she’d like a key.
I grab the bags of groceries, then shut the trunk and head toward the house. I need to go by Lane’s place and empty the fridge and freezer. There’s a ton of meat over there, so there wasn’t any point in buying too much today.
Mom and Grace wait by the front door.
“This would be so much easier if I had a key myself,” Mom says.
“It sure would.” I unlock the door, pushing it open before pocketing the keys.
They follow me into the kitchen, and I drop the bags on the counter to start sorting through them.
“Are those chicken nuggets? You know how Lane felt about them.”
I’m so glad I have my back to Mom as she says that. “Grace, why don’t you go and wash up for dinner? Those nuggets will be ready in a few minutes.” I wink at my daughter.
She runs down the hallway toward the bathroom, and I wait until she’s out of earshot before turning back to Mom.
“I’m aware, Mom, but Lane’s not here. I am.”
“So you’ll let that child’s diet go to hell because of your own ego?”
I shove the coffee in the pantry, and take a deep breath. “No. I’m just getting through the early days of my daughter losing her mother. It’s not going to hurt her.”
Mom never forgave me for the divorce. To say she loved Lane was an understatement. Lane was like a daughter to her. But I am not about to let her walk over me when it comes to raising my own kid.
“I know you’re hurting, Mom. We all are. My only priority is Grace right now, and if she wants candy for dinner, I’ll give it to her.”
She huffs, but she says nothing more, and I put the rest of the groceries away in silence before firing up the deep-fryer.
“Now. Do you want to stay for dinner? Looks like we’re having chicken nuggets.” I’ll eat the damn things.
She nods. “I’d love to.”
“Daddy.” Grace comes running back in, holding her palms up for me to see.
“Looking good. Sit at the table, and I’ll have these things ready in a minute.”
Mom sits with Grace while I cook a pile of nuggets
in the deep-fryer. She’s silent when I place a plate of them in front of her.
“Ketchup?” I ask.
She nods.
“Yes!” Grace says. She’s so excited. I love seeing her so happy.
After a squirt of the sauce, Grace vacuums up the nuggets. I’ve never seen her eat so quickly, and I smile. Maybe we will be able to get back to normal. The past few weeks, she’s eaten, but picked at her food.
By the time she’s finished, there’s ketchup all around her mouth, and a spot on her nose.
“You need to wash your face.” I laugh.
“Do I have to have a bath?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Not tonight. Just use a washcloth, put your pajamas on, and I’ll read you a story before you go to sleep.”
She climbs down off her chair and runs up the hallway toward her bedroom. The kid deserves a medal, she’s being so good.
“So, the funeral,” Mom says.
“Yes?”
“Is there anything you need me to do?”
Bring Lane back? “No. It’s fine. We didn’t have a lot of time to prepare, but I know what Lane wanted. It’s all under control.”
“Do you think Molly will deign to turn up? Lane was her best friend once.” Mom almost spits the words.
“I don’t know, Mom, and I’m not planning around Molly showing or not. This is about Lane.” I lean back. “Besides, Molly won’t know or probably care about Lane’s death. She didn’t give a shit when Lane was alive.”
She licks her lips. “Well, I saw Jaclyn Beckham today …”
“If Molly turns up, she turns up. But right now, my focus is on getting Grace through all this. And me.” I push myself away from the table. “Lane and I, we were never getting back together, but this hurts so fucking much.”
For the first time in forever, my mother doesn’t tell me off for using bad language. Instead, she stands and walks around the table, then wraps her arms around my shoulders. “You loved her. And you were together for seven years. Of course it hurts, and it’s okay to hurt. Hurting is how you start healing.”
I look into her blue eyes. Mom is like fire and ice. She’s so cold at times, but when she lets herself go, you can see her heart. “I guess you know what it’s like.”