When It's Right

by Denault, Victoria

  Maria is his nurse. She comes every day now, because he needs help with everything from bathing to eating. I bend and pick up some of the bigger chunks of glass, carefully placing them in my palm. “We won’t stay long,” I lie.

  Winnie returns with the vacuum. “I’ll stay with you, Dad. I don’t feel like getting dressed up for Jude’s backyard anyway.”

  Ugh. I glance up at her, my face a mask of frustration. Why can’t this family just follow orders? I want to argue with her, but she starts the vacuum, and anything I have to say would be swallowed by the loud machine. When the glass is cleared from the floor, Mom slips out of the bathroom and takes Dad’s arm, helping him over to the bed. He’s half dressed, in a pair of nice chinos but no shirt. Mom is still in her bathrobe, but her hair and makeup are done.

  “I can stay home. I can make us something here and we can watch some TV,” Mom suggests.

  “Why don’t we just raincheck the whole thing?” Winnie suggests, and my stress levels take off like a rocket. She turns and lugs the vacuum down the hall. When she’s out of earshot, I pick up the family photo by the frame, carefully place it on top of the dresser, and remove the remaining big shards. “We are all going to the barbecue this evening at Jude’s.”

  “Sadie, if your dad isn’t up to it…” I turn and look at my mom.

  “It’s not just a barbecue.”

  “I know. It’s Zoey’s brother’s birthday. But I’m sure Morgan won’t mind if some of us don’t make it,” my dad says and sighs. “You can still go, and Dixie and Eli will be there.”

  I can’t figure out how to make them come and not tell them, but this is supposed to be a surprise. It would have been a great surprise too. My mom would have teared up and Dad would have bellowed with laughter and told Jude he should have seen this coming. Jude has always been the crazy one. But now…the Braddock family doesn’t get surprises. At least not happy ones. Instead we get ones like “Surprise! Your dad has ALS.”

  “Jude and Zoey are getting married,” I say, and my parents just blink. “Tonight. In their backyard. So, I’m sorry to ruin the surprise, but you have to go.”

  “Oh. Oh, my goodness!” My mom starts to tear up, and I lift my hands in terror.

  “Stop! Please! Save the tearful reaction for Jude,” I beg. “We can still keep it from Winnie if you two can keep it under control. Jude really wanted to surprise everyone.”

  “Except you?” my mom asks.

  I shrug and give her a wink. “Well, someone had to wrangle you people.”

  Mom wipes away her tears. Dad is doing nothing but smiling, ear-to-ear, like I haven’t seen in months, and a selfish part of me is glad I get to see it now and have it all to myself. But he has to chill too, and I tell them that. He forces his face to relax. “That kid…always throwing me for a loop. God love him.”

  Winnie appears in the doorway again and takes the large pieces of glass from me and puts them in the trash bag she brought with her. Dad sits a little straighter. “I changed my mind. I want to go after all.”

  “We’re all going,” my mom adds.

  Winnie shrugs and nods. “Okay, I’ll go back to getting ready.”

  Crisis averted.

  Three hours later, the ceremony is done. My brother is married and everything is perfect. My parents pretended to be as shocked as Dixie, Winnie, and the rest of the guests actually were when we got here. Zoey’s dad, a retired Anglican minister, married them. Now everyone is mingling and grabbing champagne flutes and appetizers from the waiters wandering by.

  Jude looks at me from where he’s standing across the yard next to Zoey. Our eyes lock, and we have a moment to ourselves—in a room full of people. I give him the biggest, proudest smile and wipe away a tear. He shakes his head, kisses his wife’s cheek, and walks toward me, giving me a stern look before pulling me into a hug. “None of that.”

  “I’m crying for Zoey,” I mutter back against his ear as I squeeze him with all my might. “I’m sad she gave up and settled for you.”

  “That’s more like it,” he replies as he lets go of me, and we grin at each other. He grabs his own flute off a passing tray and walks back to Zoey.

  After we all feast on a delicious catered meal, a DJ sets up in the corner and starts playing music. Jude and Zoey dance, and I feel the need to cry again. Winnie nudges me. “What’s with the damn water works?”

  “This is a beautiful moment, Black Heart,” I snark back at her. “You know this should be making you want to finally tie the knot with Ty.”

  I’m kind of joking, but as soon as I say it she looks serious. “Don’t do that. Don’t pressure me. I get enough of that from Ty.”

  “I was kidding, Win,” I reply and reach over and grab her hand. She pulls it away and doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are on our dad, who is sitting at one of the small round tables set up around the yard with Declan asleep in his lap and our mom beside him.

  “He’s not going to be able to walk us down the aisle,” Winnie whispers hoarsely. “He’s not going to be able to dance with us. He’s not going to see my kids.”

  I reach over and wrap an arm around her, and this time she doesn’t push me away. She leans her head on my shoulder. “Jude is lucky. I know. But Win…you could marry Ty tomorrow. You know he would do it. And then Dad could wheel down the aisle with you, and he might not be able to dance with you, but he’d watch you dance and look as proud as he does now. And as for babies…we all know you don’t need a ring on your finger for that. Declan is proof.”

  “I could do all of that,” she replies flatly. “But I would be doing it to create memories and they’d be false memories.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Ty and I aren’t Zoey and Jude,” she says and pulls away from me again. “We’re not soul mates. I want those memories with Dad so bad. I just don’t want them with Ty.”

  I’m not surprised she doesn’t think Ty is her soul mate, but I am surprised she’s admitting it out loud. I’m trying to figure out how to respond when she gets up and walks away, rushing across the backyard and into the house. I stand up and start to follow her, but Jude steps in front of me. “Hey, Weepy. Come grab a drink with your legitimately hitched favorite brother.”

  “Man, I hope Dixie marries Eli soon so I have better options for this Favorite Brother category,” I quip, and he gets me in a loose headlock as he barks out a fake laugh. “No wrestle mania at your wedding, douchebag.”

  He lets me go, but I follow him to the bar in the corner anyway. Winnie needs a little time to herself right now and besides, the conversation I probably need to have with her—about finally calling time of death on her ten-year relationship—shouldn’t happen at Jude’s wedding. At the bar he orders two shots of Fireball, and my eyes grow wide. “Dear God, no.”

  “For old times’ sake,” he says with a wicked grin and hands me one of the shots.

  My stomach flips as soon as I smell it. “Why are you trying to make your sister puke at your wedding?”

  “It’s not a party until someone pukes!” he exclaims in a high-pitched girly voice. He’s imitating me when I was seventeen and he got a call from one of his buddies that I was shitfaced at a house party. He showed up and dragged me out of there, and they snuck me into the house, past my mom who was watching a late-night talk show waiting up for me in the den like she always did, and then stayed up with me while I puked my guts out all night. I kept telling him it’s not a party until someone pukes, apparently. I honestly don’t remember a thing—except that I was drinking this cinnamon-flavored poison.

  “I dare you,” he says and lifts his own shot glass toward mine. Fucker knows I never back down from a dare. I lift my glass to my lips, squeeze my eyes shut, pinch my nose, and swallow it down as fast as I can. My whole body shivers in protest, and I gag, but I keep it down.

  When I open my watering eyes, Jude looks like he’s watching the best comedy show on the planet. “Do not make me flip you the middle finger on your wedding day in front of Pastor
Quinlin.”

  “So…” Jude says, taking a deep breath and looking out over the small crowd. “Can you believe this is my life?”

  “Honestly?” I smile. “The minute I saw you react to the news Zoey was in town I knew we’d end up here. Eventually.”

  “Liar.”

  “No, seriously,” I argue back, and he turns to face me. “You heard us mention her and something about your whole face changed. That gross player face you had been wearing for like almost a decade morphed back into the sweet, kind, but inept dork capable of love.” He frowns, and it makes me laugh. “Truth hurts.”

  “So who do you think is next?” he asks quietly as he turns back to the bartender and orders two beers.

  “Out of us? I hope it’s Dix.” I shrug my shoulders, turning and putting down the shot glass. “I know they just started dating less than a year ago, but Eli’s the one for her. I know it and I know she does too.”

  “Yeah. He is,” Jude agrees as the bartender hands him two Coronas and he waves off the glasses he tries to hand him. “She’s not that classy. Total bottle girl.”

  I look at the bartender and wink. “I like to wrap my lips around the shaft.”

  Jude groans and shudders. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “You started it.”

  He sighs and sips his Corona, but when I go to lift mine to my mouth, he stops me and hands me one of the glasses on the bar. “Use this. I can’t…”

  I laugh and begrudgingly pour the beer into the glass. I take a sip and roll my eyes at him. “Better?”

  He nods and looks back over the crowd before glancing sideways at me. “I think you should be next.”

  “To get married?” I snort. “To who? Please say Liam Hemsworth. Or Chris. Or both. Is that weird? I don’t even care. I’ll marry both.”

  “I don’t know who,” Jude replies, ignoring my Hemsworth rambling. “But since we were kids I always thought you’d be the one to settle down first and have like five or six kids.”

  “Umm…hell no,” I reply, horrified. “I want two. Only two. I’ve seen childbirth up close and personal. I know what it does to the vag. Too many births and that thing is a wreck.”

  “Please. Just don’t go there.” Jude shakes his head, pinching his eyes closed as if to block out horrible thoughts. He takes a deep, cleansing breath. “Stop trying to get me off the subject.”

  “Okay, let’s go back to talking about me marrying the Hemsworth brothers.” I give him a happy smile, but the little shit isn’t having it. He wants to be serious. And I guess, because it’s his wedding and I love him more today than ever, I relent. I take a big gulp of my beer, wiping some foam off my top lip. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am not dating anyone right now.”

  “Of course I noticed,” Jude says. “And in a way it’s a relief because I don’t have to stress out about you, or know that one of my teammates has seen you naked, which is zero fun. I mean Eli’s a gentleman about it, but I still sometimes want to punch him out of principle.”

  “I won’t date a hockey player, even when I am ready to date again, so no worries there,” I promise.

  “Good to know.” Jude rubs the back of his neck, and we both watch Winnie emerge from the house. She looks calmer and more relaxed than when she stormed off. “And promise me you won’t date some guy you aren’t actually madly in love with. Because clearly that’s garbage too.”

  I glance over at him and hold up my pinky toward him. “Pinky swear.”

  We lock pinkies, and then he clinks his bottle to my glass. We both take another swig. “So when will you be ready again? And why aren’t you ready now?”

  “Look around you, Jude. Life isn’t exactly easy right now.” I sigh and hold up my hand as he opens his mouth to argue. “I know. It’s not easy for you either, and yet you’ve got Zoey and Declan and I can say, without a doubt, that bringing people into your life and your heart made life easier and better for you and for us. I mean, look at Dad with his grandson.”

  We both look at our father, who is happily holding a sleeping Declan. Jude’s eyes are watering, and I punch his shoulder. “Pussy.”

  “Fuck you.” Jude laughs too.

  “I can’t let someone in because I’d be like Winnie. I’d take and I wouldn’t be able to give because I already give so damn much. My job, keeping it together for Mom, keeping Winnie positive, keeping Dixie calm, being a rock for Dad.”

  “You’re not in this alone,” Jude says quietly after a moment.

  “Exactly. I’m not,” I reply and sip my beer. “We are all holding each other up here. And it’s only going to get worse. We’re going to be devastated by his loss.” I swallow and fight tears yet again. “And I don’t want to risk being devastated by anything else right now. Does that make sense?”

  “When it’s the right person, there’s no risk of devastation,” Jude counters as his eyes move to Zoey, who is dancing and laughing with her brother and his partner, Ned.

  He looks back at me, and I roll my eyes at him. “Pussy.” He laughs and shoves me, and I shove him back. “Go dance with your wife.”

  He walks away, and I smile as I sip my beer.

  I love my family. I don’t need anyone else right now, and honestly…I just don’t have it in me to let anyone else in.

  2

  Sadie

  It’s a slow night in the ER at San Francisco Memorial. That used to be a blessing, but now it feels like a bit of a curse. I come to work now for more than a paycheck or professional fulfillment. Now it’s a place to hide. A place to get my mind off my problems and get a reprieve from my family. And when it’s not busy, I can’t escape—the dark thoughts in my head or the constant texts from my mom, my sisters, my brother, and my sister-in-law.

  I glance at the clock above the nurse’s station. Ugh. It’s nine-forty. My shift only started two and a half hours ago, and I’m here until seven in the morning. I sigh as my phone dings in my pocket yet again. So far I’ve been ignoring it. I checked one message—the first—and it was just Winnie bitching about her boyfriend. It’s gone off three more times since then, so I assume it’s still her unloading all her frustration with Ty.

  I glance at it now, though, just to be sure. We’re not supposed to be on our phones, but they let me check it occasionally because they know my dad is sick. Just as I thought, there’s more than one from Winnie, all complaining about Ty. But then there’s one from Dixie. Short, in all caps:

  ARE YOU AT WORK?

  My heartbeat seems to stumble as I read it. Dixie, my youngest sister, does not take all caps lightly. Something is wrong, and I immediately think of my dad. The last couple of months since Jude’s wedding he’s been in a steady decline. I glance up. I’m the only one at the station. I can see Shelda, a friend and fellow nurse, at the end of the hall, and there’s a doctor in one of the triage rooms stitching up a woman who almost chopped the tip of her thumb off cutting mushrooms. Our other patient, an elderly man who slipped in the bathtub and was brought in for observation by his nursing home, is resting comfortably in another room. I sink down into the chair and start to type back.

  Yes. At work. Is it Dad?

  The last time I talked to Dixie, earlier this morning, she was heading to the Thunder game to watch Jude and Eli play. Did she decide to skip the game and go visit our parents?

  The doors from the ambulance bay swing open, and a paramedic pushes a gurney in with Eli on it. Holy shit! I rush around the counter.

  “Oh, my God, what happened?” I gasp. My voice is not at all that of a professional nurse, but my brain is acting the part as my eyes sweep over him looking for visible trauma. I don’t see anything—no blood, no protruding bone, no laceration.

  “He’s a hockey player,” a deep, smooth voice starts to explain, and I expect it to be the paramedic but it’s not. It’s a man in a nicely tailored charcoal suit. A very good-looking man. Tall and broad with olive skin, a roman nose, thick, dark hair, intense brown eyes, and a strong, stubbled jaw. Seri
ously, if I had a bucket list of male features, this man would check every one. “He was knocked out on the ice.”

  Eli gives me a sheepish smile. “Do you remember what happened?” I ask him.

  “We were up two to one in the third, but they had a power play,” he says, and I frown. He’s not exactly answering my question, which means he doesn’t remember being hit. Not a great sign.

  “Put him in room four,” I tell the paramedic, and he nods and starts to push the gurney down the hall.

  “Dixie is on her way. Tell her I’m fine,” Eli calls out.

  The very handsome guy who came in with Eli pauses beside me instead of following him. He smells incredible—citrusy and woodsy all at once—and it makes me feel warm when I breathe it in. “Dixie is his girlfriend. She was at the hockey game, and I’m betting she’s very upset.”

  “She is. She used all caps,” I reply, and those penetrating caramel colored eyes cloud over with confusion. He looks even cuter confused.

  “Dixie is my sister.” I extend my hand. “I’m Sadie.”

  “Hello, Sadie,” he says, and his full lips break into a deep, wide smile that make him so sexy I want to whistle. I bite my bottom lip to keep from cat-calling him to his pretty little face and wonder why my professional demeanor went on break early. “I’m Griffin, the Thunder’s goalie coach.”

  “Oh, I thought Eli’s coach was named Sully,” I say, because I remember Eli telling our dad about his new goalie coach at Sunday dinner last week.

  “That’s me too,” he explains. “Griffin Sullivan.”

  “Of course. Hockey is all about the nicknames,” I reply, and he chuckles. It’s a nice, deep sound that makes me feel warm again.

  The doors swing open, and my little sister rushes through them, looking frantic. I glance at Griffin. “You can go be with Eli. I’ll calm her down and then bring her in.”