Stepping over the threshold, Hope was hit with the scent of papaya and daffodil still clinging to the interior of the home. The sweet reminder brought an instant icy sting to her insides. Drawn to the mantel, Hope felt an odd pull of serenity looking over their photos. A lifetime of memories cut short far too soon. She reached for a dark, wooden frame and traced the tips of her fingers over their happy faces. It seemed so unfair. Their lives, and a great love, taken without regard, for no reason.
In a daze, she made her way down the hallway, stopping outside the designated nursery. Feeling a little unsteady, she held to the doorjamb, observing a dozen paint samples of soft greys and creamy whites fanned out across the hardwood floor beside pages ripped from magazines. The only furnishings, a cozy rocking chair covered in cream-colored linen fabric, sat in the corner of the room.
Tension tightened the delicate features of her face, remembering something her sister had once said. “The key to designing the perfect nursery is to spend an adequate amount of time planning and to use the perfect blend of simplicity and creativity.”
Hesitantly, she entered the room, slowly trudging toward the chair. A purple book marked with a dozen color-coded tabs rested on the cushion. Overwhelmed, and depleted of energy, she sank to her knees, grasping hold of the book. Her chin quivered. Hope loved the life she lived. She didn’t want to be responsible. She didn’t want to be in charge. She didn’t want to be a mother.
“This is all you’re leaving me with? A stupid fucking how-to book?” Gripping the book firmly with two hands, she attempted to tear it in half, each hand tugging in the opposite direction. Nostrils flared, she snarled and grunted, forcing her arms out straight, but the pages wouldn’t budge.
“Damn you, Faith! How could you do this shit to me? How could you leave me to raise this kid? I already gave up years of my life to raise you and now I’m forced to raise your kid! What about what I want? What about my dreams?” Fury and fear rushed through her quaking body. She screamed to the heavens, throwing the book across the room, “What if I’m just like Mom? What if I do it all wrong?”
Hard wrenching sobs filled the quiet room, her breath hitching in quick repetitions as tears spilled from her eyes.
Guilt, brutal and unforgiving, poured through her like hot lava wanting to take back the words of protest. She quickly scrambled across the room on her hands and knees to retrieve the book. Sitting on her bum, she crossed her arms over her chest, pressing it to her breasts as she rocked back and forth.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before Hope was able to force herself to her feet. Darkness began to seep in through the windows, shrouding her mood even further, as she staggered into Faith and Riley’s bedroom. She’d been in her sister’s room a dozen times, but never paused long enough to take in the neutral walls adorned with photos Riley shot during a trip they’d taken to Crater Lake, or the intricate piece of driftwood resting as a centerpiece atop their dark brown dresser.
Nausea rolled in her throat spotting Faith’s black leather purse and two large manila envelopes labeled with each of their names on the nightstand. Inside she found Faith’s wedding ring and a silver bangle she’d never seen her sister wear before. The other envelope held Riley’s wallet, his wedding band, and the keys to both vehicles.
Loading the belongings into a large canvas tote, she noticed their luggage parked in the corner of the room. Hope lifted the black-and-white print suitcase to the bed. Her fingers trembled as she unzipped the luggage, pulling out pieces of the wardrobe Faith would’ve worn for the long weekend in Napa.
Hope clutched her sister’s favorite grey cashmere sweater dress to her chest, gently touching every inch, before pulling the oversized dress over her head. Through a slick of wetness, she saw a small package in the mesh section of the suitcase. It was wrapped in beautiful hand-stamped winter forest paper, along with a card reading her name. Crawling to the center of the bed, she sat cross-legged as she opened the card.
Dear Hope,
Today is the day of giving thanks. Words can’t express the gratitude I hold in my heart for you. You’ve always been there for me as a sister, a caregiver, an advisor, a best friend, and now as our surrogate. You are my Hero.
Deep inside my heart, I know that this is our journey, the path we’re meant to take. I promise to be right by your side, holding your hand along the way. I can’t possibly thank you enough for the selfless acts of love you’ve shown me our entire lives. Thank you for this sacrifice, this true gift, you’re giving me.
Happy Thanksgiving to the best big sister ever!
I love you to the moon and back!
Faith
Through a torrential downpour of waterworks, she worked to open the perfectly wrapped package. Inside the box she found a beautiful sterling silver bangle, identical to the one she’d just seen inside the envelope containing her sister’s belongings. The bracelet was adorned with a tiny handcrafted silver fortune cookie charm and a rectangle charm engraved with Chinese writing. She unrolled a small scroll of parchment reading;
Be unafraid of what your fortune holds. As individuals we are a significant part of a great plan and must realize that Everything Happens for a Reason. Eventually everyone transforms into the unique person that they’re destined to be. This bracelet is a charming reminder to have faith and hope in your future.
Heartache and anguish ravaged her soul, driving a knife deep into her heart. She raised her face to the heavens and wept uncontrollably. “How am I supposed to be unafraid? How is this a charming reminder?” Grasping the bangle and crumpled shred of paper, she shook her hand. “It’s supposed to be me and you, Hope and Faith, together! I’m not destined to be a mother. I can’t do this without you.”
Hope rocked back and forth, grasping tightly to the gift. Time passed, slowly leaching every ounce of energy from her heart and her body, leaving her drained and shattered.
She pushed the silver bangle over her wrist, curled into a ball, and cried herself to sleep.
THOUGH HOPE WOULD’VE PREFERRED A small intimate memorial, she quickly realized that’s not what Faith and Riley would’ve wanted or deserved.
They deserved a Hero’s funeral.
Hundreds gathered along the roadside Monday afternoon, waving flags as cars made their way to the Mortuary. Funeral goers were filled with compassion, expressing their concerns and condolences. The outpouring of love was tremendous. Riley received a fitting tribute from Seattle firefighters dressed in their Class A uniforms, each wearing a mourning badge across their shield. Faith was honored by friends, employees, and patrons of Sugar Pies as well as for her ties to the community.
Insecurities mounted as her eyes skimmed over the crowded room. Pew after pew of textbook families, loving mothers and fathers dressed in their somber attire, holding tightly to their spouses and children. Observing the blissful unities seemed like an illusion, a sham.
Domestic harmony was foreign to Hope. She’d learned at a young age that real life always lurked behind bright smiles and closed doors. The boundaries she’d built around her heart left her isolated and safe from painful disappointment. She grew up refusing to believe in the fairytale of happily ever after. However, Faith survived the wreckage of their childhood by striving to be the most perfect version of herself possible, trusting in the concept of having a normal, conventional family life.
Cloaked in a veil of numbness, Hope disassociated herself from the surreal surroundings, merely witnessing the quiet whispers and somber faces. She felt like a lone dandelion, standing erect in the middle of a vast field, its hollow stem swaying slightly, little by little losing pieces of its top in the breeze.
All concept of time disappeared. Somewhere between the Battalion Chief Benson’s eulogy and the glint of an axe during the Honor Guard ceremony, her insides twisted, realizing everyone in the room knew she carried Faith and Riley’s baby. A personal matter she’d intended to keep somewhat private, now leaked from everyone’s lips . . . including her boss’s.
“Thank you for coming,” Hope responded mechanically.
Jeannie wrapped Hope in an airtight embrace. Her assistant’s heartfelt sorrow visible in her red puffy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Wearing a veil of tension, Samantha repeated the same commiseration, adding, “Congratulations.”
“I planned on telling you after the trip to Napa.”
“It’s not a problem. Jeannie is doing a wonderful job covering for you.”
The distinct scent of reprisal hung in the air between them. Hope knew she should be wary, but the daunting task of being approached by hundreds of people left her mentally stripped bare and defenseless.
Hope spoke to her mother, but only long enough to give a very cool hello prior to the beginning of the ceremony. However, two hours later she silently screamed, watching her mother glide through the crowd, playing the grief-stricken loving parent while accepting sympathy and kindness from others.
Ugly memories of all the injustices she and Faith had suffered growing up boiled to the surface, infuriating her beyond comprehension. Her mother didn’t warrant compassion. She deserved the right to mourn the loss of her youngest daughter, but that’s where it ended. Hope didn’t have one ounce of empathy for the woman.
Before she realized what she was doing, Hope marched across the room, arms swinging wildly with each punishing stride. Time slowed into fragments, the chatter in the room nothing but a dull murmur of white noise. As she approached the small gathering of funeral goers, a splash of concern flooded her mother’s pale-blue eyes, her thick false lashes pulled wide.
“Hello, honey.”
Hope coolly rebuked her mother’s greeting of open arms. The bitter smell of cigarettes instantly inundated her senses, turning Hope’s stomach queasy.
“What are you doing?” The grumble of words slipped out painfully from between her tightly clenched jaw.
“Now Hope, where are your manners?” Her mother tucked a jewel-covered hand through the arm of a large man at her side. He dragged his free hand through a thick head of grey hair before adjusting the large silver belt buckle holding up his stout beer-belly. “You haven’t even said hello to my fiancé, Earl.”
“I’m all out of manners these days.”
Noting the negative energy, two sympathetic couples quickly excused themselves. Earl extended his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Your mother’s told me a book full of stories about you.”
Unable to mask her hostility, Hope snubbed the introduction, blurting, “I’m sure they’re all from my childhood. She took off when I was sixteen.”
The man recoiled, crinkles between his brow deepened as he collected his hand and tucked it into his pants pocket. The look of shock sifting through his dark brown eyes delivered a slight pang of remorse to her conscience.
Her mother turned toward Earl. Peering over her rhinestone glasses, she pretended to glance over his shoulder, muttering in his ear in a contemptuous tone, “I warned you . . . this one has a wild imagination.”
Tightness in her throat hindered a response. Hope’s eyes narrowed, but exhaustion kept her from reopening them fully. Anger poured through her, boiling her blood and clouding her brain. The tragic events leading up to the day slammed into her, fatigue hitting full force.
“I think I’ll step outside. Give you two ladies a few minutes.”
“That’s not necessary. We don’t have anything to say to each other.”
Hope began to walk away, but her legs felt heavy and encumbered as if she were slogging through a mud run marathon, hindering her escape.
“Now, don’t storm off.” Bleached blonde curls sprung up and down as her mother tossed her head back. Clasping Earl’s arm, she leaned into him closer, “She always used to run off when she was a little girl.” Turning her attention back to Hope, she asked, “Would you mind giving me the key to Faith’s place? All the hotels I called are booked for the weekend, plus I could help go through her things the next few days before we fly home.”
A flash of bitter cold hit Hope’s chest and spread down her limbs causing her to shudder. Before her brain had time to register, her shoulders drew back stiffly and she shifted into a confrontational stance. She stood a mere twelve inches from her mother.
“Absolutely not,” she assured obstinately, her voice shaky.
Earl winced at the harsh response. The shocked expression covering his face led Hope to believe that the man had no idea what he was getting himself into. She’d seen the confused reaction countless times over the years. Earl thought he’d picked himself a real winner: blonde, beautiful, and legs for days. Her mother had no problem hooking a man, especially the ones who might not be real lookers and had a nice bank account, but keeping him was a different story. She’d give her mother six months before for the veil of lies wore thin enough for Earl to see right through.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Hope. It’d only be for two nights.”
“Faith and Riley lived in the same home for eight years . . . and you’ve never stepped foot inside. I don’t think it’d be appropriate.”
“Where else do you expect us to stay?” The words rolled smoothly from her mother’s lips more as a solicited invitation than a question.
“It’s Seattle, I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a room if you actually try.”
Irritation filled her mother’s quiet gasp.
Earl tipped his head. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Hope didn’t know if the melodramatics were all a show for Earl or if she was simply so incredibly narcissistic she truly believed her own lies, but it didn’t matter. Hope wanted nothing to do with her.
The sun dipped lower in the sky and the cold air nipped at her face. The crowd had dispersed an hour before, but Hope refused to leave the gravesite. Shock fused with hurt, turning into rage, before spilling over into a deep pain that ached all the way to her bones.
It just didn’t seem right leaving her sister alone in nothing more than a rectangular hole in the ground. Heaviness in her chest made it difficult to breathe. She wanted to grab a shovel and dig a trench between Faith and Riley’s caskets so the wooden boxes touched as if they were holding hands.
Hot tears rolled down her cold cheeks, the saline gathering between the crease of her lips. Standing on a patch of grass between their caskets, she swallowed an upsurge of cries as she placed two red roses atop each casket—one from her, the other from their unborn child.
“I will miss you every day . . . beyond words,” she declared in a soft inaudible voice. “I’m never going to be able to fill your shoes, but I promise both of you that I will keep this baby and do my best to raise it with you in mind.” Her jaw crumpled as raw sentiment burned her nose and eyes. “You better be here holding my hand, because I can’t do this alone.”
The warmth of her hand making an involuntary circle over her stomach acted as the only true comfort Hope felt all day. The baby growing inside had been an unasked for responsibility, but at that moment, before her sister’s grave, she made a silent vow, a promise to her sister’s child. I will never leave you.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, Hope. You know nothing would keep me from being there except a major case of the damn flu,” Miss Susan said with regret. She’d been unable to make the trip from Colorado to Washington. Her absence only acted as another painful reminder that Hope was alone. “Faith was like a daughter to me. Both of you are.”
“I still can’t believe this is happening. I already miss her so much. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel whole again.”
“Death leaves a heartache that no one can heal, but you get to keep the memories. No one can steal those away from you.” Miss Susan paused to blow her nose. She wasn’t a sentimental woman by any means, but Hope could tell she’d been crying. The girls appreciated her tough, bossy exterior, but saw right through it. The woman had a heart of gold. It merely needed to be
dusted off in order to see the real beauty. “I hope you gave her a good send off.”
“It was a beautiful ceremony. Fit for a hero.” A deep sigh. “All her friends, lots of families, showed up. I felt so out of place.”
“We always envy others, comparing our shadows to their sunlit side.”
“I don’t think envy is the right word. More like nonbeliever.” Cynicism coated her voice. Hope’s cell phone rested on the bathroom counter on speakerphone while she towel dried her long mane of golden brown hair. “The only small blessing out of all of this is that I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a spare minute to even think about . . . it.”
“Hon, you have to start calling it what it is . . . a baby.”
“What the hell am I going to do with a baby, Miss Susan?” Hope sounded desperate and pitiful even to her own ears.
“Great people tackle things before they know they can do it. Getting out of your comfort zone, taking risks, doing what you’re most afraid of, that’s always something you’ve been good at. It’s your gift.”
“In business, yeah, but we’re talking about having a child . . . and keeping it . . . forever.”
“That’s a bunch of hogwash, Hope Tidwell.” Her tone turned chiding. “If you think I’m going to sit here and let you feel sorry for yourself, you’re sadly mistaken, young lady. You need to put on your big girl panties and step up to the plate. You’ve never let anything get in the way of moving forward and I suspect this baby won’t either.”
“Faith would’ve been the perfect mommy. This was her dream. Not mine. I’m never going to be able to raise this baby the way she would’ve. I don’t know what to do.”
“You wanna know what to do? I’m gonna tell you! Pull your head out of your ass and stop acting like you’re going to disappoint your sister. You need to come to terms with the situation and invest in a new life, a life that includes this baby.”
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