Step Beast

by Selena Kitt

  “Miles is yours,” Liv said as Tilly wiped tears from her mother’s face. “Megan is his aunt, and you are his mother, Mathilda.”

  “What?” Tilly stopped wiping her own tears to blink at her. “What are you saying?”

  “It will be hard at first,” Liv went on. “Confusing. Difficult. But Conrad was right. No more secrets, Mathilda. We’ve had too many secrets.”

  “But Aunt Meg and Kate…” Tilly choked on the thought, how they would hate her, if they had to give up Miles.

  “They’ve agreed,” her mother told her, eyes closing again. “They know it’s the right thing. For everyone.”

  Tilly stood still, looking at her mother’s face. Her breathing was too fast again, and her mouth was tight. It was a sign she was in pain. She knew she was on heavy pain medication, but clearly it wasn’t taking care of it all. She didn’t want to overtax her, so Tilly leaned over and kissed her cheek above the green rubber strap of the oxygen mask.

  She leaned over and kissed her goodbye.

  “Mathilda.” Liv reached her hand out, grasping the air, and Tilly took it again. Her mother was struggling to stay awake, she could tell. But a smile played on her lips, just the hint of one showing through the pain and fatigue. “One more thing.”

  “You should rest,” Tilly murmured.

  But Liv was, as ever, determined. “You have my blessing.”

  “What?” Tilly’s heart skipped in her chest.

  “You and Conrad.” The corners of Liv’s mouth turned up just a little more, although her eyes didn’t open. “I know how much you love him—and I can’t blame you. I’m proud of him. And you, Mathilda. I know he’ll take good care of you and my grandson.”

  Tilly closed her eyes, her mouth trembling with feeling, her body aching all over. She’d never been so happy and so heartbroken at the same time.

  “I love you, Tilly.” Liv’s words were fading, and it was the first time she could remember her mother not using her full name.

  “I love you, too,” Tilly told her as Liv winced again in pain, shifting on the bed.

  Her mother began to cough, and Tilly put a hand on her shoulder, looking toward the door and calling for the nurse again.

  “Easy,” Gina soothed, coming into the room. More blood in her oxygen mask, Tilly saw before she looked away, hugging herself. When Liv was situated again, her breathing back to normal—or as normal as it got, now, Tilly thought—Gina put a hand on Tilly’s shoulder.

  “I think your mother needs some rest now.”

  Gina’s hand left Tilly’s shoulder as Tilly leaned forward again and kissed her mother’s forehead. In that moment, Tilly let it all go. Every hurt, every resentment, every bad feeling. None of it mattered now. Her mother loved her, had always loved her, and while Liv had once been acting out fear, she was now acting out of love.

  “I want to see Miles,” Liv croaked from behind her mask.

  “Mrs. Beeston,” Gina urged. “You really must rest now.”

  “I want to see my grandson,” Liv insisted, more steel in her voice, and Tilly smiled. “Have Conrad bring him in. There’s something I need to…”

  Liv’s voice drifted off again.

  “He was sleeping,” Tilly told Gina. “I think my Aunt Meg put him to bed.”

  “They’re right next door,” Gina whispered as they walked to the door. “I’ll bring him in. I don’t think she has much longer.”

  Tilly nodded, that knowledge settling in her belly like lead. “I’ll find Beast.”

  He wasn’t downstairs. The living room was empty. Someone had cleaned up the pizza and put away the leftovers.

  Tilly went upstairs to check his room, but that was empty, too. Frowning, she went down the hall to her own room, the light still on, and she found him there, sitting on her bed.

  He had her letters in his hands.

  He had opened them all, and read them.

  “Beast.” Tilly saw him look up, saw the stricken look on his face. “Liv wanted to see you…”

  He stood, the letters falling onto the floor as he crossed the distance between them in two long strides to pull her into a tight embrace. He’d finally read her letters, all the pain and heartache and loneliness she’d poured into them—and all the love. After the first few had been returned, she’d become more and more open in them, spilling out everything she hadn’t been able to say out loud, because she knew, eventually they would come back to her “refused.”

  “I should be shot.” Beast choked out, pulling her closer, burying his face in her hair. “For what I fucking put you through.”

  “No, no.” Tilly put her arms around his waist, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. “None of that matters now, because you’re here. I’m here. We’re together.”

  “How can you say that?” he cried, his arms so tight around her she thought she might break. “Baby, you’ve been through hell and back, and if I’d just opened one, just one of these fucking letters—”

  “Stop.” Tilly looked up at him, standing on tiptoe to take his face in her hands and bring it down so she could kiss him. Her lips trembled as she kissed his jaw, his cheeks, his wet eyelids.

  “How can you possibly forgive me?” he asked, voice just above a whisper.

  “I don’t need to forgive you.” She searched his eyes, seeing the truth there, the truth she’d known all along. “I love you.”

  He lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers, and closed his eyes, whispering the words she’d been aching to hear for years, again and again, as if now that the secret was no longer a secret, he couldn’t say them enough. He whispered them against her lips and her throat and her cheeks until she reminded him that Liv had asked to see him, one last time.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Beast asked her from the doorway as Tilly gathered up the letters from the floor. “No more secrets, remember?”

  “No more secrets,” Tilly agreed, sitting on her bed, letters in hand. “I think she just wants the chance to say goodbye to you.”

  Beast nodded, then turned and went down the hallway.

  She fell asleep reading her letters to Beast. There were wet smudges on them where her giant bear of a man had broken down and cried over her words, and she kissed those spots, tasting his tears.

  Beast came to get her, picking her sleeping form up from amidst a pile of paper, and carried her to his room. He undressed her like a child and slipped, naked, into bed beside her. Some time while they slept, Liv took her last breath. By the time they woke in the morning, the woman they had both called “mother,” was gone.

  Everyone came to the funeral.

  Tilly couldn’t count them all. Cars lined the winding paths of the cemetery, drivers in them, waiting for the service to be over. She looked across her mother’s casket—she would be buried next to her husband, in the family plot, of course, both of them gone at far too young an age—seeing her Aunt Meg holding Miles.

  For a moment, she glimpsed the man he’d grow up to be. He looked so somber in his little three-piece suit. Liv would have just loved him in it, Tilly thought. How ironic. She saw the look on Meg’s face, a loss there so great it could barely be borne. Tilly didn’t like to think about what she was losing—besides her only sister.

  Tilly leaned against Beast’s shoulder—no one thought it strange for stepbrother and sister to be offering one another comfort—looking around at the people gathered at the grave site. It was a perfectly beautiful day, far too lovely a Saturday to be gathered in a cemetery, but so many had come out for Liv’s funeral. It was a sea of sad faces and dark, designer clothing.

  Tilly shouldn’t have been surprised—her mother had been well-liked and respected in all of her social circles. Rose Butler stood across from Tilly, sobbing into a handkerchief. She’d been one of Liv’s closest friends, president of the riding club for the fifteen years, survivor of a car accident—her drunken husband hadn’t been so lucky—thanks, in part, to Liv’s help during her recovery. Beside her was Co
ra Clemens, the woman who had habitually opposed almost everything Liv had ever proposed to the company’s board of directors—and the hostility had been mutual. Now, oddly enough, the grief on her face appeared quite real.

  Liv’s death hadn’t been a surprise, but Tilly had been overwhelmed by the number of practical details she was left to contend with. So many people to call—lots and lots of people. Her Aunt Megan had offered to help, and Beast had, too, the three of them armed with cell phones, making lists of people to call, tracking down phone numbers, and accepting the same condolences over and over. Tilly couldn’t count how many times she’d said or heard the words, “thank you,” following “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Liv had done most of the funeral arrangements herself. Tilly had told her that it was morbid, but now, she was glad her mother had been so organized. Of course, Tilly still had to talk to the funeral director to confirm, and the caterers who would come take care of the food for the gathering at the house afterward.

  The most exhausting thing was just staying on her feet to greet everyone. Hundreds of people to say, “thank you,” to when they came to the funeral home, and again, to the grave site. And the house, even as big as it was, was filled to bursting with cards and flowers and food. All of Liv’s friends and acquaintances, old and new, even the ones who couldn’t attend, had sent their condolences. Her obituary had been quite extensive—of course, Liv had written that too—and printed on the second page of their local paper.

  She sat between Beast and Frankie at the funeral home, grateful for support on either side. Frankie had spent all three days at the funeral home with them for the viewing, but she’d begged off the grave side service—she’d succumbed to a fever and strep throat and told Tilly she didn’t want to give it to anyone, least of all her best friend. Of course, her new boyfriend—paramedic Daniel—was happy to nurse her with chicken soup and kisses.

  But Frankie had been a rock throughout, as always—as had Beast. Tilly didn’t know what she would have done without either of them.

  The minister—Universal Unitarian—said a final, “Amen,” and the mourners began to disperse. Closest to the grave site, along the winding road, was the hearse and a row of black cars from the funeral home with orange funeral flags on the back.

  Megan let a squirming Miles down out of her arms and Tilly smiled as he ran around the flower-covered casket to rush at her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She picked him up and kissed his cheek. He smelled like strawberries and she told him so.

  “I had them for brefkust,” he informed her. “Can I come swim in the pool, Tiwwy? We’re coming to your house!”

  “I know.” Tilly smiled indulgently. There would be a gathering in the early evening at the house—the caterers had been busy in the kitchen before they left. “But all Auntie Liv’s friends will be there, to remember her. It’s not really a good time to go swimming.”

  “Besides,” Beast leaned in to remind Miles in a low voice. “You nearly drowned last time.”

  “Yeah, aren’t you scared?” Tilly teased, chucking Miles under the chin.

  “Nuh-uh!” He crossed his arms, scowling, and shook his head, looking so much like his father, Tilly had to smile. “I’m not scared of nothin’!”

  Beast grinned, exchanging a satisfied look with Tilly, looking so much the proud father she could have burst. She desperately wanted to whisk Miles away, take him home, keep him by her side all day. His presence was a great comfort, a wonderful distraction, but she saw Meg and Kate exchanging looks—and they weren’t exactly happy ones.

  She wanted to curse her mother for creating the situation they all now found themselves in, but she couldn’t do that either. Liv really had been doing what she thought was the right thing—even if it had, in the end, had the opposite effect.

  Meg came over, holding her arms out for Miles, and Tilly knew the tears she was repressing weren’t for her sister alone. Her Aunt Megan might have agreed to her sister’s dying wish to give the boy back to his mother—but they all knew it wasn’t going to be an easy transition. Miles knew nothing about it, yet, of course, and they hadn’t worked out any details. There’d been no time to consider them, since they’d all been getting ready to bury Liv.

  Now, Tilly knew, they’d have to broach the subject. But not today.

  She handed Miles over to one of the women he called, “Mommy,” smiling as he continued chattering with Beast about his new obsession with light sabers. Miles looked at Beast like he some kind of god walking around on earth. Kate and her Aunt Meg had been staying, along with Miles, at Liv’s, helping with all the arrangements, and Tilly had overheard several conversations between the two boys about boy-things that couldn’t help but make her smile. Miles had all sorts of questions about dinosaurs and outer space and guns—Tilly had insisted Beast start using a biometric gun safe, with a child in the house—although Beast had deflected quite a few questions from his son about being a soldier, and war, and Afghanistan.

  “Tilly, did you see grandma’s ring?” Meg asked, shifting Miles to her other hip.

  “Her wedding ring?” Tilly asked, feeling Beast’s hand slip into hers. “The last time I saw it was on her nightstand. Her fingers had swollen, and I think the hospice nurse took it off?”

  “That’s what I thought, too.” Kate looked at Meg, frowning. “But I noticed she wasn’t wearing it. In the casket.”

  “I don’t know.” Tilly shrugged. It had been an open casket, and the mortuary had done a beautiful job. All Liv’s swelling was gone, her wig perfectly coiffed. She’d looked like an auburn haired sleeping beauty, just waiting for her prince, a sight that made Tilly cry every time she looked into the casket.

  “You don’t think…?” Meg looked at Kate again. “The nurse would have…?”

  “No.” Tilly shook her head, remembering Gina. “I don’t think it was stolen. But maybe she put it somewhere? Why?”

  “There were no instructions about the ring that I could find, that’s all,” Meg told her. “I thought she would asked to be buried with it… but I guess not. She didn’t give it to you, or promise it to you, Tilly?”

  “No.” Tilly shook her head. “Did you want it, Aunt Meg?”

  “I’d just like to know where it is.” Meg’s brow furrowed. “It’s an heirloom.”

  “I bet it’s in the will,” Beast said, sliding his arm around Tilly’s waist. “You should ask the lawyer.”

  “Tiwwy, will there be cupcakes at your house?” Miles piped up.

  “Cake,” Tilly replied, smiling. “Several kinds.”

  “Are we gonna spend the night at Tiwwy’s house?” Miles asked, looking between Kate and Meg.

  “Probably,” Meg agreed, giving him a smile. “But we have to go home and pick up some more clothes.”

  “Okay,” he agreed amiably as the adults said their goodbyes and made their way to their respective vehicles.

  Beast ushered Tilly towards the rented black limo waiting for them. Tilly was exhausted with grief and leaned against him as the driver sped them toward home. Beast pulled her head against his shoulder and kissed her forehead. Tilly closed her eyes and relaxed against him, so happy he was there, and so very sorry for the reason.

  “I gotta get out of this monkey suit,” Beast told her as they climbed the stairs and she smiled. He looked incredibly handsome in his black, three-piece suit—all of his ink respectably covered—but she’d seen him pulling at his tie, loosening it at the funeral home, on more than one occasion.

  “I need to change, too,” Tilly told him, giving him a quick kiss before they went to their respective rooms to get out of their funeral clothes.

  It was strange, having separate rooms, living in the home they’d grown up in. She hadn’t had a lot of time to contemplate it—and Beast insisted she spend nights in his room, in his bed—but it still felt a little like they were keeping some sort of secret, even though everyone knew. Well, not everyone—but her Aunt Meg, and Kate, and Frankie, and all of the staff, anywa
y. Beast hadn’t been hiding his affection for her around the house.

  Tilly filled Scrabble’s food bowl and checked his water—another reason she had to keep returning to her own room—and then sat on the edge of her bed, looking around at her pink walls and pink bedspread. Her childhood encapsulated.

  She slipped her heels off and closed her eyes for a moment, listening to Scrabble drinking out of his water bottle. Other than that, it was quiet. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get through the rest of the day. They’d been planning for this day all week, and now the funeral was over. That was the hardest part, she told herself. Tonight would be more relaxed. All she had to do was keep smiling and nodding and murmuring, “thank you.”

  Carefully, she slipped out of her elegant black dress, putting it on the hanger on the back of her door, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the dresser. The scratches on her neck and wrists were healed. That, too, seemed like a million years ago, although she knew it had been real. She had the marks to prove it, at least for a while, and she’d overheard Beast on the phone talking about it to someone more than once since her ordeal.