Meadowlarks

by Ashley Christine

  “Well? What's going on?” I ask quickly.

  They look at me, and the doctor puts his hands on his hips. “I'm very sorry, Blaine. He's gone.”

  “What? No, he's not.” I rush over to his bed, wanting to shake him awake. “Jer! Jer? Please, Jeremiah. Wake up.”

  “Blaine...” The doctor starts to speak but doesn't finish.

  “He was breathing a second ago. Try something else!” I am frenzied with disbelief.

  “His heart couldn't hold on anymore, Blaine.”

  I fall to the ground and put my hands over my face. “No. Jer, no!”

  The best man I've ever known, my friend and brother, just died in front of me. Died in the bed that I should have been in, and I'm on the floor where he would have been if things had gone like they were supposed to.

  I feel sick, and I reach for a garbage can in the corner of the room, throwing up my grief and whatever little vending machine food I had forced into me.

  Addison is on overnights, and someone must have called her down to the ICU.

  “Babe!” She rushes to my side and kneels on the floor, holding my head in her arms. “Baby, I'm so sorry!”

  She rocks me, and I cry, completely and utterly fatigued, full of sorrow and anger—no, rage. I feel like a little child, limp, and I need help to stand.

  His hand is still warm when I touch it again, but this time, there's no other movement. No rising and falling of his chest—nothing. I can't bear to see him, and I need to get out of this fucking room.

  Addison drives me home, and when we pass Jer's house, I yell at her to pull over so I can throw up again. She doesn't say much the rest of the way home, just holds my hand. When she parks beside his truck, I almost lose it again. His tire is still flat, and I just want to scream up into the sky. I will never forgive myself, for so many things I could have done differently.

  “Blaine, come inside. Please.” She stands in front of me and hugs me tightly. Her arms and warmth soothe me, and I hold her.

  “I'm sorry,” I mumble.

  “Don't be sorry. You're supposed to be sad, baby.” She tries to comfort me. “I'm going to stay home with you, okay?”

  “Someone needs to tell Alex.” I clear my throat, swallowing down grief and bile.

  “I'll go over. Will you be okay if I leave?”

  I nod and let her go. When she leaves, I go into the garage and get my tools to change the tire on his truck. Through glazed eyes and constant sniffling, I finally gather enough strength to push it down. I scream as loud as I can when I pick up the flat tire and heave it across the driveway before I fall to my knees.

  “Jeremiah!”

  * * *

  His funeral is on a Thursday. Four days after he died and three days after I sat in the court room, listening to a prosecutor give a judge detailed notes about what happened to him. I watch Reid as he sits and listens to his charge escalate from attempted murder to first-degree murder. The only thing he's ever done right was admit his guilt. Another date is set for a few months from now, and when I watch him leave the room, I can finally breathe again. Though he didn't once look at anyone but the judge, it took every part of me not to jump over the rows of benches and choke the life out of him.

  The church is packed with all the people Jer loved and all the people that loved him. Martina, his aunt, sits beside me; she’s the only blood relative he had left after his parents died. Even Gwen shows up.

  I manage to give a eulogy, telling everyone what they already knew. I talk about how great of a man he was, how much fun life was growing up with him, and how very much I was going to miss him with each and every day to come.

  “I wish each person could be as lucky as I am to have a best friend like him. Twenty-five years wasn't enough, but I'm thankful for every second I got to spend with him. I love you, Jer.”

  He's buried in the cemetery, next to his parents. Addison and I chose his headstone and the inscription we thought suited him perfectly.

  The first thing I'm going to do

  Is spread my wings and fly.

  Jeremiah Paul Sanford

  November 30, 1981 – June 9, 2012

  Three meadowlarks are carved into the dark granite, just like the ones Addison had made on my belt buckle. They are Wyoming's birds, flying fast and free, just like him, a Wyoming boy.

  Days turn into weeks, and weeks quickly become the month of August. It’s the time of year when Jer and I would usually be well into the rodeo circuit, working hard and hardly working all at the same time. After he died, a lawyer contacted me to tell me that he left everything he owned to me. His house, his farm, truck, everything. I manage to give his truck to Alex. As painful as it was seeing it leave my driveway and not watching Jeremiah drive away, I knew he would want it this way.

  I remember the conversation I had with him months ago about Alex asking to move Riley into the house. “It needs life it in again,” he’d said, and he was right. Alex, Riley and their little family grow in Jeremiah's house now. They bring it back to life, and the two times I’ve gone there since, I feel him in the home. He’s at the fire pit, on the porch, in each room, and even in those shadowboxes on the bathroom wall with the dried flowers that his mother made.

  Reid is found guilty and is sentenced to sixty-seven years in prison with no chance of parole. Coincidentally, the car he crushed Jeremiah against was also a sixty-seven, and it only brings a tiny amount of peace knowing that he'll be confined until he's either too old to function or dead. I'd prefer the latter.

  ***

  On November thirtieth, I crack open a beer and toast the sky, I tip the bottle to the heavens and to Jer on what would be his 31st birthday.

  “Miss you, buddy. Happy birthday.”

  “Hey, handsome.” Addison stands behind me and pulls me into a hug. “How are you?”

  “I'm good, my love. How was work?”

  “Oh, same old.” She shrugs and smiles. “Jeremiah's birthday?”

  “Yep.” I sip the beer and smile.

  She puts her bag on the picnic table and roots through it, pulling out a white stick. “Well, there's an old saying—with death, comes life.” She holds up the stick. It has a small pink plus sign on it, and my eyes fly to hers.

  “Are you? We are!” My heart is thumping from my chest, and I grab the stick, examining it closer.

  “We are, my love.”

  She smiles, and I pull her into me, kissing and hugging her intensely. “I love you so much. Thank you.”

  * * *

  On July 17, 2013, my son is born. He comes a few days early, surprising everyone. I hold Addison's hand when she pushes and breathes through his delivery, watching his tiny head and body come into the world. He cries, and we sob. The first time I hold him, I just dissolve away, like the first time I saw his mommy. My heart seems to stop, and I'm breathless.

  “He's perfect, Addy. I love you so very much.”

  She smiles, her eyes tired but happy. Once we're alone in her room, she falls asleep, and I rock our son in the chair, studying every inch of his beautiful face. Touching his tiny fingers with my big rough ones, I gently kiss his head of golden hair.

  “Hi, my little man.” I smell his brand new scent. “You see that beautiful lady over there? That's your mommy. Aren't we so lucky to have her?” He sleeps in my arms for hours. I whisper to him and tell him over and over how much I already love him.

  Alex, Riley, and the kids come to see him. Scarlett is walking now, and she teeters up to me, curious about the little blue bundle in my arms.

  “Scarlett, that's your little cousin, Seth!” Riley bends to hold her daughter up to see the baby.

  Seth Jeremiah Blackstock is seven pounds and 14 ounces of pure wonder. When he opens his eyes to look at me, I feel like I can see the entire world in those baby blues. How can my heart take anymore? My love for him is earth-shattering.

  My brothers, their wives and my dad all visit us in the hospital, too. When dad holds his grandson, he looks at Addison and get
s choked up. “He looks just like you did, Blaine. I can't get over it.”

  I picture him thirty-one years ago, in a room just like this, holding me. But when he looked at the bed, it was empty. There was no one to share his joy, just two other boys without their mother. The thought sends a dark feeling through me, and I sit beside Addison on the bed, grabbing her hand to make sure she's actually still there.

  The next morning I take my wife and our son home. The dogs bounce anxiously to see exactly what it is I'm carrying in the seat. Addison pets them, letting each of them smell her hands.

  Each and every day with Seth is a gift, watching him grow and make milestones is truly remarkable. Addison was showering when he crawled for the first time.

  I jumped off of the floor and shouted for her. “Baby, he's crawling!”

  Seth giggled and takes a few more brave movements toward me. His chubby fingers spread on the wooden floor, he reaches for me when I sit down in front of him and extend my hands.

  “C'mon, my boy.” I smile and wiggle my fingers.

  “What was all that about?” Addison says melodically when she gets to the bottom of the stairs, wrapped in a towel. Then she sees him. “Seth! My little man; what a good boy!” She kneels beside me and clasps her hands together under her chin, as excited as I am.

  When he reaches my hands, I pull him up and right into my arms. I breathe in his scent and close my eyes; his little warm body feels so small in my arms. “Good boy.”

  He giggles again, and I lift him up in the air above my head like an air plane. His eyes widen, and a long string of drool flows from his mouth and lands on my lap.

  “Oh, thank you!” I chuckle.

  “I can't believe our little boy is crawling.” Addison beams and takes him from me. She cradles him, stroking her fingers in his hair lovingly. When she sits on the couch to nurse him, I head upstairs to change.

  Today we are going on a date, our first in months. Riley kindly offered to babysit Seth at their house, and as much as I wanted to decline because I'll miss him, I know he'll be fine. We need to get out, even if it's just an hour or two.

  Date day consists of going for a ride. She trots beside me on Jax, who has grown into a huge mass, strong and rigid, a real sight to see. Mischief is just a shadow compared to his stature, but we keep up, even when she takes off cantering ahead of us.

  When the sun starts to set, we head back home and brush the horses quickly before letting them go back into the pasture. I put away my saddle and our bridles and close the barn door behind me.

  Addison is sitting on the picnic table, watching the horses roll in the field, smiling when they stand and shake off the dirt. “I miss him already.”

  “I do, too.”

  “I called. Riley said he's sleeping sweet and sound.”

  I lean down to kiss her shoulder. “Well, that gives me more time, doesn't it?”

  “And just how are we going to spend that time, Mr. Blackstock?” She grins and bites her lip.

  I narrow my eyes and scoop her up in my arms. “Very, very wisely.”

  Addison Cole: From the Pine Tree

  to the Cowboy State

  I scan the auditorium looking for any familiar faces. Finally, I see mom and dad, both sitting and smiling while staring back at me. Alex is sitting beside mom, looking bored as usual. He was pretty much forced to be in attendance today.

  Where is Jacob? Maybe he couldn't find a seat near my parents; I hope he's not running late.

  I have the biggest butterflies in my stomach. I hate big events, hate being the center of attention even more so. Just call my name already, so I can get this over with. Thankfully I'm a C initial, so it doesn't take long to get to me. Once I hear my name, I'm up and across the stage.

  “Congratulations, Ms. Cole!”

  “Thank you!”

  Mrs. Lydell, my favourite professor throughout the long and gruelling but so-very-worth-it nursing program, hands me my diploma. A quick handshake followed by a few more, and I'm down the steps, free and ready to start my new life.

  Addison Cole, RN. Wow. It feels so good that I've finally finished. Now the hard part begins, actually finding a good hospital to hire me.

  “My baby girl!” Mom hugs me, crying of course, and dad wraps his arms around the both of us. Alex stands a few feet away, thumbing the screen of his phone and occasionally eyeing some girls nearby.

  “Have you seen Jacob?” I ask.

  Mom looks around the auditorium and frowns. “No. We thought he was going to sit with us. Has he called?”

  I open my small purse and pull out my phone. No texts or missed calls from him so I send a quick where are you? text message to him. My parents look at each other, probably both wanting to tell me he's an asshole and I should just ditch him, but they don't say anything.

  A congratulatory dinner is planned, and I quickly drive home to change out of this ridiculous outfit. I'm surprised when I see Jacob's car sitting in the driveway. I park the Mustang next to his Rover.

  “Hey there, handsome!” I open the screen door of the small porch and see Luca sitting at the front door. “What are you doing out here?”

  The door is locked, and it takes me a minute to find my keys. Once inside, I toss my purse on the small table by the door, kick off my heels and lightly tip-toe upstairs. I bet he's still sleeping, and I'm not going to let this one go easy. I can't believe he missed my graduation.

  The millisecond my foot hits the top step, I hear it. My heart starts thumping in my chest so hard and loud it's almost deafening. I'm no idiot; I've seen enough movies to know what is making the sound on the other side of my bedroom door. It's just that in the movies; the woman is always brave, either kicking the door open or bursting in some other way, telling the bitch on her man to get off, grabbing her by the hair.

  I breathe slowly, still listening to the heartbreaking whimpers and sighs coming from my bedroom. I shake my hands at my sides, trying to loosen myself a little, letting all the ache fall out of my body. The old brass knob is cold in my hand. It turns slowly and clicks when it releases the mechanism on the inside.

  Here goes, Cole. I breathe.

  “Becca?” I can't believe my eyes.

  “Oh, my God! Jake!” Becca screams and flies off the bed, grabbing all the sheets with her, leaving him completely naked.

  “Addison, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jacob hisses and doesn't even bother to cover himself.

  I'm breathless, standing in the doorway of my own bedroom, having just witnessed one of my best friends sleeping with my boyfriend.

  “I...I...” I stammer, my cheeks hot with anger. “My grad; you didn't come.” It really isn't answering his question, but it's all I can manage to say.

  He gets out of bed, furiously rips a sheet from her hand, and wraps it around his waist. “Get out of here, Bec.”

  She scampers across the room, grabbing something; I have no idea what since I'm awestruck, looking at him. The person I live with, thought I knew—thought I loved and loved me back; is now unrecognizable.

  She doesn't say anything to me when she rushes past, and as much as I would have loved to grab her head and slam it off the door frame, I don't. I don't move at all.

  “I asked you a question.” He narrows his eyes, and slowly walks toward me, menacingly.

  “Are you kidding me!?” My chest heaves from exasperation.

  He chuckles. “You think you're enough for me? Please.” He reaches out his hand and strokes my heated cheek with his cold fingers. I wince at the contact, and his eyes flare. “Such beauty...” He trails his fingers on my skin. “And that body...”

  The first hit takes me by surprise, and the second takes my breath away. I curl on the floor and hold my face in my hands as I try to stand back up, crying for him to stop.

  He doesn't.

  The last blow sends me right out of the bedroom. By some miracle I stop before falling down the wooden staircase.

  * * *

  “Mom, I need this
.” I look at her with puppy eyes, and she melts, just like she always did when I was a little girl and wanted something.

  “I know, baby. I know.” She strokes a long piece of my hair and twirls it in her fingers. “I'm going to miss you so much!”

  I hug her and tell her how much I will miss her too, how much I'll miss the smell of the air from the ocean and everything else about Maine. Almost everything anyway.

  Alex already has his bags loaded in the trunk of the Mustang. I don't think it's ever had so much stuff crammed into it before.

  Dad's in the driveway talking to him, probably giving him a lecture about behaving himself and that he should listen to his big sister and be respectful. It’s the same talk he always got, never listened to, and then got all over again before heading out on his next venture.

  “Please call if you need anything along the way.” Dad smiles and hugs me tightly.

  “Well, call regardless!” Mom gushes and starts to cry, kissing Alex's cheek and then rubbing her lipstick mark from his skin. “Be a good boy, Alex.”

  He'll always be their baby, no matter what he does and how bad he screws up.

  I have no idea where we're going, and to be honest, it feels amazing. Just being behind the wheel, no time frame, just the open road with Luca—and Alex.

  New York, then Illinois. States fly by, and we try to enjoy each and every one of them. At a small and absolutely adorable diner in Missouri, I call mom quickly to tell her where we are and let her know we're just fine. Alex walks Luca across the road to an open field and lets him run around.

  On the wall is a big map of the United States, the edges brown and torn from all the people passing through, I'm sure.