“What?” Dad asks, then comes over and stands beside me. I hold up the bag to show him, and he grins then chuckles. “I’ll tell you what,” my dad begins, then laughs even harder. “He was tough, even then. If he didn’t have one of them.” He points to the pacifier in the bag. “Within his reach, there’d be hell to pay. Siobhan said they fit him, and bought every single one the store had,” he shares. I smile, and set the bag back down before I pick another.
Cake toppers marked with my brothers ages, are in larger zip lock bags along with birthday cards. There’s only one bag marked, Jaycee. I pick it up and stare at the pink knit cap and ID bracelets, along with quite a few greeting cards. I unseal the bag and slide the cards out, and glance at a few. They all read some form of congratulations on your new baby. I turn the bag upside down, and allow the remaining contents to fall softly onto the bed. I pick up the larger of the two bracelets, and see it’s my mom’s. Siobhan L. McGinty, girl, is spelled out around the pink band. The other pink one is so very tiny, and it reads Female Baby McGinty.
“There wasn’t time for her to save much with you. She only had you for a very short time, but she did make this,” Dad says softly, and walks over to a box lying next to the hope chest.
I replace the contents of the bag and seal it, before setting it back down on the bed. I then give Dad my attention, and watch as he leans down and removes a cardboard box. He sits back down next to me, and opens one of the ends. Carefully, he slides another box wrapped in plastic from it, then sets the first box aside. He removes the plastic from second box, and it’s then I see it’s a wood case with gold metal latch. He releases the small latch and lifts the lid, then turns it towards me, so I can view it. I look at him before I take in what’s in front of me. It’s a plaque, but not just any plaque. It has three handprints, with names engraved underneath each, and McGinty engraved along the top in larger letters. All in beautiful script. I run my finger across the first handprint, the biggest, the one marked, Stone. My eyes land on the second one and, without thought, I place my palm on top of it. It matches perfect. Siobhan. My eyes go up to review my dad, and he’s watching me. We share a wistful smile, before I regard the third. A tiny handprint marked, Jaycee Lillian.
“You each have one. I gave the boys theirs not too long ago, when I came across them in a box in my office at home. I’d forgotten all about them. I’m so sorry. I can’t apologize enough, that I didn’t get them to you all sooner. I just, well, I lost her and lost sight of everything,” he confesses. “I would have given you yours as well, but I admit I was nervous. Violet’s been giving me not so subtle hints that I need to pass it all on.” He sighs. “The chest I had stored. But, it yours now. You can add to her memories as you make them,” he tells me.
“Dad,” I gulp down the tremor in my voice. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. As much as I’m glad to have it, I hate to see you hurt. I know this is taking a lot for you, and I’m sorry,” I offer gently, and he gives me a one arm hug. We both take in a deep breath, then Dad retrieves the plaque from me, stores it back in its box then sets it aside. While he does that, I pull a photo album onto my lap and open the thick silver front panel.
“I haven’t been through these since the night before I married Violet,” he admits as he pulls the album a little his way for us to share. I peek up at him before looking back down, and watch as he runs his fingers along the flyleaf with a controlled gentleness I’ve never seen from him. “Never ever in a million years, did I think I’d fall in love again after losing Siobhan–and to have it happen so soon. I never believed in love at first sight, until I met your mom. Never did I believe God would bless with me with it twice, but He did.” I glance back up at him, and his eyes slant down to me briefly, before he returns his gaze to the album and then so do I.
“After I buried Siobhan, I buried myself, too. Buried myself in military tours. I tried anything to numb the pain. Even picked up the bottle for a while, too.” When Dad confesses this, my nose tingles and my eyes glass over, but I keep my attention on the album, not wanting him to see. I take silent deep breaths to hold my reaction at bay because I want him to go on and I know if he witnesses my sadness he’ll possibly stop. “Dad and Duke nipped that in the bud real quick though. Drinkin’ didn’t work anyway,” he confesses. “Even after quitting, I was still no good to you or your brothers. The second hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, next to losing her, was signing those adoption papers, even though I knew it was the right thing for you all. I hid away for a few weeks after that. Felt like a failure as a father. It seemed so selfish, but I just didn’t know what else to do. Even though I knew I could see you every single day, and you’d still call me daddy, it didn’t matter. To tell the judge I was giving up custody gutted me,” he admits gruffly, his voice cracking.
“Dad.” My eyes fly to his as I whisper his name. With hesitance, he glances at me. His expression maybe even fearful, after making his confession. “You know it’s okay, right?” I try to ease his regret, and concern, but it’s not working. I pick up the album and set it aside and turn to him. “I was happy. I’m so sorry you weren’t. I know why you did it. We all know why you did it. It wasn’t selfish, it was selfless,” I reassure him and take his hands. I smile, and he pulls one of his hands free to cup my cheek.
“God called her home, but not before he allowed her to leave a big part of herself here with you and in you. You don’t just look like her, your heart is kind and beautiful just like hers," he shares. “You and your brothers were so young. Jake was only seven, and Jesse six. Gosh, Nash had just turned three, and you, just a couple of months old. We had ten years together. Wasn’t even close to the eternity we had planned on.” His hand cupping my cheek flexes, his eyes briefly turn glassy before he quickly gathers himself. My big strong dad. I can see why Violet was so worried earlier. He doesn’t do heartbreak well at all, and this is taking a lot out of him. Even so, I feel we both need to keep going.
“Will you tell me more about her?” I request softly.
He stands and walks over to the window, and gazes out in introspection. “I know Duke told you we almost lost both of you when she went into labor.” He remains silent in his thoughts before he finally turns around, walks back over to me, and sits down. “I mean it was close. Your mom was bleeding, badly. As soon as she gave birth to you, the doctors let her hold you for only a few seconds while they wheeled her to surgery. She could barely keep her eyes open, she was so weak. But with what strength she did have, she held you to her tight. In that few minutes, she named you. We had picked other names, so I wasn’t sure where she came up with Jaycee, but Lillian...well, that’s her middle name as well.”
“It’s a beautiful name,” I whisper. This was something I knew but never really thought about, the connection, being her namesake, and shame lurks in my heart.
“Yes. Siobhan Lillian Bentley, then McGinty.”
“Siobhan named you, then she was rushed into surgery, while you were rushed to the neonatal intensive care unit. God, you were no bigger than my hand. Weighed just over four pounds. So tiny.” He holds out his hand and stares at it for a couple of moments. “I remember the doors closed behind your mom, and the nurse that had taken you from her just moments before, ordered me to follow, but I couldn’t. I slid down the wall right outside the doors she had just been taken through, and sat there in shock. I’m not even sure how long I was there. I only got up to set out to find you, when two big arms wrapped me up and hauled me to my feet.”
“Dad,” he whispers. “Your grandpa. The biggest and strongest man I knew,” he says with a half grin. “He got me to the nursery and pointed to you. Told me, “Stone, keep it together son. That little baby girl needs you. Siobhan needs you.” He glances over at me. “Later, when I almost killed the doctor caring for you, he talked me down again.” He laughs, and it sounds genuine. “Son, that baby girl doesn’t need her daddy going to jail for killing the doctor trying to help her.” His voice is deep as he imitates Grandpa, and that make
s us both laugh. “It was a tough couple of days, but when you and Siobhan we’re both finally out of the woods, I was able to breathe again.” He picks up one the photos on the bed and studies it. I can see it’s a picture of my mom. She’s sitting on the tailgate of a black pickup in a white sundress. Her skin is tanned, and her long auburn hair is blowing in the wind. She’s like a sunbeam, and is blowing a kiss to the person with the camera. I’ve never seen this picture. She seems so young and carefree.
“When was this?” I ask my dad while smiling at the girl in the picture.
“It was about a month after I met her, when we were hanging out with friends at the lake. She was just eighteen.” He smiles in thought.
“How did you meet her?”
“Through friends. Saul, a buddy of mine, was going with one of her friends. I had just got stationed back here after being gone a couple of years. One afternoon we all met up for a bonfire on Saul’s land, and your mom was there. Stared at her most of the night, before finally taking a chance at walking over to talk to her.” He groans and chuckles, making me grin up at him. “She was beautiful, and I was so nervous, but she was sweet. By the end of the night we were talking like we’d known each other forever. After that night, we spent every moment we could together.” Dad’s smile turns into a frown, causing mine to fall from my face. “Your mom was from China Grove and, even though she always seemed happy and was full of laughs when we were together, she did not come from a good home but she didn’t talk about it,” he confesses.
“What?” I gasp.
“Your mom went through some terrible things, but I want you to know that I did all I could to keep her happy for the time God allowed me to.” He looks at me intently as voices cracks.
“Dad, of course,” I console him. He takes in a deep breath, before he slowly releases it and goes on.
“Her mom was a bitch–a drunk. She would hit your mom. Only most of the time she was too weak from the booze to cause her any harm. I didn’t know, but when I did, I got her out.”
“Tell me more,” I whisper.
“She lived in this trailer that sat at the end of a long, red dirt road. When I went to pick her up, she’d wait up the dirt drive where the property met the crossing farm road. I didn’t push her about going to her house or meeting her family. I figured in time, she’d be more comfortable and share that part of her life with me.” He pauses and lets out a sigh, before he continues.
“Her dad was gone, took off when she was two. She didn’t know her grandparents, or any of her family, so she didn’t have a place to run to, to get out of that hell hole.
“One day I pulled up and she wasn’t at her normal spot, so I drove down the road and parked in front of this broken down mobile home. God, it was barely standing. Couldn’t believe anyone lived in it, especially my Siobhan. I opened my truck door and immediately heard her cries for help. I rushed through the yard to the door, and didn’t bother to knock either. I yanked it open and found Siobhan laying on the floor in a ball. Had her hands up, covering her face. Her mom–that fucking piece of trash–had a belt and was striking her,” he growls.
“Dad! What did you do?” My voice sounds as angry as his.
“I pushed that fucking bitch off your mom; knocked her to the ground. While she sat cussing at me, I hauled your mom up into my arms, and carried her outside to my truck. She was crying and embarrassed. Had her face buried in her hands. That day I promised I’d never let anyone hurt her again. When she finally looked at me, I asked her what all she needed from the inside. She leered at the trailer like it was a monster, then shook her head, no. I slammed my truck in reverse and got her the hell out of there, and I never took her back either.
“I drove up to a private spot by the lake and checked her over. She had welts covering her body. That was the first time as a man, I felt like a failure. She was mine, and I allowed that to happen.” I want to protest, but I don’t want him to stop talking about her either, so I sit quiet as he goes on. “That day, I asked her to marry me. She refused. The only thing that was holding her back was a shame she should have never felt. We argued all day and well into the night. No matter how much I tried to assure her that I loved her, she thought I was only asking because I felt sorry for her. Took me all night to convince her that even if I did feel bad for her, I still loved her. We would just move up the inevitable, was all. She finally agreed.” He runs his thumb along the picture.
“Dad, wow. You were her hero.”
“I tried to be. I made a promise to her. Told her I never let anyone hurt her again, but that drunk driver made me break it. Second time I felt like a failure as a man, the third was when I gave you and your brothers up,” his voice choking with emotion.
“Dad,” I murmur and pull him into a hug. “I’m sorry.”
7
“Everything okay?” Jesse’s voice probes with a touch of fear.
Dad and I break from our hug, and I glance over and see Jake, Jesse and Nash just inside the room.
“Fine.” Dad coughs to clear the emotion from his throat then stands and walks over to stare out the window.
My brothers seem uncertain of his response as they exchange glances.
“Is that mom’s stuff?” Nash inquires glancing between me and Dad. Dad nods, his gaze briefly turning to us before returning to look out the window. Nash steps over to the bed and begins inspecting the items spread across the top.
“Yeah. Dad just told me a few stories,” I explain, as Jesse and Jake make their way over to examine the keepsakes as well.
“I don’t remember much of her, but I do remember she would smile and laugh a lot,” Nash mumbles and picks up a bag that contains a cake topper. “Was this mine?” He asks as he examines the tiny cowboy riding a horse within the plastic.
Jake studies it for a moment, then smiles. “Yours. I remember. You loved cowboys. Even had cowboy bedcovers and pictures all over your wall.” He pats Nash on the shoulder, giving it a squeeze before letting go.
“I’d forgot all about that.” Nash chuckles.
“Here,” Jesse says, and hands Jake a bag with a Ghostbusters birthday cone hat while laughing.
Jake drifts off smiling for a few moments, before he sets it down and picks up one of the photo albums. He leans against the wall and cradles it with one hand, while he flips through the pages with the other.
“God, sissy, you’re twins.” He smiles at me.
Jesse walks over to the hope chest and squats down, while he peruses the contents.
“Damn, seems crazy she’s been gone over twenty-five years,” Jesse admits, and shakes his head. I glimpse at Jake as he stands up straight, his eyes focused on something within the pages.
“I remember she was always in the kitchen,” Jake recalls as he lifts from the wall and walks over to the bed. He’s sets the album down on the bed, then carefully pulls back the protective plastic that covers the photos, then removes a picture and stares at it.
“Your mom was an amazing cook, but baking, that was her gift,” Dad shares turning from the window to face us.
“I remember that, too.” Jesse nods and stands from the hope chest. He walks over and studies the picture in Jake’s hand. “Yes, that’s exactly how I remember her.” He smiles, but his voice is thick like my Dad’s was a minute ago.
Nash joins them and with his eyes down on the photo. “I kind of remember, too. What I do remember is she always smelled sweet. Like cookies,” he adds, and Jake and Jesse nod in agreement. All at once my breath leaves me in a whoosh.
“Cookies?” I finally gather myself and ask with my voice trembling, and that brings all their eyes to me.
“Yeah. She always smelled like sugar cookies,” Nash responds softly. He takes the picture from Jake, then walks over and hands it to me.
I stare at the picture. My mom is standing in, what I recognize as, my Uncle Duke’s living room. She’s seems so sweet, beautiful, and happy as she cradles a tiny baby wrapped in a pink blanket in one of her arms. Me.
My dad is next to her, with Nash hitched on his hip and his other arm wrapped around her shoulder. Jake and Jesse are, both, standing in front of us. My mom’s other hand is laid gently on top of Jesse’s head, while Jake leans against my dad, and they are all smiling at the camera.
Jake quickly walks over to me, and Jesse is right behind him. I glance at them briefly, before peeking back at the picture. I close my eyes when I finally realize she was with me today, and that she’s never left.
“Brat, why are you crying,” Jesse asks perplexed. I don’t realize I’m crying, until my dad steps up and runs his thumbs along my cheeks wiping my tears away. I giggle when I witness the terror my tears have put on their face. I just can’t help it.
“I’m fine.” I quickly wipe more of my tears away, then fan my face while I continue to giggle. “You may all think I’m crazy when I tell you this, but today while picking out my wedding dress, I’m pretty sure she was with me.”
“Of course, she was,” my dad agrees. “I know she’s always with you. All of you,” he adds, and glances between my brothers.
“No...I mean...yes, I’m sure she is with us, even more now, but what I mean is I smelled cookies. I was picking out my dress and the smell surrounded me. I know, it sounds crazy,” I admit, and shake my head.
The room goes silent for a few moments, before Jake sighs and smiles down at me. “I’ve smelled it too,” he confesses.
Forever & A Day Page 5