by Ivy Jordan
“Grab a couple plates,” I instructed Liam.
I didn’t want to push for details, but I was curious. He was still in another world, his eyes drifting upward, and his mind obviously preoccupied. My request snapped him out of his trance for a moment, long enough for him to pull two plates down from the top shelf.
I slid the spatula under the eggs one by one and flipped them like an expert line cook. I’d made enough eggs in the military for my SEAL brothers that I knew my way around a spatula.
“You’ll make some woman a good bitch one day,” Tommy used to say.
Damn, I miss that kid.
I slid two eggs on one plate and two on another. I grabbed a few slices of bacon for each, and then pushed one towards Liam.
“Let’s eat outside,” I suggested, grabbing my plate and heading towards the door.
Liam followed me, still off in deep thought about whoever this woman had been.
“So, are you gonna tell me how you ruined it?” I finally asked.
We sat down at the picnic table outside. It needed work, but it was good enough for now. I found a spot on the seat that didn’t have chunks of wood missing from it, and waited for Liam to sit down before expecting a response.
He played with his eggs, sliding the fork tines through the yolk and spreading yellow goo over his plate.
“I didn’t think I was good enough for her,” he admitted.
I bit into the bacon. Holy hell, that’s good. Better than coyote.
“You’re good enough for anyone, brother. The girl should’ve been lucky to have you in her life,” I boasted.
“She thought I was good enough. It was me that had the issue,” he corrected.
I watched him struggle across the table. He was always so confident, so strong, it was odd to see him weak and unsure of himself.
“I wouldn’t open up to her. I didn’t want her to think I was weak or that I was broken, so I never told her about the nightmares. I wouldn’t stay the night with her, and she thought it was because I didn’t want to commit to her, that it was her,” he went on.
“I understand that,” I nodded.
“She confronted me, demanded I explain why I wouldn’t stay, and I froze. I just fuckin froze. I loved this girl, I truly loved her, but I couldn’t let go of my pride to fuckin’ talk to her. I let her walk away, giving her no explanation, and no assurance that it wasn’t her. It was easier for me to let her believe she was the problem, for me to believe she was the problem, than it was to admit I had one and thay I needed help,” he continued.
This wasn’t the type of conversation I was used to having with one of my brothers, with Liam, with anyone. I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“So, where is she now?” I finally asked.
“She’s engaged to be married, happy,” he sighed.
I could see the pain in his eyes and feel the pain in his heart. I wanted to reach out and hug him, to tell him she wasn’t worth it, but it was obvious she had been.
“I started talking to someone after that,” he gulped.
“Talking to someone?” I questioned curiously.
“Yes. A counselor, and it’s really helped,” he admitted.
“Good,” I offered, shoving a large bite of egg into my mouth.
I could feel the direction of the conversation turning from him to me, and I wasn’t in the mood.
“You should try it,” he pushed.
Here we go. Fuck no.
“I’m good,” I chuckled.
“Are ya?” he teased.
I knew I wasn’t, at least not right now, but that would pass, eventually.
“I’m serious, Xander. If you truly want to make things work with Bailey, you need to work this out,” he insisted.
“I’ve already accepted there isn’t anything to work out,” I sighed.
Liam’s eyes narrowed as he stared at me with disbelief. He knew I was full of shit. Hell, I knew I was too. I wouldn’t have called if I thought I could just let her go. All those letters, the dreams, the constant glances of the pictures of her on my phone, it was obvious I was in deep.
“I just want you to know, I’m here to help you, and if you truly want to make this happen, we can make it happen,” he claimed.
He made it all sound so simple. It wasn’t. There wasn’t anything about my life that was simple. Bailey didn’t need that complication in her world.
“You’re willing to just lose her?” Liam questioned.
“Like you said, I may have never had her,” I snorted.
“I was protecting you, but I was wrong. You can’t hide from love, from life, you have to learn to embrace it, live it,” he chanted.
I picked up my empty plate and reached across the table to grab Liam’s. I walked into the cabin, placed the dishes in the sink, and poured another glass of whiskey.
“You want one?” I offered as Liam walked in behind me.
He nodded, extending his glass to the bottle in my hand.
I moved to the couch, leaned against the cushions, and thought about what he was saying. I didn’t want to lose her, but I wasn’t sure if there was anything to salvage. I hated going after something without knowing the outcome. In war, we planned, we strategized, and we had a pretty damn good idea of what would happen in the end. Even when there was a chance for a poor outcome or causality, we planned for it, accepted it. This was like walking onto a mine field blindfolded without any idea of where the bombs were buried.
“What’s this?” Liam asked, picking up the stack of envelopes on the coffee table. He held them in his hand as he sat, shuffling through them, each one addressed to Bailey.
I reached up, snatching the letters from his hand, and shoved them under a book on the table.
“Nothing,” I growled.
“You’ve been writing her. Have you sent anything yet?” he asked.
I shook my head, slowly taking a sip of my whiskey.
“That’s okay. At least you’re dealing with your emotions. But, you really should let her know how you feel, before…” he paused.
Before it’s too late… Did he know something?
“Have you seen her?” I asked.
Liam shook his head.
“You’ve been in town, you haven’t heard anything or spoke to her?” I interrogated.
He let out a chuckle as he leaned back onto the couch cushion.
“Brother, you got it bad,” he snorted.
Twenty-Eight
Bailey
My hand barely lifted to reach Lila’s doorbell. It was pouring rain, cold, and my entire body was numb as she opened the door.
“Oh my God, get in here,” she gasped, reaching out to pull me inside.
I didn’t budge. My legs were frozen in their spots, unable to move, barely capable of holding me up.
“He’s gone,” I sobbed, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the rain.
Lila’s face turned pale, and she quickly exited her warm home to the cold rain. She wrapped her arms around me and let me cry on her front steps until I could speak again.
“Can you come over and wait with me?” I asked.
“Of course,” she quickly agreed, guiding me towards my house with her arm around my shoulder.
“Why don’t you have a porch?” I laughed nervously.
We were soaking wet, our hair, our clothes, it was all drenched. Any signs of makeup I’d worn were long gone from tears, rain, and two days of exhaustion.
Lila looked up and down the street, all the houses with porches to shelter from the rain, except hers. She giggled, pulling me close, kissing me on the cheek.
“I’m so sorry, Bailey,” she consoled me.
I was a mess. My nerves were rattled, but I was glad to have her there. I wished Xander was with me, holding me, but I knew even he couldn’t console this pain.
“He was doing so well this week,” I sobbed as we made it to my porch.
Lila sat down on the lounger by the door, pulling me down beside her. She wasn’t
ready to go in, and honestly, neither was I. It was eerie being in the house with him inside, gone. It felt surreal. I wished it was a bad dream that I would wake up from, and he’d be at the kitchen table drinking coffee, reading the political news, and griping about how the military has gone to shit.
“When did he pass?” she asked.
I took a deep breath, calming my racing heart, and looked towards my friend.
“This morning, about an hour ago,” I sniffled.
The past week was good, better than it had been in months. With the medication out of his system, he was stronger, more alert, and more coherent. We had conversations, long ones, and he told me stories about my mother, the war, and his childhood, ones I’d never heard before.
The last two days, things started to go downhill, and it was obvious he was on the last leg of his life. Joy, the hospice nurse, told me to be prepared, that it would be any day. She gave him pain medication, but it made him sleep. He refused it most of the time, saying he wanted to be alive before he died. I hated that he was in pain, but I appreciated that he gave me a few more good days with him before he passed.
“He was telling me some old war stories last night, so I curled up in bed with him,” I smiled at Lila who held on to my every word.
“I’d been sleeping with him the last few nights, but last night, I could tell something had changed. He wasn’t as clear, as coherent, as he’d been, and he groaned in pain most of the night. I gave him pain meds around midnight, finally convincing him that he needed some relief, and then he slept so peacefully that I didn’t even realize,” I choked.
“Oh, honey!” Lila wrapped her arms around me tightly while I sobbed.
I woke up to my father, but he didn’t wake up to me. The last part of our conversation had been about my mother and how he looked forward to seeing her once again. He told me how much love meant, and without it, life wasn’t worth living. I knew by the way he looked at me that he wanted me to find love. He didn’t mention Xander’s name, but I could feel it resting on his tongue.
Tears flopped from my eyes, bouncing from my cheeks to Lila’s arm as she held me.
A hospice vehicle arrived in front of the house with a coroner’s vehicle pulled in behind them. I let out a cry, loud and painful into the stormy morning and went limp in Lila’s arms as they approached the house.
The hospice employee was professional, courteous, and more than gracious when it came to dealing with my emotions. The coroner seemed impatient as he waited for me to gather my emotions and let him inside.
Lila held my hand as we entered my childhood home. She walked with me into my dad’s room, stopped at the doorway, and released my hand as I pulled from her, rushing towards him on the bed.
John, the hospice employee, moved towards me, his hand on my back. He said a prayer, moved my hair from my face, and offered a warm smile.
“This is how he wanted to go,” he reminded me.
I sniffled, wiped my face, and moved from the bed so the coroner could do his job. He didn’t take long, and then scribbled the time in his book before turning back to me.
“I’ll deliver him to the funeral home. From there, you can plan the service,” the coroner said without much compassion.
John rubbed my back as Lila rushed to my side. He guided me into the kitchen, away from the path my father would take leaving his home for the last time.
“Have you made all the arrangements?” he asked.
I nodded.
Dad had already taken care of everything. He had his Navy blues pressed and ready to be worn, his casket picked out, a plot reserved right next to my mother, and everything was paid for. I didn’t have to do anything. That’s how he wanted it.
“Do you need to say your last goodbyes?” Lila asked.
I shook my head. I’d spent an hour with him this morning, talking to him, brushing his silver hair, cleaning him up, and giving him the dignity he deserved before anyone entered the home.
“May I?” Lila asked, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Of course,” I smiled, watching my friend make her way back to dad’s room.
She loved the old coot, and I couldn’t have been more appreciative of her caring for him while I was gone. I knew he loved her too, even though he teased her, calling her knobby knees, skinflint, and skinny Minnie. She was like a daughter to him, and he was like a father to her.
John discussed some details with me, mainly to keep me occupied I was certain. He gave me a list of medication that my dad had been prescribed, explaining that Joy would be by to pick it up within the week. Everything was spinning, and his words were becoming a blur. All I could focus on was Lila standing in the living room, her hands over her mouth, tears rolling from her eyes, and my dad being moved out of his room and through the front door on a gurney.
The next couple days were just as big of a blur. Details, papers to sign, deeds, titles, announcements, they all consumed me, chewing me up and spitting me out with a vengeance. If it weren’t for Lila, I was certain I would’ve collapsed before ever making it through the service.
Dad was dressed in his Navy blues, his medals and pins all intact. I’d wanted to save them, to keep them as memories, but he insisted they stay with him, decorating him, so my mother would recognize him, he’d said. I laughed when he told me she’d died beautiful and young, and he was old and ugly. He wanted to wear the blues, the medals, all to impress her, to win back her heart.
The service was beautiful, with more people showing than I’d expected. It took nearly forty-five minutes to get all the cars ten miles across town, and the small cemetery didn’t offer enough space for everyone to pull inside the gates. People walked from blocks away, wearing their best clothes and their dress blues, and they didn’t even flinch when it started to rain.
Lila rode with me, holding my hand the entire way. I wished it was Xander. Dad was right; love was important, and my heart ached for what I had in that cabin.
“He would’ve been proud of his send off,” Lila chirped as the last guest gave me a hug and condolences before leaving the gravesite.
I looked up into the sky, once darkened with black clouds, and now bright, open, and a ray of sunshine so bright it almost looked like heaven opening up to take him home.
“I’m sure he’s very proud,” I sighed, dropping to a seat under the canopy.
Lila sat beside me, holding my hand as we both stared at the casket that had been lowered into the ground.
“Can I take you to lunch?” she asked.
I knew she wanted to get me out of here, and as much as I wanted to stay, I knew she was right.
I smiled, squeezed her hand, and nodded.
She walked me to the limo and helped me slide into the backseat. The tears wouldn’t stop, and even as we pulled back into the funeral home parking lot, my pain had not subsided.
“I don’t know if I want to go in public like this,” I admitted.
Lila pulled out a tissue and wiped my tears.
“It will do you some good,” she insisted.
It was better than going back into that house. I couldn’t bear the thought of being there without my dad right then, so I agreed.
She put me in her car, drove me to Louie’s, and found us a booth in the back by the large window.
“Isn’t that Xander’s friend?” she asked, pointing across the street towards the small outdoor market.
My heart raced as I looked past the truck that had driven me to safety, and to Liam, who loaded bags into the back of it.
“Yes,” I sighed.
“I thought he lived in Texas or somewhere,” Lila pointed out.
“He does. I wonder if Xander’s okay,” I pondered.
A lump in my throat made it hard to swallow, and the overflow of tears building once again in my eyes made it tough to focus on his image.
“From what you told me about him, I’m sure he’s taking care of himself,” Lila smiled.
“There are some things I didn’t tell yo
u about him,” I finally admitted.
Her eyes didn’t widen like they normally did when gossip was about to be spread, instead, they softened, and she waited for me to talk, not pushing for any details.
“He has PTSD, that’s why he stays up there alone,” I stated.
“Was it scary to be around him?” she questioned.
I shook my head and smiled.
“No. He was very sweet. It was the nightmares that seemed to hold onto him the hardest,” I explained.
“You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I am. He called to check on me last week,” I sighed.
“So you talked to him?” she gasped.
“Dad did,” I exhaled. “I wanted to call him back, or even go up there and check on him, but everything started falling apart here,” I recalled.
“You can check on him now. Do you want to catch his buddy before he leaves?” she urged, already on the edge of her seat ready to bolt from the restaurant.
“No,” I whispered.
“Why not?” she questioned.
“It may be too late,” I confessed.
“Too late to check on him? Or are we talking about something else?” she pushed.
Tears burnt my cheeks as they fell from my eyes, and as quickly as I could wipe them away, more formed and fell. I broke down, telling her that we’d gotten closer than I’d admitted while in that cabin. Lila stared at me with disbelief and amazement in her eyes as I told her how he held me, and his nightmares were gone, how we’d made love, talked for hours, and that for a while, for most of the time there, I didn’t want to know who was searching for me, for fear of having to lose him when they found me.
“Bailey, you’re in love with this man, and it sounds like he’s in love with you,” Lila gasped.
“I think Dad picked up on that too,” I snorted.
I told her about the phone conversation, and then the conversation that followed with my dad. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me from across the table.
“Bailey, you’re a fool if you don’t go after him,” she insisted.
I stared out the window, across the street where Liam was parked. His truck was gone, now at the light at the intersection just outside of our window. I knew if he was still there, Xander was not doing well, and he thought it necessary to stay with him, not leaving him alone.