Jack shook his head. “You don’t understand. I won’t be close to my girl if I stay with you.”
“Sure you will. Emma will be there, all the time, you know that.”
“Dottie. I need to be with her. Sitting out there, by her tree. Talking to her. I miss her.” Jack looked away. “I miss her bad.”
Peter’s heart broke as Jack admitted that, and he knew he couldn’t ask him to do something he wasn’t able to do.
“Okay.” His mind raced with possible scenarios, of how to stay close to him before he passed away.
Peter wasn’t being close-minded or ignoring the facts; he knew Jack didn’t have much longer to live. But he was still here, today, and that’s what counted. It had to. He couldn’t move his family to Jack’s place—that wouldn’t work, especially with the girls in school and his work schedule—but they could do something. They needed to.
“Stay with us on the weekends then?”
Jack’s eyes were closed by now and his breathing heavy. He’d fallen asleep. He’d been doing that a lot lately, falling asleep quickly. Peter gathered the blanket and tucked Jack in, used the remote to lower him down so he was in a better lying position, and then gathered his belongings and opened the door.
Outside was Jack’s doctor, with a stern look on his face.
“The least you could have done was brought enough steak to feed the rest of us,” he said.
Peter glanced down at the bag and shrugged. “How did you know?”
“We could smell it down the hall. How is he?”
Peter glanced behind him. “He wants to go home.”
The doctor nodded. “You realize he wants to go home to die, right?”
Peter sighed. The heavy weight of that knowledge rested on his already overburdened shoulders. “I know.”
“It’s a miracle he pulled through the way he did, but I don’t see that happening again. Are you ready for that?”
Was he ready? No. But he really didn’t have a choice, did he? He didn’t have the choice when his parents died either.
“I’ll never be ready, but then, no one ever is, are they?”
He headed away from Jack’s room, his footsteps heavy as he made his way out of the hospital and back to his family.
October
“Mrs. Watson says that we can’t bring treats to school anymore.” Emma stood at the kitchen counter, arms crossed over her chest, and pouted.
Megan looked up from the note the girls had brought home from school.
“I see that.” She handed the note to Peter, who stood at her side and waited for him to read it.
“What do you think she means by treats, Mommy?”
Megan groaned as she attempted to stretch and then groaned when Peter kneaded the muscles in her lower back. The dull ache that had settled in this morning when she woke up wouldn’t go away.
“What do you think she means, honey?” Megan asked her daughter. The note was very clear about what kind of treats were allowed at school and it was the same note that had come home last year, and the year before that and the year before that as well. Halloween was only a few weeks away and the last thing the teachers wanted was kids jacked up on sugar in their classrooms.
Not that she blamed them.
“Can I bring cookies still?” Emma asked.
“How about some cut-up apples or carrots or homemade applesauce?” Peter suggested.
“Fine.” Shoulders slumped, Emma grabbed two freshly made cookies from the plate on the table and left the kitchen to make her way towards the living room where Jack rested in the recliner.
“That girl loves her cookies.” Megan smiled at the sight.
“Probably because you let her make them all the time.” Peter continued to rub her back, pressing hard into the muscle while Megan rubbed her belly.
“Thankfully she’s just as happy making healthy cookies as she is making chocolate chip ones.”
“Did someone say chocolate chip?” Alexis popped her head into the kitchen.
“Only you would hear chocolate and come running,” Megan teased before she pointed to the plate on the table. “Help yourself.”
“I thought these were for school?”
Peter waved the sheet of paper he’d just set down in the air. “It’s that time again.”
Alex groaned. “It’s bad enough they ban our candy, but everything? I’m going to starve!”
“Good, more candy for me then this year.” Peter nudged her as she walked by. Alex shot him a dirty look before she grabbed two cookies.
“Two?” Megan asked.
“One for Papa Jack.” Alex winked before she ran out of the kitchen.
Megan turned and leaned her head against Peter’s chest. “Think he’ll have had his fill yet?”
“Three cookies ago probably. I’d be surprised if he even ate the first one I gave him.” Peter gave her a look. “I should go rescue him, I guess.”
“Let me pour him a cup of tea first.” Megan had made him some tea earlier and was just waiting for it to steep.
Peter had brought Jack to their house early this morning and so far things had been good. He was weak but loving the attention the kids lavished on him. He sucked it all up: the way they tucked the blanket in around him and puffed his pillow, to the cookies they brought him and even putting old western shows on the TV for him.
Since he left the hospital, it was very rare for him to be alone. Peter would spend his evenings out with Jack at the farmhouse most nights, and Megan would go out during the day after the kids left for school. On the days when he was doing well, they’d bring him here to rest until being in their crazy house got to be too much for him. Usually he lasted two days before he asked to go home.
Megan wanted to think he was doing better, that being here, with them, was helping him, but she knew that would be lying. He was weaker than she’d ever seen him and lost weight faster than she was comfortable with.
Peter was optimistic that Jack would be here for Christmas. Megan was just happy he was here today.
With fresh tea in hand, Peter was headed towards the living room when Emma stopped him.
“Papa is sleeping.” She held a book tight to her chest. Peter placed the cup on the table and pulled out a chair.
“Were you reading to him?”
She nodded.
“Did you get to finish the story?”
She shook her head.
Emma loved to read stories to Jack, just as much as Jack liked to listen to her read to him. But lately he’d fall asleep minutes into her story and that bothered their daughter.
“You know Papa is really tired, right?”
Her bottom lip trembled. “He doesn’t like my stories,” she whispered.
Peter wrapped his arms around Emma and pulled her onto his lap.
“He loves you and your stories. But Papa just gets really tired. He doesn’t sleep long, though, right? Give him a few minutes and he’ll be ready to hear the rest of the story.”
Emma sighed and placed the book on the table.
“Can we work on my present for him while he’s sleeping?” She glanced from Peter to Megan, and they both nodded.
Emma was writing a story for Jack, complete with her own hand-drawn pictures. Megan had bought Emma a large journal type book that they were writing the story in.
“Are you ready to start the next chapter or do you still need to finish your picture?”
“Picture.” Emma climbed down from Peter’s lap and pulled out a box they kept on the corner table. It had Emma’s crayons and book in there.
The story was of a princess who got lost. She met a farmer in the forest who was helping her back to the castle. Emma was the princess and the farmer was her Papa.
With Emma busy drawing, Megan reached for a magazine and sat down at the table with her, trying to ignore the increased pressure on her back from the baby while Peter went in to check on Jack and the other two girls.
“Megan,” Peter called out to her minutes lat
er. “Megan, come here, please.” Something in his voice filled Megan with dread.
Oh no. She glanced at Emma, who remained oblivious of everything around her as she drew pictures of sunflowers and butterflies. Megan pushed her chair back and attempted to stand but a sharp pain laced through her body and she cried out.
“Megan? Are you okay?” Peter rushed into the kitchen.
She shook her head. She kept her gaze downwards at the puddle of water beneath her feet.
“Peter, it’s too early.” She swallowed hard and attempted to breathe before she looked up into Peter’s stricken face.
She wasn’t ready. Not for this. Not for the other either. They needed more time.
November
Megan rested her head against the back of the chair and let the silence engulf her. She needed this right now, needed the calm, the stillness. It could be disrupted any moment. She ignored the mess around her—the piles of clothes, the garbage bag tied tight beside the door—and just drank in the quiet.
Little Carson Jack Taylor, barely a month old, had finally fallen asleep.
They’d always known his name was going to be Jack and originally, they were going to call him Jack Carson, but Jack had made a comment to Peter one day, telling him about a man who’d helped save his life during the war. Private Carson Mearing had taken a bullet meant for Jack. To honor the man who had saved him, Peter suggested naming their son after the hero.
Never had a name meant more to them than this one.
Right now, with his bow shaped mouth and dimpled cheeks, Carson looked like a little angel. She could stare at him all day and not get enough.
She’d been unsure about having another baby in the beginning but the moment she held him in her arms, with his scrunched-up face and hands waving wildly, she knew this is what she was meant for…to be his mother. The girls had fallen in love with him, even Emma, who had tried to ignore her growing belly her whole pregnancy. Now the girls couldn’t leave him alone…Carson was going to be one loved and spoiled little brother.
“Hey.” Peter poked his head into the room and opened the door slowly.
Megan gave her husband a soft smile.
“Want a break?”
She shook her head. She was afraid to say anything, do anything, that might wake her sleeping angel up.
She’d—no, they’d—forgotten how hard it was to be parents of a small baby. Not just hard, but exhausting. The sleepless nights, the guilt she carried in her heart every time he cried, not knowing what she could do to help him.
Today had been a long and hard day for them all. Jack was back in the hospital—had been since the day Carson was born—and he was slipping away, a little bit more every day. She wasn’t sure what held him here, whether it was his love for Emma or seeing Carson every day, but he continued to tell them he wasn’t ready—not yet.
Carson gave a little sigh and turned in her arms. Megan took that opportunity to slowly rise from the chair and place him in his crib. With the little sleep Carson had all day, she hoped…no, she prayed that he would sleep through the night tonight.
God knows, she could use the sleep.
With slow steps, she dragged her exhausted body towards their room and sank down on the bed.
“I’ll get up with him tonight, don’t worry.” Peter knelt down in front of her and eased her socks off her feet.
“Are you sure? It’s my night,” she halfheartedly argued.
“I’m sure.”
Everything about this baby was different from their other three. Since Carson had come home from the hospital, Peter had been right there: the perfect husband, the perfect father, the perfect helper. He’d adjusted his hours so that he could work from home more, something he never would have done while the other girls were small. But not only that…he was there to give Megan a breather when she needed it. She didn’t have to bundle Carson up and take him with her when she ran errands, wasn’t the one to walk with him when he was fussy or anything else she’d had to do with the other three when they were younger.
It was nice. A relief.
“How much longer do you think Jack will be here for?” Megan slid her body backwards on the bed until she rested against the pillows.
“He says he wants to see Christmas with Emma, that he has a special gift for her.”
Megan smiled. Yes, he did. He’d given it to her months ago, just in case…and she’d given it back to him last week. They were weeks away from Christmas and she’d do anything to help make sure he didn’t miss it.
Her main reason—Emma.
“Just like she has a special gift for him,” Peter said. “She’s working so hard on it.”
It was true. Every spare moment, Emma drew pictures and wrote her stories, sometimes asking Megan or Peter for help. But more often than not, she wanted to do it on her own.
“I just…” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe he’s still here with us. There’s been so many close calls…especially the last one.”
“He’s a stubborn old man. It probably helps him that Doug is sharing a room with him.”
A week after Jack had been admitted into the hospital again, Doug had taken a fall at the farmhouse and broke his hip. Since then, he’d developed a cold that led to pneumonia and his body was having a hard time fighting it.
“They’ve both lost so much in such a short time.” Megan leaned into her husband and rested her head on his chest.
They sat there in the silence and Megan struggled to remain awake, just for a little while longer. She’d missed these times, of cuddling with Peter, being in his arms, feeling safe and secure.
She tilted her head up and smiled when she realized he’d already fallen asleep.
They were all exhausted. Not just her and Peter, but the girls and the baby too. Not knowing how much longer Jack had, the girls wanted to be by his side every chance they had, so they’d go and eat dinner with him each night in his room and stay until visiting hours were over. If Doug was having a particularly bad night, they’d leave earlier.
But placing their focus on Jack meant they let other things in their life slide. Like the house. Thankfully Laurie came over often during the day and helped her with laundry or cleaning up the kitchen…all with the excuse that she just wanted to hold her godson while he was still small and unable to move.
Tonight, the girls—Hannah, Alexis, and Emma—were all having a sleepover at Laurie’s place. The plan was that Megan would go over in the morning and have breakfast before they went out and ran errands. She’d promised the girls they would have a mom-daughter day, and Peter was going to stay with Carson and maybe go see Jack during the day.
Rustling noises came through on the baby monitor and Megan held her breath, praying Carson wasn’t waking up. It only took a moment for him to settle back down, though, but she waited a few more minutes and forced her eyes to remain open, just in case.
Thankfully all remained calm and she eventually closed her eyes, letting sleep overtake her.
December
The wonder and amazement in the kids’ eyes as they stared at the Christmas tree brought Megan to tears.
“Did Santa do this?” Emma was in awe, unable to stop staring at the tree Megan and Peter had stayed up till four in the morning putting up. They’d meant to do it earlier, weeks ago, but they just ran out of time. Between the kids’ Christmas activities, and Carson getting his first cold, and Jack and Doug both getting worse…decorating their home with lights and mistletoe and Christmas figurines had been the last thing on their mind.
Sure, they’d put up a tree in the hospital room, a small one shoved on top of a cabinet with handmade ornaments from the girls—but that’s where they spent the majority of their time now: at the hospital with Jack and Doug.
“I think Carson likes the lights.” Hannah held her brother in her arms as she stood in front of the tree.
Megan smiled in her seat, where she’d curled up beneath a blanket. She’d fallen asleep there last night while
Peter arranged the gifts beneath the tree before he too lay down on the couch and slept.
“Was it Santa?” Emma reached out and touched a felt snowman she’d made last year.
“No silly, it was Mom and Dad.” Alexis crouched down and looked through the gifts.
“Hey, hey.” Peter came into the living room with coffee mugs in his hand. “No peeking at the gifts beneath the tree.” He handed Megan her coffee and placed a kiss on her lips. “Good morning, beautiful.”
Happiness wound itself around Megan’s heart.
“Good morning yourself.” She smiled up at him, remembering their evening last night. They’d sat in front of the fire at first as they waited for the kids to fall asleep, the baby monitor beside them, and talked about their hopes for the upcoming year, their thoughts on the previous year. And they talked about planning a trip in the new year, something far away, a place to put a smile on the kids’ faces after having such a hard year and difficult Christmas.
They didn’t say it, they didn’t need to, but both knew that their time with Jack was almost over. The doctors had told them last night not to expect him to last another twenty-four hours. He was ready to go home to Dottie. Jack had said as much last night to Megan and Peter as he said goodnight to them.
“When can we go see Papa?” Emma curled up on the chair with Megan and laid her head on her shoulder.
“Visiting hours don’t open until ten, honey, so we’ve got some time.” Megan laid a kiss on the top of her daughter’s head and prayed that Jack would still be there when they arrived. Let them have this last Christmas, please, she prayed.
“I finished my story,” Emma whispered.
Megan smiled. “He’s going to love it. I promise.”
There was a knock on the door and before anyone could answer it, Laurie called out a greeting.
“Merry Christmas, Taylor family.”
Alexis ran out into the hallway. “Merry Christmas…oh, what’s that?”
Laurie had sent Megan a text saying she was coming over with breakfast, something she’d done for the past three years now. She would pick up some muffins, cinnamon buns, and croissants from Jan Brewster and bring them over, and they would provide the coffee.
[Finding Emma 03.0] Megan's Hope Page 5