Holding Onto Forever (The Beaumont Series: Next Generation Book 1)

by Heidi McLaughlin

“In my head, she’s this amazing young woman with a bright future.”

  “You’re right. She is.”

  “She’s very lucky to have you.”

  Dad shakes his head. “I’m the lucky one.”

  Jenna doesn’t say anything else. She exits the room, leaving the two of us alone. He reaches out and touches my foot. The still me doesn’t move, but I pretend that I can feel him and wiggle my toes. I don’t like to think that I will never see my parents again or my sister and Quinn or any of my other family members. I don’t want to know a place where they don’t exist. Where I’m whatever this is now, watching them go on with their lives.

  How long does it take until you forget someone? I barely remember my father. Being five when he died, the memories faded rather quickly, except for the stuff I’ve made up about him in my mind. At what point do your loved ones become only a date that you remember? When do you start talking about them in past tense? Telling stories to make others remember?

  Dying isn’t what I want. I want to live. I want to work on television and commentate one of Noah’s games. I’d be impartial and not afraid to tell the viewers when he’s done something bad. It’s what he’d expect from me.

  I want to stand next to my sister when she marries Ben because we all know it’s going to happen. Elle can deny it as much as she wants, but I see it in her eyes when she looks at him. It’s the same way I look at Noah, except Noah and I will never have that sort of future.

  And when Quinn finally brings a woman home, I want to be there when he introduces her to our mom, knowing that this woman will have to move mountains in order to impress her. Never mind the fact Elle and I are related to her by blood. When it comes to Quinn, he’s her world. It’s okay that he is because he didn’t have a mom, and Elle and I got a double bonus when Harrison came into our lives.

  My dad finally sits down in the same chair everyone else has been using. He picks up my hand and presses his lips to it. I can see that he’s crying, but can’t feel the wetness as his tears land on my skin. I want to though.

  I desperately want to feel his arms wrapped around mine. From the day he taught me to play the drums, I knew he’d be my knight in shining armor. He encouraged me to do everything, nothing was ever off limits and he rarely told me no, except for the time I asked if I could have a motocross bike. I had seen it on television one day, the X-Games, and I wanted to do it. My mom freaked out, but my dad took me to the nearest store and asked me to pick out a bike. Next came the gear, and by the time I was all set to start riding, he told me that I’d have to have years of training. I gave up immediately and went back to playing the drums and dissecting game film with Noah.

  My dad reaches for his drumsticks, sliding them into my grasp and clutches our hands together. “Use these, sweet pea. Beat off whoever is trying to take you away from me. I know you can do it. You’re a strong girl, Peyton. Tell them no. Tell whoever it is you’re not ready. And if it’s your…” he chokes up and takes a few shuddering breaths. “If it’s your father… if it’s Mason, you tell him you love him, but you’re not ready. I’m not ready, baby girl. I haven’t had enough time to be your dad yet.”

  His head falls to my side and he sobs. I curl into him and tell him that everything is going to be okay. I will fight if I can figure out how. There wasn’t exactly someone waiting for me when I arrived at the hospital, handing out instructions on how to avoid the afterlife. I’m a good student. I would’ve read or listened to whatever they had to say because I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave my family.

  My name’s being called, but when I look up there isn’t anyone else in the room and my dad still has his head resting next to me. Yet, I follow the sound of the voice until I find myself standing in front of a large window. There are babies, wrapped in various color blankets with either blue or pink beanies on their heads.

  Inside, a woman dressed in a yellow gown is holding a baby girl, rocking her to sleep. I go in and see that the baby is tiny and she has cords coming out of her blanket, much like I do upstairs.

  “Please, God,” the mother cries over and over again. Her eyes are closed and she’s muttering words I can’t understand. Is her baby sick? I try to get a better look, but her face is hidden.

  Another baby cries, and I follow the sound until I’m standing in front of a bassinet. She too is wearing a pink hat, but something is wrong. There are two cards in her cradle, and the others only have one.

  She’s a twin, but where’s her… I look back at the woman and again at the baby who is crying. Did she have twins? And what’s wrong with her baby?

  A man walks in wearing the same yellow gown that the woman is. He rests his on the back of her chair and leans down, whispering something into her ear.

  “I will not,” she yells at him.

  Suddenly, I don’t want to be here, but I can’t leave. I try to picture another room, anywhere else but here, but I’m stuck.

  “You have to let her go. You have another child that needs you.”

  “NO! That child killed my baby.”

  “That child is our daughter. She needs us, and we need her.” The man looks frustrated. He has tears in his eyes as he comes closer to me. I move out of way even though I’m not really here. He picks up the crying baby and holds her to his chest.

  “It’s okay,” he tells her.

  “None of this is okay. That thing killed our baby.”

  The man shakes his head. “She didn’t. There was nothing that could’ve been done to save her.” He points at the baby in his wife’s arms. He takes the baby from the cradle over toward the woman, but she’s vehemently shaking her head.

  “Get that thing away from me. I hate it.”

  The man pauses and looks down at the bundle in his arms and nods. He doesn’t say anything else, but goes to the other side of the room and starts to rock the baby. It’s not long until he starts crying.

  My name is called again and it’s like I’m being teleported to another part of the hospital. I wish I had some say in where I was going, but I don’t seem to be in control.

  Now, I’m outside. It’s dark and while it’s winter, I should be cold, but I’m not.

  “Peyton?”

  I look to my left and on the bench is a woman with long dark hair like mine. She motions for me to come sit with her, but it’s hearing a familiar voice that’s keeping me grounded. “Noah,” I say, but he doesn’t look over. He’s talking to a homeless man and they’re deep in conversation. He laughs, heartedly, causing me to smile. I love his laugh. It’s one of his best features.

  “Peyton,” she calls my name again and this time I go to her. She pats the spot next to her on the bench and I sit.

  “How can you see me?”

  “You don’t know who I am?”

  I study her, trying to pull her face up in my mind. I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”

  “I’m your grandmother, Grace.”

  Now that she’s said as much, yes, I can see it now. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. The picture my grandpa has up of you are old and…”

  “It’s fine. I’m so happy to meet you.”

  I don’t want to be happy to meet her because she’s dead and that would mean I’m… I can’t bring myself to say the word, fearing that doing so would put some finality into my situation. I’m not ready. I haven’t had the chance to tell everyone how I feel or do the things I’ve wanted to do.

  I’m almost afraid to ask, but I have to know. “Am I dead?”

  “No, you seem to be taking your time crossing over. Your dad and I have been waiting.”

  “My dad? He’s here?”

  She nods. “He’s with your mom right now. He’s been here the entire time, watching over you and your sister.”

  “Why can’t I see him?”

  “He’ll make his presence known when the time is right, but for now, he’s comforting your mother so she doesn’t feel lost.”

  But that’s Harrison’s job.

  I look back at
Noah and wonder what he’s doing with that man. They seem friendly, like they’ve known each other for years, yet I’ve never seen him before in my life.

  “Is he a good man to you?”

  “He’s a friend,” I say, shaking my head.

  “But you’re in love with him.”

  “Doesn’t matter how I feel anymore.” I look at him one last time before turning my attention back to my grandmother. “What’s it like? Dying?”

  “It’s different for everyone. For me, it was peaceful. I was ready to stop the pain.”

  “And for my father?”

  “He had a harder time with it. He was young and had his whole life ahead of him. Mason fought hard to stay, but the damage was extensive.”

  “Like mine. I’m not supposed to make it through the night.”

  She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. I gather she’s here to help me cross over or whatever it’s called. Just follow the light or so they say on television.

  “If I go, will my mom be okay?”

  “In time.”

  “And what about my sister?”

  “She’s strong, like you.”

  “And my brother?”

  She doesn’t answer, only nods. I get the impression she’s not fond of my family.

  “My grandpa Powell, he loves Quinn. And Harrison.”

  “As he should. They’re good men, but I’m not tied to them like I am to your sister. I only speak about your mother because she survived when her husband passed away. That’s a testament to her character. But you, your sister and I are linked.”

  “And if I’m not ready to go? How do I fight? How do I wake up from whatever this is? Everyone is hurting and I want the pain and tears to stop. I want to open my eyes and see my mom, my sister, and Noah.”

  My grandma adjusts. “You’ll have to ask your dad because I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t you fight?”

  “I did, with everything I had. I wasn’t ready to leave my life behind. To leave my husband and son, but after awhile, the cancer became too much for me and by the time I realized I was dying, it was too late.”

  “My grandpa misses you.”

  “I know, sweetie. I miss him too. But I’ll see him soon.”

  I don’t ask her how she’s going to see him because I don’t want to know. There are only two options that I can think of, and neither is acceptable. I turn back to Noah, only to watch him leave. He goes through the double doors, walking as if he’s on a mission. “I’ll be right back,” I say, but when I glance over my shoulder, she’s gone.

  Going over to the man, I find him staring down at his hand. In it, is a wad of money and I have a feeling that Noah put it there. That seems like something he’d do. I lean into him and whisper, “Wait for him. He’s going to need a friend.”

  I stand back and watch as the man looks around. I try not to laugh, but I can’t help myself. If I can talk to him, maybe I can talk to the others and let them know that I’m fighting. Let them know that I’m here and can feel their love and that I’m trying to wake up.

  The man finally looks up and smiles.

  12

  Noah

  No one answers my question. They all stare, probably wondering what my problem is. I make eye contact with the adult members of my family and when Elle touches my arm, I brush her off as I head toward the double doors that lock us in or keep everyone out.

  “Noah.” My father’s voice is stern. I don’t turn around to look at him. I don’t need to see the disappointment in his eyes right now. I push through the doors and hightail it to the stairs. My feet pound the concrete, taking them two at a time until I’ve reached the top. My hands are clenched into fists as I pound on the wall.

  Why of all people is it Zimmerman? He’s not my foe, but he’s a football player and I stayed away from her purposely so she could have a life, and yet she’s with him and now… No, I can’t say it. I can’t bring myself even think it. Peyton is going to survive. She’s going to wake up and I’m going to tell her how I feel and put the ball in her court and hope that she feels the same. For all I know, she’s in love with him.

  “No, she would’ve told me,” I say out loud as I start to pace. Would she have told me? There’s a good chance that she would’ve kept this to herself. Maybe she felt like it wasn’t my business. But no, Katelyn said, “she had a date” that means something.

  I open the door and step out into the hallway. It’s fairly dark and eerily quiet. I find myself tiptoeing down the hall, pausing when I come to open hospital room doors, looking to see if the rooms are occupied. I don’t know why, it’s a morbid curiosity I suppose. As far as I can tell this floor is empty. I don’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or turn and run back to the stairs.

  My heart is pounding and my palms are sweating. With each step I take, the fear builds. How is it possible that a hospital in Chicago has an empty floor?

  “Can I help you?”

  I turn to find a short older woman, dressed in white standing behind me. I won’t go as far to say she’s creepy, but the thought is crossing my mind.

  “I… uh…”

  “Are you looking for someone?”

  Am I?

  I nod. “Zimmerman. Kyle Zimmerman. I thought I was told he was on floor…” I look at the stark white walls for any indication of what floor I’m on but there are none.

  “He’s not on this floor,” she deadpans and turns to the side as if that’s my indication to leave. Don’t need to tell me twice.

  “Thanks.” I walk by her as fast as I can, not stopping until I’m at the elevators. I turn back and she’s watching me. Everything about this situation seems like a scene from a horror movie and I’m determined to believe that I’m making it all up. Nonetheless, I push the heavy metal door open and hustle down the stairs as fast as I can.

  When I get to Peyton’s floor, my hand rests on the handle, but I don’t tug it open. My mind goes back to her and Zimmerman. He’s somewhere in this hospital and I intend to find him. Another flight down, I exit the stairwell and hop in the elevator. I figure my best chance at finding out which room he’s in will be from my agent.

  The temperature must’ve dropped a few degrees in the last hour. I shiver as I stand outside, waiting for my phone to boot up. Once it does, the notifications start coming in again. There are a few from my teammates asking if I’m heading out with them tonight, but most are from Dessie, and I can’t stomach to look at those right now. I tap the green Phone icon, press Allen’s name and bring the handset to my ear. It rings twice before he’s answering.

  “Westbury?” Allen became my agent the day my college football career ended. He was one of the few who didn’t come after me early, which earned a lot of respect from me. “Everything okay?”

  “My friend was in a really bad accident and isn’t expected to make it through the night.” My heart seizes as I say those words. I want to take them back and tell Allen that she is going to make it, but it’s too late. This entire time I’ve been telling myself that Peyton will pull through, refusing to believe what the doctor has said or what everyone around me believes.

  “Let me know what I can do for you.” He doesn’t have a clue who Peyton is, but cares anyway. Not because it’s his job, but because that’s the type of man he is. I’ve heard the horror stories about my dad’s manager, Sam, so I’m thankful Allen is a stand-up guy.

  I nod even though he can’t see me and kick a pile of snow away from me. “There is one thing if you don’t mind.”

  “Anything.”

  “Kyle Zimmerman was also in an accident this evening and is rumored to be at the same hospital. I’d like to pay him a visit.” I tell him which hospital I’m at, but nothing more. Allen doesn’t need to know why I have to go see Kyle. Something tells me that he’ll find out soon enough. Undoubtedly there will be a reporter that will put two and two together after Harrison holds a press conference tomorrow and Peyton’s love affair with Kyle will be all over the news.<
br />
  “Sure, sure. I’ll find out what room and text you.”

  “Thanks.” We hang up, and I decide to sit on a bench near the entrance. The whooshing of the sliding doors is somewhat calming. It oddly reminds me of the machines that are helping keep Peyton alive.

  An elderly man, who has seen better days, sits down next to me. I’m trying not to stare, but I can’t help it. It’s cold here and this gentleman is wearing tattered clothing and a light jacket.

  “Hey Mister, I know you,” he says. My head snaps toward him and I smile, recalling those exact same words that I said to my dad before I knew who he was.

  I extend by hand and shake his rather frail one. “Noah Westbury.”

  “Leonard Ramsey. My friends call me Leo.”

  “Well, I hope to some day call you Leo, Mr. Ramsey.” He smiles an almost toothless grin.

  “What brings you to Chicago?”

  “My friend is here,” I say, motioning with my head toward the hospital.

  “Oh, and here I was hoping you were coming to play for a real team.” He laughs and as much as I don’t want to, I do as well.

  “I like Portland. We’re young. We’ll be good soon.”

  “If you say so.” Again, he’s laughing at his own joke.

  I don’t know how long Leonard and I sit there talking about football. He has a plethora of knowledge and all I can think is that Peyton would love to be out here with us. When Allen finally texts, I’m torn on what to do. The urge to go see Kyle is stronger than ever, but hanging with Leonard is nice. It’s peaceful and keeps my mind off what’s going on one floor above me.

  “How long are you in town for?” he asks, tearing my gaze away from my phone.

  “Few days. I have to go back.”

  “Practice… it’s just practice.” He smiles, and this time I find myself laughing.

  “Allen Iverson. I remember that press conference.” Allen Iverson could’ve been one of the greatest in the NBA, but his attitude got him into trouble a lot. “You know Leonard, you’ve really turned the last hour or so around for me. Thank you.”