by Lainey Reese
Kiki then frog-marched the reluctant Andie toward the small orchard and garden patch. The closer they came, the more Andie dug in her heels.
“Not this way,” Andie said, an edge of panic in her quiet voice. “Not this way.” When Kiki kept marching and tugging, Andie’s struggled in earnest. She shoved at Kiki’s shoulder with her left hand as she tried to free her right. “Not in that orchard! I’m never going in there again. No! That’s where it happened. That’s where… where—” But she didn’t finish. Andie just trailed off and stared toward the lovely garden patch like she was gaping into the jowls of hell, and Kiki felt her resolve crumble under the onslaught of her best friend’s grief.
“Oh, honey.” She stopped the struggles by the simple act of enfolding her in a tight embrace. Andie wasn’t having it. She wiggled and strained to free herself, so Kiki tightened her grip and held firm. “The garden didn’t cause this. Don’t fall into that trap. You start locking yourself out of places because they remind you of her, and you’ll be locked on that porch swing for the next twenty years. It’s a trap, sweet momma, I promise. Just a trap that’ll keep you locked in a cage of grief. Marking off places like this beautiful spot is like settling the bars for your own cell.”
“But, I c-c-can’t!” Andie sobbed into her shoulder, clinging now instead of fighting to be free. “I can’t. She’s everywhere. Everywhere.”
“Everywhere, huh?” Kiki cosseted her like she would a child. The woman was pumping out so much grief and pain it was a wonder they both didn’t drown in it. “I thought as much. No wonder you never move from that swing.”
“It’s the only place. The only safe place.”
“Sure, it’s not.” Kiki scoffed and eased the other woman back with a hand on each shoulder to meet her tear-ravaged eyes. “Look around you. Nothing here hurt you. This is a beautiful spot. A place that feeds you and offers you shade from the sun and flowers for your table. Look at it all. It’s lovely here, and you’re only losing more if you make this spot taboo.”
Under the shade of the apple trees whose leaves were just starting to turn, Andie stilled and looked up. Tears continued to swim in her eyes, but they were quiet ones now.
“I had to fill out a death certificate.”
Kiki firmed her lips and nodded solemnly. She knew this, had been there quietly sobbing alongside her as she completed the hated red-tape processes that were required. It’d been hellish. “Can you believe I had to do that? They gave me a death certificate, Kik. But they never gave me a birth certificate.”
“Oh, honey.” The bite of fresh tears stung Kiki’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“How is that fair? How is that right?” Andie demanded in watery outrage. “She was born! She was alive and moving when she came into this world, but they didn’t give me a birth certificate. No! Nothing to mark that she was here, that she existed. Only something to prove she’s gone.”
And the bereaved mother sank to her knees, her hands fisted in her own hair as she wept angrily over the injustice of it all. Kiki crouched down in front of her, elbows braced on knees, and she ached to wrap Andie up in her embrace and coddle her pain away. Experience—hard won over these last two months—had taught her that no amount of affection would reach where Andie’s pain was coming from.
“There’s nothing fair about that. It’s awful.” Andie’s sobs caught on a hitch and she opened her eyes to look into Kiki’s face. “Thing is, nothing is going to change the way things are. We’re stuck here, for the rest of our lives, without her. We can’t do anything about that. As much as we wish it weren’t so, we can’t just will things to be any different.” Kiki knew her words had a razor’s edge; she knew too that, like a festering wound, sometimes sharp words were needed to let the poisons out so true healing could begin. Her hand shook a little when she used it to brush the hair from Andie’s pale cheek.
“She’s gone. Your sweet baby girl died, and that’s a terrible thing. But you didn’t die with her. You’re still here. Sweetheart, you can’t bring her back no matter how long you sit on that front porch and wish things were different. Life is happening all around you. It’s time to join in again.” Kiki’s fingers brushed the worn hospital band still on Andie’s wrist. They both looked down at the crinkled plastic, and Andie’s fingers closed over it protectively.
“I can’t seem to take this off,” she said in a hushed tone. “I have nothing. Nothing to show that she lived. That she was here. She’s gone. I feel like, if I take this off, then it’ll be over. For real. She’ll really be gone, and there’s nothing left to show she ever existed at all. Nothing to show she was real. That she grew inside me and kicked and lived.” Fresh tears spilled on the last word, and she gripped Kiki’s hands with both hers and squeezed with her urgency to be understood. “Don’t you see? She lived. She was alive, inside me and out. But… there’s nothing. Nothing. I’ve got nothing but this. A stupid hospital ID bracelet. There’s no more tummy. No more cravings or nausea or wiggles or kicks. All that is gone. And there’s no baby. The only thing I’ve got is this stupid strip of plastic on my stupid wrist, and once I take it off, that’s it. It’s over. She’s gone, and there is nothing left on earth to show that she was ever here.” Fresh tears bit at her own eyes at Andie’s words.
“Everything about this is wrong. I know you feel like the whole world should just curl up and go away, because she won’t be here. But there are no options here.” Andie met her eyes, and Kiki watched them widen in dismay at what she heard. “Live.”
“What?” she asked in a whisper.
“Live,” Kiki said bluntly. “You didn’t die; you survived. Period. It’s that simple. People will throw all the clichés at you like, ‘life goes on’ and ‘you have to live for her now,’ and a bunch of other life-affirming bullshit. But that’s exactly what that is, bullshit.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying to me right now.” Andie looked confused, but she also looked engaged, and that told Kiki she was on the right path.
“You’re still here.” She cupped her friend’s face gently. “Life is still precious. Life still has hope. There is still joy to be had, I promise. I promise. The hardest lesson I ever learned in my whole life is that death is a part of it. I always thought that saying meant it would only be a part of my life when I died, and that’s it. But I was missing the whole point. Death is an everyday part of life for all of us. Only when I learned to accept that, absorb that, was I able to step back into living mine again.”
Understanding and fresh grief welled in Andie’s eyes as Kiki continued. “Our plants die. Farm animals die so we can eat. Our pets die, and so do our grandparents and parents. And we accept all of that, understand it. Those losses are expected. Hard, sure, but expected. To lose our babies though. That’s a blow we never see coming. The thing is, we should. Since you lost your sweet girl, I’ve been obsessed with finding out why. What could’ve been done to save her. And you know what I’ve found out? One in three pregnancies end the way yours did. One in three. Almost every other woman you meet is carrying this loss inside her, and yet no one ever talks about it. No one ever knows. So, of course you feel shattered when it happens to you. Singled out and all alone. At least that’s how it feels, right? But, honey, you’re not alone. I’m here, and Sharon. She knows the flavor of your pain. She knows the ache and the blame and the confusion you have in your heart. She has it in hers too.”
Kiki’s legs were killing her in this squat, so she sat down next to Andie and pulled the other woman’s head down to rest on her shoulder. “But look around you now. Take stock of what you have, my love, because for me, sometimes that’s the only thing that keeps me putting one foot in front of the other. Look at this beautiful little garden right here. Bursting with flowers and fruit trees and your own vegetable patch. And this is just a tiny corner of all that is waiting for you. You got people who love you too. People who are hurting and wanting to help. Let them. Open to them. Isolating yourself the way you have been only makes co
ming back harder and take longer. So, open back up. Let the love surrounding you in. I promise you; life is still worth living. I promise.”
“It’s so heavy,” Andie said, a hand pressing against her heart. “The pain, it’s actually like a weight right here. Sometimes, I don’t know how I can breathe under the weight of it.”
Kiki squeezed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “That weight isn’t ever going to get lighter, I’m sorry to tell you. But you will get stronger. After some time—how long is different for everyone—but one day, you’re going to realize that though your burden isn’t any lighter, you’ve grown strong enough that carrying it is no longer crippling. It’ll be just a part of you.”
“This may sound odd, but that actually makes me feel better.” Andie sat back, wiped at her eyes, and sniffed. “I like knowing that what happened will stay with me. That she’ll leave her mark after all. I’ll always have her with me.”
“Of course, you will. No wonder you didn’t want to take off that bracelet. You think it’d be the last you have of her.” Kiki wanted to coddle and soothe Andie, but she’d been doing that for the last two months, and nothing they had done reached past her fog of misery.
“I feel like I’ve cried enough tears to fill a bathtub.” Andie swiped at her cheeks with vigor and released a deep huff. “And maybe, I think, I can move now. I mean, it still hurts—God, it feels like it’s always going to hurt—but… I don’t know. I feel like maybe I can at least start to breathe again.”
When Andie lifted her face to the sunbeams streaming through the trees overhead, Kiki ached for her sketchpad and pencils. She was Madonna, Aphrodite, and Mother Earth in this moment. A goddess of light who’d been robbed of the life she’d toiled to give, and her loss was as captivating and haunting as a Greek tragedy. Kiki saw something else in her friend though. There was life back in her eyes. Gone were the shadows of death that clouded her, keeping her veiled and separate from the rest of the world these past months. At last, there was a break on the horizon, a brief glimpse at clearer skies with the promise that the sun would shine once more.
“I’ve missed you,” Kiki confessed. “I’ve been so freaking worried for you. Hurting for you. God, Andie, this was the worst experience of my life. And the worst part is knowing that as bad as I feel? As hurt and sad and angry and confused as I am? It’s nothing compared to what you must be feeling. This sucks sideways. I’m so sorry, honey. So sorry.” With her face still tilting toward the warmth of the sun, Andie cut her eyes sideways to peer at Kiki.
“I’ve missed you too.” Her smile was as warm and healing as the rays she basked in. Too soon, the smile faded, and Andie went on. “I feel all hollow inside. Like everything has been emptied out and my body is just this big, vacant warehouse now. My soul is like this miniscule foreman in a hard hat wandering around my cavernous, echoey insides hollering ‘hello?’ But nobody’s there. I’m empty.”
Kiki didn’t know what to say to that, so she scooched closer, flung her arm over Andie’s shoulders, tilted her face up to the same sunbeam, and closed her eyes. She couldn’t fix what was hurting her friend, so she did the only thing she could do; she joined her. Side by side, they sat in the dirt and let the sun heal what it could, and together, they would face whatever came next.
Chapter 20
Luke cursed as the tongs of his pitchfork gauged into the stall floor for what felt like the millionth time. His stalls were going to look like neglected roads full of potholes if he kept this up. Even as he told himself to ease back, he dug into the boards again. “Damnit.” Giving up, Luke hurled the pitchfork across the barn, where it smashed against the other tools with a satisfying clatter. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to break things. Hell, he wanted to tear down the whole building with his bare hands. His fingers curled into fists, rage boiled in his chest, and the very magnitude of emotions boiling within him kept him rooted to the spot. He feared if he let even an ounce of what he was feeling out now, the devastation he’d unleash would be impossible to rein back in.
So, of course, that’s when Jax decided to visit.
Just as tall and wiry as he’d been when they were kids, the tax lawyer looked like a catalogue ad in his designer suit and fancy shoes. Luke had forgiven him somewhere along the way, and it had started long before the hospital. He’d just been too caught up in the momentum of life to have taken much notice of it. All he knew was that when he looked at Jax now, he saw his friend instead of his enemy.
That was Andie’s doing. Her magic. The woman was pure love and acceptance with nothing in her heart but rainbows and puppies. She infected him with her kindness. Her love of everyone and everything. She robbed him of his longest grudge without him even realizing it happened. Now, here he was, needing to beat something bloody, and he no longer had his favorite target.
“Thanks anyways,” he couldn’t help but taunt, “but I don’t need any Girl Scout cookies today.”
Jax never broke stride, though he did acknowledge the dig with a raised brow.
“Back to that again, are we?” His lip curled in distaste, and he crossed his arms over his chest. His all too knowing eyes coursed down to Luke’s clenched fists, and Jax dropped his hands to his sides, palms up. “If a fight’s what you need, I feel it is only fair to warn you that I kept up with those martial arts lessons we took as kids. I’d kick your ass, and though it’d make me giddy as a Girl Scout, sadly, it would only make you feel worse.”
“Fucking hell.” Undoubtedly as Jax had intended, Luke felt all the wild tension in his sails deflate. The comment was just ridiculous enough to distract and draw him back from the brink. “Want a beer?”
“It’s one in the afternoon,” Jax informed him stupidly.
“Exactly. It’s after noon, so let’s drink.” He stormed out of the barn as he said it and left the other man to follow or leave; Luke didn’t care which. “I’m doing more damage than good today anyway. Can’t keep my head straight for shit.” The screen door slapped shut behind him then he heard the squeak and slap as Jax followed in his wake. Luke took two bottles out of the fridge, tossed one over, popped the top on his, and took down half the bottle on the first pull.
“So, you gonna tell me why you’re here?” Luke would have sworn the question threw Jax.
He froze for an elongated moment, eyes darting, and looked like he’d rather bolt for the door than answer. But then he let out a huge sigh and took a swig of his own beer before he admitted, “I was worried about you.”
If Luke had taken a drink himself, he would’ve pulled off a movie quality spit-take. “Worried about… me?”
Jax looked as uncomfortable as Luke felt. “You’re my friend. You lost a— You suffered a loss. A big one. And you haven’t been around Andie’s since you dropped her off, like at all.”
“Hey,” Luke interjected, indignant, “I’m there every day. I’m busting my ass picking up the slack and still keeping things running here, and—”
“I know all that.” Jax held up his hands in front of him in the classic “don’t shoot” gesture. “I’m not talking about the work you’re doing. I’m wondering why you never spend any time with Andie anymore. You just disappeared on her.”
Luke felt his words like blows from a prize fighter. “She never really wanted me. She was only giving it a try because of the baby.” Saying the word scraped rusty nails across his tongue. “But… that’s done now. She’s free to do as she pleases. I don’t want to add anymore on top of what she’s already going through.”
“Bullshit.”
“Not bullshit. She was still dating you even when she was—” Pregnant. He couldn’t say it out loud, not when the burn of the last time he mentioned the baby still roiled in his gut like a lake of lava. “Even then. Nothing could say ‘she’s just not that into you’ more than that.”
“God, ugh.” Jax sounded like a man at the end of his rope. “How are you this stupid?” Luke could do nothing but blink at him.
“Huh?”
; “See? Stupid.” Exasperation in every line of his body, Jax all but vibrated with it. “I was only ever a buffer between the two of you. I saw it even as it was happening. She only kept seeing me to keep you at arm’s length.”
“Exactly!” Luke interrupted, feeling a stabbing kind of vindication. “She was so not into me that she needed a buffer between us.”
“Moron,” Jax said and glared at him as he took another swig. “The buffer wasn’t because she didn’t care. The buffer was because she cared too much. She’s in love with you, idiot. You—being the idiot moron that you are—came on too Neanderthal, so she proceeded with caution, i.e. me. I knew all along the only reason I was there was as her safety net in case you screwed up and hurt her.” He shrugged.
“If that’s true, then why’d you stick around for it?” Luke wanted to know.
“Because, I was just crazy enough about her to not want to see her hurt. Plus, this is you we’re talking about. You were bound to screw up eventually. Then I could show her how a real man treats a woman he cares about.”
Luke felt that in his soul. He knew he fumbled every step with Andie, and he had no one to blame but himself. He didn’t blame her for needing a buffer or a safety net. Shit, if the roles were reversed and it had been Jax who treated her this way, Luke would’ve done everything he could to get her away from him.
“It’s no use though,” Jax went on. “What she feels for you is obviously not a passing fancy, and she’s not a flighty woman with shallow crushes. She’s in love with you—only God knows why—and I can’t for the life of me understand why you’re not over there right now holding onto her and healing together. Instead, you’re over here alone, like a mountain troll.”