by Kaylee Ryan
“There is nothing to apologize for. He and I weren’t together. You did nothing wrong, and neither did he. We’ve been through this. It’s done.”
“I know, but my time is short—” I cut her off again.
“Exactly. Let’s not dwell on the how or why. Let’s live these days. Make some memories, take some pictures, and snuggle the hell out of your son.”
“I like that.” She closes her eyes, and I know I’m losing her to sleep and the pain medication.
“Sleep, my friend. I love you always,” I whisper, kissing her cheek. Careful not to disturb her, I stand and make sure the baby monitor is turned on in case she needs me in the night, something she fought me on, but I won in the end. I head back to the living room.
Once there, I settle beside Seth, who’s still chatting with Kent, who is holding Ryder.
“I hate this,” I whisper, unable to fight back the tears that fall.
“I know, babe. We all do.”
“You guys need a break. Go.” Kent waves us off. “Go do what married people do. I’ll hang here with the little man. I’ll listen for Amelia too. Go take a nap, or you know, do married things.” He wags his eyebrows.
“Kent.” I stop talking when Seth stands and offers me his hand. “Let’s take a nap.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Kent teases softly, mindful of Amelia sleeping in the dining room. Not that she would wake up. The pain meds knock her out.
“Just wait until you have a new baby.” Seth shakes his head.
“I can only hope to have what you have one day,” Kent tells him.
Something passes between the two of them, but I’m too tired to try and decipher it. “Thank you, Kenton.” I use his full name as I bend to kiss him and then Ryder on the cheek. “He just ate, and I changed him so it should just be snuggling, but if you need us, come and get us.”
“We’re all set. I’ve done this with my other nieces and nephews. I can handle this little guy. Go.” He waves again.
This time we go. We drag our tired asses to bed. Seth curls up behind me, and in his embrace, I let the exhaustion and the worry win as sleep claims me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Seth 28
* * *
Palliative end-of-life care. That’s what the hospice nurse called it. Ryder is six weeks old today, and the nurse tells us it will be within twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours and my son’s mother will leave this earth. A disease that has affected far too many taking her life. My fucking chest aches, a literal tightening, iron-fist gripping my heart kind of ache. She’s one of my closest friends, we grew up together, and she’s dying. I’ve known this was going to happen. Thought I was prepared for it. How do you prepare yourself for death? I’ll tell you how. You don’t.
You’re never prepared.
It’s a challenge I wasn’t prepared for but have to face.
“Seth,” Harold calls my name.
I turn to face him. He’s aged another ten years more than his seventy-one in the last month. I can’t imagine having to watch Finley or Ryder go through this. I can’t even fathom it. “Hey, Harold,” I greet him. I don’t bother with pleasantries. They’ve been staying here the last two weeks. He knows to make himself at home.
“You’re a good man, Seth. Ethel and I have been talking. Amelia was our only, and we’re not getting any younger. Everything we have will go to Ryder.”
I nod. I would expect nothing less from them. They’re great people. “Okay. What do you need from me?”
“His social is all we’ll need to make it official. We’ve already had our attorney set up a trust for him. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Thank you.”
“College, whatever he needs, there will be more than enough to take care of it all.”
“I’ll make sure it goes to him.”
“He gets access at twenty-five, but you and Mara will have access whenever you need it. If it’s for him, health or school whatever, it will be there.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Maybe not, but we want to. You’ve given her so much. All of you have. It’s what we want. It will make us feel better, like we’re helping in some small way. We can’t care for an infant at our age.”
“You’re welcome here anytime. Hell, you can stay in your room as long as you want, even after….” My words trail off. I can’t bring myself to say what we both know is happening just inside.
“H-Hey,” Kent says, interrupting us. “You guys better come inside.”
Harold and I follow him in the house and to the dining room. Everyone is there. The guys, their wives, my parents, as well as Amelia’s. Sonia has Finley, but we kept Ryder with us. He’s too little to understand what’s going on, and well, I thought it might help her to know he was here with us. Not that she knows. She’s been out of it for days, unless you count late last night when she told us that she loved us. When she held our son and told him he was her world, the love of her life, and her greatest gift.
She fell asleep shortly after and then turned from bad to worse. When the hospice nurse arrived early this morning, she told us to call our family and prepare for what’s to come. She said she couldn’t be sure, but her guess was sometime today.
As we enter the room, I find Ethel sitting next to her daughter’s bed, tears coating her wrinkled cheeks. She too has aged so much this last month. Mara is sitting next to her with Ryder in her arms. My wife’s face is also wet from her tears. Reaching into the economy pack of tissues we purchased, because there have been a lot of tears shed in this house in recent weeks, I pass a few around, making sure everyone has what they need. Then I go to my wife. She stands, and I take her seat so she and our son can take a seat on my lap. Together, we reach out for Amelia’s hand.
“Thank you, A,” I say softly. “Thank you for Ryder, for being the amazing human being you are. I’m honored to have known you my entire life. I can’t wait to tell our son about you. About how his mom never let the guys do anything without her.” I pause to swallow back my tears. “I’m going to miss you, but it’s okay. You can go now. You’ve fought hard, and you saved our little boy. He loves you. He can’t tell you that right now, but he does. He loves you.”
“Please God,” Mara says as she cries softly. “Stop making her suffer. She doesn’t deserve this.” She holds tight to Ryder and kisses his forehead. “Amelia Anderson, you were my first true friend, my family. I will never forget you. I love you, my bestie.”
One by one, our friends come up to the bed to say their tearful goodbyes. There is not a dry eye in the house as we sit with her, waiting for her pain to be taken away. “What are you doing? You just gave her some,” I question the nurse as she places yet another drop of liquid morphine under her tongue.
“This will help her relax. She’s fighting to stay here. This will help her go peacefully.”
“You’re drugging her?” Harold asks.
“I’m taking away her pain so she can relax and let her body take the natural progression,” she replies calmly, her voice soothing.
“How long?” Ethel asks.
“Within the hour,” the nurse explains. “Her breathing is shallow, and her pulse is slow.”
I rub my thumb softly over Amelia’s hand while Mara rubs her arms soothingly. Ethel and Harold are in a similar situation on the other side of the bed. Our friends gather around us and strong hands grip my shoulders. I don’t turn to see who it is. I know it’s one of my brothers. One of her brothers, as we stand strong, silent, giving her our strength to let go.
One hour.
One minute.
One second.
One breath.
“Time of death, 6:15 p.m.,” the nurse states.
There are sobs around the room. I don’t know which one is mine, which is Mara’s. Hell, her parents, our friends, they all mix together with our tears and our hearts that break as we accept this new reality.
Amelia is gone.
Her
memory will be alive in our hearts, and in our son. The pain of losing her will eventually dull but never fade, and the hole she leaves in our lives will never be filled.
It rained today. Not just a sprinkle, but an all-out downpour of rain. It poured all the way to the cemetery, and while we sat through the service, and with the final goodbye, it rained. However, when the minister stood before us and told us that Amelia would forever be watching over us, the rain stops. Suddenly, not gradually. It stops and the sun peeks through the dark clouds, and I smile.
Amelia.
I didn’t need the sunshine to know that she’s here with us. All I have to do is look at our son or in my heart for the memories that will forever remain there. I stand still, Ryder in one arm, Mara on the other, long after they’ve lowered her casket into the ground. My feet won’t work. They don’t seem to want to let me walk away. I hear a sob and look around to see that everyone is still here with me. My brothers, their wives, my sisters, her parents, my parents, everyone is still here. It’s not just me that misses her and hates the gaping hole she left in our lives. It’s all of us.
What do we do now? How do we move forward? I think about Amelia and can almost hear her reply.
“Seth, you take it one day at a time until you learn to live with our unexpected bond. It’s not something we planned, but it’s the hand we were dealt. I live on through Ryder, through you and Mara, and the guys, their wives. You take it one day at a time.”
“She wouldn’t want this,” Mark says, his voice gruff.
“She wouldn’t,” Tyler agrees.
“She’d want us to remember the good,” Ridge adds.
“She told me…” Kent clears his throat and starts again. “She made me promise that we would celebrate her life. That we would tell stories of our time with her, that we would write them down so we never forget.”
“Like that’s possible,” I say, kissing the top of Ryder’s head.
“You’re right,” Mara speaks up. “She lived her final days how she wanted. She made me promise to make you all come back to our place. Her only request was to include her parents.” Mara pulls away from me and walks over to Harold and Ethel. “Our home is open to you always. Ryder is your grandson, and we want you in his life. You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you want or need.”
“Thank you, dear,” Ethel says. “We’d like to come and visit, but we need to go home. It’s our home and where we raised her. That’s where we belong.”
“Well, today you’re coming back to ours. You’re going to eat some food and snuggle that baby boy. You’re going to listen to us tell stories about how incredible Amelia was as we celebrate her life.” She wipes at her eyes. “That’s what Amelia wanted.”
“She was so lucky to have all of you,” Harold speaks up.
“Well, I’m going to go call Sonia, and tell her to head that way,” Mom says, her arm linked through Dad’s.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, honey.”
“Get your babies,” Mara tells our friends. “We’re celebrating life, and we all need to be there. We’ll meet you back at our place.”
And just like that, my wife once again has proven how strong she is. Her heart is broken with the loss of her best friend, but she’s fighting through the sadness and the pain to give Amelia the final goodbye, the final celebration of her life that she wanted.
“We love you,” I whisper, taking one last look at the grave, before turning. And with my family by my side, I head to the car. “We’re going to celebrate your mommy, Ryder,” I tell my son softly.
That’s exactly what we do. Until the early hours of the morning, we sit around, eating and talking and telling stories. Everyone takes a turn with Ryder; he’s getting all the love today, but that’s okay. He’s lost something huge, something he doesn’t understand, but one day he will. One day when he’s old enough, we’re going to tell him about his first mother.
“He go down okay?” Mara asks, covering her yawn as soon as I walk back into the bedroom.
“Yeah, he didn’t even stir when I put him in his crib.” I grab the baby monitor and make sure it’s turned on.
“What took you so long?”
“Oh, I was in Finny’s room.”
“Is she awake?”
“No, I was just watching her sleep. Next week can’t come soon enough.” In the eyes of the law, Finley is already my daughter and we have the papers to prove it, but we’re still waiting on her new birth certificate with my name as hers. We’re going to have a daddy-daughter day. I’m going to make it something we do as often as possible for as long as she’ll let me. She’s independent now, so I can only imagine how headstrong she will be as a teenager.
She smiles at me. “Yeah, I can’t believe it took so long, but it’s done now and soon she’ll have it on paper that she’s a Jennings too.”
“Finally,” I say, stripping out of my jeans and sliding under the covers. “Come here, you,” I say, holding my arms open. My wife doesn’t hesitate to come to me. I hold her close and close my eyes. This past year has been hell, but having Mara by my side has kept me sane. Today was hard, saying goodbye to an old friend, a best friend, an aunt, a daughter, and a mother. It took a lot out of all of us. We weren’t ready to say goodbye.
“Do you want to open it now or later?” Mara asks.
The envelope. Amelia gave it to us and told us that we couldn’t open it until after her funeral.
“You decide.”
“Can we do it now?”
“Sure.” Pulling away, I turn on the lamp and reach into the nightstand and pull out the blue envelope. “You want me to do it?” I ask.
“Yes.” Mara snuggles up to my chest and I drape an arm around her, then slide my finger under the seal and open it. I pull out the card and the outside makes me chuckle. It’s balloons and confetti with Congratulations written on the front.
“She’s crazy.” Mara laughs while wiping under her eyes.
* * *
Mr. and Mrs. Jennings.
I can never repay you for all that you have given me. If I know you like I think I do, you spent today celebrating my life. Thank you for that, but now it’s time to live yours. I watched as the two of you fell madly in love, and that love has been tested and tried. Trust me on this, I was part of the test. Be happy. Love those babies of yours as if it’s your last day. Make sure any of my future nieces and nephews know that cool Auntie A is watching over them. I love you both.
* * *
Amelia.
* * *
“Damn her,” Mara says as she reaches for a tissue.
“She always did have to get the last word in.” I can’t help but smile. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She waves me off. “I miss her.”
“I know. I do too.” I place the envelope back in the nightstand and turn off the light. We lie in silence as the heaviness of the day and her final words to us set in. “Do you want more? Babies, I mean?”
“We have two healthy and happy children, but if we should be lucky enough to have more, yeah, I’d be happy about it. You?”
“Yes.” I pause, thinking about Mara and her belly growing round with our baby. “How soon?”
“What?” she says with a chuckle.
“How soon can we have another one?”
“Ryder is still an infant.”
“Okay?”
“That’s a lot of diapers.”
“I’ll be there every step of the way.”
“Seth, are you being serious right now?”
“Yeah, I mean when you’re ready. When our family is ready, I want more. If we decide it’s now that we start trying, then we do. If we decide to wait, I’m okay with that too, but I don’t want to wait too long. I want them to be close in age, so they can play together and be close.”
“Let’s give it a few months. Let’s adjust to our new reality, then we can talk about it.”
“We should practice,” I say, kissing her neck. “You k
now, for when the time comes.”
“Seth Jennings, what am I going to do with you?”
“Make lots of babies.”
“Goodnight, crazy man.”
“Goodnight, my wife.” I pull her closer, and with a smile on my face, sleep claims me.
Epilogue
Mara
* * *
It’s his first Christmas. It’s only been five weeks since we laid Amelia to rest, but the pain is still there. It lingers in our daily lives, but we keep pushing through. Ryder is thriving. He’s happy and healthy, and his little chubby cheeks, they light up our life. Finley loves him to pieces, and it’s her favorite thing in the world to make him laugh or smile at her.
I have a framed picture of Ryder and Amelia in his room, every night, sometimes multiple times a day, we stop and tell her how much we love her. Finley has one too. She loved her aunt A something fierce.
Today has been good. Harold and Ethel stayed here last night so they could watch the kids open gifts from Santa. Sure, Ryder is too small to know the difference, but Finley isn’t, and that little girl, she’s captured their hearts just as Ryder has. They spoiled both our kids rotten, and their smiles are huge because of it. I’m glad to see them smiling, living. I can’t imagine burying a child, but they are working through it.
“Mommy, wook!” Finley holds up the five-dollar bill that was in her Christmas card from Grandma and Grandpa Anderson.
“Wow, look at you. You better go put it in your piggy bank.” She’s up and racing toward her room before the words are even out of my mouth.
“You’re an amazing mother, Mara. Thank you for loving him,” Ethel says, nodding to a sleeping Ryder in her arms.
“He’s my son,” I tell her. “My heart doesn’t know the difference between him and Finley. I promise you that.”
“We know, dear,” she assures me. “Thank you so much for having us, but we need to get going. It’s going to be dark soon, and we don’t like to be out after dark.”
