“Hey sweetie,” Will said.
I knew it was obvious I had been crying, but they didn't ask.
“Are you hungry?” Sasha asked.
“No, but I should eat anyway,” I said.
“That's probably a good idea,” she answered.
“Not for me, though.”
“Hmm?” she asked, as she laid the lattice-shaped pie dough on a cherry pie.
I was ready to tell them about the pregnancy. In fact, I think this was news they needed. They had accepted Bobby was gone, and now they could use this news to heal instead of just adding to the injury.
“I didn't want to tell you until you had some time to process Bobby's passing . . . but I wasn't just at the hospital for my head.”
I watched Sasha and Will look at each other quizzically.
“I didn't know. I had no idea. Rory and I tried for years and it never happened.”
“You’re with child?” The words barely escaped Sasha's throat.
“I started bleeding . . .” I paused, stopping myself from recollecting the horror of a few days ago. “And they found out I was expecting. I still am.”
“Is it . . . Bobby's?” Will asked the sensitive question delicately.
“Yes . . . um, the timing makes it so. I stopped being with my husband when he got here. And . . . um . . . Rory wouldn't admit it, but I think he has some issues. I don't think he can,” I sighed, “produce.”
Will let out a soft, lingering gasp. A mixture of relief and disbelief.
“But you were bleeding? What did the doctor say? Should you be on bed rest?”
“I'm supposed to follow up, but I was told I should take it easy. As if that's even possible,” I stated bitterly.
“Whatever you need, Lilly,” Will interjected. “You are not alone.”
It's amazing how some simple words can knock you in the chest like a battering ram. I was surrounded by occupied beds in the hospital. My sister sat vigil by me. The streets were filled with movement. But I was in a desert. I was in an invisible purgatory. Stuck between mourning Bobby's death and celebrating the life we had created together.
You are not alone.
Those words were like a life line being tossed to me. Even if it couldn't pull me out, at least I could hold onto it and know someone was on the other end, supporting me. That knowledge alone was a comfort.
“I think I'll rest for a few minutes,” I said.
“Would you like me to call you when lunch is finished? I'd say it's another thirty to forty minutes.”
“Sure. I'm sure once I smell your cooking my appetite will return.”
Sasha smiled wistfully, but her eyes were full of empathy and sorrow.
I passed through the living room, where Bobby and I had nested in front of the fireplace the night of our corporeal reunion. I walked past the cove of bay windows, where we slow danced to a song that would forever remain etched in my heart. I looked down at the floor. Just weeks ago, our bare feet drifted side to side in unison, making those planks creak in the still of the night.
I turned up the stairs and made my way to the master bedroom. At first I leaned against the door and absorbed the memories of that room. Two weeks. I had two perfect weeks with him. That's more than some people ever got. I knew he was grateful for them, so I tried hard to be. But it wasn't fair. He deserved more than two weeks. He deserved a full lifetime.
A pale, thin curtain caught wind and danced up and down. I could have sworn we had gone through the house and closed all the windows before we left. But if the breeze carried Bobby, I was happy to leave it that way.
Every morning we'd wake up by sunlight. Bobby would wrap his arms around me, and whisper “Morning, Lil,” into my ear. I could hear his smile in his voice. It was always so nice to wake up to a smile. Sometimes I'd roll on top of him, and we'd have at each other. Other times, I wouldn't turn, but I'd take his hand and place it on my hip. He'd softly slide it up, and quietly, gently, he would touch me. And then our bodies would move together in a sensual, slow rhythm. Our raspy breaths and moans would unite as his hands wandered all over me. We would be so close, our bodies in perfect sync, as if we were two halves of a whole. Sometimes, we'd just talk about our plans for the day. And when I talked, he'd always watch me intently. I knew he was paying attention to my words. But it was more than that, it was him taking me—us—in. Bobby sometimes wasn't sure if he was still here or not. And sometimes I think our little sliver of heaven confused him even more.
So I crawled into the bed, thankful we didn't launder the sheets. I grabbed his pillow, and it still had a hint of his scent on it. I closed my eyes so I could pretend this was just another one of those mornings, and fell asleep.
I woke up to gentle stroking on my shoulder.
“If you want me to save you a plate, I can do that too,” Sasha offered soothingly.
“No, it's fine. I want to sit with you.”
I made my way down to the kitchen and was taken aback by the feast. Roasted chicken, green bean casserole, collard greens, macaroni and cheese. A pie rested on the window sill over the sink, filling the kitchen with the sweet aroma of baked cherries and sugary dough. It was then I realized I hadn't had any decent food in days, almost a week. The peanut butter sandwich was my last non-hospital meal, and hospital food and grief make for a terrible combination.
“This is amazing!” For the first time, I felt like I was feeding someone other than myself. And I felt like each bite of this food had love in it. There is definitely a difference when food is made to comfort and nourish and not just for survival.
I sat at the table and we passed around the goods.
“Will, is some of this your doing?” I asked.
“I'll take credit for doing whatever Sasha told me.”
“He's a good assistant,” she added.
We took a few quiet bites. I had forgotten how delicious food could be until I tasted Sasha's cooking.
“So, uh, I know this might be a lot to think about, but what are your plans? Who are you going to stay with?” Will inquired.
It was a lot to think about. I wasn't going back to the house. Even if Rory signed over the deed tomorrow. I would need help as the pregnancy came along, even if I had plenty of money to support myself. My sister invited me to Portland, but her house was full. And between her kids and our dad, there were more than enough people who needed to be taken care of.
Besides, I didn't want to up and leave yet. Sure, Bobby and I had plans to run away, but I spent my last days with him in these parts. His footprints were everywhere. And I wasn't ready to let go of that quite yet.
“I'm not sure. My sister invited me to Oregon. But . . . I don't think I'm ready to leave. I want to stay close to him for a while.”
“Stay with us,” he chimed.
“What? No, I couldn't. I can't impose like that.”
“It's not an imposition,” Sasha insisted.
“You two have lots going on, and you don't need an expectant woman waddling around your apartment all day.”
“It would be our honor,” Will said. “We love having you around.”
Will and Sasha were good—no—great people. Of course they would offer their place to the grieving pregnant woman. But I didn't think they should have the burden, though staying with them was exactly what I wanted to do. Being with them made me feel closer to Bobby. They radiated the same warmth he did. They knew the Bobby I knew.
Will leaned in and placed his hand on my forearm. “Lilly, let me honor my brothers by taking care of you. They both would have wanted this. I promised Bobby I would.”
I looked down as a tear trickled down my cheek.
“Remember what I said to you when we met at the club? I wasn't just saying that. You're family. That baby,” he pointed at my stomach, “is family.”
I nodded as I sniffed back tears. “Okay,” I said with a smile, wiping my cheeks. “Okay. Thank you. Really. Thank you.”
Julia arranged some time for me to go back to
the house when Rory agreed not to be there. It allowed me to pack more stuff than the frantic few minutes I had as Bobby and Rory fought. She had already arranged an attorney to handle our divorce, but that would take a while between Rory fighting his own battle in the courts.
We had made the local papers, but being with Will and Sasha shielded me from the fray. They had to work that day, so Julia picked me up from their place and drove me to the house.
Everything was a memory. And I asked for this. I chose to stay in the area, with people who were close to Bobby, so I could be near these memories. But some of them were painful. Coming back to this house, my last hours here full of desperation and fear, were not the memories I stayed for.
The bedroom was pristine. I wondered how Rory had it all cleaned. I went into the closet, grabbed another suitcase and slowly packed pieces of my life away. A numbness had taken over, I assume, to protect me. Julia insisted on doing the packing for me, but I wanted to be quick and I knew what I needed.
I only had a few items left when I heard Julia speaking to someone downstairs.
“You're not supposed to be here. We agreed,” she admonished.
“Have you seen this?” he said to her.
She sighed.
“Julia, I know you knew and you didn't tell me. Please. She's still my wife.”
“A technicality.”
“If that's my baby, I need to talk to her.”
I watched from the top of the stairs. I wished it was Rory who had died. It wasn't something I was proud of. I had never wished him death before Bobby's passing, but if I could trade lives, I wouldn't hesitate to trade his with Bobby's. Even if Bobby hated me for it.
I truly never wanted to see Rory again. But now that he was here, now that he knew about the baby, and Julia was in the middle, I stepped in.
“It's fine,” I said. “I'll talk to him.”
They both looked up.
“Lilly,” Rory gasped softly.
Julia rolled her eyes. “Fine. But you are not supposed to be stressed. If there is any shouting, I'll call the police, Rory. That's the last thing you need with your legal troubles.”
“Yeah . . . thanks,” he uttered sarcastically.
Julia gave me a look, to let me know she would be there if I needed, and went outside.
Rory ran up the stairs to meet me.
“I don't know what to say,” he said.
“Well, you came all the way here. I would hope you did. Otherwise, I have nothing to say to you.”
His chest sank as despair rose to the surface. “Lilly, I'm dying. You think I wouldn't have stood in front of those bullets for him?” His eyes glossed with tears.
“Whatever you would have done, he took the bullets for you. If you had just turned yourself in—” I tried not to let myself get caught up in the anger. I didn't want our baby growing in that environment. “I don't have to tell you. You know.”
“I miss him, Lilly. I don't even care. If it meant not having you, I still would want him back. I would do anything to bring him back.”
“Well, we can't always have what we want,” I replied coldly.
He sucked back tears and looked down at my stomach. “The baby?”
“It's not yours.”
“How are you sure?”
“How do you think, Rory?”
He looked down in a mix of shame and resignation. I could see his mind race as he paced away. “Let's stay together. I'll raise him. He's a Lightly and he should stay in the family.”
“Do you think after everything that happened, I would ever let you get near this child? I don't love you, Rory. I don't want to be with you.”
“Then why? Why did you marry me?” he asked.
“I don't even know anymore,” I sighed. “We thought we were doing the right thing. And yet,” I shrugged my shoulders, raising my hands to indicate the devastation all around me.
“I'm not ready to let you go. We both made mistakes.”
“Don't equate us. And it doesn't matter if you are ready or not. I've let you go.”
“You're all I have left,” he barely uttered.
Did my heart sting at those words? Of course. Did I pity Rory? Well, I was only human. I hated that I could see Bobby in some of Rory's mannerisms. He didn't deserve to resemble Bobby. He didn't deserve to still be here. I would always resent Rory. I wasn't a big enough person to forgive him. I understood why he did the things he did, but I could never forgive them. Not after he caused me to lose so much. Not after his actions took away the father of my unborn child.
“We're done here,” I said.
“You can't keep that baby from me,” he said, reminding us both of the true Rory. If he couldn't solve things with kindness, his next step was aggression.
“I will. Because this baby is not yours. It's Bobby's.” I could have stopped there. But I wanted to make him hurt. It wasn't big of me. It wasn't right. Bobby probably would have been upset with me. But I still felt Rory hadn't suffered enough for what he caused. “You can't make children. I promise you that. You and I didn't have sex for a month because when Bobby came back, I couldn't even stand to think of you touching me. When he came back, and you went away . . . we made love, we had sex . . . we fucked,” I glowered, “so much that I was sore. Because I couldn't get enough of him. Because I always loved him. And I was sick of doing you the favor of being your wife. Being your accessory. Bobby never would have done that to me. We made a mistake, you and me. We should have never married. Bobby did in three weeks what you couldn't do in seven years. I don't know how else to explain it.”
As I said those words, staring right into Rory's eyes, I watched them redden and spill over with tears. I watched his lips form a tight line, a mixture of rage and sadness. He began to shake, and when I was done, I watched his hand quiver as he used all of his strength not to slap me.
I didn't flinch.
Rory took a deep breath and the shaking subsided. “And I'd still bring him back if I could,” he muttered.
“I know,” I replied.
Rory looked down at the floor, shook his head and turned around. He left without saying a word.
The next eight months went by quickly. It took some work, but my lawyer was able to get Bobby's truck out of the impound lot. Once I had it, I would visit his grave once a week. It didn't matter if it rained or if it snowed. It didn't matter if Will and Sasha or Julia told me I should rest instead. Every time I visited, I would talk to him. Give him progress updates on how the baby and I were doing. Sometimes I would just rattle on about silly things, the way you might catch up with someone over drinks.
I never talked to him about Stan or Rory.
Sometimes I would cry. Sometimes I would lie on the grass and hold my belly, imagining he was alive on the grass beside me, and not buried underneath.
I missed him.
And it was different than the first time he left. Then, I didn't have hope. Then, there was no body. Then, I used resentment as a shield.
But before I really lost Bobby, I allowed myself to believe we could have everything we dreamed of. I opened myself up fearlessly to him. It made our time together the best times of my life, but it also made losing him a pain harder than I thought I could bear. It was only the promise of this new life growing in me that helped me get through each day.
Summer Lightly was born on a chilly spring afternoon. I named her after the season I always looked forward to, because it was when I was able to spend the most time with her father. The season of midnight swims in the lake. Of cool popsicles on your tongue as sweat beaded down your forehead. Of boat rides and hitching a ride on Bobby's bike to get to the general store. Of cook outs, and fingers sticky with BBQ sauce. Of lying soaking wet, on the hot dock, and letting the sun bake us dry.
I didn't expect for her arrival to fill the hole in my heart. No one could ever fill it completely. But she made it less gaping, less cavernous. She gave me a reason to not just survive, but to live.
So after twelve mont
hs of Summer being on this earth, I knew I was ready to move on. Being close to Bobby gave me the strength to carry her. Reading his letters late at night allowed me to hear his whispers. But I made a two promises to Bobby. I called Will. And now I had to leave.
It was not something women did often then. Even now they don't.
Will and Sasha weren't thrilled when I told them my plans, though they understood it was Bobby's wish. My sister even less so. The world was dangerous. People were out there to prey on us. It was safe here. I should stay in one place.
But this was between Summer, Bobby and me. Bobby returned to me through our daughter, and I was going to keep his curious spirit alive through her. I was going to make sure our lives were filled with joy and wonder, one of his final wishes.
While I carried Summer, I felt close to Bobby by staying. But I knew that now I could only stay close to his presence by moving around. By watching the waves crash into the bluffs on the Pacific. By driving through the winding roads of the Northwest. By navigating my way in a world were the only language I shared with the locals were smiles and kindness.
So when I knew it was time, I filled up Bobby's truck with our most important possessions.
“Are you sure about this?” Sasha asked protectively.
“Leave her alone,” Will butted in. “We can't keep her here forever. Bobby will keep her safe,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder. Summer had the best godparents. “But you better check in.” He pointed at me.
“Promise,” I smiled.
“Are you scared?” Sasha asked.
I thought about it for a moment and grinned. “Nope,” I answered. I was done being scared. Playing it safe. I had seen how dangerous that could be.
“Good,” she smiled back as her eyes reddened. “Oooh, I'm gonna miss you, you little chunky bunny,” she said. She picked up Summer and showered her with kisses. Summer looked so much like her father. She was tall for her age, like him. And she had those honey-colored eyes of his that made you instantly feel understood when you looked at them. She had his spirit. Which meant she was a handful. Already so sharp and rambunctious. She liked to play in the dirt and climb and I couldn't keep her still for a minute. She loved the water. She was her father's daughter.
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