"Dad!" Hollis said, bag in hand. He glanced at the empty box in front of Taylor and then at the one in front of me. "What's going on?"
I turned toward the kids, both of them confused. "Let's talk at the table. Come on."
Hollis and Hadley followed me to the dining room, which was really just a corner of the living room with a table and chairs. We sat down, and they both rested their elbows on the table, crossing their arms just like Taylor.
"We need to tell you something, but before we do, I need to explain. Dad and I are not back together, and we will not be getting back together--at least, not for a while. We have a lot of things to work out."
The kids' eyes fell to their hands and so did Taylor's.
"The good news is," I said, looking at Taylor. "You want to ...?"
Taylor instantly masked his sadness with a cheerful smile. "The good news is you're moving back to Estes Park."
"What? With you?" Hollis said, jumping up from his seat. He threw his arms around Taylor's neck, and I tried not to let it hurt too much that he was so eager to live with his Dad.
"With Mom, too," Taylor said. Both kids' gazes bounced between Taylor and me. "That's the confusing part."
"Mom's moving back, too?" Hadley echoed. Cautious hope flashed in her eyes.
"Your dad and I think it's a better idea if we move back into the house in Estes, where you can have your old rooms back and go back to school with your old friends."
"But you're not together?" Hollis said. I could see the confusion on his face.
Taylor swallowed, already hating what he was about to say. "I'm going to get an apartment until your Mom and I figure things out."
"An apartment?" Hollis groaned. His eyes glossed over, and he collapsed on his chair. "That's fucking stupid."
"Hollis Henry Maddox!" Taylor growled.
He wasn't used to the cursing, the mood swings, or the anger like I was. As far as the kids were concerned, I had ruined their lives, and Dad was their savior.
Taylor regained his composure, and he pulled Hollis in for a hug, forcing him onto his lap. "You're not happy here, and your mom sees that. It took a lot for her to call me and figure out how to get you back home. I don't mind finding an apartment for a while."
"For how long?" Hollis said, trying not to cry. His cheeks flushed red, making his already faint freckles less noticeable.
"Hollis," I began. "We've talked about this. Sometimes moms and dads need some time to--"
"This is bull crap!" Hollis said. "If we're going to live in Estes, we should all live together."
"But we can't," I said, firm. "Not yet."
Hollis stared at me for a moment, hatred in his eyes. At these moments, I waited in fear for him to scream that I wasn't really his mom, but he hadn't yet. Teeth clenched, he pushed up from his chair, the legs whining against the tile, and he stomped to his room.
Taylor sighed. "That didn't go as well as I thought it would."
"You should go talk to him," I said.
Taylor kissed Hadley's forehead and then nodded, following Hollis to his room.
"Mom?" Hadley said. "He can have my room." I looked at her for a moment, confused. Her platinum hair reminded me so much of Olive, down to the splash of freckles across her nose. "Dad. If you don't want him sleeping with you, he can have my room."
I reached for her hand, and to my surprise, she took it. "I wish I could explain this to you so you could understand."
"I understand," she said. "He got arrested, and you got mad at him. But you've been mad at him for a long time. Can't you be done being mad now?"
I looked down. "It's just not that simple, love. I wish it were."
She nodded, her gaze falling to our hands in the center of the table.
Taylor walked in, his hands in his jeans pockets. "He's okay. He's packing. You should get to packing too, baby girl."
Hadley hopped up from the table and hurried toward her room, stopping long enough to throw her arms around Taylor's waist. He pulled her in tight and then let her go, watching me rest my chin on the heel of my hand.
"They've hated me since we left. It's been tense," I said.
"They could never hate you."
"You don't know that," I said.
"Yes, I do." He stared at me for a moment, neither one of us saying a word. I swallowed, knowing that we still loved each other, but also sure that I wasn't ready to move forward together. It was a fine line--being cautious, so I didn't make a bad decision based on emotion and holding out just to further punish him. "C'mon," Taylor said. "We'll start in your room." He held his hand out to me, and I hesitated. He pulled back, returning it to the pocket it was in. "I get it, you know. The kids don't, but I do. They don't know what happened. They don't know I deserve this."
"That doesn't make me feel any better."
"They don't deserve this, though. We're better than this, Falyn."
"Taylor, don't." I stood, walking past him. He gently caught my arm, and it took all of my strength not to fall into him. I'd missed his touch, being so close to him, hearing his voice in the same room, watching him watch me.
"I still love you," he said, anger on the edge of his words. I couldn't blame him. Our family was broken, and our children were hurting.
"I know," I said. My resentment wouldn't let me say anything else, and I pulled away from him to walk to the end of the hall.
Taylor gathered a few boxes, taped them together for the kids, and then returned, helping me to load my things into the cardboard. We gathered socks from the drawers and shoes and Halloween buckets from the top of the closet. I'd missed how tall Taylor was, too. He could reach everything I couldn't. He could lift and open everything I couldn't and sometimes, even if I could, just so I could watch him do it.
"I still love you, too," I said. Taylor turned around, an indistinguishable expression on his face. "And I miss you. Maybe the kids are smarter than I am on this one. Maybe we should try to fix this from the inside out instead of hurting the kids while I pretend to wait for an epiphany."
"Is that what you're doing? Hoping for a sign that I've changed?" He took a step toward me, dropping everything in his hands. "Because baby, I've changed. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose the kids. I--"
My phone buzzed, cutting him off. I looked around, touching my jeans pockets. It buzzed again, and Taylor pointed at the stack of towels.
"It's coming from there," he said, stepping toward the bed. "It's late. Think it's Ellie?"
"Oh, yeah. I--" Oh. Fuck.
Before I could stop him, Taylor lifted the towels and picked up my phone, his face instantly twisting into disgust. "Why the fuck is Peter Lacy calling you? How does he have your number, Falyn?"
"I don't know," I said, reaching for my phone. "It doesn't matter. I never respond."
Recognition lit Taylor's eyes, and he became angrier. "How many times has he contacted you? What the fuck, Falyn? Is this why you want to move back?"
My mouth fell open. "No! And he hasn't contacted me at all because I don't answer!"
"How did he get your fucking number?" Taylor screamed. His veins were bulging from his neck, his eyes practically glowing and wild. His chest was heaving, and I could see the restraint. He wanted to punch something or someone. If Peter had been there, he might have killed him. I remembered now. The man standing in front of me now was the Taylor I left.
My eyes fell to the floor. The hope I'd had just moments before gone. When I looked up again, and Taylor's eyes met mine, I could see the anger melt away and shame take over. Even then, he couldn't let go. He picked up the stack of towels and shoved them into the box on top of some trinkets, ripping at the tape and slamming it across the top. He grabbed a thick black marker and wrote master across the top and then hurled the box into the corner of the room behind the door, its contents scattering.
Two dark silhouettes were standing in the hall, and when I realized the kids were present once again for the shitshow that was our marriage, I covered my mouth
, unable to stop the tears from falling.
"No, baby, don't cry..." Taylor glanced down at the hall. "I'm sorry," he said to the kids. He sat on the bed, hunched over. "I'm sorry," he choked out.
"Can we still go?" Hadley asked, stepping from out of the shadow of the hall.
"I'm still going," Hollis said.
I wiped my cheeks and walked to the doorway, holding Hollis and Hadley as if they might shatter like the ceramics in the box. "Yes. Yes, we're still going. Dad wants us to, and I want us to. We're happier in Estes, right?"
"Right," they both said, looking up at me and nodding.
Soon, Hollis would be taller than I was. Maybe taller than Taylor. I couldn't let him think it was okay to use violence and intimidation to solve anything. I couldn't let Hadley think Taylor's was acceptable behavior, and that it was okay to stay without real change. And I couldn't let them--or my own guilt--talk me into taking Taylor back before we were ready.
Taylor's phone rang, and he fished it from his back pocket. He sniffed once before answering. "Hey, Trent." The longer he listened, the more his shoulders sagged. "What? What do you mean shot? Like with a gun? How? Is he okay?"
Taylor let the phone fall to the floor, and I scrambled to pick it up, holding it to my ear. All the blood had drained from Taylor's face, and he was staring at the floor, a single tear streaming down his cheek.
"Trent?" I said. "It's Falyn. What happened?"
Trenton sighed. "Hey, Falyn. It's, uh ... it's Tommy. He, uh ... there's been an accident."
"An accident? Is he okay?" I asked.
"No. Taylor and Tyler need to come home. Can you get them here?"
"No?" I asked. I had heard him, but the words didn't make sense. Thomas Maddox was the strongest of all five boys; the smartest. He had the best head on his shoulders, and Liis had just given birth to their first baby. He was a new father. How can he not be okay?
"It's bad," he said, his voice low. "Just get them home, Falyn. Call Tyler. I don't ... I don't think I can."
"I'll take care of it. How's Liis?"
"She's with Stella. You'll get 'em on a plane?"
"Yes. We'll all be there tomorrow."
"Thanks, Falyn. See you soon."
"Mom?" Hollis said, watching Taylor with worried eyes. "Is Uncle Tommy okay?"
I held out my hand to the kids, letting them know to wait before inundating us with questions, and to let me care for their dad first. I kneeled in front of Taylor, searching for words to say. There were none. He was still trying to process what Trenton had said.
"Honey?" I said, gently tugging at his chin. "I'm going to call Tyler, and then I'm going to call the airline."
"He's at the fire," Taylor said, his voice monotone. "He won't answer."
I dialed Tyler's number with my husband's phone, listening as it rang several times before his voice mail picked up. I tucked the phone into my back pocket and pointed at the children. "Pack for five days. Five jeans, five shirts, five socks, and five pairs of underpants. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Go now."
The kids nodded and ran to their rooms. I emptied a small roller bag Taylor had already filled with my unmentionables and packed for five days as well. "Where's your bag?" I asked Taylor.
"Huh?"
"Your bag. You packed a bag to come here, right? Do you have at least two days' worth?"
"Three days. It's in my truck."
"Okay," I said, pulling up the handle on my bag. "Let's go. I'm driving. I'll reserve tickets on the way."
"To where?"
"Estes Park. We're going to tell Tyler, and then we're driving to Denver to catch a plane."
"Falyn ..." Taylor began, but he knew he couldn't be the strong one this time. We were broken, but we weren't alone.
I held out my hand to him. "Come with me."
He looked up at me, seeming lost. Taylor reached for me, intertwining his fingers with mine and bringing my hand to his lips. He closed his eyes tight, breathing hard through his nose.
With my free hand, I cupped the back of his head and hugged him to my middle. "I'm here."
He let go of my hand and wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my shirt.
CHAPTER NINE
ELLIE
THE TELEVISION WAS THE ONLY LIGHT in our dark living room, dim and then bright and back again, depending on what scene and camera angle was presented at the time. I'd told myself not to watch this movie, knowing it was about an alcoholic, foul-mouthed reporter. Even after a decade on the wagon, my throat tightened every time she took a drink; my heart pinged when she was out, laughing hysterically, sloppy drunk with her friends, taking dick from anyone who had one. I'd made it to the last scene, and she had fallen in love with a decent dude. Fuck. I was too old to say dude. At least, that was what Gavin had told me because he was five and knew everything.
I ran my fingers over the prickles of Gavin's dark, buzzed hair. He'd fallen asleep using my lap as a pillow like he always did when his dad was on shift. Tyler and I had fallen in love sometime between a one-night stand (mostly my fault) and a stint in rehab (totally my fault). Somehow, we lived in a three-bedroom house with a dog, two cats, and a son who wasn't into throwing temper tantrums and never held on to anything--not a bottle, a pacifier; he even potty-trained early. Addiction didn't seem to be in his future. I just hoped his penchant to let things go didn't spill over into his love life.
I glanced at my watch and sighed. It was nearly three a.m., and Tyler was still fighting the fire at the warehouse. Years of sleepless nights kept me from trying to go to bed before he was back at the station, so I waited for the call that he was safe at his second home.
Just as the credits began to roll, a light knock sounded on the front door. I carefully moved Gavin's head off my lap and slipped out from under him. I approached the door with caution. We lived in a nice neighborhood in a smallish tourist community, but whoever was at my door in the wee hours of the morning wasn't selling LipSense.
"Who is it?" I said, trying to be both loud enough to be heard and quiet so I wouldn't wake Gavin.
"It's Taylor," a deep voice said.
"And Falyn."
I twisted the bolt lock and yanked open the door, staring at my in-laws as if they were a hallucination. Taylor had both of their sleeping children hanging over his shoulders, his face pale and his eyes glossed over.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, and then covered my mouth. I hadn't heard from Tyler in nearly an hour. A lot could happen in an hour. "Oh, God."
"No," Falyn said, reaching for me. "This isn't about Tyler."
I pulled her in for a hug, squeezing her tight. She was surprised, and I couldn't blame her. I wasn't typically the snuggly type with anyone but Tyler and Gavin.
"Have you heard from him?" Taylor asked, walking past me.
"You can put them in the guest room," I said but wasn't sure why. Taylor knew exactly where it was and was already headed that way. Taylor and Falyn had spent a lot of their time in our home and vice-versa until Falyn had left. She hadn't been gone that long, but it somehow still felt strange being under the same roof with both of them again.
Taylor returned. His hands were free, and he didn't quite know what to do with them, so he crossed his arms across his middle.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"I've been trying to get a hold of Tyler."
I shook my head and then glanced back to check on Gavin. "He should be wrapping up at the warehouse. I haven't heard from him in the last hour."
Taylor sniffed. "Guess I'm going to have to go to the warehouse."
"They should be finished soon," I said. "Everything okay?"
"He's grown so much," Falyn whispered, walking over to my son sprawled out on the sofa. She kneeled beside him, smiling as she took a closer look. "Gavin looks identical to Taylor and Tyler when they were his age."
"He misses you," I said. "He asks about you a lot."
Her expression fell. "I miss him, too. And you." She stood. "Taylor got a call from
Trent."
"We're going home," Taylor said.
"To Eakins? When?"
"Tomorrow," Falyn said. "You and Tyler, too."
"We are?" I asked, touching my chest. "What's going on? Is it Jim?" I knew Dad's health wasn't the greatest. He was overweight, ate bacon every morning for breakfast, and smoked cigars. By the look on Taylor's face, I knew something terrible had happened.
Taylor opened his mouth to explain but couldn't.
Falyn continued for him. "It's Thomas."
"Thomas?" He'd just become a father. "Oh, God. The baby?"
"No," Falyn said. "Thomas was shot."
"Shot?" I said, my voice going up an octave. The room began to spin.
"We don't know many details."
"Oh, Liis," I said, covering my mouth with my hand. My heart instantly broke for her. My gaze drifted to Taylor. I felt bad, knowing he would have to hear the story again when we broke the news to Tyler. I closed my eyes, feeling hot tears streaming down my cheeks. My heart broke for my husband.
"You should sit down," Falyn said, trying to keep her composure.
I lumbered to Tyler's recliner and collapsed. "Fuck. Fuck. This doesn't make sense. Did they catch the shooter?"
"We're not sure," Taylor said. He clenched his teeth, his jaw muscles dancing under his skin.
"Liis is flying into Eakins in the morning," Falyn said.
I lifted my head. "She's not staying with Thomas?"
Falyn shook her head. "It ... it sounds like it's pretty bad. Her flying to Eakins ..." she trailed off.
Bile rose in my throat. He wasn't going to make it. Liis was flying home to be with his family.
"I already booked the tickets," Falyn said.
"For us, too?" I asked. She nodded, and I stood, looking around, my mind already filling with packing lists and who would care for the animals while we were gone. I paused and then walked the few steps to where Taylor stood, hugging him to me. He felt a little limp in my arms.
"I fucking knew it," he said. "I had a bad feeling when I left the fire earlier, but I thought it was Tyler. I should have called home."
Taylor knew as well as I did that calling home wouldn't have helped anything, but he was doing what Tyler was going to do when he heard the news: blame himself. I let him go and walked back to the sofa, picking up my phone from the end table and disconnecting the charger.
I texted Tyler to call me, and then we all waited. Within three minutes, my phone rang. I answered immediately.
A Beautiful Funeral Page 8
