by Devney Perry
His entire right side was extremely tender. The bruises had lasted longer than I’d ever expected, turning half his body a dark purple before fading to lime green. I grimaced just thinking about how he’d looked that first week, all puffy and blue.
I took a deep breath, bending for the cord to get the mower going, but stopped when a car door slammed shut. Then another.
I left the mower in its place and walked along the side of the house toward the front as three guys were piling out of a navy Alcott truck parked along the street. Behind it was a mowing trailer.
“Hi.” I waved as I walked their way, getting their attention. All three guys waved back, though I only recognized one of them. They were probably here to see Finn, but I didn’t want them waking him up. “Finn is taking a na—”
“Hey, guys.”
My head whipped to the side. Finn was in his wheelchair on the front porch.
“Hey, boss.” One man grinned as he hooked a thumb at the van. “New ride? It’s sexy.”
Finn chuckled. “Thanks for coming over so soon.”
“Not soon enough.” He surveyed my freshly mowed grass. “Sorry.”
“The back needs to be done,” Finn told them. “You can hit it today. And then put it on the rotation for every Friday.”
All three men nodded, turned and went for their equipment.
I watched with my mouth hanging open as one of them backed a riding mower off the trailer, another unloaded a push mower and the third grabbed an edger.
“Can I get to the backyard this way?” one of them asked.
I nodded, sliding out of the way as they went toward the fence. Each of them smiled as they passed me.
When the machines started up, I went to the porch. I stopped two steps from the top so I was eye level with Finn. “What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done a hell of a long time ago. Alcott has the lawn from now on.”
How many times had I mowed this lawn, wondering why Finn didn’t have his crew here to do it for us? I’d always assumed he wanted to save the money. Or that he didn’t have time in the rotation to fit it in. When we got divorced, I figured it would be strange to have a crew mow his ex-wife’s lawn. But here they were.
A small gesture. But one that touched my heart. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.” His eyes were full of remorse as he stared at me. His frame, though broken, was poised in determination to make it right.
Kali came outside, interrupting the moment. She leaned against Finn’s chair, something that had become her new kind of hug. “Dad, do you want to help me with my puzzle?”
“I’d love to, sweetie.”
She smiled at him, kissed his cheek and darted inside. Finn shot me a grin, then steered his chair back inside too.
I stayed on that step for a few long minutes, marveling at how much had changed in such a short amount of time. How my feelings were so different now.
The power of fear was terribly magnificent.
I turned on the step, descending to the sidewalk, then walked to the mailbox as the sounds of whirling blades snipping grass buzzed in the distance.
I was lost in the sunshine and the way my stomach wasn’t in knots for the first time in weeks. Having Finn home was a relief I hadn’t let myself hope for, at least not in the beginning. Those first few days in the hospital, I’d prepared myself for the worst.
Enjoying that relief, savoring that we were out of the woods, I didn’t pay much attention to the mail. Finn’s old letters had stopped.
Finn had asked me last week if there had been more, and I’d told him no. We were both glad to be done with them. We had enough to deal with, and the past, well . . . it needed to stay there. I thumbed through the stack, sorting junk into one hand and bills in the other.
But then a familiar curve of handwriting caught my attention.
We weren’t done with the letters after all.
- LETTER -
Darling Molly,
* * *
I’m failing you. I know I’m failing you, but I’m not sure how to fix it. Max is six days old, and maybe because I’ve been home, it hit me that I haven’t been doing enough. I disappear to work and leave you here. You handle it all. The house. The kids. You greet me with a smile when I get home.
* * *
But I see it now. I see that I’m not doing enough. You’re exhausted. You cried in the shower this morning. I fucking hate that. I hate that I’m letting you down.
* * *
What should I do? I don’t know how to even ask you that question. I’m scared that your answer will be nothing. That no matter what I do, it won’t be enough. That you know I’m failing you and you’ve given up on me.
* * *
I think I need to push harder. Work harder. I can work harder. Once things at Alcott are set and I know that no matter what, you and the kids will be okay if something happens to me, we’ll be better.
* * *
You fell asleep on the chair across from me. I’d planned to sit down and talk to you, but by the time I got Kali to bed, you were already asleep. Max is perfect. He’s sleeping in your arms. I don’t want to move him.
* * *
But you’re breaking right in front of me. Life is too heavy right now. I’m taking another week off to help. I hope I can help. I want more than anything to give you this letter. To talk to you. But I’m scared. I’m scared it will just add to your burdens.
* * *
I need to figure this out. I will figure this out. I promise. I’ll do better. I’ll do better for you and Kali and Max. I love you. You’re the center of my world. Just hold tight for a little bit longer.
* * *
Yours,
Finn
Thirteen
Finn
I hung up the phone and dropped my head into my good hand, rubbing my forehead, hoping the headache building would hold off for another hour. I needed to finish up a design for a client, and if this ache turned into the same blinding throb I’d had for the last few days, it would never get done.
Sitting at the dining room table, I focused on the computer screen, willing the throb to go away. My leg was sore. My hips hurt. My neck had a kink in it from only using one arm and stretching at odd angles all day. And I was sick to death of being in this fucking wheelchair.
What I really wanted was a pain pill and a nap. To pass the day in bed while I waited for the kids to get home with Molly. But I didn’t have time for a nap, and as of this morning, I’d stopped taking pain pills. I had enough problems. The last thing I needed was a drug addiction.
They put me in a haze and I didn’t want to be fuzzy while I was here with all of us living under one roof. This living situation was the only good thing to come from the accident.
The rest of my life was in fucking shambles.
I took a deep breath, blocked out the pain, and focused on the one thing that had gotten me through most of the shit times in my life: work.
Alcott was a mess at the moment. Everyone had done their best to keep projects moving while I’d been in the hospital. Bridget and each of the foremen had stepped up. But it hadn’t been enough. I did the work of three designers. Bridget, though she tried, was out of her league. She’d attempted to chew what was on my plate, but it was no more than little nibbles here and there. What we needed to get caught up were bites. Big, stuff-your-mouth, cheeks-bulging bites.
The only part of the business that wasn’t in complete and total disarray was my books.
All employees had been paid. Deposits had been taken to the bank. Bills had been sent and paid.
Because of Molly.
Somehow in the weeks that I’d been in the hospital, the weeks when she’d run out to “do a few things,” she’d actually been at Alcott, making sure my business was churning. She’d stepped in like she’d been there all along.
More efficiently than I ever could too.
She hadn’t said a thing.
She had to have been going there when the kids were with my parents. Or maybe at night. I wasn’t sure. Without a word, without expecting any kind of gratitude or praise, Molly had been my savior.
Thanks to her work, I’d been able to focus on the projects that would wrap up the summer and fall rather than digging myself out from under the office work. This design I needed to finish today was the last. After I cranked it out, every project would be officially kicked off, and then we just had to see them through to the end.
For a right-handed guy, working with a full right-arm cast was extremely frustrating. I’d been gritting my teeth for hours, probably the reason for the headache. Using only my left hand, everything took three times longer than normal. But after two hours, I was nearly done.
Then the front door opened.
“Shit,” I cursed quietly. I was so goddamn sick of visitors I could scream.
My parents stopped by daily to fuss over me. If Bridget wasn’t calling me, she was coming over in a frantic blur, rattling off question after question, barely pausing to listen to my answers. And the crews had clearly been assigned shifts. In the two weeks since coming to Molly’s house, I’d figured out the pattern of who would be stopping by “because they were in the neighborhood.”
What I needed was for everyone to leave me the hell alone so I could work.
“Finn?” Poppy’s voice carried down the hallway from the front door.
I relaxed. My sister was the one person whose visits never got on my nerves. “At the table.”
She came through the kitchen and into the dining room with a smile on her face and a paper bag from the restaurant in her hand. “Hi.”
“Please tell me there are cookies or pies or something with sugar in that bag.”
She scrunched up her nose as she set it on the table. “It’s, uh, some kale salad.”
“Fucking kale,” I muttered.
“You know what the doctors said. Leafy greens will help you recover quickly.”
“Once I get out of this chair, I’m never having kale or romaine or spinach or cabbage or goddamn Swiss chard again.”
Poppy laughed. “Please. It’s not that bad.”
“Really? And what did you have for lunch? Was it this delicious kale salad?”
“Okay.” She held up her hands. “Point made.”
She’d probably had some of her macaroni and cheese. The kind with crispy crumbles on the top and loads of gooey cheese that made me want to eat until I was miserable.
“How are you?” she asked, taking the seat next to me.
“Fine.” I slid my laptop out of the way and reached for the bag.
But Poppy grabbed it before me. “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks.” I let her. Since the accident, I’d given up pretending I could do everything for myself.
I’d come to Molly’s thinking I could hang out, and she’d be around if I needed some help. I figured the nurses at the hospital had been picky, not wanting me to do anything for myself. They poured me water and helped me in the bathroom because it was their job.
No, they’d just known what I hadn’t: I couldn’t do shit for myself.
Literally. I couldn’t shit by myself. I couldn’t get myself out of the chair and onto a toilet without someone to help me keep my balance.
I figured that out the first night I was here. Then the next morning, I learned I couldn’t shower on my own or brush my teeth on my own. The only thing I was really capable of was wheeling myself around. Oh, and I could eat cold cereal because it was easy to “make” with one hand.
I would have been fine eating Rice Chex and Honey Bunches of Oats for a few months, but the women in my life wouldn’t let me skip these delicious leafy greens. They were trying to turn me into a rabbit.
Poppy mixed my salad with the dressing, a generous amount, thank God for that, and then grabbed a fork from the kitchen. With it all plated, I dove in, grimacing at the first few bites.
Fucking kale.
At least the dressing was Poppy’s signature ranch, my favorite. She’d brought enough that the salad was edible.
“Are you working today?” I asked.
“Yeah. Molly is covering the lunch hour so I could stop by and say hello.”
“I’m glad you did.”
She touched the tip of my fingers sticking out of my cast. “So am I.”
I set down my fork, wanting to give her my full attention. I’d actually been waiting for one of these quiet moments with her. There were things I hadn’t had a chance to say at the hospital or here because there were always too many people around.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For scaring you. For the accident. I know it brought up a lot of old memories.”
“Oh.” Her eyes dropped to the table. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m still sorry.”
Her eyes flooded with tears, but she blinked them dry, forcing a smile. “I’m okay. It scared us all. I don’t want to lose you too.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised.
“Good. How are you feeling?”
My first response was to tell her I was great. That things would be fine and set back to rights in no time at all. But I was so tired, I didn’t have the energy to lie.
I met her gaze. “I’m struggling.”
“With the pain?”
“Yes. No.” I blew out a long breath. “With the fact that I almost died two months ago. I almost left Kali and Max without a dad. And Molly . . .”
My throat closed just thinking about it. I’d worked so hard for so many years to prepare for this kind of accident. To make sure that if something happened to me, they’d be covered.
I’d been blind to what really mattered.
We’d gotten another letter two weeks ago. Molly and I had both read it and then put it aside. There hadn’t been much to talk about. I had been failing her. I’d known it. I’d written it. But I hadn’t done a damn thing to change it.
“You know what’s really messed up?” I asked Poppy. “I’m glad.”
“That you lived?” she teased. “Yeah, we are too.”
“No, that it happened. I had a lot of time to think in the hospital. I had a lot of time to realize . . . I ruined my life, Poppy.”
“What? No. You didn’t. Once you get out of this chair and start physical therapy, you’ll be walking in no time. Your arm won’t be in the cast forever. You didn’t ruin your life.”
“No, I don’t mean the accident. After Jamie.” I swallowed hard, knowing this conversation would be difficult to have with Poppy, but she was the only person who might understand. “I ruined my life after Jamie died. I sabotaged it.”
“What do you mean?” When I didn’t answer, Poppy thought about it for a moment. Then she got it. “Oh. With Molly.”
“Not on purpose. Molly told me a while ago that you talked to her about the divorce. She told me you were worried that you were the reason we broke up.”
The color drained from Poppy’s face. “I was, wasn’t I?”
“No. Not you. It was me. Jamie’s death spooked me. I started working so hard. I wanted Molly and the kids to be set if something happened to me. And it just snowballed. I knew I wasn’t doing my best as a father and husband. But I was so focused on Alcott, on making sure I could . . . die.”
“Oh, Finn.” Poppy’s eyes filled with tears.
“I lost her. And I think . . . I think I pushed her away.”
“Not just because you were scared you would die.”
I nodded, wanting her to speak the thought I couldn’t. The thought that had plagued me as I spent days staring at the ceiling of my hospital room.
“You pushed her away because you were scared she would die.”
I dropped my head, my vision blurred with tears. “I ruined my life. Because I was scared that I’d end up—”
“Like me.” Poppy wiped a stray tear from her eye then took my hand. “You were scared you’d end
up like me.”
“What the hell did I do?” I whispered.
Molly had tried so hard. She’d kept reaching out to pull me back to her. But I’d kept turning away, toward work. She’d pulled. I’d pushed.
Far too hard.
What had I pushed Molly to do?
“You have to fix it, Finn.”
“I know.”
“How?” Poppy asked. “What are you going to do?”
“Well, first, I need to get Alcott sorted. Then I—”
“Finn.” She rolled her eyes. “What’s it going to take for you to realize that Alcott isn’t your answer here? It’s been your demise.”
I gaped at her. “What? What do you mean?”
“You want a life with Molly?”
“Yes.” Admitting it out loud sent a jolt of electricity through my veins. I wanted a life with Molly and my kids. I wanted my family back.
“Then Alcott has to go.”
Never. “I’m not giving up my business.” It was my livelihood. It was the security that my family would be safe. It was also my passion. “There has to be a way to have both.”
Poppy thought about it for a moment. “You know what I never understood? How you and Molly could work together. When you guys started Alcott, I couldn’t believe you could work with each other all day and then go home together at night.”
“Well, we didn’t work together all day. She did the mowing at first then covered the office. I was doing the landscape jobs, so we weren’t together all day.”
“Yeah, but it was everything, to both of you.”
“Okay,” I drawled, wondering where she was going with this. But she didn’t give me anything more. “So?”
“It’s just an observation.” She shrugged. “How’s the accident investigation?”
