I shrugged. “A present. I hope it makes you feel better.”
“What is it?”
“Open it up. I wrote a little note on the inside.”
Millie sat on his knee as his eyes scanned the small note I left on the inside cover of the binder. And the more he read, the more his eyes watered. The note had been a last-minute addition. Nothing fancy, just some marker on the inside of the folder. But I wanted him to know we cared.
“I don’t know what to say. Did all of your students do these?” Cole asked.
“All the fifth graders, yes,” I said.
He flipped through a few of the pictures before leaning toward me. He dropped the binder, then wrapped his arm around me tightly, whispering how beautiful it was and how lucky he felt to have us around. I nodded as tears rushed to my own eyes. I wrapped my arms around him, trying my best not to squish Millie in the tight embrace.
Then, I sat back in the church pew.
I looked over at Cole’s mom, watching as she eyed all of us, her lips pursed before her eyes locked on Millie. I looked over at Lance and puffed my cheeks out but saw him crook an eyebrow instead.
“What?” I asked.
“What was all that you just handed Cole?”
“Just a present. Nothing special.”
I watched the preacher take the pulpit, holding his hands out in a silent offering. As a few people in the small crowd sniffled, the preacher finally spoke.
“Instead of preaching, this funeral will be guided by the family. It’s been requested that we open the floor to anyone who wants to come up here and say a few words about the late Susan Yarrow. So, however you feel led, the microphone is here for you to utilize.”
And as silence fell over the room, we all watched as Holly Yarrow made her way to the stage, leveling her eyes at Cole from the pulpit as she spoke about her daughter.
4
Cole
My daughter was lost but had the capacity to be found. Such a life wasted. But, not again in this family.
Despite what some might think, I loved my daughter. I wanted the best for her. Even if some of us in this room didn’t agree with the lifestyle I wanted her to lead.
This is what happens when parents aren’t vigilant enough. It’s my fault she’s dead. It’s my fault my granddaughter is without a mother and a father now. And rest assured, I’ll do all I can to make sure my granddaughter has the life Susie should have.
I woke up in a cold sweat as my mother’s glare flashed up in my mind. Bits and pieces of the funeral haunted me that night while I slept. I gasped for air as I gazed around my darkened bedroom, taking in the fact that it was still dark outside. Starlight illuminated my curtains, drawing me back to the present, rooting me in reality.
My sister was gone.
I flopped back down into bed and sighed. The funeral had been an absolute shitshow. Mom had made it all about her and stared me down during her entire speech. She scolded me and shook her head at me as I stood up and said my piece. Almost no one stuck around for the meal afterward because everyone felt the tension. And the only person my heart ached for was Millie.
That poor girl, having to endure such insanity during her mother’s own funeral.
I wiped at the sweat on my brow. My hand reached out toward my cell phone, and I pulled it in front of my face. My mother’s voice still echoed off the corners of my mind. I grew angrier as I scrolled through my phone a good two hours before I had to be up.
Five in the morning, and I had enough anger coursing through my veins to satiate me for breakfast.
I loved my daughter the only way I knew how. And that was to keep her from the pain of a life I had to lead because of mistakes I’d made as a young girl.
God rest his soul, my late husband will finally get to cradle his little girl again. I can only hope he’s proud of her, despite everything that’s happened. Because they both deserve that.
Such underhanded statements. Such veiled venom. I vibrated with anger as my phone fell to my chest. But anger wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good. Anger didn’t bring back my sister. Anger wouldn’t ward off the war I knew was coming with my mother; fighting for Millie, any and every way she could.
“Millie,” I whispered.
I had a scared little girl asleep in my guest bedroom down the hallway. A room that had nothing to keep her company. None of her stuffed animals. Barely any of her clothes. None of her blankets or her toys. Nothing to remind her of the comforts of home. She hadn’t said more than five words to me since I’d picked her from Mom’s three days ago.
The memory was still emblazoned in my memory.
“What in the world are you doing here?” Mom asked.
I ignored her question, though, and simply knelt down in front of Millie, her small body cowering behind Mom’s leg.
“Hey there, Millie. You remember me?” I asked.
“You’re frightening her. Get into the living room and wait for me there,” Mom said.
And again, I ignored her.
I held out my hand, watching as my niece’s eyes dropped to it. I knew she didn’t recognize me. But I hoped she recognized kindness. Every time my mother reached back for her, she pulled away. She stood behind my mother but didn’t want to be touched by her.
Which told me enough.
“Would you like to come with me?” I asked softly.
And when Millie peered around Mom with those beautiful eyes of hers, she nodded softly.
“You don’t have a right to her,” Mom hissed.
I shot to my feet. “That isn’t what Susie’s will says, and you know it.”
“You coerced that out of her. Without a witness.”
“Lance and Layla witnessed that document, as well as her attending OB-GYN. It’s legal, and it’s binding, and if I call the police right now, I’ve got you for kidnapping. Easily.”
I’d never forget the look on my mother’s face that day. A face of anger. Of betrayal. Of absolute disgust. We bickered in front of that poor girl. But she had no right to Millie. The second Susie gave birth, the two of us made sure she had a will and testament made up so that if anything ever did happen, it was ensured Mom never got custody. Susie had wanted that. Even though she couldn’t break her own connection to our mother, she’d wanted to make sure Mom never had a right to her child, could never sink her talons into that sweet, beautiful little girl.
That was one of the reasons why I’d always respect Lance.
Because while in the hospital, visiting my niece for the first time, he helped my sister draw up that will and testament.
I’d left with Millie three days ago and brought her here. I stopped long enough to get some of her things from Susie’s measly apartment across town. But I didn’t have it in me to stay longer than necessary. Already, I felt as if I was failing Millie, unable to get her things from her own bedroom because I wasn’t strong enough to withstand the memories of my deceased sister.
I sighed as I got out of bed, and one memory kept rushing through my mind, pushing forward despite the fact that I already felt like a terrible caretaker. The moment Millie looked up at me and nodded would always burn brightly in my brain. Even though she didn’t recognize me and didn’t know my name, she wanted to be with me more than the woman she called Grandma. That was enough for me to know I was doing the right thing.
It’d be hard to look into those eyes, though. Because she had one brown eye and one dark green eye.
Just like Susie.
I pressed out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I needed to get up and get going, especially since Millie was an early riser. I got myself showered and my teeth brushed. I dried off and put on some clothes, trying to make sure I beat her to the punch. I needed to start making headway with her. I needed to start setting up some sort of a routine. We hadn’t been able to do that yet, with all the funeral planning and the rushing around. I had to figure things out, like school, or daycare. Where to make friends. What she liked eating now.
“
So much to do,” I said, sighing.
I walked down the hallway and peered around the corner. The first thing I figured out was the fact that Millie was afraid of the dark. She didn’t like her door closed whenever she slept, and she needed the hallway light on. So, I inched the door open and peered inside.
“Millie?” I asked softly.
Her soft snores hit my ears, and I smiled. I walked into the room and sat on the edge of her bed, softly rubbing her back. She was knocked out cold. She slept hard, and it made me smile. Just watching her reminded me of Susie. She looked like my sister whenever she slept, her leg tossed out, her hand tucked underneath the cool side of the pillow. Her head was cocked back a bit, with her lips parted ever so slightly.
I smoothed her beautiful brown curly locks away from her forehead. I bent down and kissed her skin softly. She seemed a bit warm. So, I stood up and turned the ceiling fan up a notch. I watched her shift around, her dainty feet falling out from underneath the covers. And when it didn’t wake her up, I decided not to try and shift her.
Because Susie had slept with her feet hanging off the bed, too.
Tears crept up behind my eyes as I made my way downstairs. Breakfast. I wanted breakfast to be a morning routine. I checked the fridge and pulled out some things to try. Eggs with cheese. Some toast with peanut butter. A sliced-up apple. I put on a pot of coffee and rifled around for sausage but came up empty.
“We’ll do sausage later,” I murmured.
I took my time with the cooking. I thought about the rest of the day, wondering what we might be able to get out and do. A girl like Millie wanted to explore, right? Go out to museums. Do things. See movies.
Five-year-olds wanted to do that, right?
I need help.
An idea crossed my mind, and I patted myself down. Aha! Yes! I’d brought my phone down with me. I scrolled through as the eggs slowly sizzled in the pan, finding Layla’s number. She worked with kids. Lots of kids. She interacted with a slew of them throughout the school year. She’d have some advice for me.
I dialed her number and tucked my phone against my shoulder, waiting for her to pick up. But when her groggy voice hit my ears, my eyes rose to the microwave.
“Shit. I’m so sorry,” I said.
“No, no. It’s—it’s fi—”
She yawned deeply in my air, and I felt like shit.
“It’s not even six thirty. I’m so sorry, Layla. I didn’t even notice what time it was.”
“Cole, take a breath,” she said.
I drew in a deep breath through my nose and let it out through my mouth.
“You good?” she asked.
“I think so, yeah,” I said.
“Okay. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific about that.”
“I mean, you work with kids every day, right? What do five-year-olds like to do?”
“I do art with kids. I don’t work with them all day,” she said.
“They like art, though, right?”
She paused. “Most of them do, yeah.”
“What kind of art? I mean, like, museums? Fancy paintings?”
She giggled. “More like glitter glue and construction paper.”
“Okay, so I can make her an art box. What should I put in it?”
“You should start with asking her if she wants an art box.”
“But I thought you just said—”
“I said most of my kids like art, yes. But it’s also part of their daily routine. They have to like art because there isn’t another choice. It’s school, and it is what it is. I make it fun, but it’s still mandatory. They still have to come see me, so long as my program is intact.”
I nodded. “So, I should ask her if she likes art.”
“You should ask her anything you want. She’s a child, not a pet.”
Why the fuck had that not occurred to me sooner?
“Thanks, Layla. I appreciate it,” I said.
“If she doesn’t want to talk to you, though, I’d start with a park. You’ve got a lot of options at parks. Especially the park in town. There’s a pool, so you’ll know if she wants to swim. There’s a playground, so you’ll get a feel for how she makes friends. And if she doesn’t like crowds of people, she’ll cling to you and let you know she wants to get out of there.”
“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you so much.”
“You’ve got this. I know you do.”
I paused. “What if she doesn’t come out of her room?”
“Then, go up to her.”
“What if she doesn’t let me in?”
She paused. “Do you want me to come over and help? Is this one of those moments where you’re wanting to ask for help but your machismo won’t let you?”
“When in the world have I ever been like that?”
“Only all the time. Lance complained about it a lot when we were kids.”
“Well, ain’t that some shit.”
She giggled. “No cursing around her, either. That’s a no-no.”
“Right. Yes. Okay. Shoot, I guess.”
She laughed, and the sound relaxed me. Until I looked down and saw I was burning the eggs.
“Fuck!” I exclaimed.
“Not a good word to use, either.”
“I’m burning the damn eggs. Can you come over? Please?” I asked.
“Of course I will. Just let me get changed.”
“You’re saving my life here.”
She laughed. “I’ll be by before lunch. But I’m bringing Ace. So, fair warning.”
That fucking dog. “Millie might like Ace. Good choice.”
“Think you can keep from burning your place down before I get there?”
I tossed the burnt pan into the sink. “Yeah. I think I can manage that.”
“Good. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
I hung up the phone then sifted around for another pan. I focused on cooking the eggs and tried not to focus on how pleasant Layla’s laugh had become. That dog of hers, though, left a lot to be desired. The little dachshund had a temperament and a mind all of its own. Lance had gotten her that stupid thing as a congratulatory present for graduating college. And when we went to pick the dog up, the hairy little weenie dog bit me, clear through the fucking skin!
Dick.
“Hello?”
The voice was soft. Small. So quiet I almost didn’t catch it. I turned my head toward the kitchen doorway, training my ear on the small voice.
“Yes?” I called out.
“Can I come down?”
“Of course you can, Millie. You can come down whenever you’re ready.”
“Bathroom?”
“Uh, yeah. You can go whenever you like. You don’t need to ask sweetheart.”
I heard the soft sounds of feet scurrying about upstairs. The mere fact that she had to ask before using the bathroom meant Mom already left her mark. Fucking hell, I should’ve gone and gotten that girl the second I knew Mom had taken her. I had legalities behind me on that move. Yet another reason for me to keep my anger in check. My anger did me absolutely no good in this situation. And it wouldn’t do Millie any good, either. Because if she was anything like my sister—and they had a lot of similarities—she’d find a way to blame herself for my anger.
Which was something I wouldn’t allow.
I quickly scrambled up another batch of cheesy eggs as soft feet pattered down the steps and came down the hallway before rounding into the kitchen. A seat raked across the floor as I plated the food, making sure to add extra peanut butter to her toast. I poured her a glass of milk and turned around, putting on my best smile.
When Millie’s eyes fell to the plate of food, I saw her little nose crinkle.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Is that peanut butter?” she asked.
“If you don’t like it, just let me know. I’ll make you something else.”
“Is
it crunchy?”
“Nope. Only smooth peanut butter here.”
And when she smiled, the tension fell away from my chest.
I walked the food over to her and sat it down. I sat across the table from her, not wanting to overwhelm her too much. She wolfed down the cheesy eggs and ate every part of her toast but the crust. So, I committed that quirk to memory.
No crust on bread.
“Do you like milk? Or do you want something else?” I asked.
She shrugged as she picked up her milk, drinking it like a champ. I looked for any sign in her face that told me she didn’t like it. I didn’t find any, though. I reached for the napkins and handed her one, watching her wipe off her little mouth and hands.
Then, she looked at me with those bright, bold eyes.
One brown and one green.
“Do you have any favorite foods you’d like to have around here?” I asked.
She shrugged and her eyes fell to her lap.
“You know it’s okay to tell me, right? I want you to feel at home here,” I said.
But all she did was shrug again.
I wasn’t sure how much of her response was losing a parent and how much of it was simply her personality. I mean, she’d been pretty vocal about breakfast. The peanut butter, specifically. Maybe I just had to give her options and go with that? I was like that. Blank pages were something that freaked me out. If someone asked me out of the blue, “What do you want to eat?” I’d freeze. But if given options?
Okay. Options.
“Do you like grocery shopping?” I asked.
Her eyes slowly came up from her lap and found mine.
“Yeah? I need to go pick up some things. Want to come help me fill the cart?” I asked.
I saw the twitch of a smile starting, so I took it one step further.
“You can even help me put things in the cart. How does that sound?”
And that perked her up a great deal.
Her smile held my heart as she wiggled down from the chair. She took off, rushing out of the kitchen and racing up the steps. I chuckled as I got up, cleaning up her plate. Then, I scooped the rest of the eggs out of the pan with a spoon as I listened to her stumble around.
Brother’s Best Friend Page 3
