Sweethearts Old

by Rachel A Andersen

  The ghost of her memory would haunt these walls for as long as he lived here, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing anymore. Though he couldn’t fathom letting her go, he couldn’t imagine staying another second in a place so saturated with her memory that his heart was in a constant state of agony.

  Helen patted his knee as she stood. “Hang in there.”

  Declan watched her walk out the front door. Angie would have walked her mother to the door. If Angie had been alive, he would have walked Helen to the door at her request.

  Not now. Now, he watched TV until his body betrayed him, and he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

  “DADDY, DADDY, DADDY, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy ...”

  Declan gasped awake as something vaulted onto his abdomen. As he opened his mouth to scold whichever child had pounced on him, another voice spoke up.

  “Luke, I said we would wake Daddy up after we had breakfast.”

  Declan cracked an eye open to see Tabitha’s fists resting on her hips, and for a moment, Declan would have sworn he was looking at the miniaturized image of his mother. That was an uncomfortable thought about his seven-year-old.

  “Sorry, Daddy. I thought I had everything under control.”

  Four-year-old Luke rolled his eyes as he scrambled off Declan’s lap. “You’re not the boss of me.”

  Declan rubbed at his eyes, forcing himself awake. “Come on, guys. It’s too early for all of this fighting.”

  “Daddy, where’s Grandma?”

  Declan scratched his head as the question rolled around in his brain. Where was Helen? Wasn’t she normally here by now?

  Declan raised a finger in the air as his brain stumbled into the truth. “Grandma’s got an errand to run this morning. I’m getting you to school.”

  There was something disconcerting about the way Tabitha blinked at him, like he’d spoken to her in a foreign language. “You?”

  Declan laughed under his breath. Then, he stood and dusted the crumbs from the greasy potato chips he’d eaten last night off his shirt. “You act like I’ve never taken you to school before.”

  Luke followed him into the kitchen. “Not since Mom—well, you know—”

  Declan looked over at his oldest daughter for confirmation. That couldn’t be true. He’d been a bit of a zombie since Angie died, but that didn’t mean that he had abandoned his children to their grandparents, did it? “Of course I have.”

  Tabitha shook her head from where she stood on a chair in front of the freezer, a gallon size plastic bag of homemade waffles in her hands. “No, Daddy. Just Grandma and Grandpa.”

  Declan shrugged off the discomfort that sentence stirred in his chest. When she’d first gotten sick, Angie had spent weeks talking to him about how much she wanted him to be happy if the worst happened, that she wanted him to remarry and find joy again. She’d never once mentioned taking care of the kids. They’d both taken that for granted.

  They’d assumed that in the wake of such a monumental loss, Declan would seek solace in the arms of his children. Apparently, they had thought wrong.

  Declan opened the set of cabinets to the right of the sink, just above the dishwasher.

  “They’re not there anymore, Daddy.”

  Declan turned to Luke, still close on his heels. “What aren’t there anymore?”

  Luke pointed at the cabinets near the oven and by the refrigerator. “The plates and bowls. Grandma moved them.”

  Flashes of memories reminding him how Angie would vent when her mother came and rearranged something in the kitchen played in his mind. The numbness gave way to irritation. “Grandma moved our plates?”

  Tabitha hopped down from the chair. “She said it was easier to serve dinner if they were by the oven.”

  Declan took three long strides over to where his children had pointed him. Sure enough, there were the plates and bowls in the cabinet Angie had used for her spices. “Your mother had them by the dishwasher because it was easier to put them away after they were washed.”

  Tabitha shrugged as she dragged the chair a few feet over to stand in front of the toaster.

  Luke tugged on Declan’s sweatpants. “We told her, Daddy. She changed it anyway.”

  Even though he was frustrated with his mother-in-law, he had a hard time believing she’d waved the kids’ concern away. Just mentioning that Angie had died was enough to send him into a tailspin most days. He could only imagine how long Helen had taken to transition.

  That only made him angrier.

  Helen had deliberately removed some of Angie from this kitchen. He’d have to talk to Helen about making such sweeping changes without talking to him first.

  He shook the thought from his mind as a pair of waffles shot up out of the toaster. Tabitha handed one to Luke before she crawled onto the counter and pulled down the peanut butter.

  Declan grimaced. In the back of his mind, he suspected Tabitha’s acrobatic feats would concern most parents as she prepared breakfast. He was just glad to know that he wasn’t alone in trying to get the kids out the door.

  He scratched at his collarbone as the kids munched on their waffles. “Where’s your sister?”

  Tabitha pointed up at the ceiling. “In bed.”

  As Declan walked down the hallway and turned the corner to go upstairs, a loud beeping noise greeted him. What was that? An alarm?

  Baby Laney cried, her indignant protests growing louder and louder as he climbed the stairs, her usually calm and sunny disposition negatively affected by the continuous alarm.

  Though he knew Angie would have gone to the baby first, he went into the master bedroom at the top of the stairs. Sure enough, it was the old clock radio which he programmed to wake him up. The last time he remembered using it was when they’d both taken the day off so they could go to the park as a family. It had been the last family outing before Angie died.

  Since Declan rarely slept in the master bedroom anymore, and he was at work before now on most days, he hadn’t heard the alarm go off in almost a year.

  But that sound ...

  It grated on his last nerve.

  Instead of turning the alarm off, he ripped the plug out of the wall.

  As if the baby had an on/off switch, the screeching stopped, too.

  He half-expected Angie to come out of the small master bathroom with Laney on her hip as she asked him what was wrong.

  But she wouldn’t come through that door anymore.

  Don’t go there.

  Laney’s cries picked up again, and Declan took the dozen steps to the nursery. The eighteen-month-old’s red-rimmed eyes dropped a tear as she wailed.

  “Morning, Laney. Did that alarm wake you up? I’m not a big fan either.”

  Declan pulled the girl to his chest and bounced her to soothe her. If her relentless tears were any sign, he was unsuccessful.

  “She wants Grandma.”

  Declan bit back a snide remark as he turned to find Luke and Tabitha in the doorway. “I’m sure she just needs a diaper change and some fresh clothes.”

  Bless Tabitha. If the look on her face were any warning of the future, Declan could see now that she would never have a poker face. He could read the skepticism on her as if the word was tattooed on her forehead.

  He frowned at her. “Not helpful.”

  Tabitha’s face reddened as she tugged at her brother’s collar. “Come on, Luke, we need to get dressed.”

  “But Daddy—”

  Declan’s gaze zeroed in on his son. “Dude, this is not my first rodeo. I know how to take care of Laney. Go get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs so I can take you to school.”

  Luke tensed in anger before he stomped out the doorway and down the stairs.

  Tabitha clucked her tongue and shook her head as if to say, that’s not how Grandma would have done it.

  Declan let his eyes drift closed in his frustration. Frustration with his children, his mother-in-law, and even his dead wife. It just wasn’t fair that she’d left him alone so m
any years before they could grow old together.

  Declan walked Laney to the diaper changing table, which was well-stocked and clean. Though he should have been grateful, it was one more evidence that he and his children had relied too heavily on Helen and Miles’s support since Angie died.

  With one hand on Laney’s stomach, he looked upward the way he did when he tried to speak to Angie. “Sweetheart, if you have any suggestions, I’m listening.”

  EXCEPT FOR RETURNING to the school to bring Tabitha her forgotten lunch, the day passed smoothly. It almost surprised Declan when Helen parked in the driveway around two.

  The moment Helen appeared in the doorway, Laney reached for her and Luke launched into the exhaustive recap of his first day of preschool. Though it was irrational, the mere sight of Helen filled him with equal parts shame and anger. Shame that he had allowed her to take over his role in parenting. Anger that she had taken Angie’s.

  Helen picked Laney up off the floor as she looked down at Luke, who was still only recounting the drive to the preschool. “Luke, sweetheart, why don’t you get your backpack, and we’ll go over any notes your teacher sent home.”

  Once the boy zoomed out of the living room, Helen smiled at Declan. The conflict in his gut intensified when he realized, not for the first time, that Angie’s smile had come from her mother. “I’m sorry it took so long. You know auto shops.”

  Declan nodded, too distracted by the warring emotions inside. “Yeah.”

  Helen bounced Laney in her arms as the baby giggled. Laney hadn’t done that for him at all today. She’d been quiet and reserved, almost like she was trying to figure out who this stranger in her life was.

  The anger rose again, but now it was directed at himself. He acted like he was the only one who lost someone when Angie died, like his life had no more meaning. Angie had left three children behind. Two parents. A brother. A sister.

  Sick to his stomach, he pretended to clean up the living room so he wouldn’t have to watch his laughing child and know that he had failed her.

  “How did it go this morning? Did the kids get off to school on time?”

  Declan hesitated as he picked up a handful of shirts on the living room floor and sniffed them. Whether they’d been clean at one point or not was immaterial. They were dirty now.

  “Declan?”

  He dropped the laundry back to the floor as he turned back to his mother-in-law. “Helen, I—”

  “Grandma, I got my backpack!”

  Declan groaned. He couldn’t do this with Luke watching him. “Luke, why don’t you go in my room and watch your superhero show, hm?”

  “But Grandma said—”

  That anger came back, and he clenched his fists. “I know what Grandma said, but I need to talk to Grandma.”

  Luke closed his mouth and looked up at his grandmother, then back at his father. “Is she in trouble, Daddy?”

  Taken by surprise, Helen turned raised eyebrows to Declan. “Trouble?”

  Declan winced. “Luke, just go upstairs. You can tell Grandma all about your first day of preschool later.”

  Luke dropped the backpack on the floor by the front hallway leading from the kitchen to the front door and up the stairs. He mumbled something like good luck under his breath before he headed up to the master bedroom and turned on the television.

  “Declan, what’s going on?”

  Declan turned back to his mother-in-law. Even with the possibility of his being angry with her, she offered him that loathsome expression of sympathy she always wore when she looked at him. His courage failed him. How was he supposed to tell the woman who had single-handedly kept his family going in the face of her own grief to take a hike?

  She picked Luke’s backpack up off the floor and put it on one of the j-hooks lining the hallway. How long had those been there?

  She turned that agreeable look back to him, that smile that hit him like a fist to the gut with memories of Angie. “You know, if you wanted to head back to the office, that would be fine. I mean, the kids and I will be okay. We’ll have a plate ready for you if you will be late.”

  Plates.

  The irritation from this morning bubbled up in him again. “Did you move the plates, Helen?”

  Confused by the change in the conversation, Helen’s eyebrows knit together. “Excuse me?”

  Fueled by the need to protect his wife one last time, Declan pressed forward. “I went into the kitchen to get the kids’ breakfast ready this morning. When I reached for the plates, they weren’t there. The kids told me you moved them.”

  Helen’s face relaxed into one of understanding. “Oh, that. I just moved a few things around a little while ago. You’ll see. The kitchen flows much better now.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  His voice was quiet and firm, but Helen trembled as if he had roared at her. “I’m sorry?”

  He squared his shoulders. The time had come. There was no stopping what was coming next. A warm feeling of confidence settled in his chest as if Angie was in the corner of the room, nodding for him to get on with the plan. Thank her for her service and give her the boot.

  He exhaled long and low, grounding himself in the present moment. “Look, Helen, I appreciate what you were trying to do, but I would have preferred the kitchen stay the way Angie liked it.”

  Helen looked away as she set Laney on the floor. The toddler used Helen’s calf to support herself as she stood, her eyes turning upward as she sought the affection she had been afforded only a moment earlier. “I see.”

  Declan sighed. “I know it’s not fair for me to show up after couch parenting for the last year and criticize what’s happened.”

  “It’s fine.”

  The terse tone Helen adopted reminded him so much of his late wife that it was hard to concentrate. He hadn’t expected this.

  As much as he would have welcomed another argument with Angie because it meant that she was back here with him, he refused to have that argument with her mother. Helen wasn’t Angie. It was time they both accepted that.

  Declan hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one side to the other before he spoke. “I think it’s time that I started being the parent around here again.”

  Helen’s head snapped up, alarm in her bright eyes.

  He held a hand to stop her from saying the first thing that might come to mind, something that he was sure would be well-deserved given how he’d given up after Angie’s death. Helen would never forgive herself, and it would strain their relationship more than this act of reclamation would. “I’m not saying I won’t need your help from time to time. I’m just saying that I’ve relied a little too heavily on you.”

  His shoulders slumped at the admission. “I know it’s the first day of school, but I haven’t taken my kids to school in almost a year. I didn’t even know that the plates were in a different spot until this morning, and . . .”

  Helen was silent, giving him space to continue.

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “My kids don’t have the confidence that I can take care of them. Angie—”

  Saying her name out loud in the middle of this argument was like a knife piercing his gut, but he pressed on. “Angie would have hated that.”

  He looked back up, almost surprised to see the moisture in Helen’s eyes. No tears fell, but the pity which often appeared in them seemed replaced with a grudging respect.

  “You’re right. I should have asked about the plates.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a hand to stop him. It was her turn. “Truth be told, I think I did it because I wanted her to appear and yell at me the way she would when she was alive. One comment about how the flow would be better if she would move her silverware to a different drawer, and she would remind me that this wasn’t my house. It was hers.”

  Helen turned her gaze up to the light and blinked furiously for a moment before she looked back at Declan. With a sad smile, she wiped at her cheeks. “Funny how I even miss that.
”

  The sudden ache in Declan’s chest made it hard to breathe for a moment. When would missing his wife feel less like his heart was ripped in half and more like he was just missing a limb?

  He forced himself to breathe, but before he could say what was on his mind, Helen opened her mouth again. “Do you still want me to watch the kids while you’re at work?”

  Declan nodded. “Please. I don’t want you to stop seeing the kids. They’ve already lost their mother, I don’t want them to feel like they’re losing their grandparents too.”

  Helen swallowed down a renewed show of emotion. “Thank you.”

  “But maybe you and Miles plan some vacations like you were planning on when he retired. I could call my parents to come when you’re gone. They’re always after me to either come to Florida for a visit or to tell them how they can help.”

  He shrugged as he realized that asking his parents to step in wasn’t any better than what he’d asked of Helen and Miles. “And maybe I take the day off from time to time so I can connect with the kids again. Remind them we’re still a family.”

  She nodded.

  Declan hesitated for a moment before he opened his mouth again. “It’s time that we start living again, Helen. Angie, she—she would want us to live again.”

  Helen didn’t speak, only put one hand on Declan’s elbow as her eyes flooded with tears. After a few moments, she righted herself. “I’ll keep helping with dinner, if that’s okay? Nothing fancy, just freezer meals. That way, I’ll go home about the time you get home from work.”

  Declan bobbed his head. “We’ll figure it out, Helen. Like I said, I don’t want to keep you from your grandkids. I just need to start pulling my own weight again.”

  Helen smiled as she set Laney on her hip. “I know life’s been hard this last year, but I think Angie would be proud of the way you’re waking back up. I know I am.”

  Declan returned her smile before he reached for Laney. “Why don’t you leave Laney here with me while you work?”

  Helen hesitated a moment before she handed the baby over. When Laney started fussing, Helen bopped her nose with a comforting smile. “You’re okay, sweetie. I’ve got to get some things done in the kitchen. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Have fun with Daddy.”