Gentleman Nine

by Penelope Ward

  Nothing would ever erase the significance of the time we had together. Everyone who comes into your life serves a purpose to teach you in some way. Rory taught me how to love. And for that, I would be eternally grateful. I would pray every night that he’d find the kind of love he was so deserving of, the kind that would make him realize that what just happened between us happened for a reason.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  * * *

  AMBER

  EIGHT MONTHS LATER

  Since moving to Chicago, phone calls from Annabelle were always a welcome addition to any afternoon.

  “Someone wants to say hello,” she said.

  His voice was deep as he droned, “Hiiii.”

  “Hi, Milo! I miss you!”

  She came back on the line. “Wasn’t that adorable? He’s smiling, too.”

  “You’re gonna make me cry.”

  “I told him we were going to call Amber, and you know what he did? He pulled up an old Daria video on YouTube.”

  “Shut up! That’s so funny. That’s the cartoon version of me.”

  “I know! I remember you told me that.”

  “Hysterical.”

  Annabelle proved exactly how much of a true of a friend she was before I left Boston. Shortly after I was discharged from the hospital, it became clear that if Channing and I were going to be together, one of us had to move. Taking Christine out of the only environment she was familiar with was not going to help her ability to sustain her awareness. As heartbreaking as it was to think about leaving Boston behind, the decision was a no-brainer. Channing needed to be in Chicago. He was my home. I needed to move home.

  But I refused to go until I could find someone trustworthy to work with Milo at night. It wasn’t my responsibility to find a replacement per se. The agency that assigned me to his case technically would find one eventually. But I didn’t trust that they would find the right person. I wanted someone who would stay for a while and really nurture him, someone who would care for him as well as I did.

  During the weeks that I was still in Boston after Channing returned to Chicago, Annabelle could see how hard it was for me living away from him while I tried to get my ducks in order. She insisted that I let her be an interim replacement for Milo and that she would also work to find a permanent person. She pretended like she was welcoming the break from her kids in the evenings, but I knew working those extra hours was a sacrifice she was making for me. Since she had the same level of experience working with special needs individuals that I did, I was comfortable leaving him in her hands. So desperate to be with Channing, I eventually gave in, and thankfully, it seemed to have worked out really well. Eight months later, she was still looking after him, but it seemed to be purely by choice.

  “He’s really doing okay?”

  “He’s doing awesome. It’s a family affair up in here. He loves hanging out with Jenna and Alex. And they love him. They always ask me if he really has to go back to the group home. It’s sweet. The big question is…how are you? I miss my friend.”

  “I miss you, too…so much.” I sighed. “Things here are…busy. Every day with Christine is full of ups and downs, but every day I realize more and more that this is where I belong.”

  “Oh, I know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”

  “It’s really nice getting to see my parents whenever I want, too. They’ve been coming over some nights and having dinner with us.”

  My parents were really shocked at first to find out I was with Channing but finally warmed up to him. They had always been big Rory fans. The idea of me with Channing Lord definitely took a lot of getting used to for them.

  “Have I told you how happy I am for you?”

  “Once or twice.” I laughed.

  “I’d better go. I promised Milo I’d take him to get ice cream. The kids are coming, too.”

  “Have fun. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.

  It became clear pretty quickly after moving to Chicago that the place I was needed most was with Christine. It was hard finding a reliable person to take care of her during the day. So, since I arrived jobless, rather than pay someone, it just made sense that I would be the one to take care of her—at least until it became too difficult.

  You couldn’t put a price on the peace of mind that granted Channing, knowing I was looking after his mother while he worked. I knew how hard it had been for him as he juggled everything while trying to find the right situation for her. To be able to alleviate the brunt of that stress was a rewarding feeling. Not to mention, I genuinely loved Christine—not just because she was Channing and Lainey’s mother, but because she was a kind soul. There were lots of terrifying moments, where she wouldn’t acknowledge me or couldn’t remember where we were earlier in the day, but there were still so many moments of clarity and humor. As her condition worsened, she seemed to get more and more loving and affectionate—that was typical from what I heard in talking to other caregivers of people with dementia.

  ***

  The thing about always having Christine around was that Channing and I weren’t as free to express ourselves sexually around the house. We’d take advantage of the moments she was in her bedroom to steal kisses or feel up on each other. Sneaking around was kind of fun and made our alone time behind closed doors all the more special. Everything leading up to that was foreplay. Not to mention, we now inhabited Channing’s old room, so it always felt a little naughty to be having sex in his old bed.

  Even though Channing worked a long day, he always insisted on cooking his mother and me dinner when he got home. He was the better cook—even when he made weird things—so no one complained about that arrangement. Channing claimed that cooking helped him unwind after a long day. He’d pour a glass of wine, play music on his iPod, shake his ass around, and sing while at the stove. Kitty would be weaving in and out of his legs. You could take the cat out of Boston, but nothing had changed when it came to that relationship.

  No matter what, each day ended with the three of us sitting down to dinner together. You never knew what you were going to get with Christine. Some nights she was fine, others more confused.

  Tonight after we were wrapping up our meal, she threw out a whopper of a question.

  “Can you take me to buy a dress, Amber?”

  Washing the dishes, I looked over at her. “Sure. What’s the occasion?”

  “For the wedding.”

  “What wedding?” Channing asked.

  Bracing myself, I hoped to God she didn’t momentarily think she was still with Channing’s father. How devastating.

  “Your wedding.”

  I momentarily stopped washing the dishes.

  Channing placed his hand on her shoulder. “My wedding to Amber?”

  “Yes—to that beautiful woman right there. You’re getting married, right?”

  Channing and I were not engaged. We knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives with each other, but it was understood that things were a little crazy right now. Although, the truth was, I would have married him in a heartbeat if he asked.

  It surprised me when he said without hesitation, “Yes, we are getting married.”

  My eyes narrowed. “We are?”

  “I need a pretty dress, then,” Christine insisted.

  “We can get you one,” he said.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Maybe Amber can take you.”

  My mouth was ajar. What was he getting at here?

  Christine suddenly got up and headed toward her room. “I keep forgetting there’s something I have to give you, Channing. It can’t wait any longer.”

  When she returned, she opened a small, red box that had a gorgeous diamond sandwiched inside an antique-looking setting.

  “This was your Grandmother Faye’s wedding ring. She had given me this diamond for Lainey. But I want you to have it...for Amber.”

  He took it from her and examined it. “It’s beautiful, Mom.”

  Channi
ng looked like he was deep in thought as he held the ring in his hand.

  He put it back in the box, and his eyes flashed up at me. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  I wiped my hands on a dishtowel. “Sure.”

  He took me aside in the living room.

  “If I asked you to marry me tonight with my mother watching, would you say yes?”

  Suddenly, my pulse was racing. “Of course, I would.”

  “Fuck, I know that this is coming across as really unromantic. But I didn’t want to do it in front of her unless you felt you were ready to accept. I’d never want to put you in that position. I know we said we were gonna wait a while. But I want her to see me ask you, to be there—even if she can’t remember later. I want her to experience that…if it’s okay with you.”

  Wrapping my hands around his face, I pulled him into a kiss then said, “I would marry you tomorrow.”

  “You would? Don’t you want a big wedding?”

  “I want Christine there more. Having a big wedding would require a lot of planning. She might not—”

  “I know. That’s my fear, that she’ll be worse by the time we plan something.”

  “Of course.” I ran my hand along his cheek. “That’s a legitimate concern.”

  “I’ve known for a really long time that I want to marry you. For me, it doesn’t matter if we do it tomorrow or next year. I know you’re it for me, Amber.”

  “Why don’t we do something small so that she can be there? And someday if we still want something bigger we can do that, too. Or we can just use the money for a kickass honeymoon.”

  “You’d really marry me tomorrow?” He smiled. “Okay…maybe not tomorrow…but say…this weekend?”

  I didn’t have to think twice. “Yes.”

  He cocked his brow. “Literally? And be careful how you answer.”

  “Yes…literally.”

  ***

  We literally took our butts down to city hall the next day to apply for a marriage license.

  A few days later, that weekend, my father walked me down the aisle in a small ceremony held at The Ambassador Chicago.

  We’d called around to a number of places, and it just so happened that the hotel’s amazing rooftop wasn’t booked on Sunday. With the Chicago skyline and peeks of Lake Michigan as our backdrop, we were able to put together an intimate celebration with just our parents.

  By the grace of God, Christine was having a mostly good day, and we got so many photos taken with her. It meant so much to Channing to have his mother there and somewhat alert. We’d bought her a beautiful champagne-colored dress. I wore a simple A-line, white strapless gown with sequin beading on the bodice.

  We chose not to go on a honeymoon yet. Instead, we spent our wedding night like we spent every evening—in our cozy home.

  Channing had changed out of his suit and was taking a shower when I decided to venture alone to Lainey’s old room. Living in Channing and Lainey’s childhood house was a very emotional experience. I’d spend a lot of time in that room, which was now a guest bedroom. There were boxes of her stuff still in the closet. One of my favorite things to do was to spend some quiet time each night reading through her old diaries. I’d debated for a while whether it was even appropriate to read through them. Channing was the one who finally convinced me that Lainey wouldn’t care. He pointed out that she’d told me most of her secrets and would want me to find comfort in her words all these years after her death.

  The journals mostly contained innocent stuff. She wrote about boys she had a crush on or what she did during a particular day. The normal passage of time meant that I’d become disconnected from Lainey as the years passed, but reading her diaries brought her spirit back to me so clearly. I could feel her presence again. It was like reliving my own childhood in many ways.

  On this special night, still in my white wedding dress and lying on the floor, I came across an ironic passage she’d written the year of her death that made me smile from ear to ear.

  Today we went to the public pool down on Wellis. It was me, Channing, Amber, and Silas. I’m starting to think that Channing might like Amber. I really hope I’m wrong. Because that would be disgusting beyond belief.

  Amber was wearing a bikini with strawberries on it. When she bent down to pick up her towel off the ground, her boobs spilled out a little. Channing kept staring at her. And this went on for the rest of the day. I’d keep catching him gawking.

  Anyway: TOTALLY GROSS.

  My shoulders shook in laughter as I closed the notebook. That was the perfect way to end this day. It was Lainey’s way of congratulating us.

  EPILOGUE

  * * *

  CHANNING

  My mother’s arms were open wide. “Hi! Hi, you beautiful, precious thing. What’s your name?”

  “Lainey.”

  “Lainey! That’s such a beautiful name.” She beamed. “And how old are you, Lainey?”

  “I’m free.”

  “Three?”

  She held up three fingers. “Free.”

  “Would you like a piece of candy?”

  Lainey nodded enthusiastically.

  “Just one,” Amber warned.

  Mom reached in her drawer for a peppermint starlight mint and handed it to our daughter.

  Amber helped remove the wrapper and said, “What do you say, Lainey?”

  “Thank you, Gamma.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

  This was probably the twentieth time that my mother had met her granddaughter for “the first time.” Lainey was a good sport and just went along with it, always welcoming the grand reception she got. Mom always gave her candy, too, so naturally, Lainey was thrilled with that. We told her that Grandma can’t remember things, but I’m not sure she fully understood. Either way, she never seemed to mind being doted on with the same enthusiasm each visit. It was hard to watch, and at the same time, it was beautiful to see my mother’s joy repeated over and over.

  Mom’s condition deteriorated significantly over the years. Her dementia had an atypically fast progression. We tried to keep her at home for as long as possible, but it became too difficult to give her the care she needed, especially after the baby came. We got her into a facility close to home, though, and thankfully, they seemed to be taking really good care of her. Several necklaces adorned her neck. Her hair was done up nice, and her nails were always freshly painted. The women who worked there really made sure she looked and smelled good.

  I visited her every single day without fail. Amber and I would only take Lainey to see her occasionally, since that was always an emotionally draining experience.

  Our daughter was conceived a year after Amber and I got married. Since we weren’t using condoms anymore and Amber could never handle the pill, we just paid close attention to her cycle, leaving things somewhat up to fate. And fate brought us Lainey sooner than we’d anticipated.

  My mother caressed her granddaughter’s pigtails. “You remind me of someone. You know that?”

  Lainey looked just like her namesake—my sister—and even though my mother couldn’t figure out the connection, it was comforting to know that on some level, she remembered.

  “Mom, we have to go, but I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

  My mother smiled. “Well, aren’t you nice.”

  It definitely hurt when she didn’t remember me. Most days she didn’t realize why I was coming to visit her aside from me being “some nice guy.” That didn’t matter; I would still be there for her in the same way that I would if she were a hundred percent aware.

  We hugged my mother goodbye before making our way home.

  As we drove down the road, Amber turned to me.

  “Guess who’s getting married?”

  “Who?”

  “Rory.”

  “No shit?”

  “Yup.”

  I knew Amber still kept in touch with Rory. He’d moved out to Seattle for work, and about a year ago, he’d told her he met some
one, a widow with three kids he’d taken on as his own. He seemed genuinely happy, and that definitely gave Amber some peace.

  “Well, good. I’m happy for him,” I said.

  She smiled. “Me, too.”

  As we continued to drive, we encountered a traffic jam, and it didn’t take long to figure out why. Turned out, the carnival was in town. We had taken a different route home, so we hadn’t passed it on the way to see Mom. But it was no surprise. I’d seen the signs posted all over recently.

  This wasn’t just any carnival. It was the carnival, the same yearly fair where the accident happened eleven years ago. I’d passed it before over the past couple of years, but never with Lainey in the car.

  She pressed her little finger up against the window. “Mama! I want to go! I want to go!”

  My stomach dropped as fear filled Amber’s eyes. I knew she wanted to give in to our daughter’s request. The only thing holding her back was me, or rather her fear of my freaking out. Amber would never suggest we stop unless I insisted.

  It was true that I hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of visiting a carnival since my sister’s death. Aside from the brief experience in Boston with Milo, I’d managed to avoid them altogether. But I was a father now, and my daughter deserved to visit the carnival if that was what she really wanted. It wasn’t fair to allow my fear to affect her life.

  My attitude had also changed somewhat over the past few years. Mom’s illness had taught me that life was too short to live in fear. Yes, accidents happen, but you couldn’t spend your life worrying about the possibility of tragedy. Life was hard enough. I knew it was now or never.

  “We can go to the carnival, baby.”

  Amber looked shocked to hear me say that. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I need to do this for her.”

  She placed her hand on mine. “Okay.”

  One foot in front of the other.

  That’s what I told myself as we entered the fairgrounds. Yes, I was terrified, but all it took was one look at my little girl’s face to calm me down somewhat. She’d never been to anything like this before. Her eyes were flitting all over the place as she took in the sights and sounds.