Brother's Keeper V: Wylie (the complete series BOX SET): NEW RELEASE + Series Box SET included!

by Stephanie St. Klaire

“Let’s get you covered up so you don’t get cold.” He wrapped me in my heavy terry cloth robe.

  “Liam, I’m still soaking wet. I’ll get the floors and bed wet.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t see the problem in that. It’s just floors and a bed.”

  In a swift movement, he swept me from my feet and cradled me against his body, taking us to the other room. “I don’t want you to slip, and maybe this will spare those floors you’re worried about.”

  He carefully placed me on the bed, and stripped his shirt, tossing it to the side without a care. “Eh, I’ll deal with that tomorrow.”

  I looked around the room, moved by the gesture he’d made. The candles from earlier in the day were all lit, the shadows they cast dancing on the walls.

  “Oh, Liam. It’s…it’s…it’s so lovely,” I choked out. “How many times are you going to make me cry today? Are you enjoying this?”

  “You deserved today, and this…” he fanned his hand toward the candles, “and so much more, Cass.”

  “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

  “I’ll make you a list.” He plopped on the bed next me, pulled his phone from his pocket, and began to peck at the screen. “Here’s your surprise.”

  At first, I was confused when he handed me his phone. How was his phone a surprise? Until I saw it. The screen. It took a moment to register, not recognizing the face staring back at me at first. It was me. I scrolled through the pictures. There were several, all me from earlier in the day.

  “Oh, Liam. These are…” I paused. There were the tears — again. “They’re… I look like me.”

  “You always look like you, Cassy. What you see right there, that’s what I always see, what we all see. Just you, not the cancer. I wanted you to see what we did.”

  “Gosh, they’re beautiful. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “You’re beautiful, inside and out. You always have been, and always will be the most beautiful girl in the world to me.”

  “That’s what today was for?” I laughed. “You really go all out.”

  “Partly. I needed…I-I needed you to know what you meant to me before…” His head dropped in defeat, unable to say the words. But he didn’t need to finish his thought. Before I was gone.

  My hands cradled his face, lifting it so his eyes met mine and I kissed him. When words couldn’t portray what we needed them to, we let our affections and intimacy do it for us. I knew what I meant to him because I felt the same about him.

  Pulling away, I pushed him back against the pillows on our bed and lifted to my knees, straddling him. “I know, Liam. I know how much you love me. I’ve never had to question that.”

  When I kissed him again and began to move against him, his hands gripped my hips to stop me and he stalled our kiss.

  “Cass…we don’t have to.”

  Shaking my head, my hands met his, and I stroked up and down his arms. “I know. I want to. It’s okay. I’m okay. I want to show you what you mean to me.”

  I made love to husband that night, for the last time. It was everything it was supposed to be and more.

  A letter from Cass…

  Dear Liam…

  I’m so sorry you have to spend our anniversary alone this year, but I hope you still celebrate. Celebrate our love and deep devotion. Celebrate the beautiful memories. Celebrate the life we built. Celebrate the life we created. Those are all things worth celebrating, despite my absence because they’re still very real, present, and part of who we were — who you are, my love.

  You’re the greatest man I’ve ever known, and you gave me the best days and even better nights. I love all of you, Liam — every last inch, every last memory, every last smile and your whole heart.

  What I want you to remember most today is how much I love you. It’s more than I could ever put in words. Happy Anniversary, darling…

  I’ll love you forever…and then some more.

  When you don’t feel me, just look here…I’m always with you.

  Love, Cass

  14

  When the time is right…

  I didn’t sleep. Despite the progressing disease induced fatigue and desire, I couldn’t keep my eyes closed more than a few minutes at a time. The hospice nurse had been with me more often, and said insomnia is common at this stage and the medications can sometimes interfere with rest. But I knew it was something else. I didn’t allow her to increase my medication because lucidity was important — and adding one more drug wasn’t the answer.

  The answer lied with my husband. He was, in a roundabout way, the source of my sleep deprivation. I was worried, and it was weighing heavily on me to the point of restless nights.

  My extra days were a bonus and growing fewer. I could feel it. I was in bed more, lacked an appetite, and felt the cancer now. I’d finished my letters to everyone — Liam’s and Reagans scrapbooks had turned out perfect, and I was so grateful for Felicity since she had to do a lot of the work for me toward the end.

  That had been my one goal, to leave a manual of sorts — life beyond Cass. Only, now I knew it wasn’t my last task, and that was what was keeping me up at night.

  It was almost Christmas eve, which was also my birthday. Most people with December birthdays feel cheated, but not me. I loved Christmas, and that made my Christmas eve birthday that much more special. It was like the entire holiday season had more meaning for me.

  We didn’t get much snow in the Willamette Valley, despite being surrounded by snowcapped mountains. In fact, Portland was lucky if it got a dusting each year because ice was more the norm. On occasion, however, it seemed every handful of years, it would snow all the way to the valley floor where we lived.

  Those were the best years — a white Christmas for my birthday. It hadn’t truly snowed since Reagan was a baby, and I’d hoped, if the next few days were granted and I made it to my birthday, I would get to see my daughter in her first real snow. That kind of Christmas magic was made for the movies, though, so I wasn’t holding my breath despite the dry, crisp air and pending forecasts that were never correct.

  Even that wasn’t what was keeping me up at night. That was just my final wish, should one be granted. What was keeping me up was my husband wasn’t prepared. I’d thought he’d come to terms with everything, but he hadn’t.

  I’ve been mostly bed ridden, only coming out for meals with the family each evening, even if I didn’t eat. Liam would carry me to an overstuffed, chaise-style chair lined with pillows and plenty of blankets. Then, after everyone had eaten, or I couldn’t sit up any longer, even with the aid of pillows, he’d carry me back to bed.

  Last night, when he’d brought me to bed, he’d stayed with me, having made arrangements for Reagan. He laid next to me, holding my hand, stating he just didn’t want me to be alone. We talked about everything and nothing. I expressed how badly I wanted snow for Reagan. He asked if I wanted chocolate or lemon cake for my birthday.

  As the evening carried on, and it was well into the night, I felt him growing tired. There was an elephant in the room that wasn’t going anywhere, and it was the source of my insomnia, I was sure of it. I needed to know he was okay — that he was prepared for the coming days because we knew they were limited. I had to know he’d made whatever arrangements needed to be made so he wouldn’t have to make them…after.

  The days following were going to be hard enough, I didn’t want him to have to deal with anything at that stage of grief. I didn’t want him to feel forced to make decisions he wasn’t prepared for, decisions he’d perhaps regret later. I needed to know he was going to be okay — or as okay as one could be in such a tragic circumstance.

  Point blank, I’d asked him if he’d made the necessary arrangements, and his answer was the same as it had been every time before. I don’t want to talk about this. We have time. Let’s just enjoy this moment and worry about those things when we have to. What he didn’t understand and was choosing not to hear was it was time.

  I’m sure
there was nothing unusual about his response and behavior. They say everyone grieves differently, and the sad truth about a situation like ours was grieving starts long before the final breath. He’d been grieving since the day he learned of my diagnosis and was still grieving in that moment. He wasn’t ready to face the truth and deal with the reality, because who really was?

  I’d managed to doze off into one of my short, fitful naps sometime in the middle of the night. Each time I’d wake, Liam was at my side, either in a fitful sleep state of his own, or watching me sleep, hoping for my next breath. I couldn’t stand to see his pain, but who was I to say anything when I was its source?

  At one point, I woke to find his side of the bed cold. It was well past midnight and had to be nearing dawn. It was an odd hour to be showering for such a routine-driven man. The bathroom door was open an inch, maybe two, and I could see a sliver of light peering through.

  I was worried something was wrong. Maybe he was sick. Getting up from bed, I’d steadied myself and went to see if Liam was okay. When I got to the door, I could see his reflection in the mirror through the opening and found him sitting at the edge of the bathtub, face buried in his hands. The shower was running to drown out the sound of his sobs.

  It broke me to see him that way. Had he done this before? Was it bringing up final arrangements that had put him over the edge? Either way, I felt responsible.

  Liam was the strongest man I knew, but I was his greatest weakness. There had to be another way — a way to spare him anymore pain than he was already enduring. I decided in that moment I’d spare him that. I’d let him mourn and not face another painful decision because of me. And once I figured that out, I’d sleep.

  So that was my last task. To take the final looming burden off my husband’s shoulders so he could grieve in peace.

  As I sat, brushing Reagan’s hair, readying her for her last day of preschool before the holiday break, I knew just how to do it.

  “Do you want help, Cass?” Felicity asked. “I don’t mind doing her hair if it’s too much.”

  “No thanks,” I replied with a weak smile. “I want to do this while I can.”

  Truth? It was too much. Lifting the brush to run it through her hair and the simple weight of it was painful and caused me to sweat from the fatigue. My arms were heavy from the lack of strength and my hands ached from squeezing the brush handle tight enough so it wouldn’t get stuck in Reagan’s hair or fall to the ground.

  These were the little things we took for granted. I loved brushing Reagan’s hair; it was part of our routine, bonding really. As simple as it seemed, it was one of the big things. I could no longer do the fancy braids we’d plan the night before or practice on the weekend, my hands were always in too much pain.

  We were to the point where her hair was down with a cute headband. It was good enough for her, so it was good enough for me. It was the time together we really looked forward to. These small moments would be the memories she cherished, as would I.

  It was funny how things changed and fell into perspective. Once a warden on time, and never one to be late, I was now quite satisfied with Reagan running five minutes behind for school because I got to be the one to do her hair.

  I looked forward to the little things because I couldn’t do the big things. It helped ease the guilt I carried. Guilt I knew wasn’t warranted but couldn’t help but feel.

  “Have a good day, sweet girl,” I said, giving Reagan a quick kiss. “I’ll see you after school.”

  Reagan jumped off my bed and slid into her backpack. “You too, Mama. Love for all the forevers.”

  “I love you more than that,” I said, as part of our typical who loves who more banter. “Now, hurry up. Daddy’s waiting and you’re going to be late.”

  I watched her run out the door, hollering for Liam as she did. When I heard the front door shut, I knew Felicity and I were alone.

  “One day, it’ll be someone else doing that,” I said.

  “I’m sure Liam will continue to take her to school.” Felicity chuckled.

  “No, I mean doing her hair. Helping her get ready. Having all the silly private conversations. Liam will move on. She’ll have another mother figure.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Felicity scolded.

  “C’mon. I want him to be happy, even if it’s with someone else. He deserves it more than anyone after what we’ve been through — what he’s been through.” I shrugged. “They’ll both need someone.”

  “That’s not something you should worry about. Just live in the now, Cass.”

  “Promise me, City,” I said. “Promise it’ll be you.”

  “Whoa.” Felicity choked and held her hands out in front of her. “Um, I’m not having this conversation with you. One, he’s not my type, and two…this is too weird.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Laughing felt good, actually. “No…I mean you’ll do her hair when you can and help her through the small moments because they’ll be her big moments. Especially right at first while Liam…adjusts.”

  Felicity moved from the chair to the edge of my bed and held my hands. “Cassidy, everything will be okay. Hard, but okay. I’m not going anywhere. This family is stuck with me. All of them, especially that little girl. And any woman who tries to fill your shoes will have a hell of time because they’re awfully big shoes to fill. Plus, she’ll have to go through me to get to them.”

  We sat silently as each of us cried — something we were doing more and more.

  “Besides,” Felicity said, breaking the silence, “if she sucks, I’ll do my magic and hack all her accounts and give her a criminal record or something. Maybe I’ll max her accounts with porn site charges.”

  And our tears turned to laughter once again. These were my favorite moments with Felicity.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for being a friend, the very best friend I think I’ve ever had.”

  “It’s been my honor and pleasure…”

  “Can I ask you a favor?” I needed her to help with my final request, task, duty…whatever you wanted to call it.

  “Anything. Name it…”

  15

  One more goodbye…

  It was a hard day. More so than most, and we all knew what that meant. I couldn’t get out of bed on my own, couldn’t stand on my own long, or hardly go to the restroom on my own. The pain was increasing, I felt it everywhere, but I didn’t want to increase my medications because I wouldn’t be lucid.

  They say the mind was the last thing to go, and they were right. My body may have been failing, but my mind was sharp, and I clung to that. I just needed two more days. It was the day before Christmas, and the forecast called for snow. I so badly wanted to see it. More specifically, I wanted to see Reagan’s excitement if it happened.

  I was on borrowed time, and that was okay. I was done fighting it. I’d done everything I could to prepare myself and my loved ones. I was sure there was something left undone, but nobody’s perfect.

  There was a hospice nurse with us around the clock. If there was ever a sign the end was near, it was then. My parents had returned to Portland, and announced they were buying a house so they could be local for Reagan. Carrigan was home from McKenzie Ridge for the holiday. All the boys were on vacation until the new year. Even their cousins were in town for the holiday this year.

  We always had a packed house during the holidays, but never this packed. And I knew why. Selfishly, I enjoyed it, even if for a daunting reason. I was surrounded by everyone I loved. It made it a little easier to face.

  It wasn’t any easier for Liam, though. If anything, it was harder. Given my state, he asked the hospice nurse if they should do lab work or testing of some kind to see what was wrong. When she said there wasn’t any reason and they could make me more comfortable, he insisted she call Dr. Mendoza.

  My nurse obliged only to report Mendoza was in agreement and there was no need to add unnecessary stress and he’d be by after the holiday. It didn’t go over well,
despite Liam trying to hide it. He made the ridiculous excuse of needing to pick up milk at the market before the holiday to get out of the house. Liam was leaving for me, so I wouldn’t see his mounting grief. Even to the end, he protected me.

  Felicity stayed with me, and I gave Liam the space he needed. I knew he wouldn’t be far. He hadn’t been out of the house in days, so fresh air would do him good. Help him get his head straight.

  “I think he’ll be a while,” Felicity said.

  “Milk is code name Irish Whiskey,” I joked. “I think I need to send reinforcements.”

  “Good idea. Meanwhile, why don’t you and I have a girls night? Your mom and dad have Reagan for the night. Movies?”

  “She hasn’t left my side in days. I’m so glad she went with them,” I said. “As much as I want her with me, I’m afraid she’ll only remember this. A sick mommy.”

  “Oh, that’s impossible. You made sure of that,” Felicity encouraged. “She’ll remember when mommy was sick, but she’ll be more compassionate because of it. You always tell her it’s the small things that matter, and I think that’s the stuff she’ll remember most. Plus…your letters and that scrapbook.”

  “You’re right, City. I don’t know how much fun I’ll be tonight. Are you sure you want to hang out in here with me? Don’t you have any last-minute shopping to do or something?”

  “Nope! I bought everything online — I loathe the mall this time of year. And I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be or anyone more exciting to get through those last few movies in the stack you collected.”

  “I can’t believe we’ve watched nearly all of them.” I laughed. It really was ridiculous. “I have one request.”

  “Anything.”

  “Wine. I reallly want to drink wine. And maybe some candy or something.” I don’t know why I requested the candy. I couldn’t eat much at all and was surviving mainly on broth.