For You, Forever

by Sophie Love

  Despite their whispers, Chantelle was awoken by their voices. She looked up at her parents, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

  “We’re leaving today,” she said, glumly, her shoulders sagging.

  Emily ruffled her hair. “I’m afraid so.”

  Chantelle nodded as though she understood, acting once again older than her eight years. “Will we ever see Papa Roy again?”

  Emily chewed her lip, deliberating what to tell the child. Her father’s advanced stage of cancer coinciding with her late stage of pregnancy meant it was very unlikely either would be able to travel in the future. There was a very real possibility that this would be it.

  “We’ll have video calls,” she told Chantelle, searching for a diplomatic response.

  Chantelle turned her sorrowful eyes to Emily. “You know what I mean. This will be the last time we’re with him. The last time we get to hug him.”

  Her words repeated in Emily’s mind. An echo, each repetition causing a stab of pain in her heart.

  “Yes,” she said finally, her voice resigned.

  Daniel reached for her, squeezing her arm for comfort. But Emily felt numb, like she was in shock over the whole thing. This simply couldn’t be the last time she saw her father. It wasn’t fair.

  “We’d better make the most of our time with him, then,” Chantelle said, heaving back the covers. “Come on. Everyone up.”

  Emily was relieved that the child was taking charge. She herself felt paralyzed.

  They washed and dressed, then quickly packed their belongs. Then Chantelle herded them out of the room, allowing Emily no time to poignantly gaze at it one last time.

  When they made it down to the kitchen they discovered, with surprise, that Roy was up and out of bed. He turned as they entered.

  “Good morning, family.” He beamed. “I’ve made fresh coffee. Decaf for the ladies.”

  Emily looked at her family, surprised. Had it not been for the oxygen tube in his nose, there’d be nothing to suggest Roy was sick. His eyes were bright, his face flushed with color for the first time in days. Even his movements were no longer hampered by fatigue.

  “Dad, are you okay?” Emily asked him. She strolled over and touched his arm lightly, as though checking to make sure he was real and not a ghost.

  “Never better,” he said. “Those pills they gave me at the hospital are really taking effect now. And two days in bed, having all my chores done for me, errands run for me, and meals cooked for me have been extremely recuperating!”

  Emily was relieved to see her father so animated. She was slightly suspicious it was an act for their benefit, but even the best actor in the world couldn’t make color return to their cheeks. That had to be real, and a sign that he was starting to feel better.

  But on the other hand she was also bitten by guilt. Once they left her father would have no one other than Vladi to care for him. If having help at home had made such a difference, how could she really leave him now?

  It was then that she struck on an idea.

  “Dad, have you thought of having some home help?” she said.

  With everyone now holding a steaming mug of coffee, they sauntered over to the kitchen table and sat down amongst the pieces of strewn clocks.

  “What do you mean?” Roy said. “I don’t need help.”

  “But you just said that having people look after you had been recuperating. Why not get someone in permanently? You have a spare room after all. I’m sure there’d be plenty of people who’d love the chance to be abroad in a lovely sunny country in exchange for doing some washing and cooking.”

  Roy looked at her kindly but shook her head. “I’m too stuck in my ways now,” he said. “I’d be too much of an imposition.”

  “You’re not an imposition, Papa Roy,” Chantelle refuted. “If I was allowed to stay and be your maid I would.”

  He patted her hand tenderly. “You’re very sweet, my dear.”

  “I mean it though, Dad,” Emily continued. “There might be someone in Sunset Harbor even who’d like to come out. I could fly one of the inn’s maids over on a sabbatical.”

  Roy shook his head. “You’re being silly now, Emily.”

  Daniel spoke next. “I think that would be too much to ask. Why don’t we hire a local nurse to come in once or twice a week?”

  Emily’s face snapped up to meet Daniel’s. She’d really wanted someone there who she trusted, one of her housemaids for instance. She thought Lois or Marnie would love the opportunity. The idea of hiring someone random filled her with dread. She’d heard horror stories of home helpers exploiting vulnerable elderly people, stealing from their wallets when they weren’t looking, stealing their expensive items. She wouldn’t be happy with just any person doing the job.

  “Let’s think about it,” she said, leaving the suggestion lingering in the air between them like a bad smell.

  “What shall we do with your last morning?” Roy said then. “I feel like you haven’t had much of a chance for sightseeing since you arrived here.”

  “I have an idea,” Chantelle said. She grinned. “Breakfast on the patio overlooking the ocean.”

  Roy smiled. “But you’ve been doing that for three days straight now!”

  Chantelle nodded. “I know. And it’s been the best.”

  Roy looked touched.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Daniel said. “I’ll help with the cooking.”

  “So will I,” Emily said.

  “Me too,” Roy added, firmly.

  Emily looked at her father. He didn’t want to be treated like an invalid, like he was incapable. Maybe she should respect that rather than trying to tell him how he should live his life.

  They got to work in the kitchen, cooking up all the fresh Mediterranean dishes that they’d learned since being here. Chantelle was an old hand at it now.

  “We should cook this at the inn,” she said.

  “Maybe in the summer,” Emily told her. “By the time we get home it will be all about pies and turkey.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Chantelle, I was meaning to ask you,” Roy said, as he stirred up his freshly made hummus. “Did you ever find the hidey hole in your bedroom at the inn?”

  Chantelle looked at him and frowned. “What’s a hidey hole?”

  “Ah,” Roy said. “I’ll take that as a no, then!” He chuckled. “There is a loose brick in your bedroom wall. I won’t tell you where, you’ll have to find it. And I won’t tell you what’s hiding in the gap behind it either.” He tapped his nose.

  Chantelle looked delighted at the new information. She loved a riddle, and loved even more the experience of unearthing the house’s secrets.

  “Really, Papa Roy?” she asked, wide-eyed. “There’s a secret brick in my bedroom?”

  “Oh yes,” Roy said, nodding. “Honestly, I’d have thought you would have found it by now. You’ve answered most of my riddles.”

  Chantelle squealed with excitement. Emily wondered whether Roy was just giving her something to look forward to, a reason to want to go home, and something to focus on when she was there other than his impending death.

  They finished cooking and sat down in the sunshine to eat their final breakfast. Despite knowing it may be their last time together as a family, the mood was happy. Emily felt like everyone was doing their best to make the most of their last moments together.

  They were so absorbed in their time together, it was only when the bright yellow taxi pulled up at the drive that Emily even remembered they had to leave, that they had a flight to catch. The emotion caught her off guard.

  “That’s our taxi,” she said.

  Everyone’s faces paled. Chantelle, who had been up until that moment full of spirit and joy, burst immediately into tears. She clung to Roy.

  “I don’t want to go,” she wailed.

  Roy cupped her face in his hands. “Now listen, buttercup,” he said. “We’ve had a grand time together. Let’s not end it with tears.”

&nbs
p; She snuffled, somehow managing to stop the flow.

  “There’s a good girl,” Roy said.

  He pulled her into an embrace. As Daniel loaded the luggage into the back of the taxi, Emily joined her father and Chantelle in the embrace, fighting her own tears. A moment later, she felt Daniel’s arms around her, strong and protective, joining in the family huddle.

  “I love you all,” Roy said from the middle of the bundle.

  “I love you,” Emily said.

  “I love you,” Daniel repeated.

  “I love you,” Chantelle concluded.

  Then they all released one another. No one was going to say goodbye, because no one wanted it to be the last words spoken. Better to leave their last face-to-face communication as an expression of enduring love.

  And so with nothing left to say, Daniel, Emily, and Chantelle got into the taxi. As its engine thrummed to life, they all gazed at Papa Roy through the window, waving, their eyes welling with fresh tears as the distance between them grew, his figure shrinking before their very eyes until he was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  The flight home was uneventful, passing Emily by in a numb haze.

  Landing back in Maine was a shock to the system; the weather had become much colder, not to mention Emily had never quite gotten over her jet lag from when they left and her body clock felt like it had gone haywire.

  They took a cab home, everyone stunned into an exhausted silence. When the inn loomed into sight—twelve hours after they’d left Roy’s home—Emily finally felt a sense of peace overcome her.

  They got out the taxi, paying the driver and collecting their luggage, then headed up the porch steps to the inn. Marnie was on duty.

  “Welcome home,” she said. “Did you have a good trip?”

  But she must have seen by the looks on their faces that something had happened because she trailed off.

  “How’s it been here?” Emily asked. The inn had been the last thing on her mind.

  “Fine,” Marnie said. “There’s been some mail for Chantelle.” She grinned happily and rummaged through the stack of letters for a large, pink, sparkly envelope.

  Emily immediately felt a sensation of ice sweep through her. There was only one person who’d write to Chantelle, and that was Sheila.

  Chantelle must have sensed it too. She hurried to Marnie and grabbed the letter before Emily even had a chance to stop her.

  “Chantelle…” Daniel said, as she scurried away. He looked at Emily, his expression one of exasperation. “You know who that will be from.”

  Emily nodded sadly.

  Marnie looked distraught. “I’m sorry. What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Emily said with a sigh. Lois would have known not to give personal mail straight to Chantelle but Marnie wasn’t as experienced. “We just prefer to vet Chantelle’s mail first. There are some unsavory people in her life we try to protect her from.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Marnie gasped. She looked devastated.

  “Marnie, it’s fine,” Daniel told her firmly but kindly. “You couldn’t have known.” He turned to Emily. “Come on, let’s see what the fallout is.”

  They went upstairs toward Chantelle’s bedroom, knowing that had been where the child was heading. Emily knocked on her door and listened. There was no answer.

  “Chantelle?” she said. “Can we come in?”

  Still no answer.

  “Honey, I’m opening the door,” Daniel said.

  When Chantelle still did not reply, Daniel opened the door.

  She was seated on her bed, the sparkly envelope, opened hastily, lying discarded on the floor. Across her bedspread were a myriad of photographs.

  “What are these?” Emily said, reaching for one that showed a beautiful, smiling, blond baby girl. “Baby photos?”

  Then it dawned on her. They weren’t pictures of Chantelle as a child. This was Sheila’s new daughter.

  “Her name is Darla,” Chantelle said, not looking up from her lap. “Darla Elizabeth.”

  “Oh,” Emily said, her hand fluttering to her mouth in shock.

  Daniel reacted to the news with anger rather than shock. He grabbed the photographs, all showing Darla at different ages from newborn up to a chubby, grinning infant, some also depicting Sheila, who looked transformed into a happy, healthy woman.

  “How dare she?” he muttered. “Doesn’t this violate the court order?”

  Emily touched his arm lightly, trying to urge him to relax. Now was not the time to think about legalities. Now they had to support Chantelle.

  Her eyes fell to the other items lying on the bed. A birthday card with a big silver number eight on the front, and a pink letter written in Sheila’s distinctive cursive writing. She didn’t want to violate Chantelle’s privacy but she couldn’t help but see from this distance some of the words Sheila had written.

  I hope one day you can come and move home with us. Darla wants to meet you so bad. We’ve been decorating your room. I’ve included a picture.

  Emily turned to Daniel and took the photos from his hands. As she flicked through, she found the one that must be Chantelle’s room. It was pink and flowery, with a big four-poster bed surrounded by lace, like a princess’s. Emily knew it wouldn’t suit Chantelle’s personality—her bedroom at the inn was currently a shrine to every female superhero who’d ever existed—but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t affect Chantelle to see it, to know it was there waiting for her, empty without her to occupy it.

  “I want to be alone now,” Chantelle said quietly.

  Daniel and Emily exchanged a look. Neither was sure if it was a good idea to leave Chantelle in this state.

  But she looked up at them, her voice stern. “Please.”

  Emily could see the thunderstorm brewing inside the girl. On one hand she wanted to be there when she exploded, to help her through it, but she could tell from the pleading tone in Chantelle’s voice that she didn’t want any witnesses to this meltdown.

  Emily backed away, drawing Daniel back with her. Chantelle shut the bedroom door after them. From the other side of the closed door came the sounds of her erupting.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Emily’s nerves felt frayed from all the events of the last few days. As she sat at the kitchen table on Monday morning, she could see the toll it had taken on everyone else’s faces.

  Chantelle was barely eating, just prodding her cereal with her spoon. Daniel was busy on his phone. He seemed to be neck deep in work since coming back home. His toast lay uneaten on the plate in front of him.

  Emily sighed deeply, sadly. Her phone pinged with a message from Amy. She felt herself smile for what felt like the first time in twenty-four hours.

  “Amy wants to know if she can come by later with a birthing book she picked up,” Emily said aloud, skim-reading the message.

  Daniel looked at her from his cell phone with a frown. “Why? I thought everything was arranged. You wanted a water birth.”

  Emily shrugged. “I know, but things can change, you know. Suzanna was going to have a water birth with Robin but couldn’t at the last minute because of how he was lying. If I end up needing to have a normal delivery it might be cool to see what other options are available.”

  Daniel’s expression remained a mixture of angry and confused. “I don’t understand,” he muttered. “How many different ways can there be?”

  Emily sensed the hostility in his voice. “Amy doesn’t have to drop by if you don’t want her to.”

  Chantelle looked up then, clearly noting the tension in the air.

  “It’s not Amy,” Daniel replied, a little gruffly. “It’s just that we went through all that planning and now you seem to want to be changing things last minute. I thought the whole point of planning in advance was so we could stop worrying about it, not so that we had enough time to replan it all over again.”

  “We’re just looking at a book,” Emily snapped. “Jeez.”

  Daniel folded his arms. “I
doubt that. You know what Amy’s like. She’ll bring up something else we haven’t thought of yet. She’ll add a new thing into the mix for us to get anxious about.”

  Emily stared at him coolly. “I can’t tell if you’re pissed at me or pissed at Amy.”

  “I’m not pissed at anyone,” Daniel shot back. “It’s just that Amy moves in a different circle of wealth than us and I don’t want her twisting your arm about things you don’t need and can’t afford. It’s been hard enough getting her to drop the idea of a baby nurse. And what about all that stuff about special child-led nurseries. What was it called? Free Range Kids?” He tutted and shook his head.

  “That was just a joke,” Emily said. “I know we can’t afford to send her to a silly hippy-dippy nursery school. I wouldn’t want to anyway.”

  “No, but you’ve let Amy talk you into thinking about Mallory’s, haven’t you?”

  “It’s not like I’ve let her,” Emily replied. “It’s a good school, that’s all. We never had a chance to think about where Chantelle should go because it all happened so quickly but we have time to plan now for Charlotte. And once one kid is in it’s easier to get the other.”

  “See!” Daniel exclaimed. “This is what I mean. In what world would we be able to afford to send two kids to Mallory’s?”

  Emily couldn’t understand where his attitude was coming from. “Well, last time I checked we’d bought an island and were turning it into a writer’s retreat and health resort. Our financial situation will change as time goes on.”

  Daniel looked even more unimpressed. “Why did you have to bring up the island?” he muttered.

  “Am I not allowed to?” Emily scoffed. “That’s news to me.”

  Chantelle looked from Emily to Daniel, seeming to shrink under the weight of their hostility. Emily didn’t want to argue in front of her. In fact, she had no idea how this spat had even begun.

  “Can we talk about this another time?” she said, lowering her eyes.

  “Oh, because now that I’ve reminded you how much hard work has to go into these flights of fantasy of yours you don’t want to think about it?” Daniel replied.