by Eva Charles
“Emmie’s a wonderful mother.”
“You should tell her that some time.”
“I know you wouldn’t hurt Teddy… It’s just you take up so much room. I think it’s a family thing,” she muttered under her breath. “The way Emmie looks at you, and the way Teddy looks up to you and hangs on every word you say.” She started to sob. “That should have been my son. It was supposed to be my son.”
I leaned over and reached for her hand. “I know. And I’m so sorry… But you need to let them live. You need to let Emmie fall in love again. Even if it hurts, you need to let her be happy. And you need to accept another man in Teddy’s life. Someone who can be there for him as he grows up.”
“He’ll forget all about Tim. He never met him. It will be like he never existed.”
I grasped both her hands. “You listen to me. For as long as I’m alive, we will honor Tim’s memory. I want Teddy to know his father. I’m just the guy who has the privilege of standing in until we all get over to the other side and they can be together again. He’ll always be Tim’s son. Tim was a hero—a real hero. I’m just a lawyer. Teddy’s a smart kid. He’ll figure it out as he gets older.”
“What about Emmie? You going to share her, too?”
“He’ll have to fight me for the girl.”
Ruth started to laugh. “Tim would have liked you.”
“And I’m sure I would have liked him.”
“I can still babysit?”
“I’m counting on it. But we’ll get a nanny too, because you’re going to be busy. My cousin Sophie needs volunteers at the agency, and you need to get out and meet people.”
“I don’t know Sophie.”
“You met her sister Ella.”
“Is Sophie like Ella?”
“No one’s like Ella, Ruth. One and done, my friend. And thank God for that.”
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked.
“No. I’m good.” I cracked my knuckles. “You asked what I want from you. All I want is for you to be Grammy. My parents are both dead, and Emmie’s—who knows? Our children won’t have grandparents unless you step up and take the job.”
She nodded.
“You straighten this thing out with Emmie. And as long as you don’t undermine her, you’ll always have a place in our home. But if you pull another stunt like that, you’ll be dealing with me.”
“I love Emmie. She’s like a daughter to me.”
“I’m happy to hear it, but you’re telling the wrong person. Tell her. She needs to hear it. It would mean so much to her.”
30
Emmie
“Where are we going?”
“Birthday surprise.”
“You know how much I hate my birthday. I try to make the best of it for Teddy’s sake, but it makes me feel out of sorts and sad.”
“We’re going to fix that. It might take years, but we’re going to fix it.”
“Are we going to Alexa and Cole’s to see the baby?”
“Maybe later.”
“This is their neighborhood.”
“Yep.”
We pulled into the driveway of a beautiful brick colonial with black shutters and white trim. There was a polished brass knocker on the front door. “Who lives here?”
“Nobody.”
“Nobody?”
“The owners moved. It’s vacant.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’re having a picnic in the backyard. You and me.”
“It’s okay to be here?”
“Yep. The broker knows, and she okayed it with the owners.”
“She’s an old girlfriend, right?”
“A friend.”
I shook my head.
We walked along a flagstone path to the backyard, where there was an enormous wicker basket sitting on the wrought-iron table.
“I still don’t get why we’re here.”
“A picnic. I told you.”
“I know. But why here?”
“Talk to Cassie. This is where she dropped off lunch.”
I opened the basket and peeked inside. There were tea sandwiches, scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream, and cupcakes decorated with pale pink icing and silver pearls along with everything else we would need for lunch. There was also a bottle of champagne, on ice, inside a small cooler
“Let’s have a glass of champagne to toast your birthday.”
Mark meant well, but the only thing I liked to celebrate about my birthday was the end of the day, when it was over and I could go to sleep and not think about it for another year.
“Try to relax, Emmie. If you think it would help to start lunch with an off-the-charts orgasm, I can do that. But I thought we’d save it for later.”
After we ate every morsel Cassie packed, he handed me three boxes. They were identically shaped, but each one had a number on them.
“Open this one first.” He nudged the box toward me.
I opened it, carefully, and inside was a small shadow box, made of dark cherrywood and glass. Inside, a charm bracelet was pinned to a maroon satin lining. I could see the bracelet was old.
“You can open the glass top. The bracelet comes out easily.” He unpinned the bracelet from the satin fabric. “It belonged to my mother. She came from a modest background. There wasn’t a lot of time or money, growing up, to do the kinds of things my brothers and I took for granted. But then she met my dad, and together they had so many wonderful experiences. Enough to fill every loop on this bracelet.”
We lifted the charms, and Mark told me about each one.
“Mark, you can’t give this to me. What will your brothers say? It’s a family heirloom. It should go to one of your mother’s granddaughters.”
“It will someday.”
“Mark…”
“My mom wrote us letters every year for Valentine’s Day. The year she died, we got the last one. She’d written us each a final letter that she gave to Rosa for safekeeping.”
“Do you think she knew she was going to die?”
“No. She’d been doing it for years. A just-in-case letter. She said many things in that last letter. Told me how much she loved me, and how proud she was of the man I was becoming. She said, one day I’d meet a woman and fall in love, and when the time was right, I should choose a piece of her jewelry. Something I loved, or something that meant something to me. And that I should give it to my special lady, and tell her my mother would have loved her.”
I started to cry. No one had ever made me cry as often as Mark Harrington did.
“Open box number two,” he instructed, gently, wiping my tears away.
The second box held a smaller, rectangular box. I smiled. Someone had taken great care with the wrapping, and I took great care not to tear the paper. Inside was a beautiful charm bracelet with a handful of charms attached. This one was new.
“This bracelet is yours,” Mark said. “The story of your life. We’ll fill it together.”
There was a young boy’s silhouette, an inn, a kitchen chair, a book with Heidi etched on the cover, and a handful of other charms. All inscribed with dates. I covered my mouth as Mark told me about each one. When we got to the helicopter, Mark explained, “It’s not to remind you of how Tim died, but how he lived.”
My heart swelled. “It always amazes me how comfortable you are about Tim.”
Mark shrugged. “He was Teddy’s father, and an important part of your life. He took care of you and loved you, so that one day you could love me.”
I sobbed into Mark’s chest. My early life had been rocky, but I had been blessed with two wonderful men. That’s two more than some people had in a lifetime.
He hooked the bracelet onto my wrist. “This one’s for you to wear. And that one’s for you to look at, to remind you that even a mother’s life can be full of fun.”
The tears fell freely, and I didn’t care. I was overwhelmed by the love of the man who sat beside me on the grass.
He urged me t
o open the third box. Inside was a small, square, velvet box. “Go on, open it. You know you want to.”
I carefully opened the hinged box, and lifted the ring from the velvet cushion. It was a round diamond with smaller diamonds coming out of it, set in a spoke fashion. It caught the light and sparkled brilliantly, casting rainbows of color.
“It’s the sun,” he said. “It shines brightly, just like you.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
“The ring isn’t a birthday present. It’s a promise. A promise that I’ll give you all of myself, always. To you, and to Teddy, and to all the other rug rats I hope we have together. Take my promise, Emmie. Marry me.”
I nodded, but he didn’t reach for the ring. He tipped his chin, encouraging me to do it, and waited. He needed me to come to him. I touched his cheek, and let my hand slide to his jaw. “I love you, Mark.” I slipped the ring onto my finger. I felt no hesitation, no regret, no sorrow—only happiness and joy.
He pulled me onto his lap, and our lips met, like old friends. Comfortable, safe, and dear friends, who couldn’t wait to rip off each other’s clothes.
“Before you get carried away, there’s one more thing I have for you. It’s inside,” he murmured.
“The broker let you have the keys? You must have been real good friends.”
He swatted me on the butt.
“This is your big present.”
“What?”
“It’s for you. The closing is next week.”
I looked around the room, dumbfounded.
“It’s a great neighborhood, with top-notch schools. Around the corner from Alexa and my brother. Teddy can ride his bike to their house. And there’s a carriage house out back. I thought it would be a good place for Ruth. If you want her to live with us, that is. If you don’t like the house, we can sell it, and find something else. But we have to go through with the closing or the broker will have my balls.” He brushed his lips over my head. “I know how much you love this neighborhood.”
My mind was soaring.
“It’s for you. I want it in your name, before we get married. If something happens to me, I want it to be yours, no questions asked. My brothers would always make sure you’re taken care of—and the girls, too. But I don’t want you to feel like you’re dependent on anyone else, ever. This will ensure it. Keep the house for as long as you can, especially if the kids are young, but don’t be afraid to sell it if you’re hungry.”
He held me against him, and stroked my back. “I love you, Emmie. I’ve loved you for so long. I want to build a life with you.”
“There’s one last thing,” he said, after a few minutes. “You need to sit down for this.” He lifted me onto the kitchen counter.
“Mark, I don’t think I can take any more.”
He smiled. “Just one more thing we need to talk about.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“I want to be Teddy’s dad. Tim’s his father, but I want to be his dad. And I want it to be official. To be honest, Em, if you say no, it might be a deal breaker for me. A family only works if it’s a real family—if we’re all in.”
“Okay,” I whispered, not entirely sure what I was agreeing to.
“It might be a little easier if, instead of Teddy changing his name, if we all changed our names to Landon Harrington. No hyphen though. I can’t stand that.”
“You’d change your name? For Teddy?”
“Officially, yes. Although I probably would still introduce myself as Mark Harrington, and you and Teddy can introduce yourself in any way you’re comfortable. And when we have more kids…”
I smiled, and nodded.
“We’ll name them Landon Harrington, too. I don’t want this to be a yours, mine, and ours family.”
“Do you have some children I don’t know about?”
He smiled. “I only rode bareback once in my life, and I was told that even all my gorgeous sexiness couldn’t cause an egg to drop because she was on the Pill.”
“I love you, Mark.”
We spent the afternoon christening the new house.
Several rooms, in fact.
Epilogue
Emmie
Mark came into the kitchen with two squealing princesses, one under each arm, their thick, dark curls bobbing in the air. Mackenzie and Olivia, or Petunia Rosebud and Morning Glory as we preferred to call them.
Petunia Rosebud got her name from a particularly messy diaper she had one night, when Mark cried, “Ewww, Petunia Rosebud, you’re killin’ me.” And Morning Glory was up with the roosters, maybe a few minutes before, regularly spoiling any morning fun her daddy liked before work. Of course, we never shared the origins of their names with anyone, including their big brother Teddy, who had grown so tall and handsome. In the last couple years, I’m afraid he’s even acquired a few new nicknames for his wiener. But that’s between him and Mark.
Teddy didn’t have siblings his age, and his cousins were all younger. But Owen was there for most family gatherings, and Mark, and his brothers, treated Teddy like one of them. They took him to ball games, helped with science projects, and cheered him on during every aspect of his life. Teddy loved sports, and the Harrington brothers went to his games, and rooted loudly. They were always the most obnoxious fans in the place.
Teddy and his dad were thick as thieves. When he traveled, Mark took him whenever he could, and our son reveled in each new experience. Last year, they went to DC, took in a National’s game, and sat in the galley while the senate debated a bill. Later that day, Mark took him to Arlington Cemetery, where they said a prayer and laid a wreath at Tim’s grave.
I had everything any woman could possibly want, and so much more. My childhood had been truly awful, but my adult life more than made up for it. As I counted my blessings each day, I was painfully aware that life doesn’t work out so well for every child.
“Your phone,” my very sexy husband said, between the girls’ giggles.
“Hello?”
The next thing I remember was Mark calling for Teddy to take the twins upstairs. He was inches from my face. “Who was it, Emmie? What happened? Emmie, Emmie, Emmie, Emmie…”
I was in a chair, in the kitchen of the beautiful house we’d made a home, with Mark calling my name. It’s all I heard for a full five minutes after the call.
“My mother.”
“That was your mother? On the phone?”
I shook my head. “She’s dying. It was a nurse from hospice.”
He pulled me to the floor with him, and onto his lap.
“They want… She wanted them to call me when the end was close. It won’t be long. Hartford. She’s in Hartford, Mark.”
“Do you want to go?”
I shrugged. I hadn’t felt this lost in a long time. “I don’t know what to do. Since she asked them to call me, she must have wanted me to come.”
“As far as I’m concerned, this is all about you, Sunshine. It has nothing to do with her. What do you want to do?”
“I need some time.”
“Emmie, from what you said, it doesn’t sound like you’ve got a lot of time. Maybe we should start organizing the troops. Act like we’re going, even if you ultimately decide not to.”
“What about the kids? Teddy has a game. The girls are too much for Ruth.”
“They might not be too much if she could stop eye-fucking Philip for five minutes. But regardless, we have a housekeeper, who the kids love. And one of the girls will stay over and help. I know they will. And I was just kidding about Ruth. She’ll whip everyone into shape.”
I nodded. He was right. I had a whole family behind me.
“Alexa’s around the corner. Cole would like nothing better than to be away from all those girls for a few hours and have a little guy time at the lacrosse field. You say the word, and we’ll have a dozen casseroles delivered warm to the door within the hour.”
“What do you think? Should I go?”
“It’s up to you. But if you’re asking
my opinion, yeah, I think you should go. There are no do-overs with this, Emmie. She can only hurt you now if you don’t go and spend the rest of your life wishing you had.”
I nodded. He was right, of course. I wasn’t like her. I couldn’t just turn my back and walk away.
My hands started to tremble. “This means she knew where I lived. How to find me. But she never bothered to get in touch. She never tried to see me. Only when she was dying. When she didn’t want to die alone.”
“I don’t have any charitable feelings toward that woman, but we don’t really know the story. We know bits and pieces, but we don’t know everything. I’m willing to give her that much.”
“I don’t hate her… But I’m not sure I can bring peace to her passing. This has raised so many emotions.”
“Let’s go. Pack for a few days. I’ll make some phone calls.”
“Mark…she’s dying. What if I can’t… what if I can’t really be there for her, hold her hand when she passes? I don’t think I can do any of those things. What if I can’t forgive her?”
“We’re going for you, Emmie. You do what you need to do, for you. And when we get there, if you decide you don’t want to see her, we’ll have dinner and drive back. I know a great Italian restaurant in West Hartford you’ll love.”
Hartford was less than two hours away, and it seemed we were there long before I was emotionally prepared. I walked into my mother’s room with Mark’s arm around my shoulders. She had lapsed into unconsciousness before we arrived.
Before I approached her bedside, I stood at a distance, for a long time, studying her. She was a stranger. Nothing about her looked even the slightest bit familiar. Her skin was thin as parchment, with a grayish yellow cast. I remembered kissing a rosy, plump cheek, but this woman was shriveled, her cheeks concave. The long silky hair I brushed, was now cropped and matted to her head. She was an old woman, even though she wasn’t actually old. But she’d lived a hard life.
They told us my mother had hepatitis C. She had apparently lived with it for most of her adult life, and it eventually destroyed her liver. She had abused her body with alcohol and drugs. And men. The social worker didn’t say that part, but she didn’t have to.
