“I’m sorry to hear that.” She fell silent for what seemed like minutes. Then she cleared her throat and said, “Just before Shawn became ill, he lost his mother in an accident. He didn’t have any other family. Louis and I became his foster parents toward the end of his hospital stay. We’re sorry we never had the chance to meet your daughter.”
Kyle nodded, and the wings in his chest flapped again, so quick and hard his rib cage ached and he felt dizzy. Why was this woman torturing him? Why?
As if she heard his silent question, Mrs. DePaul continued, “Ever since we brought Shawn home, he refuses to go anywhere without that bear. Last week, he misplaced it and became so upset that I finally decided to contact one of the nurses on the pediatric intensive care unit to see if she might shed some light on his obsession with it.”
“Mary Padilla,” Kyle murmured.
“Yes. She recalled that a little girl had given it to Shawn during a Christmas party some volunteers had for the kids last year. She wouldn’t give me Hannah’s name, but she said she remembered because she’d been so amazed by your daughter’s maturity and kindness. The nurse meant to tell you and your wife about the incident, but things apparently got crazy on the floor after that and she let it slip by.”
Kyle remembered the party. It had taken place the day before Hannah flew to Dallas. With her infection cured, she had renewed energy. He and Terri had not known about the party in advance and they showed up late, toward the end. When they had left Hannah earlier, she’d been asleep. It was the one time Kyle had coaxed Terri to leave Hannah’s side and get something to eat with him in the cafeteria. They were only gone a half hour at the most.
“Anyway,” Mrs. DePaul continued, “later I asked Shawn about the girl who gave him the bear, and he told me about Hannah. During the party, she asked him where his parents were and he told her he didn’t have a mom or a dad.” Rachel DePaul paused, blinking back sudden tears that made her eyes glisten. “Hannah told Shawn she wanted him to have someone to hug and gave him her bear.”
The wings fluttered up to Kyle’s throat, wrapped around it, formed a fist again and squeezed. His eyes burned. His body trembled. He turned his head. Hannah. His beautiful, smart, compassionate baby. How he missed her. She couldn’t be gone. How would he ever accept it?
“I know I don’t have to tell you how very special your daughter was. But my husband and I…we were so touched by what she did. We wanted you to know.”
Kyle propped his elbows on his knees and leaned his face into his hands. When his shoulders began to heave and his body shook so hard he couldn’t stop the sobs that emerged, Rachel DePaul came to sit beside him and placed her arm around him. Tears dampened Kyle’s palms. The first tears he’d shed since Hannah’s funeral. He didn’t try to stop them.
“TERRI?”
At the sound of her mother’s voice on the other side of the bedroom door, Terri stirred and rolled over. “Come in.” Yawning, she sat up and switched on the nightstand lamp. The digital clock read 10:00 p.m. She had been asleep for an hour.
The door squeaked open and her mother looked in. She wore a robe and slippers and her pink face looked freshly scrubbed. “Kyle’s on the phone for you.”
Terri drew a deep breath, then blew it out in a noisy rush. “Okay, Mom. Thanks.” Her mother closed the door as Terri reached for the phone beside the lamp. She was surprised she hadn’t heard it ring. That’s how exhausted she was, how deep in sleep she’d been. Lifting the receiver to her ear, Terri said, “Hi.” She braced herself for what Kyle had to say. More than likely, he had received the divorce papers by now. She hoped she wasn’t in for an argument.
“Terri?” The voice at the other end of the line didn’t resemble Kyle’s. This man sounded emotional, vulnerable, not at all like her strong, rugged, confident husband. “Were you asleep? I’m sorry, I—I need to talk to you.”
Wide awake now, Terri sat straight up in bed. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just—it’s Hannah.”
“Hannah?” A wave of panic struck Terri, and she decided she must be having a nightmare. But when she blinked, nothing changed in the room; she didn’t wake up. “What are you talking about?”
“Tonight I found out something she did. You won’t believe it. No, you will believe it, because it was just like her.” His voice wavered and he added, “She always cared so much for other people.”
“What is it? You’re scaring me.”
“No, Terri, it’s amazing. Just like she was. Our little girl…”
Stunned to hear Kyle sobbing, Terri pushed the blanket aside. Her husband was crying. Crying. And he wanted to talk about Hannah. A wave of emotion rose in her, too. How many times had she hoped for this? Prayed for it? “Tell me,” she whispered, pressing the phone receiver tighter against her ear.
“I had a call yesterday….”
By the time Kyle finished telling her about meeting the DePauls and Shawn, about the story they had told him, Terri was wiping tears from her cheeks. “Hannah made that bear the night of the wreck—right before it happened,” she explained, then told him about the Brownie Christmas project.
“Where were the other bears donated? The ones the girls didn’t keep?” Kyle asked, a spark of curiosity in his voice that Terri hadn’t heard for far too long.
“I can’t remember the details. Jana Adams coordinated the whole thing. She was Hannah’s troop leader, remember? She lives a couple of streets over. Her daughter is Madeline. The little redhead.”
“Yeah, I think I do remember her.” Awkward silence stretched between them. Just when Terri thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, Kyle said, “Well, I thought you’d want to know about Shawn. I felt better after I left the DePauls’; I’m not sure why. They didn’t tell me anything about Hannah I didn’t already know. Not really.”
“I know what you mean. She always did have a big heart.” Terri drew her lower lip between her teeth, amazed by the sudden change in Kyle, his openness with her. Most of all, his need to talk about Hannah—something she had given up on ever happening.
“I hope hearing about Shawn helps you, too,” he said.
Terri wasn’t sure anything could ever do that. But still, the story of Hannah’s generosity with Shawn did feel like a sort of gift, another beautiful memory she’d cherish forever. “Kyle…thank you.”
“Sure.” The sound of his sigh rushed across the line. “I got the divorce papers.”
“I wondered….”
“I haven’t signed them yet.” He was quiet for a moment before adding, “I will soon, though. I promise. If that’s what you want.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Terri leaned back against the pillow, unable to respond.
“Ever since you left,” Kyle continued hesitantly, “I haven’t been able to concentrate much. Not even at work. The captain…he…” Kyle cleared his throat. “He suggested I talk to a grief counselor. Ordered me to, really. And, well, I went. Only once,” he hastened to add.
Terri swiped a tear from her cheek with the back of one hand. “I think that’s great. I hope it made things better for you.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. One of the things the lady talked about was that people mourn in different ways.” After another clearing of his throat, Kyle said, “I didn’t let you grieve like you needed to. I’m sorry about that. Really sorry.”
Terri knew how difficult the admission must be for her proud, private husband, how tough this entire conversation must be for him. She pictured Kyle alone in their empty house, broken and hurting, and her heart went out across the miles to him. “It’s okay,” she said just above a whisper.
“No, it isn’t. I shouldn’t have pushed you like I did. I should have talked about everything with you. It’s just—I couldn’t stand watching you fall apart. The counselor…she said a lot of men turn their grief inward and I guess that’s what I did. I wanted to be strong for you.”
“You don’t have to tell me any of this.”
“
I want to.” Kyle’s voice broke. “I feel like I failed you. Hannah, too.”
“Hannah?” Stunned by his admission, Terri said quickly, “You didn’t. Why would you think something like that?”
“Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten an infection if I’d insisted they take her to Dallas on the night of the wreck. She could’ve had the first surgery at a bigger hospital…a better one.”
“Hannah got good treatment in Amarillo. She had good doctors—”
“Maybe if I’d quizzed them more about the second operation before they went through with it. You know, weighed the risks.”
“There wasn’t a choice, Kyle. Besides, I didn’t do any of that, either.”
“You were by her side every second. I should’ve been the one to take care of the rest. I should’ve been smarter about handling things. I wanted to be a rock for you and Hannah.”
“Oh, Kyle…” Sick inside, Terri pressed her fingers against her lips. Had she played a part in making him feel so inadequate? So guilty? “You were our rock. You always have been. You did the only thing you could by putting your faith in the doctors. We both did. And they did all they could, but they aren’t miracle workers. What happened to Hannah was no one’s fault.”
“But—”
“Afterward, you took care of all the things I couldn’t. The funeral. Everything.”
“You needed more than that. I was too busy trying to find a way to make you happy again when it wasn’t time.”
Terri cried quietly for a while, then said, “I’m sorry, too. I thought you were being insensitive, when you were only trying to be strong for me.”
“I miss you. I wish you’d come home and—”
“Don’t. Please, Kyle. I can’t.” Terri turned off the lamp and curled up beneath the blankets again, watching the moonlight stream through the window. She ached to comfort Kyle, to hold him and feel his strong arms around her, to look into his dark eyes and let him see how much she still loved him. But after the comforting ended, what would be left for them? “I’m starting a new job here tomorrow. I’ll be working at the bakery for Donna through the holidays.”
“Why?” he asked quietly, and she knew he wasn’t asking about the job, but about her reluctance to try to make their marriage work.
She didn’t have the answer he needed. She didn’t have any answers. Terri only knew that she couldn’t go back. Things would never be the same for them. “Too much has happened. We—” She struggled to find her voice. “We aren’t whole without her. We’ll never be whole.”
The sorrow in Kyle’s sigh traveled across the line. “I don’t know, Terri. Maybe you’re right.”
CHAPTER
FOUR
“You awake over there?”
Kyle turned away from the firehouse’s meeting-room window. “Hey, Cap,” he said to the station’s captain, Bill Riemer. “Yeah, I’m awake. Why?”
“It’s eight-fifteen,” the older man answered in his usual gruff manner. “You think you got special privileges or somethin’? The others are already on the treadmill. What’s your excuse?”
“Just catching the morning news before I get started,” Kyle fibbed. Though the television was indeed on, he had not been listening. He’d been staring at the bustling street outside, trying to see a future without Terri in it. What he saw was a big, chaotic world that left him feeling empty and lost.
Cap nodded toward the television, his mustache twitching. “Sorry to break it to you, but I don’t think you got the legs to pull that off.”
Kyle followed his gaze to the program on the screen, where a female fashion model strutted down a runway wearing a skimpy skirt and heels. He reached for the remote control and turned off the TV. “Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Squinting and chewing on a toothpick, the burly, middle-aged captain tilted his head and studied Kyle. “Did you see that shrink?”
“Yeah,” Kyle answered, with a slight defensive lift of his chin.
“And?”
He shrugged. “We talked.”
“When’s the next appointment?”
“Haven’t scheduled it yet.”
“Here.” Cap tossed something toward him. “Use my phone.”
Kyle caught the cell before it could hit him in the forehead, then tossed it back. “I don’t need to see her again.”
“So you’re all straightened out now, huh? That’s how come you’re watching fashion shows and not hearing half of what’s said around here?” He pointed his toothpick at Kyle. “You either keep seeing the shrink or take some time off. I should’ve seen to one or the other a long time ago. You’re an accident waiting to happen.”
“I’ll call later.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Cap glared at him.
“Okay, this afternoon. After the school visit.” He and T.J. would be leaving in a couple of hours to teach three classrooms of first-graders the old stop, drop and roll.
“Get outta here.” Cap jerked his head toward a hallway that led to the small firehouse gym. “You gotta keep your girlish figure for the latest spring fashions.”
Sending a smirk Cap’s way, Kyle started off to join the others, but only made it halfway down the hall toward the gym before the alarm sounded. Once, twice, three times. Three alarms meant they had more than a house fire in store. Kyle heard a scuffling of feet and, within seconds, saw T.J. and the rest of the team rushing toward him. Turning, he ran ahead of them back through the meeting room and on toward the lockers for his turnout gear.
TERRI PLACED A TRAY of cookies into the oven as Donna pushed through the bakery’s kitchen doors. “Nelda Jansen says hi.”
Closing the oven, Terri turned and lifted a brow. “What else did she say?”
Donna headed to the work station and the bowl of dough she had deserted earlier in order to wait on the minister’s wife. “You really want to know?”
“No, but tell me, anyway.”
“She said you and Kyle should have another baby.”
“Figures. That woman never could mind her own business.”
“She means well.”
“I guess.”
Though it was ten in the morning, thanks to the weather Mrs. Jansen was their first customer of the day. The temperature remained in the teens and icicles hung from the tree branches like crystal tears. A beautiful, magical sight, when viewed from a window while tucked away, warm and cozy, inside.
Donna began humming “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.”
“The Nutcracker ballet starts this week. Jack has business in Amarillo tomorrow. He’s going to buy tickets while he’s there. You want to go with us?”
“I don’t think so, but thanks.”
Terri imagined all the mothers and daughters that would fill the audience and envy twisted her stomach into a knot. Hannah had loved the ballet. It had been a Christmas tradition she and Terri shared exclusively since the year Hannah turned three. Kyle was “not a ballet kind of guy.” That’s what he’d told her when Terri tried that first time to coax him to go. She hadn’t minded. She had explained to Hannah that it would be their special “girl-thing.” Each year, they’d made a Saturday afternoon event of it: dressing to the nines, going to lunch beforehand, then out for a warm gooey dessert afterward. Last year, they had attended the ballet for the final time on the Saturday before the wreck.
“Oh, come on,” Donna coaxed. “You’ve always enjoyed it. It’ll be fun.”
Terri trained her gaze on her hands as she used a cookie cutter to make more cookies in the shape of Santa. “It wouldn’t seem right.”
Donna stopped pounding the bread dough on the butcher-block table and glanced up. “Enjoying it, you mean?”
Terri nodded. She didn’t have to add, without Hannah. She knew her friend understood what she’d meant.
“You’re allowed to enjoy your life,” Donna said. “There’s no shame in that.”
Since working here the past f
ew days, Terri felt as if she was receiving free counseling sessions. She wasn’t complaining. Donna had never shied away from mentioning Hannah, and Terri appreciated that. It helped her to talk about her feelings with someone who loved her, someone who had loved her daughter, too. And Donna was always honest with her without being pushy; Terri needed honesty, a gentle “talking to” from time to time, as her dad called it. “I’d feel guilty,” she admitted as her face flushed with heat.
“You know,” Donna said after a couple of minutes, “there are better ways to keep Hannah’s memory alive than clinging to your grief. Ways that would honor her.”
Terri went still, rocked by her friend’s words, the truth in them. “The college tuition your parents paid for those three hours of Psychology 101 was money well spent.”
Donna smiled. “Yeah, I missed my calling. Or maybe I’m just as big of a buttinsky as Nelda Jansen.”
“No.” Terri shook her head. “You always tell me what I need to hear, whether I like it or not. That’s one of the things I love most about you.”
Donna blushed. “Aw, shucks.”
After filling the large cookie sheet, Terri started on another, switching to the bell cookie cutter this time. Was there another way to keep Hannah’s memory alive? A way that would honor her daughter’s life and allow Terri to heal and find peace?
The timer sounded. She paused to take the baked cookies out. Warmth and the scent of cinnamon wafted over her when she opened the oven. “Kyle called the other night,” she told Donna, careful not to let her voice reveal the conflicting emotions colliding inside her.
“Oh? How is he?”
Terri told her about the phone call, about Kyle’s meeting with Shawn and the DePauls. About his tears and the regrets he’d expressed. When she finished, she looked up at her friend, and the hope she saw in Donna’s eyes made her feel more conflicted than ever.
More Than Words Volume 4 Page 27
