“We don’t have to do this,” I whispered while smoothing her hair down her back, her face dripping into my chest. “I don’t want to force you.”
“No, it’s time. Mary’s been after me for a while. At least a year.”
Her voice cracked and broke. I slid my finger under her chin and tilted her gaze toward mine.
“I’m going to be with you every moment. If you need to stop, we will.”
Her palm drifted down my arm. I wanted to say, Give me all your pain, but I didn’t.
I waited for her to step away. As I shrugged off my old barn jacket, she took off her own coat. She held out a shaky palm for me to take. I kept her hand tightly wound with mine, letting her know I wasn’t going to let go, mentally or physically. I considered the reality of completing that daunting task as she guided me up the stairs.
At the top, we veered to the left rather than the right toward her bedroom. Stopping on the threshold, she peeled off her boots, each one thudding against the floor, and tied her hair up.
“Claire, this doesn’t mean you’re forgetting her, but Abby wouldn’t want to be a ghost haunting your hallways. She’d want to be one happy memory after the other, the person responsible for putting a smile on your face, lightness not darkness.”
“I know.” She carefully put one foot in front of the other and entered her dead daughter’s room. I trailed behind her, feeling an ache in my chest at her sharp intake of breath. The bed was made. A Bruno Mars poster hung on the wall alongside an old G-rated calendar of the campus football team posing with puppies. Next to that was a full-length mirror on a stand. Stickers covered the perimeter, and long necklaces hung from the corner.
The room was a shrine to her dead daughter. I was in way over my head. No, way beyond that. I was lost in the woods without a clue how to get out—yet, I was the one who led us in here.
The bedspread was lilac, with dark purple flowers haphazardly stitched into the fabric.
“Is this an heirloom?” My voice sounded like I had a frog in my throat.
“Mary’s mom made it for Abby when she got this bed. It was a birthday present.”
“I imagine she loved it.”
“She did.”
“I forgot to bring some boxes up,” Claire stuttered, sitting at the desk.
“I’ll grab them.” I needed a quick minute, and so did she.
When I returned, Claire was smiling at an open book.
“Look,” she said, pointing to a page.
I knelt on the floor at her side and took in the words in front of me.
Dear Diary~
I like Brice Billings, and I think he likes me.
He’s so cute with red hair and freckles, and his dad teaches economics at the college, so he gets me.
We saw each other at camp and talked about how the summer was the best because our parents aren’t as busy. We both like to go for ice cream in town and the pool. Then he asked if I wanted to wait with him in the Popsicle line.
Me!
Of course I said yes. We stood there, his arm touched mine, and I think he did it on purpose.
I smiled and pretended not to notice.
I didn’t tell Mom tonight either. It felt like it was a private moment. I should have shared. Maybe tomorrow. I can keep this just for me for one more day.
Brice Billings!
Then came a long string of x’s and o’s and a signature in cursive: Abby Billings.
“She never told me. I guess she wanted the moment just for her,” Claire said, staring down at the journal. A tear fell onto the paper. “I’m so glad I read this. She won’t ever get to be Abby Billings, but some part of me is happy that she experienced that small crush. That she had the experience.”
Squeezing her hand, I suggested, “Why don’t you hold on to the journal and crack it open when you’re feeling down?”
“Who is the therapist here? Me or you?”
“Only a suggestion.” I brought her knuckles to my lips and ran a kiss across them. “You’re the strongest woman I know. Don’t be too proud to admit it.”
“Sometimes, I feel like I’m watching a movie…that it’s not really me, Claire Richards, getting this second chance at life.”
“Open your eyes. It’s you, and I’m damn glad it’s with me.”
She continued to stare down, her wet lashes grazing her bottom ones. “That’s why this feels even harder. I’m moving on…I know, I’m remembering the good stuff, but still. I can’t seem to put it into words.”
“Look at me, Richards. You, me…we’re going to remember every fucking thing about Abby. Okay?”
She nodded, turned, and opened a desk drawer without another word.
There were classroom poetry assignments, birthday cards, school pictures, and a ragged teddy bear shoved in the bottom drawer. Claire cataloged each item, placing a few mementos to keep into a large box, placing the old homework assignments and greeting cards into a recycling box.
I watched, helped sort, but didn’t say much. There was no judgment from me. This was her daughter, and she could hold on to and discard whatever she wanted.
Next up came the closet. Most of the clothes, Claire set aside for the women’s shelter. “Abby would be happy to help someone less fortunate. I told her one time over dinner about the building close to campus, the yellow brick one near the pet supply store, how it was an unmarked shelter and women and their children could go there to be safe. She’d like that these clothes went there.”
I closed the box and labeled it Shelter.
“Oh my God, look! I forgot about this guy. The elf. Abby was so miserable on her ninth Christmas. Everyone had the elf and we didn’t. She knew it wasn’t real, but loved the magic of it, the story, making him do funny things. She and her friends would talk about the elf all month.”
Claire dangled one of those Elf on the Shelf dolls in the air, its legs flying around.
“Do you know what this is?”
“Babe, I wasn’t born yesterday.”
She eyed me up.
“It’s an Elf on the Shelf, a mythical creature, better used for raunchy photos, drinking beer, or fooling around with Barbie.”
This got a huge laugh. “Aiken, this was Abby’s. He did no such thing.”
“It doesn’t mean he can’t now.”
I decided I’d had enough hands-off time and gathered Claire close. I kissed the tip of her still-red nose. “Does he have a name?”
“Anthony.”
“Anthony sounds like a naughty name to me.”
Her eyes brightened. “I can see you making plans in your head for Anthony.”
“Oh, I am.”
She brought her lips to mine and kissed me softly, letting the emotion of the evening go.
“Let’s grab a pizza. We can do the bed and nightstand later?”
With her nose touching mine, she nodded. “I’m going to give the bedspread to Mary for her kids to keep. The nightstand is empty. It’s the one drawer I emptied right after it happened.”
“Come on.” I took her hand and snatched Anthony the Elf before she could think about it…
“Hey,” she faux-protested.
“He’s with me now. We’re making plans. But first, pizza and snuggling.”
Aiken
The morning we woke to leave for my pops’, Claire found a surprise in the bathroom. Mr. Elf was tucked on the shelf in the shower, his little elf hand on his crotch, the bottle of conditioner next to him, cap undone, slightly tipped over.
“Aiken!” Claire shrieked…and then stomped out of the bathroom, elf in hand, my T-shirt dangling over her thighs, hair a beautiful mess.
“Don’t abuse my virgin elf.” She laughed, swinging him around.
“You didn’t say that when his head was between Smitty’s doll’s legs.”
Another laugh bubbled up her throat. “That was horrible.”
“So horrible you can’t stop laughing.” I gathered her close and carried her into the bathroom.
&n
bsp; “Give me him.” I nabbed the elf and next her T-shirt, dropping them both to the floor. “Now, I want you, and we both need to shower, so we gotta make haste.”
“Is that farm talk? Make haste?”
“Why, yes, it is, Claire,” I said, lifting her under the warm water before pushing her against the wall. My arm slid between us, my hand finding her ready, and then there was nothing between the two of us. We were connected as one. For a quick second, fear swept through me.
Would this last? Could we make this work?
But then Claire moaned my name in my ear, and I didn’t have a care in the world.
Driving deep inside her, the water falling around us, I burned the moment into my brain for while we were away. I’d have to take her quietly in the middle of the night on the farm.
Or maybe out in the barn…my mind wandered.
“Hi there, Claire.”
My dad pulled her in for a big hug as soon as we crossed the threshold of my childhood home.
“Happy holidays, Mr. Fordham.”
“I don’t mean you any disrespect, Claire, but you’re all grown up. Call me, Sam.”
“None taken.” She smiled at my dad, and my heart rate settled.
I hadn’t even realized how fast my pulse was racing. I felt like I’d just returned from a ten-mile run. Taking in a deep breath through my nose, I told myself this wasn’t a big deal—introducing the first woman I’d ever been serious about to my pops.
“You certainly are way more beautiful than the young chippies he used to bring around.”
My pulse soared again, although Claire had to know they were no competition.
“Pops, enough,” I still felt compelled to say.
Then my dad pulled me in for a hug too, holding on a few beats longer than he had with Claire.
“How you doing, Son?” he asked when he let me go. “Don’t you worry yourself over me meeting your lady. She’s in good hands.”
“I’m good, Pops. Since when did you turn into Oprah?” I joked, blowing off the tension coiled tight inside me.
“Very funny. I watch a lot of daytime TV now that you’re gone.”
“Yeah, right. What smells good?”
“I got a roast in the oven, but first let’s help Claire get settled.”
“A roast?”
“Did you hear me? Don’t stand in the door, and I’ll tell you all about the roast. Take your lady’s coat and put your luggage upstairs.”
The dutiful son, I did what my dad asked, and then found Claire and him sitting in front of the fire. A small tree was in the corner, decorated with white lights.
“A roast, a tree, the house smells like mistletoe…what the heck’s going on here?” I looked at my pops.
“Remember Judith Smalls?”
“From the corner store?”
“Yep, one and the same. We’ve been spending some time together. At first, she helped me learn some recipes, and then things developed.”
“Well, where is she?”
“I didn’t know how you’d take it. Told her we’d see her Christmas Eve.”
“Pops—I never would give you a hard time. I’ve waited a long time for you to move on.”
Claire sat with her legs tucked under her, right next to the fire, quietly sipping a mug of steaming coffee, allowing us to converse. Another thing I loved about that damn woman. She spoke her mind when it was needed and was quiet when others needed it.
“Well, I didn’t know with the way you’re out there hunting down your mom and looking for something you may never find.”
“Listen, I’m thrilled for you, Pops. You do you. And I’ll do me. We can talk about Mom after the holiday.”
“Right now, let me get to know Claire.” My dad ended the current discussion by moving on to greener pastures.
Claire
My legs were tangled with Aiken’s when I woke on Christmas morning, my thigh wedged between his, my head glued to his chest. I lay quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment, listening to his beating heart. We’d had a great few days with his dad, touring the farm and the area. Judith had come over, and we’d made a Christmas feast using all local ingredients, including my cacio e pepe pasta.
“I think I smell coffee,” Aiken rumbled underneath me. “The big question is...wait for it. Do you think Judith stayed over?”
“I guess we’ll see soon enough. Are you okay with that? She’s been here almost the whole time.”
Aiken’s palm smoothed over my hair and settled on my shoulder. “I’m more than fine with it. Pops has been alone for a long time. He deserves some sweet, in and out of the sheets.”
This earned a pinch on his arm. “No offense, but I’d rather not think about Sam and Judith in that way. I only just met them.”
“None taken.” His voice was still groggy from sleep, hair sticking up every which way. I fell even harder for the man lying next to me, although I tried to keep my feelings at a distance. I worried what would happen when he was gone. He was bound to leave Pennsylvania, or find someone else. History repeats itself?
My track record spoke for itself.
How would I fill the void of Aiken?
“What will happen if you find your mom? Do you think they’ll talk it out? Sam and your mom? Will you come back here, mission accomplished?” The last part barreled out of my mouth against my better judgment. I’d told myself over and over to let Aiken do what he needed to do and not to interfere. Now, my feelings and anxieties were front and center.
“Well, they’ve never officially been divorced on paper, so maybe. I don’t know what the rule is, if their marriage is over because she abandoned it, or what. I think it’s a state thing. I never considered it until right now. We certainly never discussed that part of it…because Pops never seemed to want to move on. Until now. I don’t know how finding her would affect us. Truth is, I’m starting to think…not real good.”
“I guess in the whole scope of things, it doesn’t matter now. You have to push forward.”
“I don’t know. I wanted to find my mom to get some answers, and now I’m not so sure. It could be bad for everyone.” His nose scrunched up in a way I’d never seen before, and I’d cataloged a lot of Aiken’s expressions. I chalked it up to disappointment in where he was in the process.
“You can’t give up now.” I shifted my leg, moving it on top of his and snuggling closer.
“Like I said, I don’t want to ruin the holiday with this. Let’s go get coffee…” He pinched my butt, and we got out of bed and put on pajamas to travel downstairs.
“For you.” Sam interrupted my caffeinating moment when he set a small box next to my coffee mug. I was dressed in a cashmere turtleneck, yoga pants, and wool socks. Indiana was like back home—wet, gray, and overcast.
“For me?” I asked, lifting the box and shaking it. A small echo rattled around in the box.
“Go on, open it.”
Judith had slept over, but had gone home to get dressed for church, something Sam no longer did. She was going to attend services and then come back for lunch.
“Did you know about this?” I looked at Aiken.
He shook his head. “Zip.”
Carefully untying the ribbon, I unwrapped the green-and-red-striped paper.
Inside the box was a beautiful broach, a swirl of diamonds and sapphires in a paisley pattern, set in white gold.
“Wow, this is beautiful. It’s too much. It must be a family heirloom?”
I felt tears prick the backs of my eyes and willed them away. Aiken had wanted this to be a happy day. It was overwhelming, though. I could tell I was going to come undone at any moment.
“It was Aiken’s mother’s. I bought it for her when Aiken was born. A birth gift, or whatever they call it. Never had the heart to sell it after she left. I’ve kept it buried in a drawer.”
“Put it on,” Aiken instructed.
“Now?”
He nodded, came close, and took it from the box and slid it into my sweater. “Gorgeo
us.”
“It really is,” I whispered. “We should give your dad his gifts, but I just want to stare at this.” I looked down at my chest.
“Come on, I have something for you too. Although, I feel like my pops is showing me up.”
Aiken took my hand and led me to the front room. Next to the tree was another small box with my name on it. This one was wrapped in blue and silver paper. I shook it too. Another small echo. I began to fear it was a ring.
I was too old for that, let alone on Christmas Day. Pushing all my trepidation aside, I opened the package. “Oh my,” was all I said.
Inside were the most gorgeous earrings and matching bracelet. Amethyst studs and a chunky bangle bracelet crusted in more amethysts of all different shapes and sizes.
“Purple.” It was a raspy whisper.
Aiken was close, tipping my chin, kissing my nose, taking the bracelet out, slipping it on my wrist.
“Purple,” he repeated.
“She would have loved this.” My eyes grazed my wrist. “I can’t imagine what her reaction would have been now, as almost a high school senior, but back then, she would’ve jumped and clapped, her eyes lighting up.” This time, I couldn’t fight the tears. They pricked and clawed their way out.
“And these.” He detached the earrings from the box. “Put them on,” he said, swiping his thumb under my eye, wiping away the moisture.
“This is crazy. I’m walking around looking like I robbed a jewelry store in my pajamas,” I said, my ears feeling heavy from the earrings, my wrist weighted down, my heart the heaviest. A strange combination of longing and complete and utter happiness mixed in my blood.
“Those are definitely not your pj’s,” Aiken said for only my ears, and I swatted his arm.
“This is too much. All I got you was one of those Garmin running watches and a set of grill tools…I left those at home because they weighed more than my luggage…but now I’m going to need to up my game.”
“Both are great gifts for me. Perfect, actually. But seeing you in these, knowing it was Abby’s color, means more than you know to me.”
I watched Aiken give me a once-over before he grabbed my cheeks and kissed the breath out of me.
Heart Stronger Page 17
