Before I Say Goodbye

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  Of course. It all made sense now, and I felt like an idiot. Why else would Rikki want her children raised in the gospel when she didn’t believe in it? That time of her life was the only security she’d ever known.

  “I think we should do it, Dad.” Travis was sitting up tall.

  “Whoa, guys,” I said. “It all sounds so easy now, but once you’re all sharing rooms, fighting over who’s going to drive the car, scrimping on everything so we can pay the extra bills, it’ll be a different story. Taking on two children would be the hardest thing we’ve ever done.”

  Travis shrugged. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t be a sacrifice.”

  Easy for him to say when he’d be out of the house and on a mission in three years. I looked at Becca, who held my gaze. I could see she was also torn. “I couldn’t do it alone,” she said, her voice soft. “Someone would have to take Kyle to dance lessons four days a week and then pick her up, especially in the winter. There would be more homework projects, and I’m just not that great at math.”

  “I am,” Allia said. “I’m two years ahead of Kyle. Her math is easy. And all her other classes, I’ve already taken, so I can help with those, too.”

  “I can help with English stuff,” Travis volunteered. “When Dad can’t. And I can do some driving.”

  “Okay.” Cory heaved a sigh. “I guess James can sleep in my room, but he has to promise not to touch my Lego collection. We’ll have to buy a lot more food, especially when we barbecue. He eats more than I do.”

  “James can sleep with me,” Lauren protested.

  “Can’t,” Cory said. “Girls can’t sleep with boys.”

  “You can if he’s your brother.”

  “Then why aren’t you sleeping in my room with me?”

  Lauren grinned. “Okay. I’ll sleep with you and James. That’s fine with me.”

  Everyone laughed, even Lauren, who would eventually learn that Cory’s sarcasm meant she’d be staying in her own room.

  I looked at Becca, feeling amazement. Tears I hadn’t known were close slid down my cheeks. “You really want to do this?”

  “Don’t you?”

  I nodded. It was the right answer. Not the easy one, but it was the only one that allowed me to remain true to my childhood friendship with Rikki—and to my family, who apparently already looked upon Kyle and James as theirs.

  “But as I said, I can’t do it alone,” Becca said. “You can start helping by picking Kyle up from dance on your way home from work.”

  I took Becca’s hand. “Let’s go tell Rikki. Because there’s one thing she still has to understand. I can agree to take her children, but I’m not the hero she really needs right now.”

  “I think,” Becca said with a smile, “that she’s already beginning to understand.”

  Chapter Forty

  Kyle

  I stayed with Mom until both our tears dried. Sister Rushton had long ago knocked on the door and called out that she was going home and that someone named Sister Bunk was with James and not to worry. A bit later, Sister Bunk let us know dinner was ready. I didn’t feel like eating. Maybe I would never feel like it again.

  Everything made sense now, from the changes in Mom to the decision to return to her childhood home. But what about me and James? Did coming here mean she had plans for us?

  No, I couldn’t think about her being gone. I could hope for a miracle, right? Besides, I was too afraid of the answer. I didn’t want to be a ward of the state and be shuffled from foster home to foster home. I didn’t want to lose both her and James.

  James came in and lay down with us. I knew Mom had to tell him, but I couldn’t bear to hear it again, so I pretended to be hungry. In the kitchen, I ate under the watchful eye of Sister Bunk, whose thin face was kind beneath her round glasses. She didn’t say anything but offered me a sympathetic smile. Pretty smart for a wrinkled old lady. Was she one of the sisters who was helping pay for my dance lessons?

  After I ate, I couldn’t remember what kind of food it had been. I knew I should go back to Mom, but I wasn’t quite ready to face her. I needed to feel stronger first.

  The Rushtons showed up to see Mom, and while they were talking to Sister Bunk, I slipped out of the house. I wanted to run and run and run to stop the turmoil that was building inside me again, but I had nowhere to go.

  I ran anyway, and before I knew where I was going, I ended up on the Rushtons’ front doorstep. I didn’t remember ringing the bell, but the door opened and Travis stood there. “Kyle,” he said in surprise.

  I started to cry.

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  So, he already knew—from his parents, probably. My tears were coming so fast I could barely see his face. Where did all those tears come from? I thought I’d cried them all out with Mom. I felt empty, alone, and so scared. I needed . . . I needed . . . I didn’t know what I needed, except for my mother to live.

  I hurled myself at Travis and felt him stiffen. Then his arms went awkwardly around me. “Shh,” he said, patting my back like I was three years old. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “How can it ever be okay?” I cried.

  “I don’t know, but I think it will. It has to be.” He sounded really sorry, but hugging him wasn’t anything like I’d thought it would be. I didn’t feel romantic or anything but grateful that he was there—that anyone who wasn’t my mom was there.

  “I’m so mad at her for not telling me sooner, but at the same time I wish I didn’t know,” I sobbed out the words. He probably couldn’t even understand them. “I can’t even tell her I’m angry because she’s dying. Dying! She’s already hurting so much.” If she was feeling anything like what was in my heart, it was a wonder she kept breathing at all.

  All at once Allia was there, pushing Travis away and hugging me tight. A real hug. Exactly what I needed. “Come in,” she said. “Move, Travis.”

  I clung to her as she led me to the couch. Travis sat on my other side, every now and then patting my shoulder. Allia held me for a long time while I mumbled on about Mom, coming at last to my worry about losing James.

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” Allia said in a voice so soft I almost didn’t hear through my tears. “We’re going to take care of you and James.”

  I froze. “What?” I looked from her to Travis.

  He nodded. “We want to be here for you and James when . . . you know. We talked about it just now. We all agreed.”

  I glanced back at Allia, who nodded. “We want you to be part of our family.”

  Relief poured over me as the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Mom did have a plan. Now I understood why she’d said Travis was off limits and seemed so worried when I wasn’t listening. But I didn’t care about him being off limits now. I didn’t need a boyfriend. What I needed was a friend and an older brother so I wouldn’t always have to be the strong one. Besides, Mormons like Allia didn’t date before sixteen, and I wanted to be like her.

  “Would that be okay with you?” Allia said, suddenly hesitant at my silence. “Or is there some other place you’d rather be?”

  I shook my head. “No,” I said. Or tried to. Nothing came out.

  She hugged me again even tighter. “We’re going to be with you every minute,” she promised. “You’re never going to be alone.”

  Yes. I wanted to be just like Allia.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Rikki

  It seemed silly for me to begin to rethink my entire past because I felt a little heat where there was obviously none. Or because Becca had shown up after I’d said my first prayer in a very long time. Yet telling Kyle and seeing her struggle to be strong for me made me realize that I’d lived a life of selfishness.

  Once I’d thought I had no regrets, but suddenly I had plenty. I s
hould have stayed near people who cared about me instead of seeking love in the arms of strangers. I should have developed a relationship with my mother, even it if meant moving out and seeing her only when my father wasn’t around. I should have found a good father for my children, a steady home. I should have thought about the what-ifs and searched out the source of the warmth I’d felt—was still feeling since that morning.

  Maybe if I’d stayed I would not only have accomplished all the things I was proud of in my life—having my children, achieving many of my dance goals, visiting numerous cities, reaching out to the people I’d helped over the years—but also much more because I could have avoided more of the heartache and wasted time.

  Maybe Dante had been right all along.

  But perhaps these regrets weren’t all bad. Regrets might give me the courage to make changes for the future. A future I didn’t have but could try to create for my children.

  Kyle had wanted to ask what was to become of her and James, but she hadn’t. Had she held back from fear that I had no plan, or because she didn’t want me to see that already she was accepting the inevitable? She was pragmatic in that regard, the way I’d raised her to be.

  I had a plan, and though it hadn’t gone as well as I’d hoped, the heat and Charlotte’s words at the hospital made me able to wait. At least a little longer.

  It was then that Becca and Dante arrived, Becca strangely lacking her usual confidence and Dante looking at me with more sorrow than the time his dad had let him down about the campout. Underneath it all was the acceptance I’d been waiting for. I wanted to jump up and hug them. Instead, I lay there inside my weakened body and cried.

  * * *

  “I want to know more about this feeling,” I told Charlotte when she arrived later.

  “Shoot. You already know.”

  “It’s been so long.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll all come back.” She plumped the pillows she’d brought me, careful not to disturb James, who was sleeping in my bed. “I brought you this book. It gave me a lot of comfort when I didn’t know what the future held. Maybe some of the passages I marked will be useful.”

  I knew the blue book. I’d had one once.

  I was still reading an hour later when Kyle slipped into my bed. The redness in her face told me she’d been crying again.

  “I love you, Mom,” she whispered.

  I hugged her tight. “I love you, too. So much.”

  Shutting the book, I put my arms around my baby girl, and together we slept.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Kyle

  I’d thought all I wanted in life was to dance, but now all I wanted was my mother. Still, I danced. I danced for her, because when I danced I was able to become the dance and forget, just for a while.

  Things weren’t great, but less bad than I expected. I thought I’d die at first when I learned, but while knowing made the fear real, knowing also made my nightmares stop.

  None of the adults ever really sat us down and said we were going to live with the Rushtons, though Mom and the Rushtons had many serious discussions behind closed doors, but from the beginning everyone talked as if we were. The relief I’d felt when Allia had first told me never went away.

  Except I didn’t care anymore about having a nice, clean house, or about having hot dinners at a regular time, new clothes, or a mother who was active in the PTA. When it came right down to it, I’d rather have my mom. Still, knowing the Rushtons wanted us made the fear in my stomach less painful. Sister Rushton suggested we all move in right away, even Mom, but Mom wanted to stay in her own house, and there was no way James or I would leave her.

  The ladies in the ward were always at our place, coming and going until I knew them all and their families. It made going to church each week like a big family reunion—or what I thought a reunion might be like. Sometimes I didn’t understand how the sisters kept coming, especially on Mom’s bad days when all she would do was lie in her bed and cry, but keep coming they did, especially Sister Gillman and Sister Rushton, who asked me to call her Becca for now.

  Becca came every day, and sometimes twice a day. She helped James and Lauren with their homework, while Allia or Travis helped me with mine. She took a ton of pictures and videos and wouldn’t let my mother say no. Sometimes she and Mom would sit giggling in her bed together, and every now and then I’d hear about them going out to lunch while I was at school.

  Not that Mom ever ate much. She was as frail as a dry winter leaf, tossed about in the wind. Sometimes I felt jealous of their relationship, but all I’d have to do was lie down beside Mom and feel her hand on my cheek to know my mother loved me first and best. Me and James.

  She gave me an apron she’d made in Young Women’s when she was my age. It looked practically new, and I took to wearing it every time Sister Gillman taught me and James to make a new meal. Eventually, I showed Mom my photo album, and she didn’t laugh. It felt good showing it to her, like we finally didn’t have any secrets from each other.

  There were other differences in Mom, ones that had nothing to do with her declining physical ability. She talked more about God and the purpose of life, especially after one of her long talks with the Rushtons.

  One day when I was feeling sorry for myself, she took hold of my hand. “I want you to remember something,” she said, “and never, ever forget it.”

  I blinked. She hadn’t spoken so seriously since she told me about the tumor. “Okay, what?”

  “Call your brother first.”

  I did, wondering if there was more bad news. But what could possibly be worse?

  James came running, as he always did the minute anyone hinted that Mom might need him. He jumped onto the bed and curled into her side, not noticing her wince at the pressure. No pressure at all, really, but anything was too much for her these days. Still, neither of us pushed him away.

  “There will be tough days,” Mom said, as I sat next to her. “There will be days when you feel all alone, days when you think there’s no going back. On those days, I want you to do something for me. I want you to look outside and look at the mountains—to really see them.” She pointed out the window of her room where we could see the mountain peaks to the east. I’d noticed her staring out the window sometimes, but I’d never known what she’d been seeing.

  “I want you to remember them the way I saw them when we came to Utah,” Mom said, her voice now a reverent whisper. “They’re God’s hands, and they’ll always be holding you through the tough times. Then I want you to think of me standing right by Him, watching over you and telling God to hold you tighter when you need it the most.”

  James gaped at her. “You’ll stand right by Him?”

  “I promise.”

  “Will I see you?”

  Mom ran her hand through his hair. “No, but I’m telling you now, that’s right where I’m going to be. You’ll feel it. Maybe someone will say something to remind you, or maybe you’ll just know.”

  “Does God hold you?” James asked.

  Maybe it was stupid, but I wanted to ask the same question. Every day she was slipping further away from me, every day her pain increased, and yet she never complained.

  Mom blinked several times, swallowing hard. “Oh, yes. He’s been holding me every day since I was born, only no one ever told me. I had to learn it for myself, and I made a lot of dumb mistakes. That’s why I want you to know right from the beginning. So you won’t have to go through what I did.”

  “What if I can’t see the mountains?” James asked, his forehead creasing with worry.

  She laughed. “It doesn’t matter. Close your eyes, and you’ll see them. Close your eyes, and I’ll be right there, watching and cheering and waiting. Don’t wait for God to show you He’s there. Reach out for Him anytime you need help, and even when you don’t.”

 
James dug his head into the side of her chest. This time she didn’t wince but hugged him tighter.

  “How do you really know He’s there?” I asked softly.

  “Because I feel His warmth. Because Dante and Becca were ready for you kids. Because I have a second chance to get things right.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant by the warmth, but I understood about the Rushtons and second chances. “Then is it okay if I get baptized?” I’d wanted to ask for the past few days, but I hadn’t dared.

  She hugged me. “Yes, sweetie. It’s always been your choice. Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”

  I didn’t know what the right reasons were. I might be doing it because I wanted to be like Allia and because I wanted to fit in better with the Rushtons. But I also wanted to be baptized because I loved everyone at church and felt at home there. Funny when I’d hated it so much those first Sundays.

  When I told my mom my reasons, she smiled. “That’s a start, Kyle. It’s what I had when I was your age. But don’t stop there. I promise you, there’s a lot more. Listen to Becca and Dante. They’ll help you understand.”

  It was my turn to hug her—but gently.

  Our house also underwent a change. The Young Men and Young Women came over, with plenty of adult supervision, and painted the outside of our house a bright, clean white. Mom chose red for the shutters, which made the house seem more hers. Men cut the lawn and put chemicals in the back to get rid of the weeds. They said they’d have to do it again in the spring and that it would take a year or more for the grass to be thick, but it looked wonderful to me. They even fixed up James’s tree house, which got him so worked up, he went zooming around the yard getting in everyone’s way.