by F. X. Scully
"How was Sweden?" I ask.
"Are you fucking kidding?"
I laugh. "That good, huh?"
Lucas shakes his head. "Who cares about Sweden? What the hell happened, babe? How'd you end up here?"
I attempt a shrug, but I'm so weak, I lull my head to the side instead.
"She's a tricky one."
"Who?"
"Our daughter," I smile.
"Tricky how?"
"I thought it was food poisoning," I say. "But it was her. This time I thought it was her but..." I blink to bring him into better focus. "It must have been something I ate. I went to the farmers market a couple weeks ago. They had organic honey and all this fresh fruit."
"You've got food poisoning?" His face is awash with relief and I almost regret continuing the conversation I know I need to have.
"Listeriosis. It's a little more serious than a stomach bug."
Lucas frowns. "The doctor said they were running tests."
I close my eyes. "I overheard them."
He brings my fingers to his mouth. "You're okay though, right?"
"Is she?"
"Who?"
"Mariah."
He frowns again.
"Our daughter," I say with a smile.
He nods. "I think so...yeah."
"Go see her, Lucas."
He shakes his head. "She's okay. Sheila's with her. I'm staying with you."
My stomach twists and I pull my hand away. "Go," I say again. "You can't just leave her there by herself."
"But I can leave you? No way."
"Lucas..."
"I should have never left you by yourself in the first place. It was stupid. And I'm never leaving you alone again. I'm quitting the band. For good this time. I'm done. If it means I can be here to take care of you, that's what I'll do."
"Don't," I say. "You love that band and I'm not going to stand in the way of that."
"I love you." He leans forward, lifting my hand again and pressing his forehead to my fingers. "And I never should have left. I'll sell the ranch, buy us a smaller place. I'll finish school get a job and we can be normal again. We can go anywhere you want. Just like you always wanted."
"Who says we're not normal?"
A small smile cracks on his expression and I take the opportunity to make another plea. "Go see her. For me?"
He sighs. "I'd really rather stay here. With you. Besides she's with your family. It's not like I can hold her or anything."
"Please?" I bat my eyes, even though I know I don't look remotely attractive right now. "I promise I'll make it up to you when I get out of here." I grin.
Lucas leans down to kiss me, lingering for several seconds after. His lips brush against mine as he speaks. "I love you. And I'm the one who's going to make it up. I'll do anything, Shannon. Anything at all. Just say the word."
"You're already the most amazing husband a girl could as for. And right now, all you have to do is be the best dad you can be. And I'll be happy."
"I will." His lips touch mine again and as usual, I lose my breath. His kiss is gentle, but firm and has me floating in seconds. "I love you," he says, as he pulls back. "I've never loved anyone like I love you. You made me, Shannon. You fucking made me who I am." He brushes my hair away from my forehead. "Don't you go anywhere. I'll be right back. I've got a lot of making up to do. Remember?"
With one last kiss, he leaves my mouth cold and my heart whirring. I lick my lips and watch him disappear through the door.
Luke
They're all huddled out in the hallway when I arrive.
"Where's Ross?" I ask Sheila, ignoring her parents. They hate me anyway, there's no point in trying.
"I told him to go home." Her eyes are wide as she searches my face. "How's Shannon?"
"Fine," I smile. "I just talked to her. She made me come check on the baby." I nod to a set of doubles doors. "This is the place, right?"
"She's awake?"
"Sure. Joking around and everything."
Sheila breathes a huge sigh, and motions to her parents. "The nurses wouldn't let us in," she gestures toward the doors. "Not without a parent. Just let them know who you are and they'll take you to her." With that she hurries back from where I came. "Mom, Dad," she calls. "She's awake."
After I've verified my identity with the nurse at the front desk, I'm led toward a sink where they make me wash my hands and arms with soap. After I dry them, a nurse squirts a thick cool gel in my hands and tells me to rub it all over my skin. Once she helps me into a hospital robe and ties my hair back under a net, she leads me into a small room lined with little plastic boxes. In every one of them is a baby. If anyone asked me which one was mine, I couldn't tell them because they all look the same—red, wrinkly and kind of ugly if I'm being truthful.
We stop in front of the one closest to the door. The nurse sticks her arms through gloves that are attached to the box and starts adjusting wires. "Hi, Little Miss Mariah," she says in a soft voice. "Meet your daddy."
She nods for me to come closer and I do, one slow step at a time.
"Come on," she says, stepping back. "You can touch her. Like this." She cups one hand around the baby's bottom and the other one on top of her head. "It's a hand hug. They really like that."
I don't realize I'm holding my breath until I start to feel dizzy. I don't want to touch her, that's the first thought that runs through my head. If I touch her, I might break her, she's so damn small. She doesn't even look like a she—just a tiny little, helpless creature. If it weren't for the pink hat I'd be inclined to argue that point.
But I snake my arms through the gloves anyway and do exactly what the nurse says—hug my daughter with my hands. And, as if she senses I'm there, she opens her tiny little eyes and I almost faint.
They're blue. Not baby blues, like every other kid in here probably has, but sapphire blue—like her mother.
"Hey, Mariah." The smile is stretching so wide across my face it actually hurts and I suddenly find myself speaking even more quietly than the nurse.
My baby doesn't do much. As quickly as her eyes open, they close again and she seems to have fallen back to sleep. But I stand there anyway, watching her and longing for the day I can hug her for real. I didn't see Ray when he was new, but we bonded immediately. I can tell, just by looking at this one that she'll be a lot like me.
And I'm going to have to make sure I'm there for every second of it. Just like I promised Shannon. For the first time in a long time, I know not just where I need to be, but where I want to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE ENDING
Sheila
I hold the phone to my face and lean up against the booth. "No," I say to Roscoe. "You shouldn't come back. Things are tense enough. And I think my mother might be a little afraid of you."
He laughs and it makes my heart flutter.
When did things get like this between us? Obviously when I wasn't looking. It was before Stockholm, that much I know. As surprised as I was when he came to my room, part of me felt like it was inevitable. Like there was some kind of dance going on between us from the very beginning. Before the tour, before Luke, before everything. I only just started paying attention.
"How's Luke?"
"Better, I think. When he went in to see her she was awake. They talked and he seems a lot happier. He's with Mariah right now. I can't believe they have another kid."
Roscoe snickers. "I can't believe they're married."
"Yeah. Pretty crazy."
"You sure you don't want me to come sit with you?"
I smile. "I'm fine. She's sleeping again, but when she wakes up, I'll visit with her for a while, then head out." I sigh. "This really puts things in perspective."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean..." I'm not sure I should say anything. I'm worried it'll turn him off, make him jealous. And I suddenly care if it does.
He fills in the silence with a soft chuckle. "You mean all your drama over my brother?"
/> I bite my lip. "Yeah. That. I mean...I'm over it. I've been over it. It just made things weird between us for so long. And now I feel bad that it did. She's my sister, you know. And I let things get all weird over a guy."
"The ultimate sin." He laughs again. "Don't worry, Sheila Carlson. You're easy to forgive."
Now I want him here. Not even. I want to go back to the house and hang out with him. Play some cards, drink some whiskey. I want this night to be over, all the drama to be over, so we can get on with our lives. Now that I have a clue where it's going.
"Sheila?"
I turn to see Mom lingering at the end of the hallway.
"Oh, hold on," I say into the phone. "I think my sister might be awake."
I motion for Mom to come closer but she just stands there, like she's frozen in place.
"What is it?" I ask. "Is Shannon awake?"
Mom just stares. And in that moment, my heart drops to my stomach and my breath catches in my throat, choking me.
"Mom?" I call.
"Carlson?" Roscoe says. I drop the phone.
She's still standing there, and it's scaring the hell out of me. I take a step forward. Then several more as I rush to her side. When I reach her, I grip her shoulders. "What is it?"
She doesn't say anything, but her head shakes from side to side, tears spilling over the rims of her eyes.
"What?" I ask. "Mom? What is it? Mommy?"
I look past her and that's when I catch a glimpse of my father. He's standing in front of the doctor from earlier, bowed, a hand plastered to his forehead. His head making the same slow movement as Mom's.
I walk away from Mom. She's no good to me this way. I need answers. I have no idea what's going on but it doesn't feel right. It doesn't look right. Something is very, very wrong.
The moment Dad sees me, his head snaps up and he pulls me into a fierce hug. Then the sobs take over. The moans are low and drawn out and I'm instantly sick.
Eyes wide, I look to the only person who can give me what I need. An explanation.
"We did everything we could," the doctor says.
I gasp, clutching my stomach. "Mariah." Oh, god no. This will crush Shannon. This is the last thing she needs.
The doctor frowns, then flips through a page on his clip board forward and back again. "It says here the patients name was Shannon Carlson."
Tears blur my vision, as he melts from my view. "Wha—what?"
"The inflammation was more extensive than we first thought. Had we been able to treat it before the C-section, she might have stood a chance but—"
"But she was awake!" I yell. "She was talking to him. He said...Luke!" I catch sight of him making his way down the hallway, a smile on his face. "Tell him. Tell him you just spoke with her. She can't be dead. She can't be!"
My knees hit the floor and I'm holding my stomach. And a wail that starts in the deepest part of my gut rips through my chest and fills the space around me.
Luke
"Brain trauma is unpredictable, sir. Sometimes we don't know enough until it's too late. She developed encephalitis as a result of listeriosis. She must have eaten something that was contaminated. Once the autopsy is done we'll have more to go on, but for now, if you'd like to see your wife before...sir?"
I keep my pace down the hallway toward the exit, doing my best to block out the sounds around me. Ten minutes ago, I was happier than I've ever been. And just like that...
I skip the elevators, the wailing behind me fades as I make my way through the doors and down the steps. I only make it about half-way before I collapse.
I hold onto the railing, trying hard to catch my breath. And harder to understand what the fuck just happened.
I glance back up the stairs, debating whether or not I should return. Talk to the doctor. Maybe he made a mistake. Maybe it's not her. But I can't deny what I saw. Her family. Losing it. Why would they be losing it if...?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
If I don't get it together. If I don't get out of here, I'm going to lose it too.
I continue my way down the stairs, doing my best not to the let the tears that are blinding me trip me up. When I finally find my way out side, I stare up at the dark sky, taking in a deep breath through my nose.
An ambulance wails in the distance and my thoughts begin to scatter.
What if I had been there? What if I didn't go on this last tour? What if I hadn't rejoined the band? What if I'd just used the goddamn Trust Fund instead of being a stubborn ass? What if I'd ignored her that day in the library? What if I never kissed her? Or fell in love with her?
If I'd let her live her life, and I'd lived mine—just the way I'd planned, no distractions—she'd still be here.
I should go back up. I should...do something. But I can't. I can't move. I can't breathe. I collapse again. This time on the curb, my head in my hands, looking down at my feet.
Ray. Where's my son? They never told me where my son was. I need to find him...tell him somehow. But what would I say? How would I say it? Would he even understand?
Fuck. What's happening to me? What just happened to my perfect life? Our life. I had it all planned out. I was going to make up for everything and now...
The tears are streaming of their own will and I look like a little pussy sitting on the sidewalk bawling my eyes out. But what the fuck am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to respond? What do I do now?
I should go see her. Say goodbye.
Goodbye.
Goodbye? How can I be saying goodbye when I just said hello? I just kissed her lips. She kissed me back.
When I get out of here. That's what she said. She was supposed to come home with me and now she's gone. She left me here, all by myself. Just like that.
After some time has passed—I don't know how much, but it's still dark and there are few less cars driving by—I get up from my spot, my ass numb from the pavement. A cab pulls up, dropping off a lady in scrubs and I jog toward it.
I arrive back in Lewiston my brain still scattered. He talked my ear off the whole way, but I barely registered a thing. I throw a few bills his way and he thanks me, the grin on his face so big, I probably should have asked for my change.
The house is quiet—stopped in the middle of a celebration, everything still in its place, my birthday cake untouched. I head straight upstairs to get my stash of weed. Back in the living room, I grab a bottle of whiskey and make my way to the garage.
Ross was right. I remember every detail about riding; it seems the old saying applies to Harleys too. It rides like a dream, gliding down the empty streets, the breeze working hard to clear my mind. When I get to my destination, I retrieve my goodies from the saddlebag and make my way to the only place that feels right.
I spread the blanket out on the rooftop of the old restaurant and roll up a joint. Then I lie back, stare up at the sky and pretend she's right here with me.
I'm half-way finished the bottle, only a stub of a joint left burning between my fingers before I've come to a conclusion. Back in the hospital room, she only wanted one thing from me. To be the best dad I can be. It's taking everything inside of me not to stay here. Not to fall asleep dreaming of her. But I can't be selfish right now. I have to a man. And I know where she'd want me to be right now.
Not up here on this rooftop licking my wounds. With our son, tending to his.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A NEW BEGINNING
Sheila
I haven't shed a tear since my break down at the hospital. When I finally came to, Luke was gone. I stood by Shannon's side, staring at her pretty face, until they came to take her body away. She looked like she was sleeping. Like she'd wake up any minute. But when I touched her skin, she was barely warm.
Now I sit in the passenger’s seat of Roscoe's truck, staring out the window. He hasn't said two words, since we started on our way back to Lewiston. Mom wanted me to come home. But I couldn't imagine spending the night in that house, with all those memories haunting me.
&
nbsp; Anywhere but there.
He showed up just in time.
"You sure you don't want to head back?" Roscoe's fingers find mine. "Your dad didn't look too thrilled about you leaving with me."
"I don't give a shit what my dad thinks right now." I turn to face him. "I'm going home with you."
He sighs. I expect him to leave it at that, but instead he squeezes my hand lightly. "I think maybe they're just feeling vulnerable. They want to keep you in their sights, you know?"
I nod. "I know. But I don't care. I can't go back there, Ross. I can't."
It's still not enough to convince him. "This could end badly, Carlson. Maybe you should—"
"I'm not going the fuck back!" I scream and he flinches. "My sister just died. She's dead, Ross! Gone. Forever! I'm not going to hang out in that house and listen to them cry all night. I can't do that. I'm barely holding it together as it is."
"Okay. It's cool. I get it." His grip tightens. "But just so you know, you're not obligated to hold it together."
I smile and nod, then turn to stare at the shadowed objects bobbing and weaving by my window. He's saying all the right words, but he has no idea how wrong he is. Shannon is gone. She's not coming back. Holding it together was her thing, not mine. Definitely not Mom's and Dad was so far gone back there, I don't know if he'll ever come back. The reality is, if I don't hold it all in, who will?
We shuffle through the dark house, hand in hand. Roscoe has been calling Luke since we got to the hospital, but the last anyone heard of him, was a nurse who saw him get in a cab. He wouldn't answer his mobile phone and when we got back to the house, we realized it was in his room on the desk.
"His Harley's gone," Roscoe says as he sits down on the sofa next to me a few minutes later. "Probably needed to clear his head."
We're in his room. A place I've never been before until today. But, of all the places in this house, it's the one that feels the most comforting. It's nothing like Luke's room and nothing like I imagined. It's actually clean.
