Emma started to fuss and Alyssa jumped up straight away to grab her.
“They look so much like Phoebe did at the same age,” she said through a tight throat as she cuddled Emma to her chest.
Declan stood and paced the room. I figured he was as unable to speak around his emotion as I was. The room was quiet, mostly because Alyssa was right. Everyone else had said their goodbyes to Phoebe. There was only one reason she’d be hangin’ on any longer, and I knew what it was. It was clear what would give her the peace she needed, but I couldn’t do it.
Time swept mercilessly along.
Into the evening, the room emptied. Declan and Alyssa took the girls back out to Angel, leavin’ me alone with Phoebe.
“I ain’t ready to let ya go, darlin’,” I said as I leaned over her sleepin’ frame. I kissed her forehead. Then I rested my cheek against hers and whispered into her ear, “I ain’t ever gonna be. But I know I hafta. I can’t ask ya to hold on anymore for me. It ain’t fair to ya.” I held her closer, reaching down to wrap my hand around hers. “I love you, Phoebe. I ain’t ever gonna stop lovin’ ya, but if you’re ready to go, don’t hold on for me.”
I sobbed into the pillow as I tried to find the conviction in myself to believe the words I’d said. I hadn’t eaten all day, but that didn’t matter.
Time ticked on, cruelly marchin’ us toward the inevitable.
To the final beat of her heart.
Around midnight, something changed. For half a second, her fingers tightened around mine. Expecting to hear her voice, I pushed up to look at her. My heart expanded, hopin’ that maybe the miracle I’d wished for had happened.
It hadn’t.
She exhaled and then didn’t draw in again. I held my own breath while I waited for her to keep breathin’. Even though I’d let her go with my words, I wasn’t ready for it to be the end.
Not yet.
Not ever.
My chest burned in protest as I continued to refuse to breathe until she did. Finally, my body couldn’t fight the instinct a second longer. My lungs opened up again.
I took a breath.
My first as a widower.
CHAPTER TWELVE: HAPPILY EVER AFTER
I WANTED TO scream. Wanted to shout at the world and let loose an inhuman cry that would let everyone know today was the day love died forever.
Instead, I gently removed the oxygen tube from Phoebe’s face so that she was free of all the equipment and then drew her closer to me. Overwhelmed by the ache that took hold of me, I cried against her shoulder, staining her nightshirt with my tears. I broke, unable to cope with any new information aside from the truth that blistered my heart.
She was gone.
I lay with her through another sleepless night; wishin’ myself dead and refusin’ to let her go.
She couldn’t leave me.
Wherever she goes, I go. I’d proven that to her enough, hadn’t I? We’d crossed oceans together. This was just another ocean, and I needed to cross it with her—to be with her.
I needed her to take me with her so we could walk side-by-side into whatever the next life had to offer. Nothing mattered unless we were together. Together we could do anything. We’d proven it too many times already. This was just another obstacle to get through. An impossible one, but we could do it. Using every word available to me, I begged her and pleaded her to let me come with her.
When she didn’t answer my pleas, I brushed my hand over her cold forehead and wished away the pain. Wished away everything that wasn’t Phoebe.
At some stage durin’ the night, Angel must have come in and realized what’d happened. Early the next mornin’, the doctor was there to make it official. The funeral director followed shortly after.
Angel held my arm as she rested her head on my shoulder while they took Phoebe away. Even though it probably looked like I was supportin’ her, the truth was without her at my side, I woulda collapsed in a heap.
With clinical efficiency, they took Phoebe from the house. The bedding was changed—except her pillow case at my request—and then all the movement ended.
The life we’d shared was over.
She was gone.
Steppin’ out of Angel’s comfortin’ embrace, I moved to sit at the end of the bed I’d shared with my wife. The moment I hit the mattress, my heart shattered.
The things I’d been keeping locked inside swept over me and made me want to curl up in the bed and never move again. I wouldn’t be no help to anyone that way, so I pushed the pain aside and tried to catalog a list of things I needed to do next. I knew this step.
Sayin’ goodbye by makin’ lists, makin’ calls, fillin’ out papers. Erasin’ parts of an existence that had been cut short by the cruelty of life. If I could throw myself into those tasks, as meaningless as they felt, I might be able to push the pain away for a few precious moments.
Phoebe’s voice filled my head, a memory of when she’d come to support me after Abby’s death. “As hard as it is to face, the pain reminds us to live. It reminds us why we need to keep going and enjoy the good moments for however long they last.”
As much as I wanted to respect her wishes, I couldn’t. The pain was too much this time. I couldn’t let it in, or I’d drown forever in it.
Shovin’ myself up off the bed, I moved to the side of the bed where all the medical equipment stood. All the stuff hooked up to Phoebe, sustaining her life until a few hours ago. The first thing I did was work on unplugging them from the sockets.
“We’ll have to arrange to take this equipment back,” I said, rollin’ the cord up and ignoring the headache that bloomed across my forehead. “And I’ll hafta call the lawyers. I’ll hafta let everyone know too. I need to write up a list so we know we’ve spoken to all the people who’d wanna know. I hafta tell her folks.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Angel came to my side and rested her hand on mine to stop me from the busy work. Tears ran unchecked down her face. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of it.”
Shaking her hand off, I refused to stop moving. “I can’t ask ya to do that.”
She clutched my hand between her hands. “You’re not asking, and I’m not offering. I’m telling you.”
I drew in a breath that twisted like barbed wire around my traitorous lungs—the ones that refused to give up when Phoebe’s had. “I have to do something. I can’t . . . I can’t just lie here, or I might never get up ag’in.”
“Beau, you need to let it in.”
I dropped the cords. “I-I can’t.”
“Beau.” Her tone was no-nonsense.
“What am I supposed to do?” I sat on the bed and ran my hand over Phoebe’s pillow. Part of me had expected some lingerin’ warmth the way there mighta been if she’d just climbed out of bed. Only there wasn’t. Her warmth had disappeared when she’d taken her final breath.
“What did you tell me after Mum passed away?” She stared at me with her hands on her hips and a frown dipping her brow. “Take the time to process the pain for the next few days at least. It’ll be better in the long run, trust me.”
I scrubbed my face with my hands. “I meant with the rest of my life. She was my end game. She was supposed to be my forever,” I said, borrowin’ words from Phoebe herself. I stared at my hands as my tears welled again. “We were supposed to live happily ever after like in the fairy tales.”
Angel issued a slight chuckle that gave way to a sob. “Don’t you see it though, Beau? You were her happy ever after. She never expected to find a forever kind of love, but you gave it to her. Against all the odds, and even when life tried to get in the way, you gave her the sort of love most people can only dream of. It was more than that though. So many other men would’ve walked away after what happened to her, but you brought her back to life. You gave her time and joy she didn’t think she’d ever have again. You brought her back to me when she pushed me away. Gave her time with her family she would have missed otherwise. Two kids that she thought she’d never h
ave.” She broke down and reached for my hands. “Her happy ever after just didn’t last as long as yours.”
“She’s been part of my life for so long I don’t know how to get through a day knowin’ I can’t speak to her.”
Angel’s tears fell harder. She didn’t even bother tryin’ to wipe them away. “I know.”
I felt like an ass because I mighta had Phoebe for a few years, but she’d been Angel’s for much longer. I patted the bed beside me. Angel took the invitation and wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder.
“It’s okay to let go, Beau,” she said before handing me a USB stick. “This might help. Phoebe asked me to give it to you when-when—” she cut off and turned away. “I’m going to go check on the girls,” she muttered before disappearin’ out of the room.
Starin’ at the stick in my hand, I nodded to acknowledge her but didn’t reply. I knew what was on the USB—at least I could guess. One of Phoebe’s video diary projects. As desperately as I wanted to watch it, I worried what it might contain. Would it be the vibrant woman Phoebe had been at the start of her pregnancy? Or the gaunt and sickly girl I’d said goodbye to just hours earlier?
Knowin’ that it was one of Phoebe’s final wishes for me to watch whatever the memory stick contained on the day she passed, I sucked up my anxiety and put the USB in the TV. After closin’ my eyes and drawin’ in a deep breath to brace myself, I played the video.
It wasn’t what I’d thought it would be. Phoebe didn’t fill the screen at all. Instead, it was a music video. Joey + Rory’s “When I’m gone.” From the very first line of the song, Phoebe’s meaning was clear. It was her way of tryin’ to let me know it’d be okay—that I’d be okay—without her.
As if I could be.
Each word of the song sliced at my heart, carving Phoebe’s name deep into every piece. I closed my eyes and pictured her hunched over her laptop, slaving away as she tried to find the song that was just right for the message she wanted to tell me.
A country song at that.
The song cycled around, and I hunched over, clamping my hand over my eyes to block the tears. “Darlin’, how am I supposed to do this without ya?”
Unable to do anything more, I crawled onto the bed and found my way to the side where she’d slept. I rested my head against her pillow as soft instrumentals, and a sweet singin’ voice told me that I’d be okay without Phoebe.
No matter how sweet the singin’ was, I didn’t believe the words.
How could I?
WHEN I opened my eyes, the song had stopped. Because it was set to loop, I figured Angel must have come in at some point and turned it off. It was then it occurred to me that it was dark out. I musta slept most of the day away. In my dreams, I’d been with Phoebe. We’d been together on her bike ridin’ through the rises and falls of the mountains ’round home.
I pressed my hand over my heart—over the place where Phoebe was immortalized in ink.
“I miss ya already, darlin’,” I said. It was odd that no matter how much time I’d had to prepare myself for the day I would have to say goodbye, I wasn’t nearly ready.
I never would’ve been.
My stomach issued an angry growl to remind me it’d been over two days since I’d eaten. It seemed like such a stupid thing in the face of everythin’—what was the value in eatin’ or drinkin’ or showerin’ or anythin’ if we were gonna end up in the same place at the end anyway.
Still, I allowed my hunger to carry me from the room.
When I reached the livin’ room, I found Angel asleep on the sofa with the girls in bouncers on the floor in front of her. Two discarded bottles sat beside the bouncers.
Emma caught sight of me and smiled. Although she was still too young for me to really see any similarities to her mama, I imagined I saw Phoebe’s smile in hers and tears flooded my eyes again. Emma kicked her legs and cooed, setting Abby off beside her. The joy in their movements, the sweetness in their soft cooin’, all felt out of place on the day their mama passed away, but I was glad they didn’t have to experience the sting of losin’ someone like Phoebe.
I knelt on the floor between them and used two fingers to cup their cheeks. “Hey there, my li’l darlin’s.”
Abby gurgled and drooled on my finger.
“You two got real lucky with your mama. She loved ya so much, and I’m gonna make sure ya always know that.”
On the sofa behind me, Angel snorted softly in her sleep before rollin’ over.
“And your Aunty Angel is gonna be there for you always too. Y’all will see why your mama loved her so much. Why I do.”
I glanced between my daughters and made a vow to never let anything stop me from lettin’ them know how loved and cherished they were. How much Phoebe had wanted them—how hard she’d fought for them both.
Their crystal blue eyes sparkled, and I wondered whether they’d stay blue, maybe with a hint of their mama’s seafoam, or whether they’d darken to be brown like mine. It wouldn’t matter, they’d be loved either way, but I couldn’t help but put out a silent plea that they look as much like their mama as possible. That way, I wouldn’t need to say goodbye to her permanently—she’d be reflected back at me every day in the miracles we’d created.
Leaving the girls to their happy bouncin’, I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed a slice of lasagna to heat up for dinner. Although I was starvin’, my appetite wasn’t stoked by the smell of the food. I ate because I knew I had to, not because I wanted to.
Despite the fact that the house wasn’t too much quieter than normal, I could feel the silence around me—almost like Phoebe was makin’ her presence known in the space between the beats of my heart. Just like she had when I’d returned to Georgia without her after she pushed me away years ago.
Unlike then, I couldn’t follow where she’d gone. Instead, I had to stay behind because I had two li’l versions of her to watch over.
I barely made it halfway through my food before I spotted the red food dye stain on the table where Phoebe and Angel had gotten overzealous when preparing the red velvet cupcakes for Phoebe’s baby shower. It was such a silly moment, as they danced around tryin’ to decide what would get the stain out—spendin’ so much time figurin’ out that the dye had plenty of time to soak deep into the wood before they even tried the first solution.
That one little red spot on the beech wood table sent reality crashin’ in again. I pushed my plate away before crumblin’ into tears. Mealtimes around the table weren’t gonna be the same no more.
Nothin’ was.
How could it be?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: GOODBYE AGAIN
ANGEL AND I sat in silence while we waited for the town car to take us to our destination.
I’d waited until the last possible second to leave the house, but I couldn’t have moved quicker if I’d tried. It wasn’t that I wanted to be late for Phoebe’s funeral; I just didn’t want to spend any longer than necessary bein’ sociable and tryin’ to keep my focus on anythin’ but breathin’.
When the driver knocked on the door, I checked my pockets for the house keys and grabbed the diaper bag. We’d packed the girls’ bags with enough supplies to get them through the day. Wavin’ away the driver’s assistance, Angel and I put Abby and Emma into the provided car seats and then climbed into the six-passenger limo Phoebe’s lawyers had arranged at her request.
The drive to the funeral home was silent aside from Angel’s quiet tears. It reminded me of the sobs she’d issued before her mama’s funeral. There was none of those this time. It was as if Phoebe’s death had pushed Angel beyond emotion and into a stoic state. Angel’s heart was a deep well from which no more tears could escape.
I wanted to reach across the car to provide support to Angel, but the baby seats were in the way.
As the car pulled up in front of the chapel at the funeral home, Angel pulled the black veil down over her face. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she murmured before sighin’.
There were more people than I’d thought there’d be. Then again, with the way Phoebe captured hearts, I probably shouldn’ta been surprised. There were even some ProV8 drivers. Even though she’d only been on the circuit for a short time, and so many years ago, she’d easily earned the esteem of many drivers, and they all wanted to pay their respects. Then there were the fans who’d come out to show their support.
Unfortunately, not everyone would be allowed into the small private funeral, but they were there to show their respects anyway.
Angel grabbed Emma out of her car seat while I grabbed Abby. I’d barely spun around when a paparazzi shoved a camera in my face. I jolted back, shocked by the intrusion on this day, especially while I had one of my daughters in my arms.
“Fuck off with your damn camera, you filthy parasite!” Angel screeched at the guy. She didn’t get a chance to say anything more because the people around us realized what was happenin’. The crowd booed him and hustled him away from us.
Thankfully, he was the only one to be so dang disrespectful.
I walked into the funeral home chapel at Angel’s side. I’d barely taken a step inside the door before each of Phoebe’s nanas grabbed my daughters from Angel and me. Everyone had already agreed that they would look after the twins, but I hadn’t expected it to be from the moment I walked in the door. Ever since I’d climbed from the car, I’d relied on the weight of Abby to keep me grounded.
Unsure what to do with my hands now that they were free, I absentmindedly rubbed my finger over my wedding band as I glanced ’round the room.
“Are you okay?” Angel asked.
I lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. What could I say? Okay didn’t exist no more.
As I took in the finer details of the room, my already fractured heart tore in half. The first thing that drew my gaze—I was decidedly not looking toward the set-up in the center of the room—was a large display screen that had a rotating slideshow of photos.
It was clear Angel’s camera had captured so many of the images—each of those bore Angel’s personal flair. It struck me once again how special the relationship between the two of them had been. It was more than friendship that had tied them together. That bond shone through the camera in all the photos Angel had taken. There were ones from the waterfall in the hills above the Lake Retreat and ones Angel had captured on the pier back in Georgia—both on their first visit, and also when we returned for the wedding.
Beacon (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story Book 6) Page 12
