I bend to set Noelle on her feet. “I have a bad leg. How about I go down the steps first and you keep an eye on me? Make sure I don’t fall and break your house.” I say the last with a wink and a grin, to which she responds with a giggle.
“If you do, we’ll tell Daddy there was loud thunder and it breaked the house.”
I nod conspiratorially, fully enjoying her imagination. “Sounds good. Now, let’s get you fed.”
I take her by the hand and we descend the staircase, Noelle one step behind me where I know she’s safe. In the kitchen, she tries to weasel as much leeway out of her breakfast privilege as she can. She points to everything from chocolate chip cookies to miniature Kit Kats, from Skittles to cheese puffs. I wrinkle my nose over the cheese puffs.
“For breakfast? You’d be orange all day. I can’t let you be orange all day. Your daddy would kill me.”
She titters adorably and finally points to the cereal. “That?”
“Good choice. I think that’s a little more reasonable, don’t you?”
She nods enthusiastically, blond curls dancing around her head as she does. As I go for the milk, she rounds the island and scurries up onto the first bar stool, coming to her knees and leaning way over onto the granite to watch me.
“Know what my momma used to tell me when I was your age?” Without even thinking, I reach into the cabinet for a bowl and fill it with cereal.
“What?”
“‘Butt in the chair, missy. Butt in the chair.’”
Noelle frowns. “Why did she call you Missy?”
“It’s like how you call me ‘Miss Abi’, only she called me missy. Like ‘little missy’.”
“Can I call you missy?”
“I like Abi better. Don’t you?”
Again, she nods, her smile never fading. “I like Abi, too.”
“Did you know it means ‘joy’?”
“What does joy mean?”
“It means happy.”
“Your name means happy?”
“It does. I bet your name means something, too. I’ll look it up while you eat your breakfast. Deal?”
More nodding as she leans back to make way for her bowl. I hold it aloft for a few seconds, repeating, “Butt in the chair, missy.”
She sits correctly in her seat and digs into her cereal the minute I set it down. I take out my phone and open the browser so I can type in Noelle.
I gasp and Noelle looks at me with wide eyes. “Guess what your name means?”
“What? Tell me, tell me.”
“It means ‘Christmas’.”
She gasps, too, half chewed cereal visible in her mouth. “My name means Christmas?”
“Yes.”
Her expression puckers into one of confusion. “Why would Daddy name me Christmas?”
“I bet your mommy and daddy were so happy when they saw you that they felt like it was Christmas. You know how excited you get at Christmas?”
At that her enthusiasm returns. “I love Christmas!”
“I bet your parents love you even more than Christmas.”
Noelle is quiet for a few seconds as she chews, then she gives me a disbelieving smirk. “Nobody can love me more than Christmas.”
“Your mom and dad can. Mommas and daddies love their babies more than ten Christmases.”
“Do you love your babies more than Christmas?”
Reflexively, my throat constricts. “I did, but my baby is…she’s gone.”
Noelle, mature far beyond her years, slides green orbs full of sympathy up to me. “She’s gone?”
“Yes.”
“Where did she go?”
“To heaven.” The words are low and hoarse and thick as tar.
“Heaven is where good boys and girls go.”
“Yes, it is. And she was a good girl. If I’m a good girl, I’ll get to see her again one day.”
“But you won’t see her for a while?”
“No. Not for a while.”
“Will you be sad?”
“Yes, I’ll be sad. I miss her.”
Noelle taps the back of her spoon on the surface of the milk in her bowl, staring down into it as though it contains something much more interesting than food. “My mommy will go to heaven, won’t she?”
My heart! “Yes. She absolutely will.”
“And I’ll get to see her again, too, won’t I?”
She doesn’t look up as she asks these questions, just stares down into her reflection in the bowl.
“Yes.”
“But not for a while.”
“No.”
She doesn’t say anything else for a full minute, and I hold my tongue, giving her time to work through her thoughts. Finally, she glances over at me again. “She can’t watch movies with me from heaven, can she?”
“No, but you can tell her all about them when you see her again.”
“Can she see me from heaven?”
I tell her what probably every parent, guardian, friend, or counselor tells a child in this situation. “Yes, she can see you. She will always be watching out for you.”
“But I won’t be able to see her?”
“Not with these eyes,” I tell her, reaching over to brush my finger over the corner of one eye. “But you’ll be able to see her with these.” I press my palm to her chest, much like my mother did to mine the last time I saw her, and much like she did when my father died. I hear myself repeating the words she said to me all those years ago. “Part of her lives in here and if you close your eyes, you will always be able to see her. You can see her smile and hear her laugh, and she will tell you how much she loves you. She will never leave you in here.”
Noelle puts her hand over mine and we sit like that for several seconds, until the bleep of my phone interrupts us.
Sam: Can you bring Noelle to the hospital?
Me: Of course. Let me get her ready.
Sam: You can get the car seat out of Sara’s car. It’s in the garage.
Me: Okay.
Sam: Text when you get here.
Me: Okay.
Sam: Thank you.
Me: You’re welcome.
I want to ask questions. I have so many. But I don’t. Sam would’ve told me if there was something he wanted me to know. Maybe he just plans to explain at the hospital.
“How about we go see your mom and dad after you eat?”
“But what about Dory?”
“We can watch her when we get back. Maybe we can even bring back some ice cream.”
I’ve always believed that to be the universal bribe. What kid doesn’t like ice cream?
“Ice creammmm,” she yells, pumping her bent free arm excitedly like she’s doing the Funky Chicken.
“Finish your breakfast and then we’ll go pick out something pretty to wear.”
“Something blue, like my dolly’s dress?”
“We’ll see what we can find.”
Satisfied with that, she turns her attention back to her cereal, eating most of what I poured for her. The moment she’s done, she shimmies down off the stool and takes off toward the stairs, sparing a quick command back in my direction. “Come on.”
Thirty minutes later, I’ve got Noelle’s hand and we are making our way to the elevators in the hospital. I texted from the parking lot and Sam said to come to the fourth floor and he’d meet us in the common area. Before I can punch the button, Noelle does so, and when the doors open, she practically pulls me inside, asking to which floor we’re going. I tell her the fourth and she reaches up and unerringly presses the button with the big number four on it.
I can’t help smiling. She’s a very smart little girl.
A few seconds later, the doors swoosh open again and the first thing I see is Sam. He looks battle worn and exhausted from whatever has happened in the last few hours.
Concern for him courses through me.
“There’s my little bee,” he says, bending to swing Noelle into his arms. He kisses her cheek and crushes her to him like he n
ever wants to let her go. I’m sure her presence brings him more comfort than I could ever imagine. “I missed you this morning.”
“Miss Abi made me cereal and told me my name means ‘Christmas’.”
“She did?” His smile almost reaches his eyes. Almost.
“Uh-huh. And she let me wear a blue dress.”
“I see that. You look very pretty.”
“Thank you.” She’s so prim and gracious and mature when she says it, I can’t help smiling.
“You’re welcome.”
Sam sends a tired wink at me from over the top of her head.
“Is that her?” The loud voice echoes in the otherwise empty common area, drawing all gazes in the direction of a short older woman standing at the mouth of the hallway, staring at us. “Is that the other woman?”
She’s looking accusingly at Sam. But she’s pointing at me.
Sam’s voice is strained when he answers. “Jeannine, this isn’t the—”
“It is, isn’t it? This is the woman you’ve moved in to replace my daughter before she’s even gone. What kind of common tramp would even consider such a thing?” Her tone drips with venom and I’m taken aback. She adds maliciously, “Not that you deserve any better. You were never good enough for my daughter.”
Sam hands his daughter back to me. His jaw is clenched tight as he bites out his response. “Abi is a friend of mine and a friend of Sara’s. Now, if you’d like to see your granddaughter, I suggest you drop this right now or Abi will be taking her back to the house.”
The woman’s face turns even redder, which I wouldn’t have believed possible a minute ago. It’s almost purple in her rage. But, wisely, she says nothing. She keeps her mouth clamped in a thin, straight, shut line. However, the tall, steely-haired man at her side, who has until now remained silent, speaks up.
“It won’t be mentioned again, Sam. I promise.” The man casts a warning glare down at the woman. I can only assume she is his wife, and that they are Sara’s parents. I can see the fiery darts of fury her eyes are throwing at him, but he ignores them and looks to me instead. “Please forgive my wife… Abi, did you say? She’s upset. It’s been a difficult morning.”
“No need to apologize. I’m sorry if my presence has caused trouble. I didn’t…”
I trail off. I don’t want to open up this awful can of worms again. It’s clear that they’re upset with me as the other woman, even though Sara is the one who set up the whole thing. I would’ve thought she’d tell her parents her wishes and that they’d go along with them, but apparently it didn’t happen that way.
No one says anything for a few seconds, and then the woman turns her attention to Noelle. “Good morning, precious,” she croons, starting forward. Noelle leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. “Come give Mimi some sugar.”
She opens her arms, motioning to Noelle with a bend of her manicured fingers. When Noelle doesn’t budge, the woman, Jeannine, shifts her sharp blue stare to me. If she could hurt me, if she could cut me through and through with nothing more than a look, my intestines would be strewn across the polished tile floor. She would eviscerate me right here on the spot.
“Noelle, why don’t you let Mimi take you down to the cafeteria? I bet she’d buy you a Kit Kat.”
Instantly, Noelle leans toward her grandmother. They’re both all smiles as Jeannine takes her and pushes past me to hit the button for the elevator. After several tense seconds, the doors open and she steps inside. Before they close again, Sara’s mother looks at me, murder in her eyes, and hisses, “I hope I never see you again.”
As though choreographed for maximum effect, the doors close at that precise moment, punctuating her declaration like a flaming exclamation point. Stunned silence is left in the wake of her hatred.
Before either Sam or his father-in-law can fumble through another humiliating apology, I adjust my purse strap on my shoulder and, without explanation, head for the glowing red exit sign that indicates the stairwell. I’m through the door and down one flight of steps before I hear someone trailing me.
It’s Sam. I know it is. But I don’t want to talk to him right now. I just want to run.
I need to run.
“Abi, wait.” His plea bounces off the walls, the rich baritone thundering around me.
I move faster.
“Abi, please.”
I reach the landing on the last flight before he catches me. He doesn’t ask me to stop again. He doesn’t say anything, in fact. He simply takes me by the arms and stops me. When he spins me around to face him, I look away. Facing him is something I can’t bring myself to do right now.
I look left.
He leans left.
I look right.
He leans right.
I look down at my feet.
He bends to try to see my eyes. When he can’t, he grabs my chin and forcibly raises my gaze to his. That’s when I lose it.
I hold my breath, the air in my chest like Napalm, burning, burning, burning its way through my ribs. I squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t have to look at him, and so he can’t see me, see what I’m thinking, see what I’m feeling. See how I’m hurting.
“I’m so sorry, Abi. Jesus, I would never have asked you to bring Noelle if I thought she’d do that.”
“Did you know she objected to what Sara wanted?”
He hesitates, which tells me all I need to know.
“Sam, how could you do that to her, today of all days?”
“I didn’t do anything to her. I met you at the elevator. She wasn’t even supposed to see you.”
“Did you think she’d assume that Noelle flew here on a broomstick all by her lonesome?”
“No, of course not. I just didn’t think…”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Abi, I’m sorry. I swear to God I would never hurt you on purpose.”
I open my eyes. The regret is there, gleaming in his, and it provides a much-needed slap to my perspective. Sam’s wife is in the hospital. Unresponsive. He wanted his mother-in-law to see her grandchild, to draw some comfort from her and probably give comfort to Noelle as well. He wasn’t thinking clearly, and that’s totally understandable. How selfish of me to expect him to be clear-headed on a day like today.
I exhale and let my eyes drift shut again, this time in remorse. “No, I’m sorry, Sam. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I…I had no reason to lash out at you. I just…God, I’m sorry. She just took me by surprise.”
When I crack my lids, Sam is watching me, his expression still troubled. “Tell me you believe that I would never do something like that on purpose. Or even allow something like that. Tell me you know me better than that.”
“I do, Sam. I do. I shouldn’t have even insinuated otherwise. This is a tough day. I should’ve been more understanding. I’m the one in the wrong.”
“No, you didn’t deserve this, Abi.”
“Maybe I did. This isn’t exactly a sane situation, Sam.”
“No, it’s not, but we’re all doing the best we can.”
“I know. Don’t worry about me. Really. I’m fine. Go spend some time with your family. I need to go home and shower anyway.” I add a smile to put his mind at ease, but I can tell it doesn’t work.
“I’d be lost without you right now, you know that, don’t you?”
My smile turns wry. “No, you’d be fine, Sam. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. You’ve been holding everything together by yourself all this time. You’d be fine with or without me.”
His brows draw together into a frown. “I hate that you think so.”
“I don’t think so. I know so.”
“Abi, I—”
I feel tears threaten, so I cut him off with as bright a smile as I can manage. “Enough of this. I’ve got to shower and you need to get back upstairs. Call if you need me, okay?”
I pull away and start down the last set of steps, the door to freedom already visible to my searching eyes. From behind me, I hea
r soft words that are every bit as piercing and do every bit as much damage as the hateful ones spoken to me only moments ago.
“I’ve always needed you, Abi. I never stopped.”
My feet falter for a fraction of a second, but I don’t stop. I don’t stop and I don’t look back. Something tells me that if I do, I’ll be lost.
CHAPTER 26
ABI
Deeper
Hours and hours pass. I’m showered and dressed, and I’m waiting.
I feel like I’m in limbo. Sam might need me to help with Noelle or something, so I can’t really do anything or go anywhere else. All I can do is await his call or text. Unfortunately, that gives me nothing but empty minutes to fill. As usual, I fill them with thought.
I can’t get Sara’s mother, Jeannine’s words out of my head. The words themselves, but also the way in which they were delivered. There was pure disgust on her face, pure derision in her eyes. She genuinely feels that I’m some kind of common floozy who’s dabbling with a married man right under his dying wife’s nose. But the worst part of it—the absolute worst part of the whole thing—is that I sort of feel like that. Despite Sara’s reassurances, despite the innocence of my interactions with Sam, despite my true desire to help them all, I still can’t really feel good about what I’m doing. Likely because I’m still in love with Sam. Being around him feels too good to be altruistic.
It might be different if I only saw him as a friend in need. But I don’t. I probably did that very first day when I saw him at the grocery store. At that point, I was just pleased to see him again. But the longer I’m around him, the more time that passes, the deeper my feelings become. It doesn’t help that I never really got over him to begin with. But seeing him now…seeing the kind of man he’s become, the kind of husband and father…it has only served to strengthen my love and admiration for him.
But he is married. And even though he will soon be a widow, he will have a lot to deal with. On top of that, I have my own issues and my own plans.
With a growl of frustration, I turn from the kitchen window I was staring out of and run through the house and out the door. Even now, the urge to run is so strong I can almost taste it. I know this is going nowhere good. It can’t possibly. And yet, I can’t seem to bring myself to walk away. I find that I’m making excuses for the way I feel and for enjoying spending time with him even though it’s basically because his wife is dying.