“I was actually going to take her over there to spend the day. Why don’t you and Mom relax here and I’ll call you later? I’m sure Abi will be okay with it, but I’ll ask and let you know. Sound good?”
“Sounds good.” I open the front door and hold it for Dad then close it behind myself when we’re both inside. He turns to me just before he goes right and I go left. “Sam?”
“Yeah?”
He clears his throat and glances at the ground. “I’m proud of you, son.”
I don’t know what to say to that, and it seems Dad doesn’t either. An awkward silence follows his declaration, and it’s only after I don’t respond right away that my father raises his eyes back to mine. At that point, I say sincerely, “Thanks, Dad.”
He nods and turns away. I watch him mount the steps, staring after him long after he disappears.
Eventually I make my way to the den, to where I know my daughter will be, glued to her movie, probably with my mother at her side.
When I step into the kitchen, I see that they are exactly where I expected them to be. I grin as I throw my keys onto the island, the familiar clatter causing Noelle to whirl around. A gorgeous smile splits her face. “Daddyyy!”
She leaps off the couch and runs around it to launch herself at me. I grab her and swing her through the air before bringing her in for a kiss. I know she feels ill at ease when I leave. I know she’ll have a bigger attachment to me for a while. She’s been getting teary every time I leave her sight, but she’s a strong, smart girl, like her mother, and I know she’ll come through this just fine. She’s surrounded by people who love her, and they, more than anything except time, will help her heal.
“I have a question for you, little bee.”
“What?”
“How would you feel about going to spend the day with Abi?”
Noelle’s large green eyes, so like her mother’s, round into dazzling jewels of excitement. “Today?”
“Yes, today.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Right now?”
I can’t help laughing. Her voice gets higher and higher with each question she asks. I love that she loves Abi. I love that Abi loves her. I love that they both loved Sara. I love that we all love each other.
Despite the loss of my wife, one of the best friends I’ve ever had and a woman any man would be proud to call his own, my heart is full. Beyond full. It’s whole. Sara’s suffering is over. Hopefully Abi’s will be, too.
“Well, I’m not going to take you in your pajamas, so…”
It takes about ten seconds for my meaning to sink in. Noelle starts kicking her feet to get down and the instant her toes touch the floor, she’s racing from the kitchen. Moments later, I hear the soft patter of tiny feet scrambling up the steps.
I’m still smiling when I turn to find my mother watching me over the back of the couch. “You look happy.”
I know she doesn’t mean for it to, but her words cause a stab of guilt to cut through me. “It shows, huh?”
Mom shakes her head and frowns as she wrestles to get up off the sofa. She comes around to where I’m standing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean Sara was right. She knew what was best. And this is what she wanted. For both of you.”
“Yeah,” I say unconvincingly.
“Don’t feel guilty for loving two women, Sam. You didn’t plan it this way.”
“No, I didn’t. I would’ve stayed with Sara until I died if she hadn’t gone first.”
“And you would’ve stayed with Abi until you died if she hadn’t left first.”
I nod. “Yeah. I would’ve.”
“Not many of us get a second chance, hon. I’m glad you’re smart enough and strong enough to take advantage of it.”
“I’m trying, Mom. I just don’t always know what the right thing is, ya know? I mean, I know what I feel, but… How do you ever know you’re making the right decision for your kids?”
“You don’t. You love them and try your best to make sure they know it. The rest is a crap shoot.”
I laugh and let my head fall back. I stare at the ceiling, but it’s as blank as ever. “Good to know.”
“Look at me, Samuel.” I drop my gaze back down to my mother’s. “You’re doing everything right. I promise you. You and Abi were meant to be together. And Noelle was meant to be part of that. I can feel it. Us old people have a sixth sense about stuff, don’t you know. You need to listen to me when I tell you these things.”
“I’m listening, Mom.”
“Good. You hold onto these girls and you hold on tight. Love ‘em the best you can. That will always be enough.”
She pats my cheek affectionately and then skirts around me. “Now, I’m going to help that daughter of yours get into her clothes. And you…you could use a shower, young man.”
I laugh again, sniffing my pits as she goes. I don’t stink, but I could use a shave, I think as I rub my chin.
I’m reminded of rubbing my stubble over Abi’s soft neck and, suddenly, the day holds a wealth of potential that I haven’t felt in a long, long time. This is the way it was when I was seventeen years old. It was as though every day was a gift, and every day I got to spend with Abi was an even better gift.
I spin to go back through the kitchen and follow everyone else upstairs, and my eyes fall on a family portrait of Sara with Noelle and me. I touch my fingers to her smile as I pass and, for a few seconds, I can feel her happiness. Not just on that day, but now. As if she were here. This is what she wanted for her daughter. For me, too. I’m glad for all of us that I could give it to her. And that Abi was willing to give it to both of us.
I’ve had more love in one lifetime than any man has a right to. But I’m not going to complain. I’m just going to enjoy every second of it. My mission now is to raise a healthy, joyful daughter and make Abi glad every damn day that she chose to stay. I want to show her that the consequence of choosing me is love.
And love is all that matters.
EPILOGUE
ELIZABETH NOELLE FORRESTER
14 years later
I stop and smile when I walk through the door. Camera flash coming from every direction blinds me for a second. I wait, posing for all the pictures I know are being taken.
Today was a big day. I graduated high school and this is the after-party my parents wanted to throw for me. All my friends and their parents are on the way. Daddy told them it started at 8:30 pm, but he wanted me to come straight home. I knew why.
For this.
When the spots clear from my vision, I glance around the room. I see my grandparents, all four of them, crying. I see Miss Anna, the woman who is like a fifth grandparent to me, and I see my father, never having looked so proud. As he nods and claps, I feel the warmth of his love and approval cross the room to kiss my cheek. He shows love in a manly, fatherly way, but it comes across loud and clear.
Then my eyes light on Abi, my second mother. Tears are streaming down her face, but I can’t remember her ever looking happier. Well, except the day she married Daddy. I’m pretty sure they could see that glow from outer space. Love and approval shine from her face now, too. Just like Daddy’s. Her love is a different kind, though. It’s soft and maternal, like the whisper of her voice at night when I used to have nightmares and she’d rock me until I fell back to sleep, her promises ringing in my ears. You’re safe, Noe. I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t ever let you go.
And she hasn’t.
From one of my earliest memories—Daddy taking me to her house, me running into her arms, me holding on for dear life, and her tears wetting my hair—she has loved me as well as any mother could. That’s what my birth mother wanted. That’s what Abi wanted, too.
I glance around at the easels scattered throughout the room. They mark milestones in my life—first day of school, first game I cheered at, first time I drove by myself, me in my cap and gown. But there are three easels that show days I don’t remember as c
learly. Me kissing my mother’s cheek, me curled up at my mother’s side, and me in Abi’s arms as she cried at my mother’s grave. I don’t remember that, but Daddy told me about it. Since Abi missed the funeral, she wanted to go pay her respects to my mom. She wanted all of us to go, however, so my mother would know that she kept her promise and that we were all going to be okay.
She and Daddy go several times a year to put flowers on her grave, and they always include pictures of her when there’s a big special event in my life. It’s almost like having three parents.
Almost.
I think of the letter my mother left me, and all the ones Abi has written me over the years. She never let me forget my mom, and she never let me forget that, while I was born to another woman, she chose me. I don’t think a day has gone by that she hasn’t proven that. I didn’t always appreciate it, but now that I’m older, I understand it a little better. Yes, it was hard losing my mother. Yes, it left a scar in my heart, and in Daddy’s, but my mom knew what we’d need to ease that pain. She knew we needed Abi.
All in all, I’m grateful. I’ve had a wonderful life so far, and I know the best is yet to come. I wish I’d known my mother longer, wish I’d had more time with her, but she did the best thing she could for me: She introduced me to the only woman who could love me just as much. And hopefully I’ll have Abi around for a long, long time.
Dragging Daddy and me into her illness was something Abi worried about, but a year or so after my mom died, she had surgery and they implanted a spinal stimulator to help with the CRPS. It didn’t heal her condition, but it made a huge difference in it. Now, as long as she takes good care of herself, it will be enough to keep her healthy for a lot of years to come.
Daddy is the first to walk over to me. He takes me in his arms and squeezes me in a bear hug. “I’m so proud of you, little bee.”
“Daddyyyy,” I half complain, still smiling. I think he’ll call me that when I’m sixty.
When he lets me go, there is Abi, eyes shining, waiting her turn. She steps toward me, cups my face in her hands, and looks at me long and hard before she leans in to whisper, “I’ll never let you go.”
I laugh when she wraps me in her arms. “You might have to. I’m going to college in a couple months, you know.”
“Can you take us with you?”
“You two aren’t the uncoolest parents, but I think you might cramp my style a little.”
She draws away, her gaze wide and excited. “Did you just almost call us cool parents?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help laughing. “You’re such a nerd.”
“But you love me, nerd and all, right?”
“Yeah, I love you.”
I can tell my words, more than just teasing, please her. “You saved me, you know that, right? You and your dad.”
“I know. You saved us, too.”
“I love you, baby girl.”
“Love you, too, Abs.”
And she does. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t felt it, and that I haven’t, in my own way, thanked my mother and God for sending her to me. And for sending us to her.
We saved each other.
And my mother saved us all.
The End
Unfortunately, CRPS, or complex regional pain syndrome, is very real. It’s characterized by unrelenting pain in a body part, usually a limb. It’s progressive and it can spread to other body parts, and it can ruin or even claim a life that was previously healthy and vital. It’s very unpredictable and often crippling. I know two people afflicted with this horrible disease. One is functioning on the lower end of the pain spectrum, more like Abi. The other, however…her life has been forever altered in unimaginable ways, ways that would bring most people to their knees. Still, she maintains the most amazing attitude. She laughs, she jokes, she does everything she can to cling to hope and light. I admire her so much and I wish the world could see how brave she is. How she suffers in silence so as not to burden those around her. People who live with this disease are unsung heroes of character and I lift my prayers for you all.
For more information on CRPS, you can begin to understand it by clicking here.
About Michelle Leighton
With sales nearing the two million mark, New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and internationally bestselling author M. Leighton is now turning her pen toward another side of relationships with her work as Michelle Leighton. From her upcoming emotionally charged story, The Dandelion, to her domestic noir entitled Strings, Michelle’s stories are sure to bring all the depth you’ve come to expect from M. Leighton with a new edge that will have you quickly turning page after page.
Connect with Michelle online to learn more about her upcoming titles
https://www.facebook.com/MichelleLeightonAuthor/
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
About Michelle Leighton
Michelle Leighton, The Dandelion
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