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You did.We all loved you. Some more than others. Poor Lila.
The right thing would be to tell them the truth. But when have I ever been known to do the right thing; and why would I start now? If life has taught me anything, it's that the sad saps that follow the rules get the worst deals. I’m not going to be one of them.
I can wrestle with doing the right thing later. Right now, I want to be here for Lila, for Alex, for Grace. I owe them for all of the kindness they showed me over the years.
“Whatever happens, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere,” I say, my voice steady, but soft.
“I feel like we've heard that before,” Alex says.
Lila glares at him, but I pat her shoulder. “He's right. I bolted when I should have stayed,” I say, staring Alex dead in the face. “That's on me, and I don't blame you for not trusting me.”
Lila leans into me, her body trembling as if she can’t hold back her feelings anymore. I feel her warm tears dotting the fabric of my shirt and I squeeze her gently, feeling her fear and grief, and wishing I could comfort her. The steady beeps of the heart monitor fill the silence between us, a constant reminder that Grace is still here... and that she could have slipped away.
As I hold Lila close, Grace stirs on the hospital bed. Her eyes open and blink repeatedly before focusing and Lila gasps.
“Mom!” she says, leaping forward to hug her mother. Alex moves in at the same moment and they’re a tangle of arms, whispered words of love, and tears of relief and joy.
I hang back and watch, wondering what it must be like to have such a warm, tight knit unit. Those thoughts only make me more angry with Emma and her betrayal. What if she was the one in this hospital bed? Would she still think she's making the right decision by turning her back on the people who love her?
Grace's gaze focuses on me, and her hand reaches out, weak but insistent. “Fredrick,” she whispers, a fading smile on her face. “It’s been so long.”
I reach out and take her hand as Alex and Lila give us space, then I lean close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Grace,” I say softly, gratitude surging within me. She'd always treated me like one of her own without ever asking anything in return.
“How are you holding up?”
I can't help but chuckle. “Well, of the two of us, I think I'm holding up a little bit better.” The teasing note of my voice widens her smile, and it’s as if the years slip away and we’re right back where we were before I left.
“You’re still a joker, I see.” She lets out a soft laugh with the words. But all I can see is the strength that had carried her through years of solo parenting. I admire her more than I can express. After being let down by my parents, I'd always envied her home and all the love and resilience they shared. I'd always felt like I was on the outside looking in, but now I wonder if my perspective was skewed.
Grace gives my hand a gentle squeeze as her gaze flickers toward her daughter. “Take Lila home. She needs rest.”
Lila begins to protest, but Grace raises her eyebrows in that silent gesture that’s always pushed her children to do as they’re told. And exactly how I remember, Lila’s protests die on her lips.
“I'll take her home and tuck her in.” There's no way I would go against what Grace wants, even before her heart attack.
“I'm going to stay here,” Alex says. “Maybe I'll find a nurse and tell her my leg hurts.” He says the words with a halfhearted chuckle, and Lila glares at him.
“Don't hit on all the nurses now,” she says.
But Alex shrugs.
I lead Lila out of her mother's room and through the confusing maze of hallways toward the front door. As we step outside into the early morning chill, she inhales as if it's the first time she's truly breathed since they’d brought Grace in.
She's silent on the drive back to her place, and I take the roads I still know by heart.
Her house welcomes us with the comforting scent of familiarity and memories that leap out at me from every corner. From pictures of all of us with wide, carefree smiles, to the vase we’d broken and secretly replaced before Grace found out, to the hidden space under the stairs we’d hidden out in, every nook and cranny unlocks a childhood of joy.
Lila vanishes off toward her room as I pick up a framed picture of Christmas Eve. I remember that holiday, remembering her mother's amazing roast. Of all the things Grace is good at, her cooking is one of the things that sticks in my mind the most. She had always made sure everyone had plenty to eat, and her meals were to die for. The memories are so vivid, they almost sting.
I wander around her house, realizing that it seems nothing has changed since I was here last.
When I come to Lila’s door on my stroll down memory lane, I give a quick knock and push it open. She lets out a soft noise of surprise, turning away from me as she pulls her shirt on over her breasts and down her softly rounded belly. The sight of her kicks me like a mule, and my body reacts with desire and a craving for the comfort she offers.
Her hands free her black hair from her collar as she studies me. I clear my throat, trying to bring myself back to the present.
“Jeez, give a girl some warning,” Lila teases, though her voice wavers. A smile crosses her face, even though I can tell she’s still shaken from the events of the day.
“Sorry,” I say.
