"How are you holding up, honey?" Dottie handed me a cup of coffee and took a seat next to me on the deck. Staring out at the horizon, I watched the sky color itself in a rainbow of oranges and pinks. Life in Geneva Key was different than Chicago, not better or worse. "Some days are better than others." My gaze shifted from the artwork on the horizon to the woman I'd known and loved my entire life. "It scares me to think I'm going to lose her, and that if I don't remember her, there won't be anyone around to share with the world how amazing she was." Dottie patted my leg just like my mother would have done, and I wondered if she'd picked up the habit watching her over the years, or if she'd always been nurturing. "I think she'll always be in your heart. And as long as she's there, her memory will survive. Your mother has touched the lives of more people than you could ever imagine." "My entire life, I knew this day would come. She never hid from me what the disease would
Carp looked different in the warmth of the mid-day sun than he had at night, and even more so without the stress that had marred his features at his parents' house. The tension that pinched his brow was gone, and the cargo shorts and Tar Heels shirt suited him better than the slacks and tie."Hey." He met me at the door with a smile."Hey, yourself." I doubted I'd ever even talk to this man again, yet for the next hour, I got to pretend like things were normal and enjoy a meal and conversation. If that meant hiding from the weight of reality, then so be it."Have you ever eaten here?" Carp's enthusiasm was endearing. His attention shifted briefly to the hostess. "Hey, Nina. Two please." "No, but it seems you have." "They have the best shepherd's pie in the country, and I think I've tried them all. Well, maybe not all but enough to confirm that this is top notch."We followed Nina to a booth in the back. The tiny restaurant felt more like a pub, except where the lights are dimmed in a
Cora called Sunday night to see how things had gone at my dad's party. It was nice to hear her voice, even if the conversations were surface level and came at two in the morning—time zones were a killer, but I didn't give a shit. I'd make it work to hear her sing in my ear every time she said "hello." We never discussed anything of importance, yet somehow, the familiarity seemed to spark what both of us had missed in our relationship the last year before she'd left. I'd set aside my hope for salvaging the us part of the equation—temporarily—in favor of rebuilding the friendship. Neither of us had said those three magic words, or even mentioned the possibility of getting back together. However, every time we hung up the phone, we told the other we missed them. It had taken the place of the intimacy while confirming the tie. "I'm sorry I haven't checked on you before now." Her apology seemed forced or maybe uncertain, or it could be the fog of sleep still hovering in my mind.
My father slid a stack of folders across his ornate desk two days later. The birthday festivities had kept him occupied until the last guest left on Sunday. And then the following morning, he was business as usual. "What's this?" I'd never worked with my dad or participated in any of his financial endeavors. I was well aware of what he did for a living and could have used his contacts to build our business, but I had refused to ask, and he'd never offered. Until now. "I'm letting go of most of our smaller clients to focus on larger accounts. As I move toward retirement, the board decided to shift gears for the company as a whole. These are all people I've done business with for years that I don't want to give over to anyone I don't trust." "You're referring business to me?" I couldn't hide the doubt in my voice. My father didn't give anyone anything. It all came with a price tag that I couldn't afford. "I've followed your firm from the sidelines since you bought the
"James, I swear, dating men in Paris is like dating hell in the United States. For a city that's filled with love, these guys have no idea how to treat a lady." I abhorred hearing her talk about other men, although I secretly smiled each time she told me about a date gone wrong. None of them had been horrible; they just weren't me. Cora had yet to figure that part out; she assumed it was the men, when in fact, most women would have swooned at the accent alone. "They dress like pop stars, James. A guy shouldn't look better in skinny jeans than his date. And they pair them with fitted shirts. It's like boy band gone wrong." I couldn't help but laugh. "Cora, not every guy in France dresses like Justin Bieber." "The ones I've met do." "Maybe it's the industry you're meeting them in. Aren't they all rather artistic in some form or fashion?" "No." The humor danced in her voice. "What gave you that idea?" "I just figured engineers were artsy." I shrugged as
I tried calling Chelsea on my way home from Florida, but it had gone straight to voicemail. I hadn't heard from her since we had lunch, and while we both agreed there was no possibility of a relationship, she seemed like she needed a friend. The last two days I was in town had been filled with my dad and conference calls with the clients he turned over to our firm. I'd crashed after dinner both nights and left early Wednesday morning to make the trip back to New York. I didn't want her to think I'd used her. I enjoyed talking to her and felt like we could both benefit from having the other to confide in. Cora was at work, but I sent her a text telling her I was in the car if she got a chance to talk. The silence that came with the open road never bothered me, although now, for whatever reason, it ate at me with each minute that ticked by. I'd stopped several times for gas and snacks, then again to piss—anything to break up the monotony. By the time Cora's name finally lit up
I kissed her cheek and told her how much I loved her before I left. Each visit became progressively harder; she'd lost weight living on a liquid diet, and her eyes were tired—not sleepy, but weary. I felt like I should offer her permission to let go; however, selfishly, I wasn't there yet. I wanted to hold on for another day, another week, another year. There would never come a point where I could open the gate to eternity for her. I'd always need her, and not even Dottie could take her place. Dottie waited for me to say goodbye just outside the room. It had become our routine. She always gave me time alone with my mom. She did it in case it was the last time I got to see her. And while I refused to believe the door closing behind me could take my mother with it, I appreciated her consideration all the same. I hadn't let my mom see me cry—she couldn't console me, so the tears seemed selfish. But as I left today, Dottie took me in her arms and kissed my temple. I didn't have t
I'd seen the missed call and listened to the voicemail from Carp the night I came back from seeing my mom. However, after the vase and picture frame incident, Dottie had spent an hour picking glass out of my palm because I was unable to keep the tweezers steady. My nerves were shot, and I was exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and chase the day away with sleep. Then I'd worked three days in a row for the catering company doing different gigs and hadn't gotten around to it. We'd texted a few times, but Carp had been busy with work since he'd gotten back to New York and a phone call just hadn't happened. Still, I'd thought of him and wondered how things fared with his plight to win Cora back. The phone rang three times, and just when I expected the voicemail to pick up, he answered, clearly winded. "Hello?" "Hey, Carp." I tried to keep my voice sounding optimistic. It took effort not to let the circumstances with my mom take over. "Hey, Chelsea. I
I missed my mama every day. She told me she'd have to go to heaven first, but I hadn't really believed her. Or maybe I didn't understand what that meant. Everything she told me had been true. My daddy came to take his turn when hers was over, and he brought Cora. My mama hadn't been able to tell me much about her except that she would love me. And she'd been right. Daddy and I played when he'd get home from work, but Cora was my best friend. We made scrapbooks together and told stories about our mamas, and when I wanted to cry, she didn't treat me like a baby. She held me, and she cried, too. I knew she was sad here, even if she never told me, so I took her out every day looking for a friend—not for me, for Cora. And every time I saw a shooting star, I gave Cora my wish. When I started school, I met lots of kids. My teacher said they were friends—but I didn't think if someone bit you or hit someone else that made them a friend. I thought it made them mean. Maybe Cora should t
Chapter 71: Cora"So when do we get to meet the little urchin?" Neil was excited to meet his best friend's son. "Cora's grandmother is bringing him home around lunch." "How's that going, Cora?" The concern on Neil's face was endearing. "Really well. It's not going to fix itself overnight, even so, I think we're both trying. And that's about all we can do right now. Legend makes it a lot easier." "Does anyone have any idea why his mom gave him such an…odd name?" Hannah had chosen her words carefully as not to offend James, but he'd wondered the same thing. "We haven't asked." I wanted to. However, with everything else going on, it seemed to be at the bottom of the list of things to question. Before the conversation of namesakes could continue, the front door flew open as the doorbell rang. Gwendolyn tried to respect the Carpenters, while Legend had already made himself at home. "Daddy, look what Dottie got me." He flew through the foyer and into the b
Having joint custody of a young child was exhausting. We weren't obligated by court order to give Gwendolyn any time, but Legend loved her, and it gave me an excuse to spend time with her out of perceived obligation. I didn't have to admit I was anxious to get to know her or that I had questions. I didn't have to tell her I'd done nothing besides think about all the ways I'd missed out over the years. I got to use Legend as an excuse to have lunch with her during an exchange or walk on the beach while he played in the waves, or sit on a park bench when he climbed on a jungle gym like a monkey. And each opportunity opened the door to a relationship I'd never imagined I'd have, much less crave. Day by day, I realized what I would have missed out on had I not given her the chance. And I tried not to dwell on all I'd lost in favor of all I had to gain. "I'm going to miss you tonight, buddy." Legend was tall and lanky, much like the pictures I'd seen of James at his age, and he gave th
"So your father was Chelsea's dad, but she never met him, which makes you Legend's aunt and stepmother? And Gwendolyn, or Dottie, is not only your grandmother; she's my son's great-grandmother? For a Chase, that sounds awfully reprehensible and totally preposterous—not to mention, a tad trashy." I couldn't tell if he didn't buy it or he was so dumbfounded that reality hadn't quite hit him. So I stood there with my arms crossed over my chest, my hip cocked to the side against the dresser, and a death glare on my face while I blinked slowly in his direction. He continued to move about our room getting ready for bed, and still, I said nothing—waiting for it to register. When he finally stopped, presumably because I hadn't made a peep, I pursed my lips and raised my brow, daring him to make another joke. "Baby, what do you want me to say?" He patted the mattress next to him, but I remained firmly planted. "I can't begin to wrap my mind around any of the twisted pieces in the puzz
I wandered aimlessly across the island. Although, the years of blame and weeks of turmoil with Gwendolyn at the forefront subsided. Eventually, I had to end up back at the Carpenters', nevertheless my mind was a disaster. The farther I walked, the more muddled I became. I'd cried more in the last two hours than I could remember in the last two years. Tears didn't bring clarity, only a headache. I couldn't imagine how I'd tell James that Legend had a fifty percent chance of having Huntingtons, much less suggest having him tested. Moreover, I couldn't figure out why we would want a death sentence for a child we'd just met. If there wasn't a cure, then why live with that looming overhead. It made no sense to me, but it wasn't my choice to make. Legend wasn't my son—not biologically anyway. James and Gwendolyn would need to be the ones to make that decision. I didn't envy either in that choice and wished I could fix it with a hug, since that was about all I had to offer. When th
"Was she sick when she got pregnant?" "Yes. Although, I doubt James even realized it. She had tremors in her hands, and at that point, she wasn't comfortable driving because every once in a while, she'd get turned around. However, most of her symptoms were easily masked as fatigue or clumsiness. And she wasn't around James much before he left town. The disease didn't progress drastically until Legend was about three." "How could she have ever thought she could raise a child alone?" The part of me that had been grateful to Chelsea for the gift she'd given us had turned to rage. "I can't imagine being so selfish knowing she was going to die and that child would have no one." "He had me. The same way she always had. And in her eyes, that was a great life." "Explain that to me. How did my dad go from knocking up her mom to you being the grandmother to her that you never were to me?" "Would you like some more coffee, dear?" I could tell that was her way of try
I made it to the end of the driveway before curiosity got the better of me. I shouldn't care what she'd meant by so did they, yet each step I took got harder as the sentiment echoed in my mind. I stopped and stared at the sky, cursing God for giving me a heart that made me unable to let those three words go. "Ugh," I groaned to no one. Nothing she could say would change anything. Still, for some reason, I couldn't walk away. It was like not picking up the next book after a major cliffhanger. I had to have the truth, even if the ending sucked. My shoulders dropped in defeat, and I pivoted on the ball of my foot to head back to my grandmother's porch. Each time I lifted my foot, taking me closer to her front door, I cringed inside. "Get the information. In and out. You don't have to make friends with her or even peace. Just find out her side and go." Talking to myself in my head was one thing; doing it out loud took my irritation to a whole new level. I sounded like an i
When the door finally cracked open, I was met by a face I wanted to love but couldn't figure out how. "I had hoped you'd come by at some point. Please, come in." She ushered me through and straight into her home. "Is everything all right with Legend?" Gwendolyn asked as she pointed me toward the couch. "Oh yeah, he's fine. He and James went to the park." "Would you like some coffee?" Coffee indicated I'd be here a while. It would also give me something to do besides fidget with my hands and pick at my fingers. "That would be nice, thank you." She made her way to the kitchen, leaving me on the couch. "Your father was a big coffee drinker, although, I don't recall your mother ever liking it much." I smiled at the memory. My love of the drink had indeed come from my dad. "She didn't care for it, but I used to steal sips of his when he wasn't looking." It had slipped out before I realized I was being civil. "Are you hungry? I have some muffins." "N
"How are things going?" I hadn't had much time to talk to Hannah since we'd left New York, and I missed my best friend. "Status quo. The real question is how are you holding up?" The concern was evident in Hannah's tone. "Honestly, I'm struggling, but not with what you'd expect." "Oh yeah? Insta-mom has been a walk in the park?" She giggled. "Hannah, he's awesome. You're going to love him. He looks nothing like James, but it's uncanny how similar the two are. I'm completely gone for him." "Then what's the problem, are you jealous?" "Of what?" I'd just told her how much I adored Legend. There was no reason to think I'd be jealous of his relationship with his dad. "The other woman," she whispered as if Chelsea were a secret. "You are aware she passed away, right?" "Yeah, but she still had your husband's child. And I remember how you felt about her when you were in France. This has to be like a giant slap in the face—her parting gift to you."