The Love Series Complete Box Set (127 page)

Chapter Six

December 3, 1995

It’s been two months.

I’ve spent the last sixty-three days, eleven hours and twenty-seven minutes without Jimmy.

But I also started a different count.

It’s been seven weeks—forty-nine days, six hours and four minutes—since Melanie was born.

I still sleep on his pillow, hugging his shirt. It’s starting to smell less like him and more like Melanie. There’s still some cologne left in the bottle on his side of the bathroom counter. It has its own gravitational pull, beckoning me to pick it up and inhale the woodsy, clean fragrance every time I walk past it.

I think Melanie is getting used to the scent as well, falling asleep easier when something of her dad’s is next to her.

Melanie’s still asleep and like usual, I fought sleep all night long. Waking in the pre-dawn hours of uneasy solitude, I find myself talking to Jimmy, gazing out at the fading stars.

“Your parents moved down to Florida just last weekend. It was too painful for them up here. Even though they said it was about the cold weather, I saw the anguish in your mother’s eyes when she held Melanie. She looks just like you, Jimmy.” I ghost my fingers over the framed wedding picture on my nightstand. Tracing the lines of his face, I’m already starting to forget the scratchiness of his day-old stubble. “I made Linda move out too. I know, I know. You’re probably thinking that I’m being my usual crazy, stubborn self, but I just had enough of her waiting around for me to break.”

The real reason was because she was pushing me—too hard, too fast—to do things that I just wasn’t ready for at the time. Clean out his closet, donate his clothes, pack up the only remnants I have of my husband—things I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do.

The sun pops up over the horizon, spilling out across the sky, the colors of candied oranges. Melanie wiggles restlessly in her bassinet. Laying my hand across her back calms her. I tuck her back in and decide that I should shower now, while she’s still asleep before the day gets away from me.

Glancing out the window one more time, I catch the sun billow up into the aqua-colored sky. “I’ll talk to you again later, Jimmy. Love you, babe.”

Inwardly, I laugh a little at my coping mechanism. Sure, some might say it’s a bit off kilter, a bit crazy, but it’s helping.

As the steam from the hot spray fills the room, I test the water and slide the glass door closed. Jimmy’s stuff is still in here too—his shampoo and shave gel. I haven’t been able to bring myself to throw anything of his out. Like his cologne, I am drawn to the clean, masculine scent of his soap, unable to resist bringing the bar up to my nose every time I shower.

Rubbing it in my hands as I build it into a lather, I wonder how long this bar will last before I open up a new one. How long will the package under the sink last until I add it to the shopping list—buying soap for the husband I no longer have.

Shaking away my depressing thoughts, I finish in the shower and get ready to face my day with Melanie.

Just because I kicked her out, doesn’t mean Linda actually stayed away. She just doesn’t sleep here now. I guess I should have known better.

But when I hear her car pull up into the driveway and her key twist in the lock, my heart lightens a little knowing I won’t be completely alone today.

“Hey, I brought bagels and coffee,” she calls out as she closes the front door behind her. When she walks into view, I press a finger up against my lips and point up over to the bassinet in the living room where Melanie is napping after her morning bottle.

We open our bagels and sip our coffee in somewhat stilted silence. It’s been like this since I came home from the hospital—awkward, strange, like I’m waiting for something to happen, waiting for someone to tell me that I should do something,
anything.

“So what’s on the agenda for the day?” Lin’s got some serious mind-reading skills.

I sigh and lean back in my chair. “I don’t know. I mean what am I supposed to do?” I know what she’s getting at. She thinks I should be cleaning out Jimmy’s things.

She scans the clean, almost sterile living room. “Wanna get a Christmas tree and do some decorating?” The words
“it might help lift your spirits”
are on the tip of her tongue and I love her for taking a sip of her coffee instead.

Ironically, even with all my day counting, I didn’t piece together it was time to decorate for Christmas. I also didn’t realize until just now that this is Melanie’s first Christmas. So, as much as I may have been ready to throw the holiday to the side and continue to mourn, the sense of obligation to give my daughter the Christmas she deserves weighs heavily in my heart. Of course, she won’t remember anything, but I don’t ever want her to be short-changed because of Jimmy’s death.

I surprise the crap out of Linda when I agree to her plan. I know it won’t change my mood all too much, but it’ll get me out of the house. It’ll give me a reason to do more with my day than just cry and take care of Melanie.

We time our trip to the store around Melanie’s feedings, leaving right after giving her a bottle and coming home just in time to hear her cries of hunger once again.

“You take her and I’ll bring in the rest of the stuff.” Linda drops a handful of shopping bags, filled to the brim with ornaments and tinsel, before returning to the car for more.

After warming her bottle and sitting on the couch, I stare vacantly at the lifeless living room sprawling out before me. “Your daddy loved Christmas, you know?” Of course, Melanie doesn’t answer. She just slurps away at her bottle, fingers curling tightly around mine.

“Oh, he did. He would already have this place decked out and lit up, having everything just so, perfect, like he was.” I nod down at Melanie as if she actually understands what I’m saying.

Linda’s hand falling to my shoulder from behind the couch startles me from the conversation with my daughter. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she says as she slides next to me on the sofa. “I didn’t mean to make this a sad day. I just . . . I wanted to give us something to do, something to distract us
from
Jimmy not being here, not make you think about what it was like when he was here.”

“I know you didn’t, Lin. But there’s no avoiding it.
Everything
reminds me of him, so there’s no way around it.” We exchange a sad look; her eyes are filled with sympathy.

Hoisting Melanie up on my shoulder, I pat her back a few times. After she burps, I hand her over to Linda. “I might not know how to move on just yet. Hell, I may never know how to move on, but I can’t let it hold me back. I have to be there for her.” I brush my knuckles over Melanie’s baby-soft cheek. “Just because I’m no longer a wife, doesn’t mean I can stop being a mother.”

“I wish you could still be both,” she adds with so much sadness that it squeezes at my heart.

“Me too, Lin. Me too, but this is just how it is.” Though there’s a hint of confidence in my words, they’re really just as fragile as my soul.

I take Melanie from Linda, wrapping her in a blanket and tucking her in for a nap. Thinking about how excited Jimmy would be to decorate for Melanie’s first Christmas reenergizes me somewhat. I pop in a holiday music CD, keeping the volume low enough so it doesn’t wake Melanie and ask Linda if she wants any hot chocolate.

“I’ll make it. Why don’t you unpack everything so we can get started?” There’s a knock on the door as she walks into the kitchen.

Stretching up on my toes, I look out the window at the top of the door. I’m both happy and surprised to see Ray leaning up against the doorframe, wrapping his bulky winter jacket around his broad shoulders as he shivers against the cold.

A frigid blast of snowy air gusts into the front hallway. “Hey, Ray.” I haven’t seen or heard from Ray in a few weeks. I think we are both hiding from each other, from the memories we know will come to the surface if we spend any time together. Pushing away those feelings, I pull him from the front porch, through the door.

“I didn’t mean to just drop by. I should have called.” He looks almost afraid to come in.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ray. You’re always welcome here. Come on in. Get out of the cold.” He steps beyond my swept-to-the-side hand and into the living room.

He brushes the snow from his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. As I close the door, I scan the front yard and realize that the snow is really starting to pile up out there. “Linda’s making some hot chocolate. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I don’t want to intrude.” Again, he looks cautious, afraid.

“Stop it,” I insist. “You’re not intruding.” We walk into the living room and he stops at Melanie’s bassinet, staring dreamily down at her. “How’s she doing?” he asks all hushed and quiet.

“She’s good. Eats like a champ and sleeps better than I do.” We sit down on the couch and he sees all the bags of decorations. He chuckles as he tips his chin at the boxed, artificial tree. “You know Jimmy would lose his shit if he saw that in his living room.”

“Yeah, I know. He hates fake trees, but it was all Linda and I could carry in here.” It’s sad to say that I thought the same thing when I was paying for the tree. I didn’t want to say anything because Linda was trying her best to cheer me up, but the reality is that even something as silly as a plastic Christmas tree reminds me of Jimmy. “Is it wrong to make decisions based on what I think he would do, even though he’s not here?” I sink back into the couch and stare at the stupid tree propped up in the corner of the room, just waiting to be assembled.

Ray flops back and sighs loudly, scrubbing his hand over his face, lost in thought for a moment. “Nah, I don’t think so,” he decides, finally. “I mean, who knows? You might eventually stop thinking about him before you make important choices,” he pauses a beat and drapes his arms around my shoulder, “but I know you, Luce. Jimmy will always be in your heart. You’ll always think of him.”

He’s right. I’ll never be able, nor do I ever want to stop thinking about Jimmy. Figuring out a way to keep moving forward without leaving him behind is too overwhelming for me right now.

I’m pretty sure Ray is struggling with the same ideas. They were best friends since elementary school, even went to college together. When I lost my husband, Ray lost his brother. We’ve been stuck in our own worlds of pain.

Linda brings in our mugs as Ray and I stare blankly at the box in the corner. “So you ready to put this up now?” she asks, tipping her chin in the direction we’re both staring.

Ray and I share a knowing glance and he smirks at me. “Nope. I’m going to take
that
back to the store and get you ladies a real tree.” Ray stands with a sense of renewed purpose just as Melanie starts squirming in her bassinet. Linda gets her as I walk Ray to the door.

“Thanks, Ray.” The kindness sparkling in his eyes lets me know I don’t need to say more than that. He knows he’s doing what Jimmy would want done, what I want done.

A few hours later, everything is done—the pine needles are even cleaned up from the rug. After Ray and Linda leave, I tuck Melanie in for the night. Sitting on the couch, staring at the newly decorated tree, I get lost in memories of all the Christmases I’ve spent with Jimmy.

“Here you go,” he said as he shoved a very poorly wrapped gift in front of me. We were celebrating our very first Christmas together as a couple during our senior year of high school. After ignoring me for two months, Jimmy was finally able to acknowledge his feelings for his best friend—no small feat in an eighteen-year-old boy’s mind, or heart for that matter.

I shook the box to see what kind of noise it made and Jimmy grabbed my hands quickly. “No!” he admonished. “Don’t do that. You’ll break it.”

Well, that just intrigued me even more. “Okay, okay. Sorry.” I placed a placating kiss on his cheek and all was forgotten.

Carefully, I pulled back the tape. I could tell Jimmy was getting antsy for me to open it already, but I couldn’t miss out on the chance to rib him on his wrapping. “What?” I shrugged my shoulders, holding the half-opened gift in one hand. “I don’t want to ruin the paper.” I arched an eyebrow as he grabbed the present from my hands.