18. Deacon
DEACON
T uesday night, I’m standing in my mother’s closet, surrounded by all her favorite things and smells, and my heart beats slowly as I stop in place and do a three hundred sixty to see the mountain of things I still have to go through.
Luckily, I have Beck with me, and she’s armed with bins labeled "keep," "toss," and "give away." My first move is to go straight to my mom’s jewelry safe and punch in the password—my birth date.
“Knew I was the favorite child,” I tell Beck with a smirk, and she slaps my shoulder in response with a slight giggle that’s music to my ears.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Beck asks, concerned.
Her hand runs up and down my back as I let out a heavy sigh.
What a loaded question. I would never be ready to spend the rest of my life without my beautiful mother, who had battled brain cancer so valiantly and eventually lost. I hate the tears that well up in my eyes, and the scratchiness of my voice as I tell her, “I’m going to try. ”
“It’s okay if we don’t get through much today.
Just being here is a big step.” Beck’s voice is low and soothing, and I want to walk away from this safe and into her arms, but I face forward and reach in.
The little velvet bags are packed in there, containing all my mother’s favorite treasures.
Beck may not know it yet, but I want her to take most of them.
They were willed to me and Steele after all, but Beck had been Mom’s favorite.
Whenever she saw me, she’d ask how Beck was doing and if “she’d come to her senses yet.
” Mom had seen the wristwatch I’d bought for Beck for Christmas, and when she looked up, tears filled her eyes.
“The perfect watch for the perfect girl for you, Deac, but you can’t wait forever.
” She knew Beck’s affinity for adorable watches, practically having one for every outfit, so this one had screamed her name.
I pull out a bag filled with tennis bracelets and hand them back to Beck. “Here, pick which one you’d like. There’s plenty, so each of my sisters-in-law can take one too.”
Beck oohs at them and tries on a bunch, asking me how each one looks, and honestly?
They look right on her wrist. Mom knew in her heart Beck would be the one to end up with a lot of her jewelry when she willed it to Steele and me.
After all, I’ve loved Beck forever, and my mother had damn well known that.
“Mom was obsessed with gemstones,” I tell Beck as I find several necklaces and pass them over to Beck, who has a look of overwhelm on her pretty features.
“This is way too much,” she whispers as she touches a ruby necklace gently with wide eyes.
“Oh, Beck, just wait a second. I haven’t even gotten to her rings, and that’s not even half of her necklaces. I’m going to leave most of those for my sisters-in-law, but there are a couple I think would be perfect for you.”
I set the rings on the shelf beside the safe, and glance behind me to see Beck’s eyes light up.
“Holy, holy wow.” She walks up to the exact ring I knew she would. She carefully picks up the retro black diamond ring and goes completely silent.
I grab it and push it onto her left ring finger, since she’s wearing the turquoise one I’d gifted her on her right. Something about the motion of placing a diamond, albeit black, on her wedding finger makes my heart skip a beat. I long to do it for real.
Beck looks up at me with tears in her eyes.
“I would give this beautiful ring back in a heartbeat if it meant Lillian could still be here with us. I’d do anything, you know?
I want you to know, as much as I love this ring, that it’s bittersweet.
This is stunning, and I love it, but it’s still sad that it’s not on Lillian’s finger anymore.
I hate that she’s gone. I wanted to have Lillian as my honorary aunt. ”
Beck’s words twist in my stomach, and I try to breathe in slowly and fully, but I’m transported back to the day she died in her hospital bed in the first-floor living room.
She’s telling me, “I raised an incredibly good man, Deacon. You are filled with affection and love, and I see such goodness in you. You’ll make Beck a happy woman one day, and you’ll be a doting daddy.
” Even in the end, she had faith that Beck would finally see the man standing before her for the last decade, waiting for her love.
Beck pulls me into her arms, and it’s only the third time I’ve cried since she died three-and-a-half months ago. My shoulders shake with sobs as I stand amongst my mother’s things. Beck holds me tight and whispers that it’s okay to cry.
Almost as quickly as I’d let the tears come, I blink them back and yank myself away from Beck. She’s an angel, and I give her a half-smile. “Thanks, Beck. Didn’t expect to feel so much standing here amongst her things. It still smells like her.”
“It’s important to feel it. Feel it now, not later.”
Sometimes I forget she’s a grief counselor.
I take her hand and examine the stunning black pavé diamond on it, and before I think it through, I bend and kiss her finger right above the ring. “Yeah, this has to be yours.”
Beck’s eyes shine with unshed tears as she whispers, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Take the rest of the rings, too.
Oh, and I just found the turquoise earrings that go with your ring.
Let me?” I walk around her and stand behind her, looking into my mother’s full-length mirror.
I struggle at first to find the hole in her right earlobe, but eventually I’m able to push the jewelry through and secure it.
“Holy shit.” Beck touches her earlobes as I set my hands on her shoulders and peer into the mirror, meeting her eyes. A little flush makes its way to her freckled cheekbones, and I tilt my head over her shoulder and kiss her cheek.
We somehow manage to go through the entire jewelry collection in the next couple of hours. We leave many pieces for each sister-in-law, except for the rings and some wrist watches that Beck adores.
Beck goes through some of my mother’s party dresses, too, and she kicks off her jeans and sweater to pull on a sparkly dress that nearly matches the turquoise ring and earring set perfectly.
I don’t remember ever seeing my mother wear it, but it fits Beck like a glove, and she twirls around in it with a little giggle.
“This one’s cute too,” I say, grabbing a navy dress that’s tight to the hips and flares out.
It looks like it would be fun to twirl in, and that’s exactly what Beck does when she puts it on.
Most of these dresses haven’t even been worn yet, and I think Mom would be so happy to see Beck twirling in them.
“I feel underdressed,” I chuckle.
I grab her hand and then spin her around, showing off all my best moves before I pull her to my chest, and we slow dance right there in Mom’s closet. My hand on her back drifts south a bit as we dance to the music playing in our heads.
Beck laughs against my chest, burying her face in it as I prepare to dip her again. “Here we go,” I whisper, extending my arm and bending her over it until her hair brushes the floor. Then, I pull her back up and into my arms.
“This is a pretty solid dance effort for no music.” Beck giggles. She steps out of my arms and finds a rainbow dress with tassels, and I watch too closely as she removes the blue dress and pulls on the sequined number I don’t remember my mother ever wearing. It still has tags attached.
Beck reaches for her phone and turns on her favorite Taylor Swift song.
So, I do what any self-respecting man in love would do.
I spin her around, the scent of her perfume in my nose, as I sing along to the rhythm.
Beck shakes her hips, the tassels on her dress a shimmering blur as she jiggles.
Taylor’s music vibrates through the floor as we’re shaking it off.
This is what Beck does for me. She takes one of the most challenging nights I can remember and fills it with vibrant warmth, music, dancing, and joy.
Of course, I still miss my mother, but she’d want me to shake my ass alongside Beck in her warmly lit closet, beneath a sparkling crystal chandelier.
If heaven is a thing and Mom’s looking down, she’s applauding.
As much as I want to kiss Beck in this moment, she pulls away laughing and clapping her hands. “That was amazing,” she gushes, reaching for my hand and squeezing. “Okay if I take this dress?”
I grab one of the plastic bins and pull it over, then I work on the zipper at the back of the dress.
When she steps out of it, I carefully fold it and place it in the “keep” bin, followed by the turquoise and blue ones.
Beck goes through all of Mom’s formal dresses and grabs about a dozen to keep, and then she finds my mother’s stockpile of leggings, which are also Beck’s size, and she flings handfuls of them into the keep pile.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me wearing your mom’s clothes? What if I look like her and it freaks you out?” Beck worries as she adds a couple of zippered sweatshirts to her haul.
“Mom would want her things to be loved and used. When you wear her clothes, all I’ll think is how happy Mom would be to see you in them.
So, it’s fine, Beck. Really.” I lean forward and stroke her cheekbone with my thumb.
“It is getting late, though. How about we go through some sunglasses before we go?”
Thankfully, Dad’s not home yet by the time we leave around nine. I’m unsure what to say to him now. I call and check up on him from time to time, and he talks at length about his construction company and the jobs he’s raking in, but he never mentions Mom, and it’s become the elephant in the room.
Just as we climb into my truck with the heavy keep bin in the backseat, Dad pulls his Tahoe in the driveway, gets out, and walks over to my open driver's window.
“Hey, son. I just wanted to be the one to tell you that I met with a realtor today. I plan on selling the house.”
I scoff. “What the hell, Dad, why? This is a dream house! You and Mom built everything in there, down to arguing over the lighting and the paint colors.”
Dad shakes his head sadly. “Well, it’s a big place for just me, and memories of your mom are everywhere.
It’s time to downsize. I’ll be selling most of the furniture, but if there’s anything you're interested in, please let me know soon. I won’t touch the closet as she willed everything in it to you and Steele, but I will have to get everything cleaned up for the listing photos. ”
“How much time do I have?” I ask, fighting tears that spring to my eyes.
“Two weeks before the listing agent takes photos, but you’ll need to hurry and claim what you’d like so everyone else can pick from what’s left.”
I nod. “Got it. Okay, Dad. If this is what you need, I’ll back your play.”
“Hi, Aspyn,” Dad greets her with a smile.
“Hey, Mr. Ambrose. Good to see you. You’ve been in my thoughts.”
“Thanks, doll. I’m glad you’re going to make use of Lillian’s jewelry and clothes. That’s what she would want.”
“I miss her so much,” Beck tells Dad. “But I want you to know her things will be well-loved.”
“That’s good to hear.” Dad’s face brightens a bit as his hand drifts up and down the side of his beard.
A nervous habit, perhaps. “I’ve got to get inside and eat something, but you two have a good rest of your night.
Deacon, feel free to text me about anything you’d like to keep for yourself, or better yet, bring over some boxes. ”
“I will, Dad.” We shake hands through the window, and Dad walks back up the driveway to the garage.
“He’s lonely,” Beck realizes as she watches him leave. “Maybe we should come back tomorrow night and bring him dinner. I can make him my famous chicken pot pie.”
I look over at Beck, who appears lost in thought. “That would be sweet of you, doll face.”
When we get back to the house, she defrosts chicken in cool water in the sink and busies herself making enough chicken pot pie for all of us. She makes the filling separate and then announces, “I’ll do the pie crusts tomorrow when I get home from work. I’m exhausted.”
It's nearly eleven already, so I tell her, “Yeah, it’s late, babe. You should get some rest. And you might want to take that big rock off your finger, so you don’t scratch up your face tonight.”
Beck walks into the living room and leans in to give me a kiss on the forehead.
My heart flutters the same way it always does when her lips are anywhere near me.
I say goodnight to Beck, wishing she were headed to my room so I could hold her in my arms until she falls asleep.
But she takes the stairs to her bedroom, and I watch the light go out a few minutes later.
It's all right. I’m playing the long game—the really, really, really long game.
I click off the TV, a sigh escaping my lips when my team lost. A dull ache settles in my chest as I sink into the comfort of my bed, my sheets cool around me.
They bring me no comfort. All I can think about is how much extra room I have in this king-sized bed; I long for the woman who should be curled up against my side.
God, I hope there are happier times ahead.
A time when Beck accepts the love I have always tried to offer her.
I imagine Dad feels a bit like I do tonight, and that’s why he’s chosen to sell our childhood home. A place filled with the lingering ghosts of years past instead of the sound of laughter and family. I understand it now. Houses are meant to be filled with life, not just the ache of fading memories.
The darkness pulls in around me, my breath the only sound in the room, and I whisper a little prayer for Dad—that he finds his footing in a new space, one of peace, where he can move forward. We all need that new beginning, no one more than me.
A nervous flutter goes through me as I wonder about the next steps. I know what I want, and I’m ready to step into the future, but what about Beck? How much longer would she need to heal before she’s ready to admit what’s always been there between us?