Chapter 25 #4
They leave me alone with her for twenty minutes before the undertakers arrive.
The whole time, I just watch her, remembering everything wonderful about her and storing it to memory.
I see her hovering behind Dad on Christmas Day with her mop.
I see her swat his hand when he tries to dip the pigs in blankets.
I see him grab her from behind while she’s baking and her giggling like she always giggled when Dad doted on her.
I watch as they both kneel in the garden a few metres away from each other, Noah between them.
Each of them jangles keys, trying to coax him into walking to them.
Both wanting to claim his first steps as theirs.
He walked to Dad. Just two steps before he dropped to his nappy-padded arse and Dad cheered and scooped him up, throwing him into the air as he giggled, and Mum yelled the injustice when she found Dad jangling coins rather than keys.
“Bribery,” she’d cried through her beaming smile as she joined them.
I watched from the window, wondering if any kid in the world was as lucky as Noah to have such doting grandparents.
Excited for the endless joy he’d bring my parents in their older years.
My heart turns in my chest, my eyes closing, my forehead falling to the bed.
More unstoppable tears. And now they’re all gone.
“Camryn?” Deirdre calls softly. I look up and see her with two men in suits, both their heads bowed in respect. “I called your brother.”
“I forgot about him,” I murmur, wiping my sore face again.
“He’s not coming.”
“That’s okay.” I take a breath and stand. “I can’t watch them carry her away.” I swing on my coat. “Thank you for everything you’ve done since she’s been here.”
“It’s my job.”
“A job you chose. To take care of people.” I go over and give her a hug, surprising her. Her arms hang limply by her sides for a second before she lifts them and returns it. “I hope you get to spend some of today with your family.”
“My daughter’s picking me up at three,” she says.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Camryn.” She lets me break away, and I go to Mum and stroke her hair back, placing a kiss on her forehead.
And I accept, she did wait. She waited until she knew I was okay.
She waited until Dec and Albi found me. “Thank you, Mum.” I swallow and tear myself away, not quite believing this is the last time I’ll ever see her, taking long, deep breaths as I go.
As soon as I step out into the snow, I call Dec. He answers in one ring, and I just know he’s had his phone on his hip. “Camryn?”
“My mum’s gone,” I say, clear and concise, feeling an odd sense of peace come over me.
“Shit, no, Camryn, I—”
“I’m okay,” I say, quick to reassure him.
“I’m really okay, Dec. She—” Yes, I’m okay, but I still need to swallow to keep my voice even.
“She waited for me to find you and Albi,” I say, losing my battle not to let my voice crack.
I drop to my arse on the step, immune to the cold radiating immediately through my coat and jeans.
“She didn’t want to go until she knew I’d be okay. ”
“I’m on my way,” he says, breathless. He’s already running to the door. “I’m coming. Don’t move, okay?”
I nod and end the call, and sit in the snow, staring at the millions of snowflakes floating calmly from the sky.
Given the weather, despite his Defender technically a farmer’s car built for the rough terrain and snow, I didn’t expect Dec to get here so fast. He must have broken all speed limits. He half skids half slides to a stop and jumps out, and I smile at the sight of him.
In his sweatpants, a hoodie, and his slippers.
I stand as he jogs over and walk straight into his open arms. The floodgates open again because he’s here. I cry into his chest, body-racking, gut-wrenching sobs, as he holds me, rubs my back, hushes me.
Taking care of me.
I let it all come out, a good hard cry, until I’m sure his sweater is drenched. “I’m okay,” I murmur, sniffing and pulling away, cheeking his hoodie. Dark patches are dotted here and there, smears of tears and snot. I cringe and try to wipe it away.
“Shut up,” he breathes, tipping my head up with a fingertip under my chin.
“I’m okay,” I say again, more weight gone, probably from the evacuation of tears. “She was peaceful. They tried to wake her, but she was gone.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Just keep doing you,” I say, reaching for his face. “Just keep being wonderfully you.”
He nods and reclaims me, keeping me wrapped completely in his arms. “You’re cold,” I whisper, forcing him back.
“I’m never cold when you’re close.” He curls an arm around my shoulders, walking me to the car and getting me inside. He buckles me in and drops a chaste kiss on my lips before he closes the door. The moment he’s in the driver’s seat, he whacks the heat up.
“Can we do something quickly before we go home?” I ask.
“Anything you want.”
I bypass my front door and knock on Mr. Percival’s, treading the carpet impatiently as Dec joins me.
I hear his walking frame coming down the hallway, and the moment he gets the door open, I smile at him.
“Look at you,” I say, taking in his fine tweed suit, that’s probably nearly as old as he is. “Happy Christmas, Mr. Percival.”
“What a surprise,” he says, hobbling back. “Come in, come in, I have treats in case I have visitors.”
In case he has visitors? Oh, Mr. Percival. I reach back for Dec’s hand and pull him inside. “What are you doing today, Mr. Percival?”
“Well, I’ll be eating and drinking for England, as folk tend to do on Christmas Day, I’ll watch the King’s speech at three, and I’ll be taking all the leftovers to the Royal British Legion after I’ve had a nap.”
“There’s been a change to your schedule,” I say, passing him and going into the kitchen, where there’s not a square inch of work surface not taken up with some kind of dish, pan, plate, or bowl.
Or Gnome.
“There has?”
“Yes, you’re spending Christmas with us.”
“But what about all the food I’ve prepared? I can’t let it go to waste.”
“We’ll take it,” Dec declares. I glance at him, surprised. “I’ve not even peeled a carrot yet.”
Mr. Percival laughs. “You young folk. So underprepared.”
“So, are you coming?”
“Camryn, dear, I like to have myself a Brandy or ten. I wouldn’t expect any of you not to enjoy an alcoholic beverage so you can bring this old fool home.”
“We can get you a taxi.”
“Are you mad? It’s triple fare on Christmas Day!”
“You can stay,” Dec pipes up.
“Stay? At your house?”
“Sure, why not?” He shrugs. “It’s Christmas, and Albi’s quite fond of you. But not your gnomes. They stay here. And your cat.”
I laugh, and Mr. Percival chuckles too. “He loved the Spitfire,” I say, smiling wide. “And he’d love to see you too.”
His chest puffs out. “Ah, well, if it’s the little fella we’re aiming to please, then I will graciously accept your offer.”
“Good.” Dec nods sharply and casts his eye around the kitchen. “Suppose I ought to load the car.”
Mr. Percival can’t believe his eyes when we pull up outside Dec’s house. “Oh, you’re one of those posh sorts, aren’t you? I should have known.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dec asks over a laugh as he helps him out of the car.
“Well, the car, the heroics, the fancy clothes.”
“I still don’t know what it’s supposed to mean.” Dec looks at me in exasperation, and I grin, looping my arms through Mr. Percival’s.
“There’s quite a few steps.”
“I’ll manage.”
He does, but it takes a full ten minutes to climb them until we’re at the front door. April swings it open. “Oh, well, who is this then?”
“I might ask the same,” Mr. Percival says.
“I’m April, Dec’s sister. And this is my husband, Blaine.”
“Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise.” Mr. Percival hobbles through the door. “Now, this is all very lovely, but we all know I’m not here for you lot.” He’s a liar. He’s totally here for me too. “Where’s the alcohol and the kid?”
“Mr. Percival!” Albi dashes toward him, nearly taking the old guy off his feet when he comes in from the side and hugs his thigh. “I’ve been flying the Spitfire!”
“Oh, now, there’s a story for me to tell you,” he says, shuffling onward with Albi clinging to the side of his walking frame. “Crash-landed in enemy territory, I did.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“That’s what I said when I come round. Maybe a little more colourful.” They disappear into the lounge together. “But that’s not for your ears, kid.”
April and Blaine both cock their heads in question at us. “Don’t ask,” Dec says, putting an arm around me. “But, bonus, we don’t need to cook. Blaine, give me a hand getting dinner out the car. And lunch. And supper. And sandwiches for the next month.”
I laugh as they head out to unload, and April catches me off guard and hauls me into her body, cuddling me hard. “I’m sorry about your mum.”
I welcome her hug, wrapping my arms around her too. “It’s okay. She’s at peace.” I pull out and smile. “I think she waited for me to find Dec.”
Her lips press together. It’s such a romantic notion, I know that. Idealistic in the most unideal circumstances. And I’m clinging to it with everything I have.
“Do you know where Dec keeps the alcohol?” I ask.
“Yes!” She goes to a tall cabinet and pulls the doors open, revealing a well-equipped bar. “What’s his tipple?”
“Brandy.”
She hums and scans the bottles, finding it and pouring. “To the top?”
“Why not.” I take the glass and deliver it to Mr. Percival. Not that he or Albi notice me.
Mr. Percival looks like he’s in his element, and Albi’s thoroughly enchanted.
It’s the most beautiful sight. A man nearly a century old. And a little boy who’s looking at him like he’s a hero.
Because he is.
I only need to remove myself from the festivities a couple of times. Once before dinner, which was insanely good. I don’t know where Mr. Percival learned to cook, but he does it well. And generously.
And now.
Mr. Percival has Albi on his frail knee, giving him a detailed guided tour of a Spitfire Dec’s got up on Google, and all I can see is Noah on my father’s lap as Dad taught him how to play dominoes.
And Mum sat at the other end of the table sewing a costume for world book day.
I smile sadly at Mr. Percival and Albi, and slip my feet into Dec’s slippers, stepping outside with my wine.
It’s stopped snowing, but it’ll start again soon if the forecasters are right.
My eyes naturally fall to the red Japanese Maple tree as I step through the snow, but the icicle isn’t there anymore.
Odd. And neither are the other feathers that were sitting on the branch above.
Not so odd, as they could have blown away.
I search the snow for any holes where the icicle could have fallen but find nothing.
It couldn’t have melted; it’s still below zero.
I hear the door slide open behind me and turn to find Dec stepping out. I smile when I take in his new slippers. A new pair every Christmas from April and Blaine since Albi arrived. “What are you looking for?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I point to my feet. “Does this mean I can keep these ones?”
“Oh yes. I honestly don’t know how we’re keeping our hands to ourselves while we’re both parading around each other in these things. They’re not passion killers at all.”
I laugh and go to him as he opens his arms, letting me walk straight into them. I nuzzle into his shoulder, holding him with one arm, my wine in the other, and I close my eyes, settling into his body.
“Camryn?” he says softly.
I keep still and quiet.
“You’ve never asked me what my name is.”
My eyes ping open, and I stare forward for a beat before pulling away. His face. I bank it, the look shy and a little awkward, and everything that isn’t Dec.
Dec.
“Declan?”
He shakes his head, and I think for a moment.
“That’s all I have.”
“I’ll give you a clue.”
“Okay,” I say, drawing the word out, my mind going a mile a minute.
“My sister’s name is April because she was born in April.”
I’m staring again. What? No, it can’t be. “Your name is December?”
His head tilts, his shoulders jumping up on a shrug. “Mum loved Christmas.”
“Oh my God,” I breathe.
“I didn’t tell you because I know how much you hate December.”
“You’ve just given me another reason not to hate it as much.” I pull him in and hug the hell out of him. “But I’m just going to call you Dec.”
He laughs. “That’s fine by me.”
“I love you,” I whisper, feeling him hold me slightly tighter.
“It’s the slippers, I know.”
I smile and open my eyes, blinking when I see something floating down from the sky. Oh my.
Three perfect white feathers.
My breath hitches as they all skim my nose softly one by one, and a warmth radiates through me, making my body lift. Dec pulls me in closer in response. “Okay?” he asks, pushing his lips onto my neck. Maybe it’s an ideology, maybe I’m going stir-bloody-crazy, but those three feathers?
Noah, Dad, and Mum.
“I’m really okay.” She’s with them now. Both are looking after my boy. Mum doesn’t need to hang on to make sure I’m okay.
Because I will be. I’m going to be okay.
December started out so bleak and terrifyingly sad, just like every other month for the last thirty-six.
And yet somehow, my heart doesn’t hurt so much.
It still feels like there are many broken shards within, but the love filling it again is cushioning the stabs of pain those splinters cause me daily.
My world was shrouded in screaming silence.
I was drowning in my grief. Now? Now, I feel colour creeping back into my life.
I feel love like I never thought I’d feel it again.
And I feel like it’s so okay for me to accept that colour and love, and at the same time still miss him and ache for him with every fibre of my heart and being.
I can still live.
Still love.
Still wish I could have him back. Have them all back.
I look up at the white sky and smile through my tears.
It’s been you since December 1st, Camryn.
But it’s not just Dec who’s saved me.
Albi has too.