Chapter 4
Four
Taylor
This is the most excruciating thing I’ve ever had to do. My precious babies. They love Will so much, and he’s the only daddy they’ve ever really known.
From the first time Will met them, he gave them one hundred percent of his time and attention every chance he got. Nothing mattered to him more than we did, and he made us feel that every day of the three beautiful years we spent with him.
“Mommy,” Eliza says, “what’s wrong?”
Hearing that, Miles stops what he’s doing with his new race car to study me the way his father used to do when he sensed I was upset about something.
Greg would stare me down until I spilled whatever was troubling me.
Miles is similarly gifted in getting me to tell him things I’d rather keep to myself.
I don’t mind, though, because I love seeing Greg in him.
Miles comes over to sit on my right side.
Eliza is on my left.
My parents hover close by, their devastation obvious to me but not the kids. How hard it must’ve been to hold it together for them until I got home.
Iris and Gage take seats across the room, giving me space but fortifying me with their presence.
I hug my babies close to me as tears slide down my cheeks. Our gorgeous wedding photo sits on a table, Will and I gazing at each other, each of us holding one of the kids, all of us smiling and happy and excited to start our new adventure.
We got only two years of marriage, three years together. Nowhere near enough.
“Mommy…” Eliza’s little voice wavers as if she already knows what I’m going to say.
“Last night, there was an accident at Daddy’s work.”
Miles goes stiff in my arms, trying to break free.
I hold on tighter because he has to hear this, even if he doesn’t want to.
“Daddy took a very bad fall off a high place, and he died.”
Eliza’s wail of agony will play on repeat in my mind forever.
“No,” Miles says. “Daddy’s fine. We’re supposed to play catch this afternoon. He promised we would.”
“I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. There’s nothing Daddy wanted more than to play catch with you today.”
Miles begins to sob, and when he pulls away from me, I let him go because my dad is right there to pick him up and hold him while I focus on Eliza.
“I don’t want Daddy to go to heaven.” It breaks my heart that she’s already fluent in the terms of grief and grieving at such a young age. “I need him here.”
“I know, sweetheart. I do, too, and he wants to be here with us.”
“Does this mean we won’t have the baby now?” she asks.
Her little face is wet with tears as a new heartache sets in.
“No, not at all. We’ll still have the baby, and we’ll love him with all our hearts, and we’ll talk about Daddy so the baby will know him, too.”
“It’s not fair,” Eliza says as sobs rock her tiny body.
“It’s not at all fair.”
“Did it hurt?” she asks. “Daddy’s accident?”
“I don’t think so. They said he died right away.”
My mother wipes her face with a tissue and then hands some to me. I wipe my face and Eliza’s while keeping an eye on my dad and Miles. Thank God for them, I think for the millionth time since Greg was diagnosed.
My sister, Amanda, comes in from the backyard and stops short when she sees me talking to the kids.
Normally, she’d come charging in and take over, but for once, she holds back and gives us the space we need.
“What do we do, Mommy?” Eliza asks. “What should we do?”
I glance at Iris, who’s also dealing with tears.
She gets up and comes over to sit on the floor in front of us.
She reaches for Eliza’s hand and kisses the back of it.
“You’re going to keep doing all the things you love—going to school and seeing your friends and playing softball and lacrosse.
That’s what Daddy would want you to do. He’d want you to do the things that make you happy with the people you love. ”
“Is he with my other daddy?”
“I’m sure they’ve found each other in heaven, and they’re talking about how much they love you and Miles and your mommy.”
Her chin quivers as she tries to contain her sadness. “You really think so?”
“I’m sure of it.”
My phone is buzzing with texts and calls, so I punch in my code and hand it to Iris.
“I’ll take care of responding to everyone for you.”
“Thank you. I can’t handle that right now.”
“I know.”
I remember being inundated after Greg died and not having the bandwidth to reply to anyone, even our closest friends and family.
Amanda comes to sit with me, putting her arm around my shoulders. “I’m so, so sorry, Tay.”
I lean my head on my big sister’s shoulder as my parents snuggle the kids.
“Thanks for coming.” She stayed with me for a month after Greg died, many nights sleeping in my bed so I wouldn’t be alone.
I love her dearly, but sometimes she’s overly opinionated about things that’re none of her business, such as when I started dating Will and she thought it was too soon, even though it’d been five years.
It took me a long time to forgive her for saying that out loud.
“Of course. What can I do?”
“I have to get with his parents about what they want for services.”
“Do you want me to handle that?”
“That’s okay. I’ll do it.”
Once, when I was very young, I got sucked into a riptide at the beach in Ocean City in Maryland when we were there for a family vacation. I can still vividly remember struggling against the current that was determined to sweep me out to sea, before a lifeguard saved me.
From the moment I woke up today, I’ve had that same sense of struggling against a current that’s intent on sweeping me into the unknown once again.
I wish the feeling wasn’t familiar, but it’s just like it was after Greg died.
Only this time, it’s colored by shock. Widows debate which is worse—seeing a spouse through a dreaded illness or losing them suddenly.
I used to say the illness was worse, the prolonged suffering, the doctors’ appointments in which there’s never any good news…
But this is worse. A regular day in a regular life in which lightning strikes out of nowhere and takes the one person you need the most. It’ll take me months, if not years, to wrap my head around the fact that Will is never coming home again.
He’ll never come through the door bringing the scent of fresh air and hard work.
He’ll never wrap his arms around me from behind when I’m at the sink or the stove and kiss my neck and tell me how much he missed me while he was gone.
He’ll never cuddle me in bed or make sweet love to me or talk to our baby about all the things they’ll do together.
He’ll never wrestle with Miles or let Eliza paint his nails.
He’ll never meet the baby he wanted so badly that I agreed to have one more just for him.
As if he knows I’m thinking of him, the baby checks in with a hearty kick to my ribs.
Will loved feeling the baby move inside me. He was endlessly fascinated with everything about his child and was counting down the days until the due date, which is now just over a month away. I’m absolutely devastated that he won’t get to meet the little boy he wanted so much.
“I need a shower.”
“Do you want help?” Amanda asks.
“That’s okay. Stay with the kids, will you?”
“I’ll be right here for as long as you need me.”
I squeeze her arm and stand on legs that’re unsteady beneath me.
“Where’re you going, Mommy?” Eliza asks.
“To take a shower. I’ll be right back. Auntie Amanda, Grandma and Grandpa are here if you need them.”
“I want to come with you,” Eliza says.
“Give Mommy a minute to shower,” my mom says. “She’ll be right back.”
Eliza isn’t happy with that, but she doesn’t say anything else as I walk upstairs to the bedroom Will and I fully renovated together to make it ours after we decided to stay in the house Greg and I had bought because it was best for the kids.
Our bedroom is painted in a shade of navy blue that I thought would be too dark, but Will insisted it would be awesome, and he was right, as usual.
Our bathroom wallpaper is a navy-and-white stripe over beadboard trim that Will installed himself.
I run a hand over the glossy white paint on the trim and recall the weekend we spent working on the bathroom while my parents had the kids.
He made everything fun, even tasks I usually hated, such as painting.
After he installed the tile I’d chosen, we made love right on the floor.
I drop to my knees on the navy area rug and sob as it becomes clear to me that I can’t stay in this house that tragedy has now visited twice.
I’m going to have to move.
Iris
I’ve responded to the inquiries from Taylor’s friends and extended family.
Everyone is shocked for her and the kids and asking what they can do to help.
I promise someone will get back to them when we have more information.
One of her friends from the kids’ school offers to start a meal train, and I tell her I’m sure that Taylor would appreciate it.
I hope that’s the case. As long as her parents will be here to receive any drop-offs, that is. I don’t want her having to interact with people until she’s ready to.
“Do you think you should go home to see the kids?” I ask Gage.
“I was going to suggest that, if you’re okay with it.”
“I’m okay, and my mom is probably ready for a break. Will you tell them what happened?”
“You don’t want me to wait for you?”
“What do you think we should do?” I love having someone to ask again, not to mention someone who always knows the right way to proceed. Gage is truly one of the wisest people I know, even if much of that wisdom is hard-won through terrible loss.
“I think it would be okay coming from me. They don’t know Will that well, but they’ll feel for Eliza and Miles.”
“Yes, they will. Tell them they’ll see the kids soon. Maybe they can make some cards for them or something.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll suggest that. What should we do about the Wild Widows?”
“I dread having to tell them this.”
“I know. Me, too.”
“But I can’t let them hear it from someone else.”