Chapter 4
I WANT TO GO TO HEAVEN
“She had a good day.” Kelsey tells me, plucking a loose bobby pin from her hair to pin the fly away’s back again.
It’s obviously not her first re-pin. She’d have better success by doing a whole new bun and pin rather than these quick fixes.
“We did footprints in the sand. You’ll get it next week for Easter. ”
I kick off my pumps and start my tip-toe dash through the just-mopped space. My stockings are going to get soggy.
“She loves to craft.”
“Oh, that she does.”
Aka—Mabel loves to get messy.
I ask over my shoulder, “They’re outside?”
Kelsey hangs the mop. “Sure are.”
They mop every day at this time. Whenever the kiddos head out to play, it’s a dash to clean. I always leave with soggy stockings.
Through the wall of windows, I see her bright yellow jacket with the pink printed daisies.
Her rubber boots match and I smile as she huffs it across the turf with her mini shopping cart, pausing to gab with one of the gals.
Her hand is flying, much like her Gran’s flies when she gabs with the gals.
My daughter is a mini-Elise, pretty green eyes and all. The feminine version of her father.
I smile through another painful squeeze, like a fist gripping my heart far too tightly.
Then I step outside into the play area. As soon as she sees me, she gives a girlish shriek and abandons her cart with haphazard plastic food and—is that a doll leg?
It appears Gerald has been up to his amputations again.
My arms close around my daughter as I drop a kiss to her golden hair. “Hey sweetie, I see you’ve been shopping.”
“Yes!” There’s a slight lisp on the S. It’s cute. I’m going to miss it when it’s gone.
Just like Owen used to pronounce ‘no’ as ‘mo’. The way me and Tate would giggle every time he gave us that firm, mo. Then one day, it was just gone.
“Come on, lil miss.” I take her hand in mine, waving to Viv who marks Mabel as picked up.
“See you tomorrow, Mabel.” Viv gives Mabel a finger wave. Mabel returns it, though not quite with the same expertise.
“We’ve gotta hit the store before we go home,” I tell her. “It’s taco night.”
“Mmm!” The high pitch of her sweet voice thaws just a little bit of that ever-present ice that invaded my heart the day the frozen lake claimed Tate. “I love tacos!”
“Me too.” I shove my feet into my pumps and shoot Kelsey a smile. “Let’s see if we can beat Owen home.”
Not one to refuse a challenge, Mabel boogies to my SUV.
It’s new and pretty and undoubtedly far bigger than I need for only two kiddos.
But I also regularly meet people at their homes for consultations.
I can keep the back seats folded down for product samples without mucking with Mabel’s car seat every time I have a home appointment.
I’m blessed Tate had life insurance. If he didn’t, this car would already be gone.
I swallow around another heart squeeze as I watch Mabel wiggle into her seat, and begin to buckle herself in. She hasn’t realized that we’d already be on the road if she just let me do it, but she’s independent, and I give her that space.
With the last click in place, she gives me a toothy grin. “I did it, Mommy!”
“Let me just check.” I quickly tug the string to tighten the straps and lean forward to place a quick kiss on her forehead to distract from the fact I’m correcting any of her hard work. “Perfect.”
“I know.”
I close the door as she starts to poke around in her cup holder for one of her toys, sliding into the driver’s seat.
I’m on the road when Mabel calls, “Mommy?”
My eyes flick to the rearview mirror. “Yeah, sweetie?”
“When is Daddy coming home?”
There is breath in my lungs and then there isn’t.
This is the hardest part. The part no one talks about.
Little kids don’t understand the concept of forever. No matter the ways you explain it to them, the finality of death is something they just can’t wrap their minds around.
In the beginning, she’d asked for Tate daily. There’d been tantrums and tears and then it had all just stopped. I’d thought that was it. It sunk in. She got it.
Then a few months later, while I’d been tucking her in at night, she’d asked when he was coming home. And I understood, for her, he’s just away. For her, one day, he’ll come back from Heaven where we all tell her he went. For her, he’s just visiting a new and beautiful place.
I swallow around the barbed ball of grief and say gently, “Daddy’s in Heaven, baby. When people go to Heaven, they live there forever.”
“Memaw says I’ll see Daddy in Heaven one day.” Memaw. My mom.
“You will, baby.”
“I want to go to Heaven now.” The fairy toy in her hand does a swoop as she plays. “I want to see Daddy.”
I don’t know how to reply.
Fourteen months later and I still don’t know how to do this.
I forget to stop at the grocery store.
“I’m hungry,” Mabel whines as she kicks off her boots. “I want a cookie.”
“You’re hungry because you didn’t eat your meatballs.” I kick out of the sneakers I’d worn to Owen’s indoor soccer practice. “They’re still on the table.”
“I don’t want meatballs!”
“Mabel.” I sigh. This is the time of day where the mom-cape gets a little ratty. I’ll mend it before bed and start fresh tomorrow, but right now… “Please don’t.”
She stomps her foot. “I’m not eating meatballs.”
“You love meatballs.”
“You said tacos.” Her eyes shimmer with crocodile tears.
I seriously consider breaking down and giving her a cookie.
I don’t even want to think about why I forgot the taco shells.
I inhale through my nose. “We’ll do tacos tomorrow.”
“I want them now!”
“I don’t have them now.” I grind my teeth.
“Come on, Mabel,” Owen says with that easy big-brother grin that always gives her pause when she’s edging a tude-inspired blow-out. “I’m hungry, too. So, you eat one and then I’ll eat one, then you, then me. Yeah?”
She considers. Every part of me hurts.
Tate had played this game once upon a time with Owen. My baby boy is growing up so fast into a very, very good man.
Refusing to look at me, Mabel gives her brother a single curt nod. “Okay.”
They disappear into the kitchen, and I sink into the wall. I will not cry. I will not fall apart.
But I do stay against the wall, listening as Mabel relinquishes her pout to giggle with her brother.
At the feel of a warm body stroking mine, I glance down to see Milo.
My nine-year-old Siamese looking up at me through the bluest eyes.
He gives a chirpy meow that I know means, ‘come to bed’ and begins his strut for the stairs.
“Soon,” I promise him. Then, because I haven’t been mauled by doggy kisses, I shove my feet back into my shoes and call to the kids, “Grabbing Duke from Memaw’s. Be back in five.”
“Okay,” Owen calls back.
Mom and Dad live across the street, which has been unbelievably helpful over the years, but especially helpful the last fourteen months. Tate’s parents gifted us their house when Owen was three, and we’ve been here ever since.
Mom has a tendency to steal Duke when I’m at work. Sometimes, she takes him into Foster’s Gear and Guides and will drop him off when she’s home. But since her car in is the drive, I know she’s home.
I give a light knock and walk right in. Duke yaps from where he’s undoubtedly being fed something from the counter in the kitchen. Nails click on the floor, his booty wagging with his tail as he sees me.
I crouch low to pick up my dog. As long as he’s hanging with my mom, he’s going to remain pudgy.
I pad into the kitchen and see mom looking not even a little guilty as she slices sausage, I know for a fact Duke has indulged in. “Thanks for grabbing him.”
“Oh, it’s no hardship. I love Duke.”
“You should get yourself a dog.”
She looks horrified. “And betray Duke?”
I reach for a piece of sausage, popping it into my mouth even as Duke’s nose starts to search. “You’ve had enough.” I tap his nose with the tip of my finger. “I think Duke would like a friend.”
“Maybe you need another dog.”
I groan. “The last thing I need is another living creature to take care of. I’m struggling with the zoo I have.”
Sadness moves through Mom’s eyes, but it’s swept under the rug fast. She doesn’t want me to see it.
I pretend I don’t. “Mabel asked me when Tate was coming home again today.”
“Oh, honey.”
I bob my head like this is just any conversation and not breaking chunks off my frozen soul. It’s all I have left now that my heart has been obliterated by the Wilder brothers. “She proceeded to tell me she wished to go to Heaven.”
Mom winces. “That might be my fault.”
“It’s no one’s fault. There’s no right or wrong answer to the questions she asks.” Mom turns and reaches into the cupboard for a wine glass. She pours a bubbly white into a glass and hands it to me. “I can’t. I have to get home. It’s bath night.”
“Mabel loves her baths. Let her have her bath. You have a glass of wine.”
I should refuse, but I really don’t want to.
I swipe the glass from the counter and murmur, “Love you, Mom.”
She forces another flash of sad under that rug, covering it with a smile. “Love you most, baby girl.”
With that, I walk myself, Duke, and the freshly poured wine back home. I’ll deliver Mom her glass sometime in the future.