58. Whispers in the Breeze Ruffling Windrunner’s Mane #2
The service is quick and devoid of emotion. The priest hardly knew her and all the attendees did, so there is no sense in lying.
My father’s only reaction is when the priest ends the service and says the final blessing, sliding my mother’s elaborate casket into the concrete wall of the mausoleum.
His chin drops to his chest, and his grasp on my hand tightens.
Rarely verbose and never one to display emotion, he takes a deep breath before lifting his chin and staring at the stone wall as the door closes.
Everyone but the four of us wanders away. Murmurs of future contact and muttered apologies become a din of white noise.
I turn to Braxton and eye Colt, asking him with my eyes for permission. He nods. “Wainwright?”
My father turns to him.
“Want Colt?” He lifts his shoulder in an offer, hoisting the almost one-year-old toward his grandfather.
My father’s eager reach says everything, and he takes Colt and looks at him, talking to him. “Is it okay?” he asks me as he tips his head down the line.
The first emotion hits me. A ripping through my chest and a hollowness in my gut. I nod, because I can’t speak past the lump in my throat. The two go to Emerson’s stone, and my dad talks to Colt out of earshot.
Braxton’s warmth hits my back, his strength girding me. He doesn’t have to hold me up, but his presence does. When my dad makes his way back to us, Braxton leans and whispers in my ear, “Going to give you a little time. Take all you need. We’ll be easy to find when you’re done.”
He tips his head to my dad. “Wainwright, a moment?” The three men in my life—my father, my future, and the boy I think of as my son—leave together.
I wander to Emerson’s stone and sag at the sight of her engraved name.
It wasn’t here when we laid her to rest. Seeing it, carved white into the rose-colored stone, guts me.
I’d forgotten—no, I just failed to remember—that I would see this today.
So much has happened for so long, and I failed to connect the dots.
I haven’t made the time to come here. Not that I need to.
She’s with me every moment of every day. She runs with me every morning. She smiles at me every day through her son. She whispers in the breeze ruffling Windrunner’s mane. She is in the mirror looking back at me.
“Hey, Em,” I start. “Well, that’s lame. God, I miss you and, fuck, I hate that you’re here.
This is not how either of us ever expected things to happen.
It’s sure as hell not how I expected things to go.
It kills me that I can’t talk to you, ask you for advice, lean on your shoulder, or do the same for you. I miss you every single day.
“It’s as if a limb was ripped from my body. The phantom tingles make me think it’s still there, because my brain can’t comprehend it’s gone. Then I look down and see stark reality. The void is obvious, but it just doesn’t want to register.
“I miss you. I’ll keep saying it. I can’t believe you left me. How could you? And how could you not tell me about the bananas? What were you thinking? I’m just so pissed.
“I won’t even get into Mother. You were right all along, but you already knew that.
Is that why you had me forge the authorization of paternity?
Dad tried to use that against you, not knowing it would probably land me in jail for perjury.
I guess he still could. Though, things on that front are getting better.
As for the forgery, Braxton could easily say it was his signature, and the whole thing would be swept away.
I hope it doesn’t come down to that, but if it does, I’ll have to tell him.
Until then, it’s just as we agreed—we’ll take it to our graves.
“That little boy tied us together in a way that even our identical DNA couldn’t. He’s amazing, by the way. Happy, adjusted, growing like a weed. He’s handsome and charming and, no doubt, will cause havoc. He probably will get away with too much and no doubt with the Rangers’ help.
“I have a problem, Em, and it’s one only you can solve.
Need your permission and I sure hope I have it.
And I hope I have your blessing too. I’m going to raise him as my own, not to dishonor you or eliminate you.
You will always be his mother. I’ll never let him forget it.
I promise you that. But that boy needs a mama, and I plan to be that.
I don’t want you to think I’m taking your place or disrespecting you.
I would kill for you to be back, to raise him, and be there for him.
For both of you, for every milestone. For you not to miss a thing and for him never to have lost you.
“If you were here, it would never be a question. I’d be his favorite aunt, who would spoil him rotten, pump him full of sugar, and indulge his every whim.
Now that’s going to have to fall to his Aunt Brighton.
Because he’s going to need a mama’s love and mama’s correction.
Someone has to guide him to be who he’s destined to become.
Braxton can do that in some regards, but he needs us too.
“Know that the first time he calls me mama it will slice me through. Know that I don’t revel in you missing anything. But know that I love him so much I can’t have him lose out on the life he deserves.
“I love you and miss you every fucking day. I’ll work to honor you in his life. I’m not saying goodbye. I’ve done that and hate it, so watch over us. Be there for us and smile down on us. Need you, Em. I can’t do this without you.”
I slide my hand across her etched name and turn on my heel into the sunlight of the November day and see the only thing that could make this shitty moment worth it—Colt holding onto Braxton’s index fingers, wobbling like he has jelly for legs, trying to walk.