Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“ I gotcha,” Estelle said softly as she worked her arms under her father’s thin frame. The feel of his ribs and back had her wanting to hide her face in shame. Her father, a man who’d been bigger than life only a few years before, was so thin and frail that Estelle could almost lift him on her own.
She leaned forward, careful not to jostle his delicate body as she set him in the wheelchair. Standing up, she smiled, praying her eyes didn’t show how much pain she was in. “There! Ready to get out of this bedroom?”
Her father’s head shook from side to side even as he nodded. “R-r-ready.” His chin wobbled, and he slumped backward, his eyes closing to half mast.
Estelle stiffened her spine, hating how tired he was all the time. After settling an afghan on his legs, she stepped around, biting her cheek to keep from crying and wheeled her father out into the family room. “I think we need a little sunshine, hm?” Heading toward the windows, she locked the wheels and stepped forward, opening the blinds so the bright light of day landed on her father.
He sighed, relaxing slightly .
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Estelle asked, her fake smile in place. “It’s been a really nice summer so far.” Her father didn’t respond, and when Estelle looked back, his eyes were fully closed. Letting the false cheer fall from her expression, she turned to look out the window again.
Their backyard wasn’t very big, but she’d still loved it growing up. A small fountain on the back patio had led to a patch of grass just big enough to play tag on. The firepit in the far corner still had chairs around it, though they were likely covered in mold and spiders at this point. As far as she knew, no one had sat on them for years.
Now that she and her friends were grown, when they wanted a bonfire, they went to the beach. But the firepit had seen a lot of action when everyone was in their teens. Secrets were whispered, laughter filled the yard, and far too many smores had been smeared across their cheeks.
Longing sucker-punched Estelle in the throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her lungs pulsed erratically, but her throat was swollen shut. Tears began to slip unheeded down her cheeks, dripping from her chin as she fought to make her body relax enough to suck in oxygen. When it finally came, her chest heaved, and she nearly bent in half with relief.
She stood with her hands on the window frame, knuckles white with tension as she waited for the spell to pass. Every part of her physically ached, and she felt like any movement would cause her to collapse.
They need you.
The words were such a constant part of noise in her head that she almost didn’t hear them any more.
What she wouldn’t give to go back to those simpler times. Not that she would begrudge her friends and loved ones the wonderful things they’d accomplished, but Estelle could boast no such resume.
Instead of a career, she had a fledgling business she could only give partial attention to. Instead of becoming independent, she was still living in her parent’s home. Instead of using a college education, she was learning about feeding tubes and wheelchairs. And instead of a significant other, she was watching her father waste away while her mother crumbled under the pain.
“Stelle?”
Estelle stiffened and tried to discreetly dry her face before turning around. “Hey, Aspen.” Estelle put a finger to her lips and pointed to their dad.
Aspen frowned and nodded. Softly, she walked over, her hand resting on her abdomen. Standing beside the wheelchair, she watched their father’s chest rise and fall in consistent, if not quite steady patterns.
Estelle watched as Aspen’s eyes filled with tears, and her hand rubbed across her stomach in circles. “I thought he’d be here for it, you know?” Aspen whispered.
Estelle nodded jerkily. “I know.”
Aspen looked up, her red rimmed eyes seeking answers that Estelle didn’t have. “What are we going to do without him?” she rasped.
Estelle swallowed once…twice…but still nothing came to mind. “I…” She sucked in a deep breath. “The best we can, I guess.”
Aspen’s lips were twitching, but she nodded. “If it’s a boy, we’re going to name him after dad.”
One side of Estelle’s mouth rose. “I think he’d like that. But be careful. You might be dooming yourself to raising a casanova.”
Aspen barked a laugh through her tears, then coughed and wiped her face when their dad opened his eyes.
“Aspen,” he whispered, his shaking hands raising toward her.
Aspen gripped his fingers. “Hey, Dad. I came to see how you were feeling today.” She smiled, but anyone could see the bloodshot streaks in her eyes and smears of mascara. There was no way to hide the emotion on her face.
“Be..be-better than…ev…er,” their dad slurred, his mouth struggling to form words.
There were times when Estelle had to ask him to repeat his requests, and she hated to do it, knowing it was so difficult for him to speak at all. He couldn’t write, he couldn’t type, and he couldn’t sign… When his mouth stopped working, they wouldn’t be able to communicate with him at all.
Aspen’s laugh was too high to be natural. “Always optimistic,” she teased. “I hope my baby ends up just like you.”
Their dad’s eyebrow twitched, and he gave Aspen a bland look. “C-care…ful…”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Estelle supplied for him. She stepped a little closer, adjusting the blanket. “I’ve heard the stories from Nana,” Estelle joked. “If I have a nephew that way, I’m going to refuse to babysit him until he’s sixteen.”
Aspen’s low laugh was more genuine this time as she wiped at her eyes. “Nice try, Stelle. I’m all too aware of what a softie you are.”
Estelle huffed, but she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. Watching her nieces and nephews might be the only way she’d experience anything close to parenthood, and there was no way she’d miss a moment of it.
That stupid longing was back. This time, it wasn’t for her past life, but the future one she was giving up. Before she could stop it, Crew’s face flashed across her mind. That dark blond hair and greenish blue eyes were mesmerizing, and his company was so easy, a stark contrast to standing beside her father watching him struggle to speak.
Nothing about her life was easy and giving into her desire to spend time with Crew by making Layla’s birthday cake felt like she was putting pleasure before duty. Could she handle the consequences of that choice? Her mother might claim she wanted Estelle to have a life, but Emery also admitted that she couldn’t take care of Dad without Estelle’s help.
“Estelle.”
Estelle jumped, having wandered from the conversation. “Sorry.” She shook her head. “What did you need?”
Aspen was squatting next to the wheelchair, and their father’s face was turning red. “I can’t quite understand him,” Aspen said, her smile faltering. “Can you help me?”
They need me.
Estelle put her hand on her dad’s shoulder and gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, Dad,” she soothed. “We’ll figure this out.” Bending down, she focused solely on her parent. “Do you mind trying again? I promise I’ll pay attention this time.”
“It’s gonna get you!” Crew lifted Layla just as the wave came up where their feet had been. Her laughter rang through the air, and he found himself chuckling with her when he put her back down.
Her hands flew. “Do it again, Uncle Crew!”
Crew shook his head. “I’ve been doing it for a half hour, now,” he teased her, tweaking her nose when she began to pout. “I’m old,” he continued. “I’m gonna sit down for a few minutes and eat a snack. You wanna come?”
She nodded eagerly and took his hand, skipping as they walked back toward the chairs Crew had carried out onto the sand.
After dusting off their hands, Crew pulled out a small ice chest and rooted through it for the snacks that Harper had put inside. “I’ve got cheese sticks,” he signed.
Layla nodded, her legs kicking in the adult sized chair.
Crew grinned at the cute picture she made. Her curls were pulled up into a high ponytail, but shorter ones poked out, tiny ringlets framing her baby face that was pink from the afternoon sun.
One sandy princess swimsuit and two bright pink sandals completed the ensemble, while the princess towel they’d come with was half blown over just in front of the chairs.
For a moment, he wished he didn’t live quite so far away. Every time he saw Layla, she was bigger, and in a few months, another little one would be added to the family. Even though he was only the uncle, Crew felt time slipping through his fingers.
He blamed Mason.
With their parents, Crew knew he could have easily grown up cold and calculated, worried more about his reputation with the country club than the health of his family. It would have made sense. After all, that was how his parents were.
Instead, Mason had given Crew and Aimee someone to look up to. Mason had been an expert at appeasing their mother’s constant nagging and bringing peace, even if it was fragile, to the household.
Mason had taught Crew to care for others and encouraged him to go into what he wanted to study in college. Funny enough, being a dentist had actually delighted their socialite mother. She just refused to share that his patients were children. Somehow that had ruined her “my son is a doctor” story.
Crew shook his head at the absurdity of it all. Draining his water bottle, he squashed the plastic and put it back inside the cooler, grabbing an apple before shutting the lid. “So, squirt,” he said between bites. “Do you want to stay here longer? Or are you getting tired and ready for home?”
Layla pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, causing the curls to caress her round cheeks.
Crew’s grin widened. She was so much like Aimee. Hopefully, being raised in a stable house meant that Layla would come home after she was an adult, unlike their emotionally traumatized sister.
“Can we play a game?” she asked in that slightly garbled tone.
Crew raised his eyebrows. “A game? What game do you want to play?”
“Tea party?”
Crew held back a groan. He had no idea how much a kid could fixate on one thing. The first time Layla had asked him to play tea party, Crew had dutifully sat in the tiny chair sipping lemonade from plastic cups and pretending to have a British accent.
This had to be the fiftieth time she’d wanted to play that in the seven days he’d been in town, and each time, it got a little harder to agree. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get feeling back in his butt from sitting in her small chairs.
“Sure,” he said with a wide smile. “If that’s what you want.”
Layla nodded and continued to gnaw on her cheese stick.
Note to self, Crew thought. Distract her when we get home and see if you can convince her to play something else.
A loud, musical ditty burst into the air, startling Crew, but he quickly fished his phone out of the jacket pocket hanging over his chair. Pulling up his texts, he paused when he realized it was from Estelle. Her number was brand new in his phone and they hadn’t exchanged any texts yet, so her single bubble looked lonely by itself on the thread.
Thank you for thinking of me, but I’m afraid I don’t have time to make Layla’s cake. I’m sorry. I’m sure she’ll love anything you can come up with.
- Estelle
Crew’s brows pulled together, and his heart sank. Dang it. She was supposed to let him in. How was he going to help her if she shut him down before he ever got started?
A hand tapped his knee, and Crew looked up. “Want to build a castle?” Layla signed.
“Outloud,” Crew reminded her.
Layla rolled her eyes, looking more and more like her mother’s doppelganger. “Wanna build a castle?” she asked vocally this time.
Crew nodded. “I’d love to, but I need to make a phone call. Why don’t you get started, and I’ll join you in a minute?”
Layla shrugged and skipped her way down the sand until she reached where it was damp. Dropping to her knees she began to dig a hole.
Crew’s eyes remained on his niece while his mind whirled with how to handle the situation. It only took a couple minutes before a young boy and his toddler sister wandered over with buckets in hand to join Layla.
After speaking for a minute, Layla looked at Crew, and he gave her a thumbs up, encouraging her to play with the kids her age. She’d enjoy that much more than playing with him, anyway.
Turning his attention back to the problem at hand, Crew stared at the text. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, but he wasn’t sure what to write. Estelle needed help. But how could he give it without causing more problems?
Eventually, he went back to his home screen and clicked on his speed dial.
“Crew? Is everything alright?” Harper asked through the line.
“Are you seriously doubting me?” Crew responded. “Why does calling mean that something’s wrong?”
Harper huffed. “It doesn’t, I suppose. Give me credit for motherly instincts.”
“So noted.” Crew cleared his throat. “Actually…there is a problem I'd like your help with but it’s not Layla.”
There was a long pause. “Okay?”
“I need you to tell me more about Estelle’s family.”
Harper blew out a long breath. “I told you that was personal,” she responded, her tone soft.
“I know,” Crew replied. “But I’m stuck at the moment and finding a break through her wall isn’t proving to be easy.”
“Crew…are you serious about her?” Harper asked. “You’ve only been in town a few days, and I don’t remember her saying anything about you guys talking between the wedding and now.”
He leaned back with a heavy sigh, his hand landing on his head. “I was intrigued with her,” he admitted. “Back at the wedding. I mean, come on.” His lips quirked. “Who wouldn’t be?”
Harper laughed quietly but didn’t interrupt.
“But we spent an hour together, and then I was headed back to California. She was beautiful, and if we lived closer, I would’ve pursued something.”
“So why now?” Harper pressed. “A month is longer than an hour, but still not a lot of time in the long run.”
Crew nodded, though Harper couldn’t see it. “Because when I saw her again, I realized what had been missing.” He knew that was vague, at least it would be to Harper who didn’t know about all the ridiculous emotions Crew had been dealing with lately, but it was the plain and simple truth. No filler, no teasing, no drama…in Estelle he saw why he’d been so bored and restless for months. Now he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.
But I have to be given a chance to fight.
“If you tell anyone else what I’m about to share, I’ll skin you alive,” Harper threatened.
Crew relaxed ever so slightly. “You have my solemn word,” he promised her.