Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The snow begins to fall again the following morning.
The house is warm, but I still feel chilled to the bones as I stand at the front window with a hot mug of coffee in my hands.
None of us got more than four hours of sleep, but Mom has stopped crying.
I’m not sure which is worse, her tears or the silence.
An hour later, Ryan leads her back into the kitchen. She looks like she’s moving through fog.
“Hey, Mom,” I call out as she brushes past me. “Are you hungry? I was thinking about making some breakfast.”
“No, thank you,” she replies quietly, looking down as she drifts towards the stairs.
“You should eat something. I can make you some toast and tea,” I encourage, trailing behind her.
“I said no, Hannah,” she snaps, “quit pestering me.” Her shaky fingers touch her lips as she chokes back a sob. “I’m sorry, I just want to lie down.”
Nodding, I swallow the lump in my throat and watch her retreat upstairs to the room she used to share with my father. It hurts to see her in so much pain. I wish she would talk to me.
“How is she?” I ask Ryan as I watch her slowly climb the stairs, though I already know the answer.
“She’s in shock. I don’t believe she’s at risk to herself right now, but she’s going to need a lot of support and a revised safety plan.
” He pauses for a beat, then continues, “I know you have been caring for your mom for a long time, Hannah. I have reviewed her file, but you have experienced a devastating loss as well. Do you have someone to support you?” he asks gently.
I look across the room at Logan who is currently making more coffee and talking to his mom. “Yeah, I have support. I’ll be okay.”
He looks at Logan for a moment, then back to me. “What about someone to help around the house? To help lighten your load a little?”
“We have a part-time housekeeper. Her name is Francis. Fuck, I don’t know if anyone has even called her to tell her about Dad.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. I’ll have to ask Logan and Beth, maybe one of them did.
“Good, I’m glad you have some help. I can plan for your mom to go into treatment if you think she needs more support than you can give. Don’t burn yourself out, okay?”
I appreciate his concern. I like that he came prepared, knowledgeable about Mom’s diagnosis and medical history, and that we didn’t need to rehash it all.
I don’t have the bandwidth to do it right now.
Maybe he will be able to continue to see Mom long term and help her learn more tools to regulate her feelings.
Or speak to her doctor about finally getting her on the right medication.
It’s become clear what she has been doing isn’t working anymore; I’m not sure it ever did.
After seeing so many doctors and therapists over the years, Mom is reluctant to trust, but maybe she will connect with him.
“Is there anything I can do for you? I can make a referral to a grief counsellor,” Ryan suggests with compassion in his voice.
“I’ll let you know, okay? I can’t think about that today.” I rub my fingers in circles over both my temples. Logan clocks the motion from across the room and raises his eyebrows questioning if I need anything. I give my head a small shake.
My attention returns to Ryan when he doubles down. “I know it’s going to be difficult, Hannah, but you still have to make yourself a priority.”
“Make myself a priority? How exactly do you expect me to do that?” I say, my voice is sharper than I intended.
I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m just tired.
I’m sure Ryan is a good man and fully qualified to treat my mom.
He doesn’t deserve my attitude. “I’m sorry.
This is a lot.” I wave my arm around the room.
“No need to apologize, this is a very stressful time.” He smiles kindly. “If Grace needs anything at all call me directly. You have my cell number.” One of the great things about living in a small town is people go above and beyond to help in a crisis.
After Ryan leaves, I call the funeral home to ask what needs to be done for my father’s funeral.
The kind man told me they have been expecting my call.
I had no idea, but I am grateful that end of life planning exists and that my efficient father has made his own arrangements and prepaid for his funeral.
It’s just one less thing I need to think about.
I must remember to call our family’s lawyer at some point.
I know dad told me when I turned eighteen that I was the power of attorney and executor of his estate, but I don’t even know what that means.
I’m sure I will find out soon enough after someone explains it to me.
Logan has taken it upon himself to write me a list of things to do and ask.
Beth went home earlier to shower and change but she has returned to pitch in with lunch.
She has been an absolute angel and has offered to spend the night again.
I know my father’s death must be extremely difficult for her.
She has worked as his personal assistant in his real estate office for the last few years.
I want to ask her if she knew my dad was having an affair, but I don’t know how.
She hasn’t said a word about the posts online but surely, she must know something.
We are all just going through the motions trying to get through the day. I don’t think any of us can process what is really happening. Everything feels surreal.
The community food train starts right after lunch. Maggie, a friend and local bakery owner, presents me with a schedule of who is bringing what meals for the next month. I’m grateful. My cooking skills are limited at best.
“Oh, you sweet child, how are you?” Maggie pulls me into her warm embrace after handing Logan a lasagna and instructions on how to cook it, plus a dozen of her famous donuts.
I soak in the comfort she is offering. She smells like sugar and cinnamon.
The thought of food makes me ill, but the donuts I can probably handle.
They are my ultimate comfort food and Maggie makes the very best.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the food, Maggie, I really appreciate it,” I say sincerely.
“Anything you need, just ask, okay? Your father was a good man, Hannah. Never doubt that.” She steps back, holding my hands in her own. Her eyes are watery and sad.
“I know, but thanks for saying it.” I give her a weak smile as a vice grips my heart. I need to hold on to that. He was a very good man; I can’t allow myself to believe otherwise. I can’t think about the last time I heard his voice and how angry I was.
“How’s Mom doing?” she asks with concern.
Shrugging my shoulder, I share my fears. “Not good and I’m worried. She’s barely speaking to me. I have been encouraging her to eat and drink but,” I trail off, looking to the ceiling as my eyes well with tears again.
Maggie pulls me back into a hug. “I’ll talk to her and see if I can get some food into her. You don’t have to do this alone, Hannah; she has friends that can support you both.”
Stepping back, I wipe a stray tear and smile softly. “Thank you, Maggie, I really appreciate your friendship and support. I know Mom will too.”
Officer Kent returns in the evening to give us an update.
Just as they suspected, the accident was just that, a complete accident, brought on by icy road conditions.
There was no sign that he was traveling at an unusually high speed on the quiet country road.
The toxicology will figure out if there were any drugs or alcohol in his bloodstream.
Though we know there won’t be, it’s just a formality.
His phone, that may have given us some insight into my father’s personal life, was destroyed in the crash. I can’t bear to think that we were the last people he spoke with, or even worse, that talking to us caused the accident.
After thanking him for stopping by, I shut the door behind him and lean my forehead against it. My heart feels heavy with sorrow. My lungs feel like I can’t take a deep enough breath.
Logan meets me in the hall and pulls me into a much-needed hug.
“How are you doing? Can I get you anything?” he asks while swaying us slowly.
“You should try and eat something with some nutrition. You can’t live off sugar and caffeine.”
“I don’t want anything,” I say, closing my eyes and burying my face in his shirt.
“Okay, I’ll let it go tonight.” I feel him press a light kiss to the top of my head.
“You are the strongest person I know, but you don’t have to be right now, okay?” I don’t need to respond. I just nod into his chest.
“How about you go upstairs and take a bath. I don’t imagine anyone else will stop by, so I’ll make sure the doors are locked, then come up. Maybe we can watch a movie.”
“Okay. A bath sounds good.” I stand there, not sure what I am waiting for.
Logan kisses me softly and turns me around directing me towards the stairs. “Go. I’ll be up soon, yeah?”
“Okay. I’m going.” I slowly make my way to my room and start undressing, dropping my clothes on the floor as I go.
I reach the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror.
How is this happening? Not even 36 hours ago I was thinking about end of the year assignments and preparing for exams. I had no plans to come home for the summer.
I was happy with the life I was living. Now everything has changed in the blink of an eye.
It feels selfish to think about how much my life has been impacted when my mom is struggling so badly. I just feel devastated by all of it.
How could he do this to us? I have so many conflicting feelings. My anger makes me feel so much guilt. I wish I could go back and change everything about our last call.
Slowly, I drop to the tile floor and lean my back against the cool porcelain tub.
I pull my knees to my chest, drop my head and start to cry.
I’m not sure how long I am there before I feel Logan sit down beside me.
He gently pulls me over his body so I’m straddling his lap.
I rest my head on his chest and continue to cry as he holds the back of my head and wipes tears away from my face.
Without a word he helps me rise. Once he knows I am steady, he turns to fill up the bathtub pouring a generous amount of the pomegranate bubble bath I love into the water. He checks the temperature before he begins to undress.
“What are you doing?” I whisper as he removes his own clothes and throws them in the hamper.
“Taking care of my girl.”
Turning off the tap, he steps in first, extending his hand inviting me to join him. As I do, he lowers himself into the steamy water, adjusting his body so I can sit between his legs.
“Talk to me, Hannah. What can I do? How can I help?”
“You are already doing it. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. There is no other place I want to be.
” He gathers my hair and secures it on top of my head with the elastic band he wears on his own wrist. I am always losing mine, so it became a habit for him to keep one.
He picks up the soap, lathers it in his hands and lovingly washes my body.
Firm, soft hands caressing my skin, washing the day away.
This feels incredibly intimate without being sexual. He makes me feel cherished.
Sighing, I close my eyes.
I must have dosed off because the next thing I know Logan is helping me get out of the bath. He carefully wraps a fluffy white towel around my body and secures one around his waist. He dries my skin and follows with my moisturizer. No words could ever express how deeply grateful I am for him.
After brushing our teeth, he leads me back into the bedroom and grabs me one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxer briefs to sleep in out of his backpack.
“Here, put this on. I like you in my clothes.” He winks at me as he helps me get dressed.
I watch him silently as he drops his towel on the floor and pulls on a pair of clean sweats.
Drawing back the blankets on the bed, he gestures for me to get in first and I obey his silent command.
I’m okay with him taking charge – I don’t want to make any more decisions today.
Lying down beside me, he pulls my back to his chest securing one arm around my stomach and the other under my head.
“Go to sleep, baby,” he says softly into my hair. As exhaustion takes me, I feel him squeeze a little tighter before he whispers, “I love you.”