Chapter - 27
LOGAN
It was comical that I was so nervous about this day, but the small hand that squeezed mine as we strolled through grass made me relax my shoulders a little bit more. Another small hand came up to grab onto my forearm, as if knowing that I would need all the contact right now.
I glanced down at Eloise, admiring her features as the morning sunlight started to shine through the various trees and gravestones.
“Is it silly that I’m nervous?” Eloise asked.
I squeezed her hand back in mine, leaning down to kiss her head as I tugged her along the path that I had only made a handful of times since laying Anna here to rest years ago. I could see Eloise glancing at all the names on the gravestones that we passed, curious interest lighting up those eyes that I would never, ever get tired of seeing.
It had been a month since Colorado. Since John fired our former agent and Eloise’s parents had met us at the airport at LAX. It was a weird weekend. Within twenty-four hours we had gone from John and I sprinting down the hotel hallway after hearing Eloise’s voice warning Connor to not come any closer, to Eloise telling me that she loved me on the plane home the next morning, to meeting her parents a couple of hours later when we landed.
A whirlwind of a weekend, but I didn’t mind. Not in the grand scheme of things.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous to meet her parents, considering I never had before. I didn’t think I would be the kind of guy who needed the approval of my girlfriend’s parents, and yet, when Eloise and I stepped out of LAX and she waved at a cream-colored Rolls Royce waiting to pick us up, I felt my palms start to sweat.
Immediately, a woman who had the same hair and eye color as Eloise stepped out of the passenger seat. The woman even had a petite build like my girlfriend, so I knew it was her. I was swallowing my fear, getting ready to hold a hand up to introduce myself to Eloise’s mother, when I was caught completely off guard by the woman.
The woman, who was dressed in a white blouse, khaki knee-length skirt, and heels to pick up her daughter from the airport, had left the passenger side door open and ran to meet the two of us.
And then she wrapped both her daughter and me in a hug, my hand left awkwardly out to the side of us. I heard Eloise giggle and returned the embrace her mother was giving the two of us. Each of her arms around the shoulders of Eloise and me.
Mrs. Bane leaned back, settling on her heels, and took her daughter’s face in her hands immediately. The look of a concerned mother scanning her daughter’s face made something stir in my chest, realizing how much Eloise’s mother truly loved her daughter.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mrs. Bane asked.
“I’m okay, mom.” Eloise’s eyes watered a little, reaching up to squeeze her mother’s hands in reassurance before Mrs. Bane turned to me and immediately grabbed my face. She pulled me down to her level so that she could wrap her arms around my shoulders again, and I gave Eloise a wide-eyed look at being aggressively hugged twice by her mother within the span of seconds.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Bane whispered to me. “Thank you for being there for my daughter.” I gulped nervously while awkwardly returning her hug once more and nodding my head when she pulled back.
“Let them breathe, Lydia.” Mr. Bane was stepping out of the driver’s seat, leaving his car running as he approached his family and me. He bent down to embrace Eloise in a one-arm hug, while also grabbing her bag and dragging it towards the trunk of his car.
Mrs. Bane looped her arms through both mine and Eloise’s and dragged us to the Rolls Royce as well.
“I’m going to kill him.” Eloise’s mother and I immediately had something in common.
“Mom,” Eloise sighed.
“Your father is already getting the paperwork for a restraining order set up—”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now,” Eloise interrupted, giving her mom a stern look. I knew Eloise had struggled to stand up to her parents before, and even though I desperately wanted to talk to her parents to see what all they were doing to ensure that my former agent never, ever caught a glimpse of Eloise again, I set my hand on the small of her back in support.
We had time to discuss these things later.
“That’s alright,” Mr. Bane agreed after shutting the trunk, and walking over to where we stood. Eloise and her mother were helping themselves to their seats in the car, Mrs. Bane taking the passenger seat and Eloise sliding across the back to make room for me to follow, but Mr. Bane halted my progress with a firm grip on my shoulder. I was taller than this man, but even though I was looking down at him, I knew how important he was to Eloise. And how I desperately wanted to make her happy.
He gave me a once over as he held me still with his grip on my shoulder, before taking a very distinct look at the scarring that everyone who first met me noticed, and met my eyes again.
“Thank you,” Mr. Bane said with a firm nod. “Until Eloise says otherwise, you always have a place in our family.”
I blinked in surprise at his words, before managing a very stiff nod in acknowledgement. That was that. Mr. Bane released my shoulder and made his way to the driver’s seat as I folded myself into the backseat next to my girlfriend.
My girlfriend.
Eloise Bane was my girlfriend. And we loved each other.
A few days later, while lying in Eloise’s bed and changing my phone’s wallpaper image to one of the two of us, Eloise mentioned visiting my sister.
I shrugged, informing her that Anna’s birthday was coming up.
Eloise didn’t need to be told anything else. She then announced to me that since she was occupying mine and my phone’s attention, that the least we could do was visit Anna on her birthday.
I had a feeling that she meant it as the start of a new tradition, and I didn’t hate the fact that my girlfriend was so considerate of my family. The family that I cared about, that is.
Which is how we ended up at Anaheim Cemetery, walking through the graves and finally, finally approaching the two that stirred unresolved feelings of grief in my chest.
The two gravestones weren’t large, or gaudy. The fact that my father scraped enough money together to find these two slabs of stone was a miracle. They were the ones that laid flat on the ground, and the groundskeeper needed to constantly trim the grass around, so that they didn’t accidentally become obscured by landscaping.
On the left was my mother, her name in bold lettering:
FRANCESCA ST. JAMES
On the right was my sister:
ANNA MARIA ST. JAMES
Their lifespans are underneath. No unique imagery, no sentences saying who they were to anyone, or who would miss them.
My father was a real piece of shit, wherever he was.
Without a word, Eloise released her grip on my hand to reach out for the two bouquets I was supporting with my other, placing each beside my mother and sister. She then tugged my hand down as she started to sit, crisscrossing her legs in front of the stones, and I followed suit.
I had visited their graves before, mostly standing awkwardly and staring at them and feeling a mixture of emotions like rage and sadness at the circumstances. But I hadn’t ever sat down, as if I was settling in for a friendly visit.
“Was your mother Italian?” Eloise asked after we settled on the grass, nodding towards my mother’s name.
I nodded.
“But your last name is your father’s I’m assuming?” I nodded at her words again. “Do you take after your mother?”
I smiled, Yes. My father was the epitome of Irish, with blonde hair and blue eyes. It was where Anna got her blonde hair from. I, however, inherited my mother’s dark curly hair and brown eyes. Something I was grateful for every day.
“Your son is like a steel vault of information, Francesca,” Eloise had turned and rested a reverent hand on my mother’s grave, immediately making an annoying burning start in my eyes as my vision suddenly became blurry, “It’s truly a miracle we were able to form a relationship at all.” Eloise smiled, tracing her finger over my mother’s name before pulling her hand back to wrap mine in hers, still chatting with my mother’s grave as if my heart wasn’t being beaten open with a hammer at the sight, “…But he’s worth it. Oh, and happy birthday, Anna.”
I didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that leaked from my traitorous eyes, I just allowed myself to sit in this moment. Something my therapist had prepared me for the last session we had, after filling them in on my girlfriend and this trip we had planned. I knew it would make me feel things I didn’t want to, things that are inescapable when it comes to grief.
But I wasn’t expecting just how shattered I would feel, how raw and exposed I would be, sitting here silently crying while Eloise acquainted herself with my mother. My sister. And how it was okay that I was feeling this way. I was safe here with Eloise, feeling practically cut open by sharing this first with her. Chatting with them as if they were sitting here with us. Taking time to stay and honor their lives with our presence, instead of the quick and thoughtless visits I had made in the past.
I knew what I had with Eloise was real. I had known in the past, of course, but I was being blatantly reminded of that fact as we filled my family in on our lives. Telling them about our friends, our jokes. Nothing got left out, not even how Eloise and I chased each other through the townhome and I successfully coated her hair with chocolate syrup.
I knew my sister would have appreciated that story.
We stayed there for most of the morning until the sun rose high enough to start to be too warm. Eloise wasn’t wearing anything but a t-shirt and shorts, and I didn’t want her to get burned. That was the only reason we eventually said our goodbyes, promising to visit more often, and walked back to my truck hand in hand.
Once we were settled in the car, buckling ourselves in, I felt Eloise’s hand squeeze my leg before I turned to look at her.
Thank you for sharing that with me, Eloise signed, something she was improving her skills with rapidly, I love you.
I grabbed her hand in mine, kissing the knuckles of her fingers before settling her hand back on my thigh and pressing, telling her to leave it there before replying with, Thank you. I love you.
It was pure, stupid luck that I had managed to convince a woman like Eloise to give me the time of day. To give me a chance, and to love me like she openly did. I wasn’t going to be careless with the gift that Eloise Bane was. She was mine, and I was hers. And I would spend as much time as Eloise gave me to show her how much that mattered to me.