“Nope, just Candi.”
The sound of a car speeding away fills the night.
Colt pushes a metal shelf under the window, and cans of paint come crashing down with a clatter.
Max jumps up and peers out. “The house.” He knocks Colt out of the way, easy as a chess piece, and breaks the window with his fist.
“What?” I struggle to look out the tiny hole. All I see is smoke filling in the driveway. “That’s exhaust, right?” It strangles out of me because I know it’s not.
Holy shit.
I can’t help her. I can’t climb out that window or move fast enough to save Lee.
Fuck this.
I use Colt as a springboard and burst through the window, run through the smoke and into the house with its walls on fire.
“Lee?” I choke it out as I stumble in the white haze.
Shit.
Max skids in beside me.
“I’ll go this way.” I point to the right, and Max takes off in the other direction. I pull my T-shirt up over my nose and trip on the staircase. A rhythmic thumping comes from the wall, and I touch my hand to the plaster all the way up the stairwell.
She’s calling for help the only way she can. That has to be Lee. I follow the heartbeat until I land in an oversized bedroom filled with a thick veil of smoke.
“Lee?”
The pounding intensifies as I come up on the closet. A chair sits tucked under the knob, locking it from the outside. I throw it open and shut myself in—dizzy, struggling to catch a fresh breath.
Lee presses into me, her face cool and wet against mine as the smoke curls in. I run my lips over her hair, her eyes, her lips.
“Hold your breath.” I instruct through a series of hacking coughs.
I take her by the waist and lead her into the room already engulfed in flames. The heat sears over me, and I can feel my shirt trying to melt onto my flesh. I spot the balcony and head over, scalding the skin on my palm as I let us out and slam the door behind us.
A blast of cold night air hits us, and we gulp down the fresh night air.
Lee sobs into me. Her hair falls over her face as she molds her body to mine.
“God, I love you,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the top of her head.
The house burns around us as we take shelter on the small balcony overlooking the driveway.
We sputter and gasp as the smoke stings our eyes.
“You okay?” I ask, touching my hand down over the baby.
Lee looks up at me with her beautiful face and nods.
“Down here!” Max shouts up from the driveway. His clothes are blackened. His arms are covered with blood. “Lee!” He waves a hand over his head to get our attention.
The balcony jolts—a wall of glass explodes from behind, and I push Lee into my chest until it’s quiet again.
The fire extends over the frame of the door, licking the roof like a blowtorch.
“I love you,” I squeeze the words from my throat. We’re only two stories up, we can do this. “It’s been more than a gift to be your husband, Lee.”
She looks at me with those ocean blue eyes, and the peaceful look on her face startles me.
“You’re the universe to me, Mitch. You have to know that.” Lee presses her lips over mine, and the entire world stops spinning. The fire, the fields, it all fades away. It’s just Lee and me locked in our love—this kiss is the only event on the horizon.
“I’m glad you think so.” I scoop her into my arms and hoist her over the railing, ignoring the pain that’s electrifying my shoulder.
“No!” Lee lets out a curdling scream as her fingers claw at the ledge. “Don’t do this. I’ll hate you. I will hate you, Mitch!”
“We’ve run out of options.” I press another kiss over her lips. “Max!” I watch as he steadies himself beneath her. He holds his arms out, open and waiting, and he damn well better catch her.
Dear God, let this work.
“I love you, Lee.” I drop a kiss on her forehead and let her go slowly—watch her fall into Max’s waiting arms, safe and sound.
“Yes.” I let out a sigh of relief. Lee is safe—out of danger, away from the Townsend curse we’ve been held under for so long.
It’s done. Lee and the baby are going to be fine.
The fire licks at my scalp before biting down over my shoulder.
“Mitch!” Colt comes speeding toward me with the truck and parks beneath the balcony.
I flip my legs over the rail and stand on the ledge, my shirt smolders in flames as I ready myself to jump.
The smell of gas intensifies. An enormous roar rips through the night as the house detonates from behind. The earth shakes. A blinding light ignites the sky like the Fourth of July as I catapult off to the left—I try clawing my way back to the truck—to Lee. I can hear the sirens—see the horror on my beautiful wife’s face as the stone driveway fast approaches.
I think of Stella and Eli, the baby that I know is mine. I think of what Lee and I have, what we’ve had for so long and how God smiled and let me see her again one last time. I think of Max—how we came full circle in the end and how I love him more than a brother.
Life happened. It came apart at the seams and sewed itself back together the way it was supposed to.
Somehow I know this to be true.
And the world claps to darkness.
My father comes to me, and this time it’s not a dream or some trauma-inspired hallucination.
“You ready, Mitch?” He holds out his hand.
I look around unsure of this new hazy world. “Is it really my time?”
“Your time was up five years ago, son. You were meant to die in that car fire along with the others—but you managed to garner one final act of mercy. Not too many people have a chance to make things right with the ones they love—to make peace with people and places.” He gives a little wink.
So this is it. I pan the chaos breaking out on Hudson’s driveway—my body lying motionless in the corner.
“Do I have a say?” I glare into my father because I already know the answer.
“Not this time.” He pats my back and tries to move me from the scene. “You were one of the lucky ones, Mitch. Don’t deny the gift you were given.”
I take a hiccupping breath as my gut pinches with grief, and marvel at how normal I still feel—and, yet, nothing will ever be normal again. Not for any of us.
“I guess I am one of the lucky ones, and so are Stella and Lee.” I look over to Max and offer a little smile. “They’re in good hands.” And this time I approve. I know he’ll take care of my family—love them just as much as I would.
Max and I somehow managed to fix things, and maybe, in a sense, it was a gift to do just that. I knew in my heart that everything was better between us. I could feel it there those last few weeks. It had all turned around, right back to how it used to be, with each of us hoping Lee would choose us—stronger than blood brothers. If I could change one thing, it would be to make things right with Max a whole lot sooner—hell, never to let them go wrong in the first place. We could have had so much more. But in the end, I’m glad I had a chance to come back and make things right.
I glance back down at Lee. “I love you deeper than the ocean, Lee Townsend”—my voice breaks as I glance at her beautiful face one last time—“Max, too.”
I guess you could love a lot of people deeper than the ocean.
Life is short.
You should.
29
Inescapable Sorrow
Lee
The house dissolves into flames. Mitch flies over the truck and lands with a thud on the other side.
“Hold onto her.” Max pushes me into Colton before taking off.
“Oh my, God.” I close my eyes and lock out the world for a brief moment before kicking free from Colt.
Mitch lies on his stomach with a trickle of blood coming from his nose. Max falls down next to him and speaks directly into his ear. The sirens stop screaming, the flash of re
d and blue lights slice through the night as an entourage of men in uniforms storm the grounds. I drop to my knees and lean over his beautiful face.
“Mitch,” I breathe his name, but not a sound escapes my lips. Max backs up for the medics to tend to him. They take his vitals—lift his wrist, limp as a ragdoll. I push my lips to his ear. “I have always loved you, Mitch Townsend.” It strangles out of me with tears. “You will always be mine. Come back to me, Mitch.” A painful knot ties up my vocal cords, but I push the most important words through. “I will love you forever.”
The days melt by in snippets—the race to the hospital—Mitch in a coma for weeks.
He never woke up.
The funeral is small and private. The whole world has inverted. It turned its ugly side out and made us suffer. There is a familiarity about this horrible hour in my life, but this time every new memory we created these past few months gouges at me with its jagged shards.
Stella and Eli are locked in the tempest. Nothing could ever quell this sadness—take away the pain from this needle in our eye. There is no more light in the universe, no more oxygen. Mitch took it all with him. There is nothing left to look at without him here beside me. Every part of me wants to crawl into his casket and beg the world to cover us both with warm Mono soil. I just want to be near Mitch. I miss his touch, his voice, his strong body pressed against mine. I’m smothering in this indescribable ache. My heart has shattered. Mitch took it right along with him.
Max and I share our grief—a suffering so great, I’m not sure it will ever end.
I never could choose between the two of them.
Sometimes God chooses for you.
Sometimes even He can find no good solution.
Then at the end of a long harrowing day at the cemetery, after lowering a black slick casket that holds the remains of my sweet husband and tossing soil over it with my own hand, Colton brings me a gift.
“He wrote this on the plane, just in case. He didn’t think he’d need it.”
I take the envelope from him, gingerly, as if it were Mitch himself.
Max and I read it together.
Dear Lee,
If you’re reading this things didn’t end well for me. I was sort of hoping this was just a way to kill time on the flight back home but something in my gut said do it just in case. You see, the last time you lost me I didn’t leave anything behind for you to look at or hold that would tell you how much I love you. I guess what I’m doing now is covering all the bases.
I wasn’t sure why God had me in that hellhole for so long, but, now, I think I know. I think there was a purpose and that purpose was his and his alone. I’m also pretty sure that five years apart gave you enough time to establish a new life, it let me see what your world would have really been like had I been gone for good. I’ll be honest I wasn’t too impressed with the choices you made at first, well, choice, and that being Max. But now that I’ve had time to see things from all angles, I have to commend you on a job well done. Since I wasn’t there to be a husband to you, I’m glad it was Max. In fact, now that I’ve made a more permanent relocation to the hereafter, I hope the two of you will live a very happy life together. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. If it can’t be me, I’m glad it’s Max Shepherd.
Please tell Stella I love her as often as you can. I don’t want to weigh her down with my death, but somehow I’d still like for her to feel like I’m a part of her life.
I’ll be watching down over our family every single day. When the kids hit all their highlights in life you can bet I’ll be right there beside you and Max, cheering them on.
As for the sweet baby you’re carrying, I wish I could have been there to see you through this, hold your hand when it comes time. I know that if that child is mine, and I really feel in my heart it is, that Max will still love her or him as fiercely as he does his own, like he loves Stella.
I can’t say I’m not sad to be there with you, to make love to you each night, to feel your hair, your soft kisses, but I know that if God did choose to take me, it was my time to go.
Don’t cry for me, Lee. Don’t grieve me. It kills me to think that I could bring one more ounce of pain to your precious life. Smile when you think of me. Laugh. Talk about the good times and cherish them. I’ll see you again, Lee. I’ll be the first one waiting to greet you when you come home—Max, too. We’ll all be together again, and maybe you and I will get that private time as husband and wife we missed out on down there. It was a privilege and an honor to be your husband, and, if I had my way, we would have lasted another sixty years at least. I’m guessing eternity won’t start feeling like heaven until you arrive, and, when you do, I plan on making up for lost time if you don’t mind.
I guess it’s hard to tell what the future holds in so many ways, but I know with Max there beside you there is nothing for you to fear. I know with Max in your life, I’m leaving my family in the best hands possible. Tell him I love him. Tell Stella, and Eli, and the new baby, too. I love you all deeper than the ocean.
I will see you again someday.
Love,
Mitch
One Year Later
Max
“Go right!” I shout to Eli. It’s hazy out, but the sand is still warm under our feet. “No—your other right.” I laugh, tossing the ball anyway.
“Daddy—me!” Stella jumps and squeals.
“You’re next.” I turn toward the house. Lee catches my eye. She waves from the porch and pauses to grasp the baby’s fingers, and the two of them wave together.
A sharp pain flares in my gut as Eli pins me with a power throw. “Nice job, buddy.” I hike the football over to Stella before glancing back at Lee. Hard to believe the baby is seven months.
Baby Mitch is quiet and pensive—a twin to Stella in male skin.
They caught Hudson. He confessed to the field fires, so insurance paid up after all. But it’s been Johnson’s almond farm that’s kept us afloat. It turned out to be a saving grace. We’ve already decided to replant the fields. Vines are on their way from Italy and France—should be here in a few weeks. We’re dedicating an entire field to Mitch as a memorial—Mitch’s reserve. He’ll get his own line. God knows he deserves one and then some.
Lee kicks off her shoes and makes her way over with the baby. Stella thinks he’s great, but she’s still holding out hope for a sister. We told her we’d try again in a couple of years.
“Hold your fire,” I shout to Stella. She tosses the ball to the side and runs in and out of the waterline with Eli.
I take the baby from Lee and bounce him off my chest until he smiles. He has the same serious gaze as his father, and he holds me with it as if it were Mitch looking right at me through his son’s eyes.
It brings me back to that night we lost him, how I told him he would always be my brother, to hang on, that it would be all right, but it wasn’t. I knew in my heart, though, that everything was better between us. I could feel it there those last few weeks.
I’d like to think there was a higher purpose at play. In the midst of heartbreak, when things don’t make sense, I plan on remembering that—remembering Mitch, letting him live on through me, and Lee, and this beautiful family he’s given us. We gave each other strange gifts. We were the curators of our own misery, but it all spun around, turned into a thing of remarkable, absolute beauty. We were family once, and, now, we are again in so many ways.
Stella and Eli run over and clasp onto my knees for a moment. I pull Lee in and land a careful kiss over her lips. I like this chaotic unity, this buzzing circle of children that surrounds us, but it feels like someone is missing from our circle, and I know for a fact it always will.
“Can I throw in Daddy’s flowers?” Stella snatches the pale yellow lei off the sand.
“Yes.” Lee manages the word, but you can see how much it hurts.
Today marks one solid year since Mitch went home.
I watch as the flowers sail through the air only to drift back to shore.
Stella tries two more times before launching it out about five feet. Lee and I take a seat in the sand and watch as the flowers drift over the surface of the water. She circles my waist and rests her head on my shoulder.
“He’ll always be a part of us,” she gives it in a broken whisper.
“I know.” I land a soft kiss over the top of her head. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Mitch and I had made amends. We righted all the wrongs at the last minute. I hope he’s okay with the fact I’m here with Lee—that I’m going to love her and the kids until the day God rips me from this earth. If the situation were reversed, I know I’d be more than content. For so many months I struggled with why God would let him come back only to take him away again so tragically. But Mitch had a chance to meet Stella, to kiss Lee one more time and create a beautiful new being with her. He got to say one hell of a good bye, and I’m glad he did.
He saved Lee from the fire. I didn’t find her. Mitch did. He gave her back to me and to the kids. He was the guardian angel that needed to help her out one more time.
I’m damn glad he came back from China. He promised Lee he would, just like he did the first time, so he had to.
I give a wry smile.
Mitch always kept his word.
I lean in and kiss Lee on the lips, slow and lingering.
She pulls back with a loving smile. “We had him for a while.” She blinks into her tears. “In that sense it was good.”
“Then that’s what his labels will say—a good year.”
“More like a good year for heartbreak.” She lays her head on my shoulder.
“Let’s just call it a good year.” I sweep a kiss off her cheek. We had talked about that once—adding a good year to the labels—about it representing how strong we were, and now it means so much more because it brings Mitch into the fold—the three of us like a team. “I love you, Lee.”
“I love you, too.” She wraps her arms around the baby and me.
Every year you spend with the ones you love is good.