“But you’re okay? Tom said there weren’t any complications, and that’s the truth, right? Because I can handle it, I promise.”
“Ah. So that’s what’s going on.” She grabs my hand. Hers has an IV taped to it. Would she have an IV if she was okay? “I’m fine, and I’m sorry. If I could do everything with Dad over again, I wouldn’t listen to him. I’d tell you the minute we knew. That wasn’t fair to you. But he didn’t ask us not to tell you because he didn’t think you could handle it. I’m sorry if you’ve been carrying that around with you, Jack. He was the one that couldn’t handle facingyou. He was so determined to be that strong hero for you to the end.” A tear rolls down Simone’s cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m so hormonal, and I love you and—”
“Hey, hey.” I pluck a tissue from a box on a bedside tray and hand it to her. “No crying. Today is a good day.”
“It is, it really is. And now you’re going to have a little Jack to be a hero to, and he’s going to love you so much because we love you—” At this, Simone breaks. Her chest heaves and large sobs follow. I’ve never seen my sister cry, and something about it cracks the dam I’ve carefully constructed inside to keep my emotions at bay.
I don’t know how much stock I should put in the words of a woman who’s probably high on painkillers and just endured what she did, but at the very least, Simone is presenting a new perspective I’ve never imagined.
What if my dad really kept everything hidden, not because of me, but because of how he’d change in my eyes?Wouldit have changed anything if I knew he had cancer? Not to me. He would have been the best dad and hockey player; none of that would have altered my mind.
Still, the man’s pride created a situation that’s nearly destroyed me. I’ve walked around like an emotionless zombie without him because I thought he was embarrassed by me—so maybe he was fallible after all. That fallibility doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve love though, or that he wasn’t capable of being who everyone needed and wanted most of the time.
So why am I letting my faults dictate what I do and do not deserve?
Maybe it’s time to let go, too.
“Where’s Luce?” I ask. As life-altering as this moment is, I have enough revelations to ponder for today.
“Tom gave her some money to spend at the gift shop. She was getting a little restless. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you and finally go home.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I had my phone off for the fair.”
“No, that makes total sense. How did it go?”
The heat in Aulie’s eyes, fixed on me and begging, sends a slight curl of fire through me. “It went well. Really well.” A stupid grin breaks across my face, and I don’t stamp it down.
“Did it now?” Simone quirks an eyebrow before glancing over my shoulder. A nurse enters, wheeling in Little Jack and handing him to her.
“You want to hold him?” Simone asks.
I hesitate. Because of my hockey seasons, I didn’t meet my niece and nephews until they were a few months older. Little Jack looks too delicate and tiny for me to hold safely.
“You won’t hurt him, half-pint. The dude just squeezed out of my vagina,” she says matter-of-factly. I cough at her frankness, which is in direct contrast to the maternal, admiring gaze on her new son cradled in her arms. “Wash your hands and sit in that chair; the nurse will hand him over to you.”
Following orders, I scrub clean before lowering myself on a bound leather chair.
The grey-haired nurse smiles softly, taking him back from Simone. “Make sure you brace his head.”
My calloused hand cradles the back of his head as fine baby hairs tickle my palm. I hold the bundled little guy in front of me. Small crusties dust the eyelids of his scrunched-up face with its perfect button nose.
Little Jack’s tongue darts out and wets his lip. His eyes open for a second, showcasing a blue-grey iris, just like his mom.
The waters behind the dam that’s held my emotions for so long, the one that Simone’s tears slowly crumbled, burst through, and a swell of everythinggood and evil, but primarily good, washes over me.
“Hey, little guy,” I croak, marveling at the peace that follows the initial surge of feelings.
I’m holding Simone’s baby. A piece of her. A bit of Tom. I missed this with Lucy, Coby, and Grant. I missed this miracle of the first few moments, missed being a part of the welcoming party.
What would it be like to hold something that was a piece of me?
A piece of her.
“Quite the legacy, huh?” Simone asks.
“Yeah. He’s—he’s something.”
In the back of my mind, a quiet voice I’ve left silent for far too long shouts,This is what you’ve been missing. This is what you want. This peace. This miracle.
