Lainey, who had been diligently busying herself by putting leftovers into Tupperware containers at the counter behind me, jumps at the sound.
And like the quiet, sweetheart she is, she reaches for a dish towel, calmly wipes her hands, and saunters over to the hall closet, grabbing my broom.
I fall to my knees, gathering the larger pieces into a pile in my palm.
“Come here,” she says from across the room.
“I’m busy.”
She faintly sighs, then her soft steps grow louder as she comes back into the kitchen. She bends down, stilling my hands and grips my forearms, attempting to pull me up. “Come. Here,” she says again.
I let her lift me off the floor, and she wraps an arm around me, walking us over to the sliding patio doors. She positions me in front of the door, facing forward, and we watch.
Most of the crowd left after lunch and awkward hugs, but my parents and friends stayed behind.
My backyard is now a miniature baseball mound. Jim and Jackson are standing next to a potted tomato plant that acts as home base. Jim has discarded his suit jacket, the sleeves of his crisp button-up rolled up his forearms as he leans over, giving a pep talk to Jax.
Ryan stands as the pitcher, tossing a baseball back and forth between his palms as they wait for Jackson to be ready. He can’t be more than ten feet away from him, and with his long limbs he’ll likely be even closer when the ball is thrown.
The rest of the group is assembled around the yard with potted vegetable plants at their feet to symbolize the bases. Jenna and Allie stand at first, Emmett with little Soph on his shoulders at second, and my parents are seated in lawn chairs at what I imagine is third.
Ryan rolls his shoulder in an exaggerated warm-up move, leans back with a curled arm, and lifts a leg as he releases the softest underhand throw I have ever seen. Jim keeps his arms around Jackson, pulling back on the bat and following the ball with his eye.
When he swings forward, he practically lifts Jackson with the movement, his bat connecting with the ball. It flies a few feet to the side and rolls, and he immediately drops the bat and runs, his little arms swinging aggressively with power.
The group erupts in chaos, Jim shakes Jackson’s shoulders as he runs along with him, running interference as people try to tag Jackson out.
When he rounds third, my parents are waiting, reaching their arms out to give high fives just like Clark the Cub.
Jackson pauses to tap each of their hands before Jim reminds him to keep running. Ryan waits at home plate, ball in hand, waiting to tag Jackson out. But Jim, using his height to his advantage, picks Jax up and squishes him in front of him, using his body to block Ryan as Jax crosses by home plate with his arms raised.
It was the perfect exaggerated showmanship. They all could have easily gotten Jackson out prior to his feet crossing third base, but the smile on all of their faces shows that they needed this just as much as he does.
I swipe a lone tear from my eye as Lainey turns towards me. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, and that’s okay. We don’t know what it feels like to be in your position, but please know how much we all love you, and Jackson. We loved Marissa. So when you’re ready, just know you have any one of us to lean on.”
Chapter Twenty
“What did you think about today, buddy?”
Jackson shrugs, mouth falling open with a yawn. “I don’t know. I’m sad.”
I kick off my heels and bring my legs up to lay next to Jackson in the bed. He adjusts to the side, giving me more space, and I pull his blankets up over his shoulders. “Me, too. I think we both will be sad for a while.”
“Are we gonna see her again?”
I tilt my head up to breathe out through pursed lips, begging the tears to keep from falling. “Not for a while. But you know how I’ve told you about heaven?”
He nods.
“Your mom is definitely,definitelyin heaven. She’s probably busy now, painting, dancing around while singing, and just waiting for the day she gets to see you again.”
He thinks for a minute while looking up. “But you’re not going anywhere, right?”
My eyes well with tears. “No, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
He rolls over, facing me and grabbing Clark the Cub, tucking him in his folded arms. He runs the outer corner of Clarks earbetween his thumb and pointer finger, small hands caressing the fuzzy golden fur. “Do you miss her?”
I nod. “I’ve been missing her for a long time.”
