After only a few weeks of “officially” dating, Jim moved in with me and Jackson. He insisted on starting the kitchen remodel because he claims it’s desperately needed, and while that’s true, it’s more likely that he’s sick of listening to me complain about it.
The first floor of the house became a construction zone. We hired Charlebois and Sons to gut my dark dungeon of a kitchen and remodel it into my dream space. Now, when you walk into my house, the kitchen runs along the entire right side. Large windows were placed over the sink, facing West, letting in the sunset at the end of each day. I got the open shelves I wanted, the spice cabinet, the working appliances, and took out some much-needed aggression on the stupid, ill-fitting island.
Jim had insisted we wrap up my sister’s artwork and put it away for storage to protect it from the dust and debris. The remodel has been done for a solid week. The dust has settled and the space is cleaned. The last thing we needed to do was hang her artwork.
While I’m thankful he did, and I’m sure he will get lucky tonight regardless, I don’t know if the gesture can be classified as a surprise.
He rolls his eyes, pulling my arm to tug me closer. He moves to stand behind me, hands on my shoulders and he lowers his head next to mine. “Look closer.”
I squint, looking again at the painting I’ve studied a thousand times. The one I’ve stopped to admire every time I walk into theliving room. I’m about to tell him that I don’t see anything, when I notice a coneflower on the bottom left looks a little different.
I take a step forward, and another, looking from the coneflower to a daisy, noticing now that they have a grainy texture. The beard on the strands of golden wheat jump off the canvas. The clouds in the sky are rippled. It’s my sister’s painting, but something’s…different.
Reaching a finger up, I delicately run the pad over the canvas. “What is this?”
“See over here,” he gestures to the yellow disc in the center of a daisy. “See these textured parts that are slightly raised?”
I nod, still not understanding where he is going with this.
“That’s Marissa,” he says softly.
I blink twice, heart pounding wildly in my chest. I shake my head, the movement so slight I’m not sure if he sees. “I don’t understand.”
“You remember when we were talking about what to do with her ashes?”
I nod. We had talked about having her made into a tree and planting it in the yard, but I couldn’t leave her behind if we moved. We talked about flying them off into space, but that was too expensive and didn’t feel like it would have meant anything to Marissa. I have her urn displayed in our living room, but I don’t want to leave it at that. Marissa was too vibrant to not be on display.
“I found an artist that will create a custom painting, sprinkle a loved one's ashes over it and then add some sort of polymer to cover it. The first day I came here to fix your leaky pipes, I noticed this painting and you told me that this was Marissa’s version of heaven. I took a leap and asked the artist if she could do that with a painting I provided. All those little textured spots that you see? Those are your sister’s ashes sprinkled in, so it's like she gets to live in the painting.”
I slap a palm over my mouth to stifle the sob, recalling those exact words she said to me once she finished this one.Couldn’t you just live there forever?
The painting becomes a blur as my eyes fill with tears, and I turn to Jim, burying my face in his chest. He wraps his arms around me, coaxing my head up. “Sweetheart, is this okay? I promise there are still plenty of ashes left over. I didn’t think it would ruin the painting. I think it looks good, if you don’t like it, maybe I could talk to the artist...”
I raise my hand up to cover his mouth, and we stand there in silence. I blink rapidly as the tears fall down my face, and even though I’m still covering his mouth, his eyes soften. Once again, I am utterly speechless, mind blank. Not a single thought rolling through my mind.
I slowly slide my hand down his face, pinky finger grazing his bottom lip as it falls. “I love you.”
He cracks a smile, hands coming to rest on my hips. “Is it okay?”
I throw my arms around his neck, crashing my lips to his, jumping to wrap my legs around his waist. He stumbles, hands grasping my legs to hold me up. I hold his face between my hands, kissing the tip of his nose, his forehead, both of his cheeks before wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him tightly. “This is...” The perfect gift—the most thoughtful gift. “This is better than anything I could have ever imagined.” Because of this man, the one who wouldn’t give up on me when I was blind and stubborn, when I foolishly thought I could walk away from him…because of this man, my sister is finally laid to rest in the one place she always wanted to be.
Bonus Epilogue
“So what’s the plan for lunch?” Jenna asks, beeping the locks on her brand-new, giant-ass mom suburban. She had to upgrade once the twins came and they needed space for three car seats plus Allie.
“Mexican food? Margaritas?” Lainey pipes up.
“Ugh that sounds like heartburn,” I moan, running a hand over my round, protruding belly. “Although, I do have a brand-new stash of Tums in my purse since even water gives me heartburn these days.”
“I still can’t believe your doctor won’t induce you, it’s almost a week past your due date! You look miserable, girl.”
I’m definitely miserable. Mostly because it’s mid-July and the temperatures average in the eighties, so by the end of the day I’m a red-faced, pudgy mess with swollen cankles and thigh sweat.
“He said if this baby doesn’t pop by Monday, we can talk induction.” I kind of want to hold off, let her come the natural way, but I’d also love to sleep lying flat, to wear something that isn’t an oversized summer dress, and to have a cup of coffee without feeling the guilt.
I look down at my oversized belly, still in disbelief most days that I’m actually pregnant.
I really didn’t think I ever wanted kids. With Jackson in my life, I have never had the wondering “what-if” thoughts about adding a child of my own. Jim could have gone either way, so even after we got married, I stayed on my birth control. I had been on the same regimen so long, my period was practically scheduled down to the hour. I could predict the moment it would appear.
