I look back at her. How can I say no to this last request?
“Sure, I’d love to.” I hope my smile is believable as I nod and listen to her express her appreciation. I don’t hear a word she says, my heart slams warning shots in my chest. The kids were perfect angels in church. I lucked out, but can I really luck out twice in one day? I’m about to find out.
“This isn’t so bad,” I whisper under my breath, holding a child’s palm in each of my hands. The sky is overcast and chilly, with the breeze adding to the discomfort. Risby has another candy tucked in his cheek. Since it muffled him at the church, I’m going with itagain. Bella’s content with Little B wrapped in her arm. I’m able to stand by the kids during the prayer, and they are perfect.
This is easy.
I have no idea why Jackson had so much trouble at the art museum. These two are like little mice. Before I know it, it’s time for the final song, and I lead the group in a cappella as they take turns tossing a rose from the wreath into the grave. It truly is the most touching goodbye I’ve ever been a part of. The kids stare with wide eyes, not moving so much as a toe until the last person drops their flower.
Feeling it’s my duty to be respectful, I hang back, letting the family walk away at their own pace. I turn to the kids and heave a huge sigh of relief. “You guys were amazing. Thank you so much. We can go now.” I motion them to go ahead, and they start walking ahead of me. So relieved everything went well—as it was beautiful—I happily offer a treat. “Time for ice cream.”
“Ice cream in the middle of the day?” Bella looks back while she continues to stride, her brows shooting high. “Before dinner?” Just then, a root catches her foot, tripping her. She flops forward, and Little B shoots from her arms—right into the open gravesite!
“My bear!” Her cries are immediate, and if I’m being honest,so are my tears. That bear has been with us since the day she was born. I rush to the edge of the hole and stare down. Little B landed among the flowers, at least six feet down. I’m not going to risk reaching in, because with my luck I’d fall in and get stuck down there. “Mama,” Bella sniffs, “can you reach it?”
“I can’t.” My breath is shallow. It’s one of those times when I feel completely helpless. I scan the graveyard for the grave digger, hoping he might have something that can reach down there, but the place is empty. A strange calm washes over me as I stare at Little B resting by the flowers. I turn to Bella, wrappingmy arm around her shoulder. “I’ll see if I can call someone who takes care of the graves. I’m sure someone can grab it for you.”
Bella’s eyes are wide as she stares into the hole, tears brimming in her eyelids, and I’m fighting tears too. “Okay.” Her confidence is forced as she turns to me, and we trudge back to the car. The shock of losing Little B keeps us all silent, and I suddenly wish I’d been the one responsible for the mustaches.
There is a lifetime of memories in that bear.
Losing Little B is so much worse.
ten
Jackson
I round the corner of the ice cream parlor on Main Street and exhale a pent-up breath. The press conference was grueling. It seemed that every sports reporter had picked up on the rivalry between Granite Ice and Noah’s new team. I hate that they are making our former teammate into an enemy. Thankfully, most of the questions weren’t for me, but I’m still glad it’s over. Now I need to grab Rigsby, and I can finally be done with this day. As much as I love spending time with my nephew—and I’m glad I helped my sister—I’m not going to lie and say this day hasn’t been stressful.
“Uncle Jack!” I’d know Rigsby’s voice anywhere. I turn and find them sitting at a long table by the front window. All three have ice cream sundaes the size of salad bowls in front of them, every color topping mashed like an abstract mosaic.
There’s an empty seat next to Rigsby, and I slide in, first making eye contact with Rigsby, then quickly leveling my gaze with Kaci. It’s random, and completely unexpected but my heartskips a beat. I fight the urge to suck back a deep breath, and manage a casual, “How did it go?”
“Funerals are boring,” Rigsby’s tone is like a foghorn, stressing the first syllable on boring. He doesn’t elaborate, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.
“I would assume it wasn’t entertaining as that’s not the point.” I notice chocolate syrup smeared on Rigsby’s cheek. Grabbing a napkin from the pile in front of me, I proceed to wipe it. Apparently, I’m turning into my mother.
“It went mostly okay,” Kaci says while slightly tilting her head toward Bella—who now that I look at her, has a vacant expression on while her eyes glue to her ice cream. It’s not the typical excited way a child should look at ice cream. Her slack jaw and slumped posture are the most telling signs of this conversation.
“What happened?” I direct my question at Kaci with a softened voice.
“Everything was fine.” She drops her hand around Bella’s shoulder and gives her a squeeze. “They were amazingly well-behaved. I had to go to the cemetery, where Bella tripped, and her favorite bear flew right into the open grave.” She arches her hand to illustrate how it flew and adds, “Nobody was around to help me. I wasn’t going to crawl down there. I’m going to see if I can get ahold of someone who manages the cemetery before they close it up, but there wasn’t anyone at the city office to answer my calls today. I’ll try again in the morning.”
I visualize the bear flying into the grave. On any other day it might be funny. However, to a child who lost her favorite toy, I understand why she’s devastated. “That’s awful. I’m sorry that happened.”
Bella dips her head lower over her ice cream, which is starting to resemble something closer to soup. As if this horrible day needs a metaphorical cherry on top, Rigsby's elbow slips off thetable, and his hand jerks to the left, swooshing his sundae to slide toward me.
I’m about to wear it.
I’m lightning-fast and stop it with both hands, preventing it from tipping off the table, but not from spilling over the side of the bowl.
“Whoa.” I slowly slide the bowl back to safety. “Be careful, buddy.”
“Sorry.” His lips pull down in an apologetic wince.
“Nice save.” Kaci hands some paper napkins to me. Our fingers brush together for a mere moment, but the skin-on-skin contact sends an electric zap to my heart. I do a double take back at her. I’ve never had this reaction to anyone, and it’s so odd. My skin warms just being next to her, as if it’s attuned to her presence.
Fumbling with my napkin, I succeed in wadding it into a giant sticky ball. My hands are sticky, and this paper napkin only makes it worse. I stand, peeling the napkin off my fingers, and excuse myself. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go wash my hands.”
