This is caring for someone without wanting anything in return.
And Beau is the only person that could elicit this from me.
I pepper kisses across his face until he relaxes against me, his hands a warm, steady weight on my hips. The warmth of himbleeds through my clothes, until it feels like he’s warming me from the outside in. Frozen glass around my carefully protected heart could melt under Beau’s gentle care. Dangerous. This man could never want me if he knew, no one ever wants me. Love is conditional, earned only by being good, by being perfect.
I shake myself from my morose thoughts. “What do you need from me?”
Beau sweetly nuzzles the side of my face. “Can you just stay here at least through the funeral?”
“I’m already doing that, love.” I skim my nose up his cheek, smiling at his soft sigh. “What do you need me to do? You want me to check on your mom? On Andy? Go to the farm?”
Beau sighs loudly, resting his weary head on top of mine. Exhaustion bleeds from him, and I ache to take it all away. “Just be with me.”
I pull him tighter against me, as if I can pull him into myself. “That I can do.”
Being by Beau’s side, comforting him, isn’t a hard task. Even in his deep sadness, the man is extraordinarily gentle. His family welcomes me back into their arms like I was never gone. Like I’ve always been here, at the farm, a part of their family.
His mother hugs me a little too tight, but I let her. While Beau busies himself in her kitchen, I sit quietly with her on the back porch. Just keeping her company.
“You have an outfit picked out?” I ask her, trying to be as sensitive as possible.
Cindy’s lips lift into a bittersweet smile. “He picked the dress out before he died. It’s light pink with green and pink flowers. He loved it. It made him smile to see me in it.”
“That’s beautiful.”
Emotions choke me. The grief and profound love are so palpable. It’s hard to believe some families are full of this much love for one another. That some people can love their spouse thismuch, enough to be brave for them in their last days. The very idea overwhelms me. My family was nothing like this close-knit one. Maybe before everything went to shit there were glimpses, but most of the time my family was neglectful at best.
“How’s college?”
I clench and unclench my fingers to derail my thoughts. “Good. Just one more semester.”
“What’s your degree again?” Cindy asks in only the way a mother can. Gentle, but curious.
“Psychology. My goal is to be a licensed clinical social worker. A therapist.”
She sizes me up for a few moments. “My son has always been the strong one, it’s the lot in life he inherited. My pregnancy with Andy wasn’t easy, and he was older by the time she came along. Then she was born with lung issues, so she was sickly.” Her eyes go distant for a few moments, before falling back on me. “I’ve been hard on him, more than I should. Especially through all of this. Made him grow up too fast. You’ll be good to him?”
“Yes.” The promise isn’t a lie either. Despite the fake nature of our relationship, I will be beyond good to Beau. I’ll take care of him for as long as he’ll allow. “He’s a good man.”
Her eyes quickly flick behind us, then back to me. “He’s a great man. Speaks highly of you, you know. Beau’s never settled with anyone before. Never wanted for much. Wanting you means you’re top shelf in my book.”
Warmth suffuses through me at her approval. Unable to bask in her sweetness for another second, I leave her alone outside, and join Beau in the kitchen. I find Beau at the window above the sink, staring forlornly out at his mom. For a moment I wonder if he was listening, but it’s too far away for that. The look on his face is one I haven’t seen yet, not able to parse the thoughts flowing through his head.
“She likes you,” Beau murmurs softly, sounding unusually distracted.
I don’t know how to respond to his statement. But I don’t have to because Beau turns around, grabs my cheeks with his still soapy hands, and kisses me firmly on the mouth. I’m so shocked by the kiss that I barely have a chance to reciprocate before he pulls away. His eyes are closed tight, a deep frown mars his beautiful face. But he stays quiet, as usual. Too many thoughts filling his head to put them into words.
After finishing up dishes, we head back to his house. Beau wants to check on the farm, but I won’t allow him. Employees and other family members can handle that task. I am sure that they’ll be able to set the service up for tomorrow without him hovering over them.
“What am I supposed to do now?” Beau asks, confusion lacing his voice, as we walk back into his house.
“Most common advice is to sit with it.”
He huffs in exasperation. “I don’t want to do that,” Beau says, voice cracking on the words.
I nod, despite not understanding myself. “But that’s how you move forward. You’ve got to feel it, Beau. Let yourself feel it.”
He slowly covers his face with his hands and lets out a rib-breaking, anguished cry. The sort of cry that comes from the very pit of his grieving soul. His heartbroken sobs reverberate through me, to the marrow of my bones, to the pit of my hardened soul. The cry of a man that’s lost something he knows he’ll never have again. To know you’ll never hold that loved one again, never smell their sweet smell, never see the glimmer of love in their eyes when they catch sight of you. It is a pain you can’t know until you live it. I wish Beau wasn’t living it, I’d do anything to spare him his pain. Anything.
