So similar to Colt’s face. Would I ever look at her and not see him?
“Hey,” I croaked.
Beckett appeared at her side.
“He’s dead,” she said as if it were fact, her face more solemn than it ever had been in any phase of her treatment.
My eyes flew to Beckett, but he shook his head.
“I knew last night. It stopped hurting. I knew he was gone.” Her face twisted, and Beckett pulled her against his side. “He said goodbye while I was sleeping. He said it’s okay, and to check his pocket.” Beckett sat her next to me on the couch, and I lifted my arm so I could hold her.
“I’m so sorry, Maisie.” I kissed her forehead, and she tucked in even smaller.
“It’s not okay. He wasn’t supposed to die. I was. Why did he? It’s not fair. We had a deal. We were always going to be together.” She began to cry, which started my tears all over again. Her tiny body shook against mine as her tears soaked through my shirt.
I willed myself to find the right words, not to leave my daughter alone in her grief because I couldn’t see a way out of mine.
“It’s not fair,” I told her as I rubbed her back, her little blue bear wedged between us. “And you weren’t supposed to die. Neither of you were. This is simply what happened.”
How could there not be a better explanation than that? What was the reasoning in an accident you couldn’t see coming? Where was the justice in that?
Beckett took her other side, and we surrounded her with as much of us as we had to give. She needed it all. I may have lost my son, but she lost her other half.
After about an hour, she fell asleep, having turned to Beckett. He held her against his chest, his hands running over her hair, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was how he held Colt as he died. Then I shut the thought down and shoved it behind a door that I’d open when I was ready for the answer.
Ada came in, holding a Telluride Medical bag. “Did you want this? She said to check the pocket.”
I reached into the bag and took out Colt’s fleece. There was no blood, no tears, nothing to indicate the trauma he’d suffered. I located the first pocket and came up empty. The next one would be, too, if logic ruled. After all, just because they were twins didn’t mean—
My fingers came across something thin and crinkled. I pulled it free, and my breath abandoned me.
It was a red leaf.
…
The sun shone beautifully the day we laid Colt to rest. It trickled through the leaves of the trees on the little island, dotting the ground in tiny spots of light. The breeze picked up, bringing a cascade of colors down, mostly gold from the aspens.
I stood between Beckett and Maisie as they lowered Colt’s small white coffin into the ground. Maisie refused to wear black, saying it was a stupid color and Colt hated it. She wore yellow, the color of sunshine, and clutched Colt’s pink bear.
She’d put her blue one in with him last night, saying that was the only way they could be apart. But watching the light drain from her eyes, I knew we weren’t just burying Colt but part of Maisie as well.
Emma, the little girl Colt had saved, stood with her parents, tiny tears on her cheeks. I was immeasurably proud of what Colt had done and couldn’t bring myself to wish harm on Emma; it wasn’t her fault. But I still couldn’t understand how God could exchange the life of one child for another.
Had it been Colt for Emma?
Or had I prayed too hard the last couple of years and accidentally traded Colt for Maisie with my desperate pleas for her to live?
The line of mourners began coming our way, wanting to express their sorrow. Why would I want to hear how much they missed him? I could barely breathe through my own pain, trying to absorb Maisie’s, support Beckett’s. There just wasn’t any more room for anyone else’s grief.
“I can’t,” I told Beckett.
“Okay, I can handle this,” he said and walked me over to the small bench we’d added to the island when Ryan had died. Maisie sat next to me as Beckett and Ada took the line, and Larry ushered them to the small rowboats we’d hired to take them back to shore.
“Now I’m like you, Mom.”
“How, baby?”
Her eyes stayed locked on Colt. “We both have brothers out here.”
Another wave of grief came for me, dragging me under waves so thick I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see my way to the surface. How did anyone live through losing a child? Why didn’t the pain simply stop my heart as it constantly threatened and send me with him?
Maisie’s hand found mine, and air trickled into my lungs.
“We do.” I finally found the strength to answer her.
“Beckett matches us, too.” She turned her attention to where Beckett was nodding and shaking hands with the last of the line. “Both his best friends are here.”
I swallowed for the thousandth time, trying to dislodge the permanent lump in my throat as I watched him. He stood strong and steady, handling what I couldn’t, even though his grief matched mine. He was simply that strong.
Soon it was just Beckett, Maisie, and me sitting on the bench, facing the house Beckett had built for us.
“Are you ready?” Beckett asked. “We can stay as long as you like.”
I couldn’t bear to watch them pour dirt over my little boy, to block out the sunlight on his face. It felt too final, too wrong. “Yeah, let’s go.”
We walked past where the workers were adjusting Colt, and I stopped at Ryan’s headstone, putting my hand on the smooth granite surface. “He’s with you, now. And I know you never really wanted to be a parent, but you have to be, just for a little while. Until we get there. Make sure he plays. Teach him everything, anything he wants to know. Hug him, and love him, and then let him shine. He’s yours for a little while.”
My vision blurred, and Beckett took my arm. I turned to see Maisie kneeling at the edge of Colt’s grave, her shoulders shaking. I moved forward, but Beckett stopped me. “Give her a second.”
I heard it then, her little voice talking to him. I couldn’t make out the words but knew it was just for the two of them, like so much had been while he was alive. Beckett stood silent, supporting me until Maisie was ready.
How do you say goodbye to the person who shared your soul? Who had been with you through every heartbeat of your life?
She stood up, tall and sure, then turned to us with a sad smile. Then, she wiped her eyes and stopped crying. “He’s okay now. We both are.”
And somehow I knew she meant it. She’d found her peace with the certainty that only a child could have.
It felt like a blink, but we were back in the house. Ada had organized the reception in the main house, so mine was quiet and empty, which was exactly what I needed.
I sent Beckett up to the house with Maisie, and simply sat, trying just to be. Havoc lay at my side, curling her head in my lap as I forced air through my lungs, concentrating on the simple mechanisms of living.
There was a knock at the door, and then Captain Donahue entered. “I’m so sorry to bother you. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, nor will I pretend to know.” He stood in front of me and then dropped to my eye level. So much like Beckett. “I know this might not be the time, but we’re shipping out, and I don’t know when I’ll get back to Telluride. So this is for you.”
He handed me a white envelope with Beckett’s handwriting on it. It was addressed to me.
“What is this?” I asked, peeling back the paper.
“Don’t read it yet. Now isn’t the time. Some of the guys asked me to keep their last letters. I kept Mac’s for Gentry, and I kept Gentry’s for you.”
“For me?”
He nodded. “I’m leaving it with you in case you start to feel lost or forget how much he loves you. Like I said, not for now. But for someday.”