Just One Thing (21 page)

And Dad, how about the time you took us all fishing and the crickets got out in the car? Conner had fallen asleep and didn’t wake up when we all bolted outside. Mom told you to go rescue him, but there was a huge cricket on his head and you were laughing so hard, you couldn’t.

Those are my memories. My whole life has been filled with those kinds of things. I guess they are sort of small things, but they mean everything to me.

And while I’m sad to leave you all, if I could pick living to eighty years with some other family, or
spending sixteen years, or maybe I’ll make it to seventeen. But however long I make it, if I could pick eighty years with another family or my few years with you all, I’d pick less years with you all every time.

Remember me.

I love you all.

Remember to love each other.

Gracie. God, how I missed her. I tried to imagine what my youngest would look like now as an adult, but I couldn’t. In my mind, she would always be a teen. My little Gracie.

“Mom,” the twins said in unison.

“I’m fine.” I brushed at my face and realized I’d been crying. “I miss her, that’s all. I’ll always miss her. But I’ve finally recovered as much as any mother can.”

I might figure out how to put my past behind me and recover from the pain, but I realized that I’d never stop missing the people I loved who’d gone on without me. My father, Gracie, Lee.

We finished going through the house. Connie and Conner both decided to rent a U-Haul and take some furniture. They still had keys and wouldn’t need me for that. I’d taken everything I wanted. Whatever was left when they were done, I’d sell; then I’d put the house on the market. I didn’t need to come back to it again. My memories were with me and didn’t rely on the house.

I took the book and the letter, packed up the car, and told Connie that I’d meet her at the cottage, but I had a quick stop to make first.

Though it wasn’t Monday, I stopped at Sam’s bar. It was bustling with people.

“Lex?” Sam said by way of greeting as I came in, covered in snow.

My stool was occupied. I mean, I knew other people used it when I wasn’t here, but it was still odd to see someone else sitting on it. “One thing,” I said. “I know it’s busy and this won’t take long, but I need to tell you one thing.”

He waved at the new bartender, Chris, and he took me into the kitchen. There was a cook there I’d never met. I waved as we continued through it into Sam’s office.

I’d never been in here, I realized. I’d never been to Sam’s apartment, either. There were still parts of his life I hadn’t been introduced to. We sat down on a rather battered plaid couch. The office was just a little worn at the edges, but very neat. A pressboard bookcase had notebooks and some other big, official-looking books and binders on it. His desk was one of those metal ones that you might find in any office. Everything on it was neat and precise.

“One thing,” he said, pulling me from my inspection.

I took the letter out of the book and handed it to him. I waited while he read it. “I can recite most of the book by heart. Gracie mentions me reading it to her when she had chicken pox, but that’s not the time that stands out in my mind. It was toward the end . . .

“One thing,” Sam said again.

“Mom.” Gracie’s voice was so low that it was hard to be sure she’d said anything.

“Hey, sleepy head.”

“I was just thinking about Belinda Mae. Would you read it to me?”

How Belinda Mae Got Her Name
was a children’s book and not the kind of book Lexie read to teenaged Gracie most afternoons. But she got it off Gracie’s shelf. The floor-to-ceiling built-in was crammed with books. A few years ago, she’d offered to store the children’s books, but Gracie had protested, claiming it would be like putting a friend in the attic.

Lexie read the book about Belinda Mae’s battle with Sophia, a bossy classmate. In the end, Belinda won the right to be called her whole, very long, name, but in a gesture of generosity, she shared the prize with her classmate. Rather than Belinda Mae Abernathy, she’d simply be Belinda Mae and Sophia could be Sophia Tonya.

Gracie sighed as Lexie finished the story. “When I was little, I thought I wanted to grow up and be like Belinda Mae. She was brave, but she was also kind. I liked that. But a few years ago, I took the book babysitting, and as I read it, I realized that I only wanted to be like Belinda Mae because she reminded me of you. You’re so strong, Mom. Brave and kind, like her. If I were going to grow up, I’d have wanted to grow up and be just like you.”

Hearing her talk so casually about the idea of not growing up broke Lexie’s heart into a thousand pieces. Her voice cracked as she managed, “Gracie, I’m not brave, or strong.”

“You’re wrong, Mom. You are. But more than that, you love with your whole heart. I know that if you could love me well, I wouldn’t be sick now . . .”

I’d choked back the tears as I read the letter with the kids, but I was crying now as I told this one-thing—this one big thing—to Sam. “I couldn’t love her well, though. And I realized Gracie was wrong. I’m not any of those things. I’m not brave or strong. Look at how I’ve fallen apart.”

“Lex—”

I interrupted him. I didn’t want him to argue, or to tell me I was wrong. “I feel like I let her down. I know it’s stupid, that Gracie’s been gone a long time, but still, I feel as if I’ve somehow failed her because I’m not the things she thought I was.”

“You didn’t ask me my one-thing.” There was censure in his voice, not pity.

“Do you have one?”

“After I bought the bar, Grid came to visit for a couple weeks to help get things set up.”

“It’s going to be a nice place, once you get it cleaned up,” Grid said.

Sam looked around the bar, which probably hadn’t seen the bristle side of a scrub brush in a couple decades. “Cleaning’s about all I can afford. After I got done putting down the money on this, plus the liquor license and the rest of the start-up costs, there’s not a lot left for renovations.”

“You wouldn’t want to do that anyway,” Grid assured him. “The decor is part of the charm. Let’s just call it historic decor.”

“Well, let’s hope that the customers think that, because I’ve got everything tied up in it.”

“My thoughts have always been, go big or go home.”

Sam knew Grid meant it as a joke, but he didn’t laugh. “This could be the dumbest move I’ve ever made.”

“Well, dumb or not, it was brave. That’s something to hang your hat on.”

“I’m not brave. I think we both know that.”

“We do?”

“Look at how you had to come rescue me in the hospital.”

“Listen, being brave doesn’t mean doing things on your own; it means being smart enough to ask for help when you need it.”

“I didn’t ask,” Sam reminded him.

“Well, sometimes being brave means picking friends who are so smart that they don’t need to wait for you to ask.”

“I think Gracie would be proud of you. You’re here. You came to me tonight and let me help you. That’s brave. You’ve made it through everything.”

“I haven’t told you everything.” And Sam hadn’t asked. I was glad, because I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell him the last thing—the big thing. “I don’t feel brave.”

“Maybe being brave isn’t about how you feel; it’s about doing what needs to be done, despite what you feel.
”

The sound of someone shouting filtered into the office. I remembered this wasn’t our normal night. “I should get going. I told Connie I wouldn’t be long. I just needed to see you.”

Sam took my hand in his. I noticed how nicely they fit together. “I’m always here for you, Lex. Not just Mondays, any day, any time.”

“I know that, Sam. That’s why I came.”

I left Sam to his Friday-night crowd and went back to the cottage.

Being able to lean on someone else . . . maybe that was brave. I mean, if you leaned on someone, you had to trust that they wouldn’t let you fall.