A Thousand Letters(7)

I pushed the thought away, holding it back with the truth of our circumstance.

She turned to us, closing the book and slipping it back into her bag. Dad opened his eyes and tried to smile as Elliot moved out of the way again.

She was so quiet, disappearing like smoke, just as she had before.

I moved to the edge of the bed. "Hey, Dad."

"Go okay?" he said through the side of his mouth.

"Yeah, it went okay. The social worker is going to meet with all of us tomorrow with the plans so we can make a decision."

"Just want …" he paused, struggling, "go home."

I swallowed. "I know. It's just details, like how many nurses they'll need, what days they'll come. That sort of thing."

He nodded.

I watched him for a moment, not wanting to leave. "Dad, Sadie's at home waiting for us. She … she doesn't know."

His eyes closed, chin trembling. Another nod.

"We've got to go, but we'll be back." I turned to Elliot, voice hard, addressing her for the first time in seven years. "Will you stay with him?"

She blinked and nodded — I didn't think she was breathing.

"Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome." As hard as my voice had been, hers was soft and quiet, all the strength she'd given to my father gone. And I knew it was because of me and for me. It would seem neither of us had escaped the other unscathed. I was just so much better at hiding it than Elliot could ever be.





4





Small Comfort





To make the best

Of what you have:

A small comfort

In a big world.



* * *



-M. White





Elliot

An hour passed quickly as I read to Rick, thankful for something to do that felt productive, as if every turn of the page brought me closer to something. To what, I didn't know.

Everything had shifted, gravity tilting, leaving us all sideways and scrambling for purchase, throwing us into each other, leaving us bruised. And it had only just begun.

My phone buzzed in my bag, and I grabbed it, surprised to see a string of texts from my sister.

Hope everything's okay.

Just checking in, do you know when you'll be home?

Just got here and you're not home yet. Let me know when you'll be back.

The kids are asking for you, are you leaving soon?

I bit my lip and messaged her back. Sorry, phone was in my bag. Is everything okay?

Within a second, she texted me back. I could really use your help. I don't mean to interrupt, but if you could come home soon, it would be great.

I sighed, sadness anchoring my heart as it did so often.

There were days when I looked back at my life and wondered how I found myself where I was. At the fulcrum was Wade and the decision which had sent my life down this road.

I was the caregiver for my niece and nephew, and my payment was that I had a place to stay. But I received my other, more substantial income in the form of macaroni art and messy kisses.

When I looked up from my phone, Rick was watching me.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry. It's my sister — she needs help with the kids."

He tried to smile. "Go."

I reached for his hand. "I don't want to."

"Don't worry. Tired."

"I promised I'd stay."

"S'okay." The words slurred together. "Go."

I looked down into my lap, torn.

"Elliot," he said, and when I met his cool, gray eyes again, they were full of understanding. "Go. M'okay."

I let out a heavy breath. "All right. I'll come see you tomorrow, okay? I promise."

He squeezed my hand, and I let him go, firing off messages to my sister and Sophie before packing my things, except the book, which I slipped under his hand. He flexed his fingers, trailing the canvas cover with his fingertips.

I smiled and cupped his jaw, which was strong, just like Wade's. "I'll bring more tomorrow. How about Emerson?"

"Yes, please."

And then I kissed him on the forehead, smoothing his dark hair before I turned to leave, hating that I had to choose. But my family, those children, were my world, and I worried over what was going on at home that was so important that she'd interrupt this. Interrupt my time with Rick.

So I hurried home, anxious about them, and when I blew through the door, I found a disaster zone.

Toys were strewn all over the entryway, and Mary looked frantic, her dark hair in disarray and brown eyes wide. A crying Maven sat propped on her hip, and Sammy was in tow, his face smeared with jelly.

"Thank God you're here," she said, passing Maven to me.

She stopped crying the minute Mary let go of her.

"What happened?" I asked as Sammy twisted away from her and ran down the hall.

"Get back here!" she called, chasing him down, marching back over to me with him under her arm. "It's just been a mess ever since I walked in the door."

I glanced at the clock on the wall. She'd been home an hour. "Where's Charlie? Did the kids have their snack?"