A Beautiful Funeral
Page 19

Hadley hopped up from the table and hurried toward her room, stopping long enough to throw her arms around Taylor’s waist. He pulled her in tight and then let her go, watching me rest my chin on the heel of my hand.
“They’ve hated me since we left. It’s been tense,” I said.
“They could never hate you.”
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“Yes, I do.” He stared at me for a moment, neither one of us saying a word. I swallowed, knowing that we still loved each other, but also sure that I wasn’t ready to move forward together. It was a fine line—being cautious, so I didn’t make a bad decision based on emotion and holding out just to further punish him. “C’mon,” Taylor said. “We’ll start in your room.” He held his hand out to me, and I hesitated. He pulled back, returning it to the pocket it was in. “I get it, you know. The kids don’t, but I do. They don’t know what happened. They don’t know I deserve this.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“They don’t deserve this, though. We’re better than this, Falyn.”
“Taylor, don’t.” I stood, walking past him. He gently caught my arm, and it took all of my strength not to fall into him. I’d missed his touch, being so close to him, hearing his voice in the same room, watching him watch me.
“I still love you,” he said, anger on the edge of his words. I couldn’t blame him. Our family was broken, and our children were hurting.
“I know,” I said. My resentment wouldn’t let me say anything else, and I pulled away from him to walk to the end of the hall.
Taylor gathered a few boxes, taped them together for the kids, and then returned, helping me to load my things into the cardboard. We gathered socks from the drawers and shoes and Halloween buckets from the top of the closet. I’d missed how tall Taylor was, too. He could reach everything I couldn’t. He could lift and open everything I couldn’t and sometimes, even if I could, just so I could watch him do it.
“I still love you, too,” I said. Taylor turned around, an indistinguishable expression on his face. “And I miss you. Maybe the kids are smarter than I am on this one. Maybe we should try to fix this from the inside out instead of hurting the kids while I pretend to wait for an epiphany.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Hoping for a sign that I’ve changed?” He took a step toward me, dropping everything in his hands. “Because baby, I’ve changed. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose the kids. I—”
My phone buzzed, cutting him off. I looked around, touching my jeans pockets. It buzzed again, and Taylor pointed at the stack of towels.
“It’s coming from there,” he said, stepping toward the bed. “It’s late. Think it’s Ellie?”
“Oh, yeah. I—” Oh. Fuck.
Before I could stop him, Taylor lifted the towels and picked up my phone, his face instantly twisting into disgust. “Why the fuck is Peter Lacy calling you? How does he have your number, Falyn?”
“I don’t know,” I said, reaching for my phone. “It doesn’t matter. I never respond.”
Recognition lit Taylor’s eyes, and he became angrier. “How many times has he contacted you? What the fuck, Falyn? Is this why you want to move back?”
My mouth fell open. “No! And he hasn’t contacted me at all because I don’t answer!”
“How did he get your fucking number?” Taylor screamed. His veins were bulging from his neck, his eyes practically glowing and wild. His chest was heaving, and I could see the restraint. He wanted to punch something or someone. If Peter had been there, he might have killed him. I remembered now. The man standing in front of me now was the Taylor I left.
My eyes fell to the floor. The hope I’d had just moments before gone. When I looked up again, and Taylor’s eyes met mine, I could see the anger melt away and shame take over. Even then, he couldn’t let go. He picked up the stack of towels and shoved them into the box on top of some trinkets, ripping at the tape and slamming it across the top. He grabbed a thick black marker and wrote master across the top and then hurled the box into the corner of the room behind the door, its contents scattering.
Two dark silhouettes were standing in the hall, and when I realized the kids were present once again for the shitshow that was our marriage, I covered my mouth, unable to stop the tears from falling.
“No, baby, don’t cry…” Taylor glanced down at the hall. “I’m sorry,” he said to the kids. He sat on the bed, hunched over. “I’m sorry,” he choked out.
“Can we still go?” Hadley asked, stepping from out of the shadow of the hall.
“I’m still going,” Hollis said.
I wiped my cheeks and walked to the doorway, holding Hollis and Hadley as if they might shatter like the ceramics in the box. “Yes. Yes, we’re still going. Dad wants us to, and I want us to. We’re happier in Estes, right?”
“Right,” they both said, looking up at me and nodding.
Soon, Hollis would be taller than I was. Maybe taller than Taylor. I couldn’t let him think it was okay to use violence and intimidation to solve anything. I couldn’t let Hadley think Taylor’s was acceptable behavior, and that it was okay to stay without real change. And I couldn’t let them—or my own guilt—talk me into taking Taylor back before we were ready.
Taylor’s phone rang, and he fished it from his back pocket. He sniffed once before answering. “Hey, Trent.” The longer he listened, the more his shoulders sagged. “What? What do you mean shot? Like with a gun? How? Is he okay?”
Taylor let the phone fall to the floor, and I scrambled to pick it up, holding it to my ear. All the blood had drained from Taylor’s face, and he was staring at the floor, a single tear streaming down his cheek.
“Trent?” I said. “It’s Falyn. What happened?”
Trenton sighed. “Hey, Falyn. It’s, uh … it’s Tommy. He, uh … there’s been an accident.”
“An accident? Is he okay?” I asked.
“No. Taylor and Tyler need to come home. Can you get them here?”
“No?” I asked. I had heard him, but the words didn’t make sense. Thomas Maddox was the strongest of all five boys; the smartest. He had the best head on his shoulders, and Liis had just given birth to their first baby. He was a new father. How can he not be okay?
“It’s bad,” he said, his voice low. “Just get them home, Falyn. Call Tyler. I don’t … I don’t think I can.”
“I’ll take care of it. How’s Liis?”
“She’s with Stella. You’ll get ‘em on a plane?”
“Yes. We’ll all be there tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Falyn. See you soon.”
“Mom?” Hollis said, watching Taylor with worried eyes. “Is Uncle Tommy okay?”
I held out my hand to the kids, letting them know to wait before inundating us with questions, and to let me care for their dad first. I kneeled in front of Taylor, searching for words to say. There were none. He was still trying to process what Trenton had said.
“Honey?” I said, gently tugging at his chin. “I’m going to call Tyler, and then I’m going to call the airline.”