Later that day, while Luke pushed me around the merry-go-round at the playground, he teased me about my reaction. “It’s exciting!” I giggled. “Aren’t you excited?”
“Not really,” he said, using both hands to push the bars, his legs moving quicker, spinning me faster. “It’s my fourth pregnancy announcement. Fifth baby. I was kind of expecting it.” Then he jumped on while it was still moving and sat down next to me, his gaze on the sky, my gaze on him.
“Luke?”
“Yeah.”
“Your parents must have a lot of—”
“Shut up!” he shouted, his hand quick to cover my mouth, muffling my final word.
I smiled against his palm, and he must’ve felt it because he smiled back. Then suddenly, he leaned forward, his lips puckered. He kissed the back of his hand—the hand covering my mouth. When he pulled back, his eyes were huge. He dropped his hand quickly and looked away. I touched my lips and wondered what it would feel like to have him kiss me. If it felt anything like I felt then, it was going to blow my mind. I lay on my back, looking up at the dull gray sky, and even though the merry-go-round had lost its momentum and was barely moving, my mind was spinning and the world had never seemed so bright.
When I got home, I hugged my dad like I’d never hugged him before. “What’s this?” he asked, hands on my shoulders when I finally let him go.
“I just love you.”
“Me?”
“And I love it here. Thank you for finding this place.”
His beard shifted, revealing his smile. “So you’re happy here?”
I nodded. “The happiest.”
It was all true. Meeting the Prestons, spending time with Kathy, meeting Lucas, it changed my outlook, my life.
I felt worthy.
I finally felt like I was enough.
Especially when baby Lachlan was born and Kathy asked me to be his godmother. There was no official ceremony, but the title stood.
I remember sitting at my desk and writing a letter to my mom—a letter I would never send. It told her that I loved my life. That I loved my new home. That I loved my decision to leave with Dad. And that I was happy and I was loved.
Then one day, it all crumbled—my world, my heart—the moment Dad sat me down and told me Kathy had been diagnosed with cancer. I remember looking up at the ceiling, at the bright, white light hanging in the center of my room while my head spun, and spun, and spun some more. The walls closed in, the air thick in my lungs as I tried to wrap my mind around what it would mean. Not just for her, but for her seven children. And then I thought about Luke, about the boy who offered me friendship when I had no one and nothing. I stood quickly, my heart racing. “Lucas,” I whispered.
“Lucas is fine, Lois.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I need to see him.”
“You’ll see him at school.”
“No! I need to see him now, Dad!”
“Honey,” he said, reaching out and taking my hand. I yanked it back and ran for the door. I kept running until my lungs burned, until my legs felt like jelly, all the way to the Preston house. Logan answered the door, his cheeks splotchy. I couldn’t get a word out through the tiny spurts of breath I was struggling to get through, but I didn’t need words. Logan fell into my arms, his sobs muffled by my hoodie. “It’s okay,” I whispered, stroking the back of his head. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Laney,” Luke said from behind him, his eyes filled with tears even though it was clear he’d already shed so many of them.
Logan released me and Luke approached, his attempts to stifle his cries forcing my own. “I’m so sorry,” I told him.
I don’t know how long we stood in his doorway, his arms around my neck, mine around his waist, holding onto the only thing that felt right, that made sense, in an otherwise cruel and hurtful world. “I’m glad you’re here, Laney.”
“I’ll always be here.”
Winter turned to spring, spring turned to summer—a summer a complete contrast to the year before. But at the same time, it was identical. The previous summer, I said goodbye to my mom and, as strange as it sounds, I found a replacement.
That summer my dad said a single word that had me falling to my knees and sobbing in front of him: Terminal.
I wanted to run to Lucas, to hold him in my arms and never let him go. I wanted to curl up at the foot of his bed, keep him safe, tell him everything would be okay. That I would be there for him through it all. Dad was the only reason I didn’t. “They need some space, Lo,” he said. “They need to spend whatever time the have left as a family.”
Katherine Elizabeth Preston passed away September 25TH .
Her funeral was five days later.
It seemed like the entire town mourned her death.
I can’t really recall much of the actual funeral, my heavy heart and heavy tears preventing me from remembering most of it, but I remember Lucas. I remember the way he stood with Lucy on one side, Leo on the other, his head lowered, wearing a suit with a tie (crooked and tied completely wrong). I also remember feeling like I was a horrible person for thinking that he’d never looked as handsome as he did right then, at his mother’s funeral, surrounded by nothing but heartache and fear.
I wanted to go to him. To all of them. But I didn’t know what to say. What do you say to seven kids who’ve just lost their world?
“You should talk to Luke, sweetheart,” Dad said, making our way up the Prestons’ long driveway, along with many other cars, after the ceremony. “You’re his best friend, and he needs you now more than ever.”
I managed to find my voice for the first time that day. “What do I say to him?”
“You tell him the truth, Lo. That you’re sorry. That you’re there for him. That you always will be.”
The words filtered through the knot in my throat and out of my mouth, “I’m scared, Dad. What if I say something wrong?”
“You won’t, sweetheart. Just be you.”
I found Lucas in his secret hideout, his eyes glazed as he looked out on the lake. “Hey,” I said, barely a whisper.
He didn’t respond. Not verbally, and not in any other way. I sat on the ground next to him, forgetting the expensive black dress Dad had bought me because I didn’t own anything suitable for a funeral. Minutes passed, neither saying a word, neither making a move to do so. My mind worked, trying to find words of comfort, of grace. “Don’t,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Or that you’ll miss her. Or that she was an amazing person and the world is a lesser place because she’s no longer part of it. Or that I’ll be okay. That one day, I’ll get over this. Or to remember her for everything she was, because I’ve heard it all. There’s not a damn thing you can say to make it okay. Not now. Not ever.” He didn’t say it with malice, and I didn’t take it that way. He was just… sad. So damn sad.
And right.
And I realized then that it wasn’t as if Kathy had died suddenly—been in a car accident or any other form of accidental death. For months we knew this was coming. For months Lucas, along with all the other children, would’ve heard the same words over and over. It would do nothing to take away the pain. The hurt. The sadness he was so openly displaying. He was a twelve-year-old boy who was hurting, and the one person who could make it better had been taken away from him. He pulled his knees to his chest, his tie now undone, separated and hanging loosely around his neck. His hair was a mess, his eyes tired and teary.
“Not really,” he said, using both hands to push the bars, his legs moving quicker, spinning me faster. “It’s my fourth pregnancy announcement. Fifth baby. I was kind of expecting it.” Then he jumped on while it was still moving and sat down next to me, his gaze on the sky, my gaze on him.
“Luke?”
“Yeah.”
“Your parents must have a lot of—”
“Shut up!” he shouted, his hand quick to cover my mouth, muffling my final word.
I smiled against his palm, and he must’ve felt it because he smiled back. Then suddenly, he leaned forward, his lips puckered. He kissed the back of his hand—the hand covering my mouth. When he pulled back, his eyes were huge. He dropped his hand quickly and looked away. I touched my lips and wondered what it would feel like to have him kiss me. If it felt anything like I felt then, it was going to blow my mind. I lay on my back, looking up at the dull gray sky, and even though the merry-go-round had lost its momentum and was barely moving, my mind was spinning and the world had never seemed so bright.
When I got home, I hugged my dad like I’d never hugged him before. “What’s this?” he asked, hands on my shoulders when I finally let him go.
“I just love you.”
“Me?”
“And I love it here. Thank you for finding this place.”
His beard shifted, revealing his smile. “So you’re happy here?”
I nodded. “The happiest.”
It was all true. Meeting the Prestons, spending time with Kathy, meeting Lucas, it changed my outlook, my life.
I felt worthy.
I finally felt like I was enough.
Especially when baby Lachlan was born and Kathy asked me to be his godmother. There was no official ceremony, but the title stood.
I remember sitting at my desk and writing a letter to my mom—a letter I would never send. It told her that I loved my life. That I loved my new home. That I loved my decision to leave with Dad. And that I was happy and I was loved.
Then one day, it all crumbled—my world, my heart—the moment Dad sat me down and told me Kathy had been diagnosed with cancer. I remember looking up at the ceiling, at the bright, white light hanging in the center of my room while my head spun, and spun, and spun some more. The walls closed in, the air thick in my lungs as I tried to wrap my mind around what it would mean. Not just for her, but for her seven children. And then I thought about Luke, about the boy who offered me friendship when I had no one and nothing. I stood quickly, my heart racing. “Lucas,” I whispered.
“Lucas is fine, Lois.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I need to see him.”
“You’ll see him at school.”
“No! I need to see him now, Dad!”
“Honey,” he said, reaching out and taking my hand. I yanked it back and ran for the door. I kept running until my lungs burned, until my legs felt like jelly, all the way to the Preston house. Logan answered the door, his cheeks splotchy. I couldn’t get a word out through the tiny spurts of breath I was struggling to get through, but I didn’t need words. Logan fell into my arms, his sobs muffled by my hoodie. “It’s okay,” I whispered, stroking the back of his head. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Laney,” Luke said from behind him, his eyes filled with tears even though it was clear he’d already shed so many of them.
Logan released me and Luke approached, his attempts to stifle his cries forcing my own. “I’m so sorry,” I told him.
I don’t know how long we stood in his doorway, his arms around my neck, mine around his waist, holding onto the only thing that felt right, that made sense, in an otherwise cruel and hurtful world. “I’m glad you’re here, Laney.”
“I’ll always be here.”
Winter turned to spring, spring turned to summer—a summer a complete contrast to the year before. But at the same time, it was identical. The previous summer, I said goodbye to my mom and, as strange as it sounds, I found a replacement.
That summer my dad said a single word that had me falling to my knees and sobbing in front of him: Terminal.
I wanted to run to Lucas, to hold him in my arms and never let him go. I wanted to curl up at the foot of his bed, keep him safe, tell him everything would be okay. That I would be there for him through it all. Dad was the only reason I didn’t. “They need some space, Lo,” he said. “They need to spend whatever time the have left as a family.”
Katherine Elizabeth Preston passed away September 25TH .
Her funeral was five days later.
It seemed like the entire town mourned her death.
I can’t really recall much of the actual funeral, my heavy heart and heavy tears preventing me from remembering most of it, but I remember Lucas. I remember the way he stood with Lucy on one side, Leo on the other, his head lowered, wearing a suit with a tie (crooked and tied completely wrong). I also remember feeling like I was a horrible person for thinking that he’d never looked as handsome as he did right then, at his mother’s funeral, surrounded by nothing but heartache and fear.
I wanted to go to him. To all of them. But I didn’t know what to say. What do you say to seven kids who’ve just lost their world?
“You should talk to Luke, sweetheart,” Dad said, making our way up the Prestons’ long driveway, along with many other cars, after the ceremony. “You’re his best friend, and he needs you now more than ever.”
I managed to find my voice for the first time that day. “What do I say to him?”
“You tell him the truth, Lo. That you’re sorry. That you’re there for him. That you always will be.”
The words filtered through the knot in my throat and out of my mouth, “I’m scared, Dad. What if I say something wrong?”
“You won’t, sweetheart. Just be you.”
I found Lucas in his secret hideout, his eyes glazed as he looked out on the lake. “Hey,” I said, barely a whisper.
He didn’t respond. Not verbally, and not in any other way. I sat on the ground next to him, forgetting the expensive black dress Dad had bought me because I didn’t own anything suitable for a funeral. Minutes passed, neither saying a word, neither making a move to do so. My mind worked, trying to find words of comfort, of grace. “Don’t,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Or that you’ll miss her. Or that she was an amazing person and the world is a lesser place because she’s no longer part of it. Or that I’ll be okay. That one day, I’ll get over this. Or to remember her for everything she was, because I’ve heard it all. There’s not a damn thing you can say to make it okay. Not now. Not ever.” He didn’t say it with malice, and I didn’t take it that way. He was just… sad. So damn sad.
And right.
And I realized then that it wasn’t as if Kathy had died suddenly—been in a car accident or any other form of accidental death. For months we knew this was coming. For months Lucas, along with all the other children, would’ve heard the same words over and over. It would do nothing to take away the pain. The hurt. The sadness he was so openly displaying. He was a twelve-year-old boy who was hurting, and the one person who could make it better had been taken away from him. He pulled his knees to his chest, his tie now undone, separated and hanging loosely around his neck. His hair was a mess, his eyes tired and teary.
