In This Life
Page 47
“What happened between Randall and me,” I said, “was not planned, and we weren’t trying to hurt you. Don’t get me wrong, I was furious with you for making a fool out of me. In fact I was crushed. Harrison, I swear I wasn’t seeking revenge with your brother when I turned to him. But I know I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry about that.” I took a breath and looked at the house where Emma’s father had grown up. “I really did care about Randall. I wanted to help him.”
There was no hatred in Harrison’s eyes right now. Only regret. “I can accept that,” he said. “If you can accept my apology.”
I thought about it. “I think we can both let the past go and move forward now.”
He smiled. “How about we go inside and introduce Emma to her grandmother?”
I smiled back. “I’d like that.”
Inside the house, Delia was listening to Emma talk up a storm.
“And she’s so fun. And she makes me so happy. Roxie’s the best dog in the world.”
Delia listened with a polite smile. “Roxie is your dog’s name?”
“Yeah. She’s just Nash’s dog now. But she will be my dog.”
Delia nodded. “I see. She sounds wonderful.”
“She is.”
Delia looked over at us while Harrison closed the front door. The house was just as I remembered it, flawlessly and expensively decorated. Harrison nodded at his fiancé and she reached out to take his hand.
“Should we go in?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure she’s listening.”
Emma slipped her hand into mine as we followed Harrison and Delia down a long corridor. There was a room at the end and the door was open. Delia looked over her shoulder and offered a smile of encouragement.
Harrison poked his head in the door. “Mom?” he said softly. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” answered a high, quavering voice. “Are they here? Is Emma here?”
Emma suddenly pulled back and looked up at me worriedly.
“It’s okay,” I assured her and led her into the room.
The woman in the bed only faintly resembled the fashionable middle-aged woman who’d smiled indulgently at her two rowdy sons across a table one Thanksgiving evening. Her head was covered by a scarf and the king sized bed only emphasized how her once stout frame had been ravaged by the cancer. Harrison immediately went to her side when she struggled to sit up. There were pill bottles and other medical paraphernalia collected on a small table and the room was very warm, probably for Mrs. Corbett’s benefit.
Harrison carefully propped his mother up on the plush bed pillows and her gaunt face surveyed us. The only unchanged feature was the color of her warm brown eyes that widened when they landed on Emma.
“Hello darling,” she said and held out her hand, beckoning Emma to come forward. “I’m your grandma and I’m so happy to meet you.”
I’d tried my best to make Emma understand the reality of the situation. Her grandmother was very sick. She would look sick and probably wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. Emma was a sensitive child but she was also three and a half and unpredictable at times. I wasn’t sure how she’d react to all the emotion in the room.
“Hi,” Emma said and willingly approached the bed. Emma and her grandmother examined each other up close for a few seconds.
“How come you’re wearing a hat in bed?” Emma asked with curiosity and Mrs. Corbett chuckled.
I breathed a sigh of relief. This would be all right. Everything would be all right.
Mrs. Corbett told Emma she had something very special for her and motioned to Harrison to bring forward a large pink gift bag. Emma wasted no time getting the tissue paper out of the way and pulled out an adorable stuffed animal that kind of looked like a plush puppy version of Roxie.
Emma’s eyes widened and she clutched the toy to her chest. “She’s bee-yoo-tiful,” my daughter said in an awed voice and I thought poor Mr. Ford might have just been demoted.
There were tears in Mrs. Corbett’s eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
Emma looked at the woman. “Are you sad?”
“No, honey. I’m not sad. This is a happy day. I was just remembering how your father used to have a stuffed dog just like that.”
“Is he here?” Emma asked.
I flinched. Harrison glanced at me with a worried expression. I’d also attempted to explain Emma’s father to her but there were only so many complicated topics you could burden a preschooler with.
“Emma,” I said gently, bending down to her side. “Remember when we talked about your father? About how he’s gone?”
She nodded slowly. “Like Aunt Heather and Uncle Chris,” she whispered and I thought how unfair it was that she’d already been exposed to so much death when she scarcely understood the concept. She’d lost her father. She’d lost the people who were practically surrogate parents to her. And soon she would lose this grandmother she’d only just met. No, it wasn’t fair. But I had hope too. I hoped she wouldn’t forget that life is a fragile thing, to be cherished unreservedly.
“That’s right,” I said and hugged her close, stuffed dog and all.
Emma was quick to rebound and began bouncing her new toy on the bed. Suddenly she noticed Harrison standing on the far side of the room.
“Do you live here too?”
He seemed startled that she was speaking directly to him. “I used to. Now Delia and I live about fifteen miles away.”
“Why?”
“Because when you grow up you move away and find your own home.”
“Why?”
He smiled. “It’s just something people do.”
Emma didn’t like that answer. “I don’t want to move away from my mommy.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry about that anytime soon, Ems.”
“Kathleen.” Mrs. Corbett was addressing me in a gentle voice. She held out her hand and I reached out to take it, noting how thin and frail hers was.
“I’m sorry I never brought her to see you sooner,” I said but she shook her head vehemently.
“No. You’ve given me an incredible gift. There have been so many misunderstandings.” She cast a sharp look over at her remaining son. “Let’s not have any more. I’m so grateful to you for bringing Emma here. And I’m very thankful that Randall’s child has such a wonderful mother.” She turned to Emma and beamed. “Emma, will you come sit close to me? There’s a book I’d like to read to you.”
Delia took that as a sign. She reached for a faded children’s book on the dresser and handed it to Mrs. Corbett. I caught a glimpse of the title. It was Love You Forever and I figured it must have belonged to her sons when they were little.
Emma settled herself and her new stuffed toy on the bed and prepared to listen to the story. Emma loved books. Even more than she loved strawberries.
Perhaps not quite as much as she loved dogs.
“Kathleen,” Delia whispered and I saw she and Harrison had left the room and were standing just outside the door.
Mrs. Corbett began reading to Emma in a voice that was now surprisingly strong and clear. I stood up and backed out of the room. They were already so engrossed in the story they didn’t see me go.
Delia was holding onto Harrison’s arm and I got the impression he was nervous. She looked at her fiancé as if urging him to speak but when he didn’t she forged ahead.
There was no hatred in Harrison’s eyes right now. Only regret. “I can accept that,” he said. “If you can accept my apology.”
I thought about it. “I think we can both let the past go and move forward now.”
He smiled. “How about we go inside and introduce Emma to her grandmother?”
I smiled back. “I’d like that.”
Inside the house, Delia was listening to Emma talk up a storm.
“And she’s so fun. And she makes me so happy. Roxie’s the best dog in the world.”
Delia listened with a polite smile. “Roxie is your dog’s name?”
“Yeah. She’s just Nash’s dog now. But she will be my dog.”
Delia nodded. “I see. She sounds wonderful.”
“She is.”
Delia looked over at us while Harrison closed the front door. The house was just as I remembered it, flawlessly and expensively decorated. Harrison nodded at his fiancé and she reached out to take his hand.
“Should we go in?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure she’s listening.”
Emma slipped her hand into mine as we followed Harrison and Delia down a long corridor. There was a room at the end and the door was open. Delia looked over her shoulder and offered a smile of encouragement.
Harrison poked his head in the door. “Mom?” he said softly. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” answered a high, quavering voice. “Are they here? Is Emma here?”
Emma suddenly pulled back and looked up at me worriedly.
“It’s okay,” I assured her and led her into the room.
The woman in the bed only faintly resembled the fashionable middle-aged woman who’d smiled indulgently at her two rowdy sons across a table one Thanksgiving evening. Her head was covered by a scarf and the king sized bed only emphasized how her once stout frame had been ravaged by the cancer. Harrison immediately went to her side when she struggled to sit up. There were pill bottles and other medical paraphernalia collected on a small table and the room was very warm, probably for Mrs. Corbett’s benefit.
Harrison carefully propped his mother up on the plush bed pillows and her gaunt face surveyed us. The only unchanged feature was the color of her warm brown eyes that widened when they landed on Emma.
“Hello darling,” she said and held out her hand, beckoning Emma to come forward. “I’m your grandma and I’m so happy to meet you.”
I’d tried my best to make Emma understand the reality of the situation. Her grandmother was very sick. She would look sick and probably wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. Emma was a sensitive child but she was also three and a half and unpredictable at times. I wasn’t sure how she’d react to all the emotion in the room.
“Hi,” Emma said and willingly approached the bed. Emma and her grandmother examined each other up close for a few seconds.
“How come you’re wearing a hat in bed?” Emma asked with curiosity and Mrs. Corbett chuckled.
I breathed a sigh of relief. This would be all right. Everything would be all right.
Mrs. Corbett told Emma she had something very special for her and motioned to Harrison to bring forward a large pink gift bag. Emma wasted no time getting the tissue paper out of the way and pulled out an adorable stuffed animal that kind of looked like a plush puppy version of Roxie.
Emma’s eyes widened and she clutched the toy to her chest. “She’s bee-yoo-tiful,” my daughter said in an awed voice and I thought poor Mr. Ford might have just been demoted.
There were tears in Mrs. Corbett’s eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
Emma looked at the woman. “Are you sad?”
“No, honey. I’m not sad. This is a happy day. I was just remembering how your father used to have a stuffed dog just like that.”
“Is he here?” Emma asked.
I flinched. Harrison glanced at me with a worried expression. I’d also attempted to explain Emma’s father to her but there were only so many complicated topics you could burden a preschooler with.
“Emma,” I said gently, bending down to her side. “Remember when we talked about your father? About how he’s gone?”
She nodded slowly. “Like Aunt Heather and Uncle Chris,” she whispered and I thought how unfair it was that she’d already been exposed to so much death when she scarcely understood the concept. She’d lost her father. She’d lost the people who were practically surrogate parents to her. And soon she would lose this grandmother she’d only just met. No, it wasn’t fair. But I had hope too. I hoped she wouldn’t forget that life is a fragile thing, to be cherished unreservedly.
“That’s right,” I said and hugged her close, stuffed dog and all.
Emma was quick to rebound and began bouncing her new toy on the bed. Suddenly she noticed Harrison standing on the far side of the room.
“Do you live here too?”
He seemed startled that she was speaking directly to him. “I used to. Now Delia and I live about fifteen miles away.”
“Why?”
“Because when you grow up you move away and find your own home.”
“Why?”
He smiled. “It’s just something people do.”
Emma didn’t like that answer. “I don’t want to move away from my mommy.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry about that anytime soon, Ems.”
“Kathleen.” Mrs. Corbett was addressing me in a gentle voice. She held out her hand and I reached out to take it, noting how thin and frail hers was.
“I’m sorry I never brought her to see you sooner,” I said but she shook her head vehemently.
“No. You’ve given me an incredible gift. There have been so many misunderstandings.” She cast a sharp look over at her remaining son. “Let’s not have any more. I’m so grateful to you for bringing Emma here. And I’m very thankful that Randall’s child has such a wonderful mother.” She turned to Emma and beamed. “Emma, will you come sit close to me? There’s a book I’d like to read to you.”
Delia took that as a sign. She reached for a faded children’s book on the dresser and handed it to Mrs. Corbett. I caught a glimpse of the title. It was Love You Forever and I figured it must have belonged to her sons when they were little.
Emma settled herself and her new stuffed toy on the bed and prepared to listen to the story. Emma loved books. Even more than she loved strawberries.
Perhaps not quite as much as she loved dogs.
“Kathleen,” Delia whispered and I saw she and Harrison had left the room and were standing just outside the door.
Mrs. Corbett began reading to Emma in a voice that was now surprisingly strong and clear. I stood up and backed out of the room. They were already so engrossed in the story they didn’t see me go.
Delia was holding onto Harrison’s arm and I got the impression he was nervous. She looked at her fiancé as if urging him to speak but when he didn’t she forged ahead.
