Page 54 of Someone to Remember
“I admire how that’s always your first thought: ‘How can I help?’”
“Our whole group is like that. It’s what we do.”
“It’s a beautiful thing, but at a time like this, you need to be keeping an eye on your own well-being while you reach out to others.”
“I hear you, and I’ll be okay. I promise. This was tough news today. I needed a minute to process it. I’m sorry it cut into our time together.”
“You’re not apologizing for being upset, remember?” She slides closer to me and puts her arms around me, bringing my head to rest against her. “One of the things I love best about you is how deeply you care about the people in your life. You cared so much for Gwen that you still mourn her all these years later. You care so much for your widows, even the ones you don’t know well, that their hurts become yours.”
“It sounds more like an illness than a positive quality.”
“Hush,” she says with a chuckle. “Your big heart is your best quality, and I hope you never change. But…”
“There’s always a but.”
“Not always, but there is this time. I want you to be careful with that big heart. You feel so much for Taylor, but you’re not obligated to show up for her, even though I’m sure you will.”
“How can I not?”
“You can. Of course you can, but don’t take on her grief and make it your own. You’re already dealing with enough of your own—and that includes the anticipatory grief that comes from knowing you’re probably going to lose me sooner than we’d both like.”
“Shut up with that. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Hallie.”
“Robin.” I raise my head off her shoulder and look her in the eyes. “Shut. Up.”
“Fine, but I hope you heard the rest of what I said.”
“I heard it, and I appreciate it. You’re right, as usual. I want to bring in the cavalry to help Taylor, but that’s not my job in this situation. I’ll be there for her in any way that I can, but I won’t lose my mind over it. I promise.” I stroke the back of her hand, marveling as I do every day over the softest skin I’ve ever touched. “Thank you for caring.”
“You’re easy to care about, and I can’t bear to see you suffer.”
Her deep sigh says what I don’t want to hear—that someday, I’ll probably suffer deeply over her, but she’s worth it. Every minute with her is a gift.
I give her hand a light tug. “Let’s go to bed.”
Joy
Today has been a day—anda half. I’m absolutely crushed for Taylor and her kids. And for poor Will, who was such a good guy. The way he stepped up for her and those babies endeared him to all of us who knew Taylor before she met him.
We’re in bed watching a movie, but I lost the plot an hour ago and can’t be bothered with catching up. The raw feeling I’ve carried around since Christy called with the news reminds me so much of the day I woke up to realize my husband, Craig, had died in his sleep.
That still ranks as the most shocking moment of my life. He’d been fine the night before when we had dinner with friends, went to bed, made love and fell asleep. Only one of us woke up the next morning. Two autopsies were “inconclusive,” and his death was determined to be “natural causes.” Whatever the hell that means.
I can very easily put myself in Taylor’s position after the sudden loss of someone irreplaceable, and dwelling in that space for hours has made a wreck of me.
“That was awesome,” Bernie says when the movie ends. “I loved it. What did you think?”
“It was good.”
“You didn’t hear a word of it, Joyful.”
I love that he’s given me a nickname that no one other than my grandmother has ever used for me. He’s a gorgeous man with smooth light brown skin, warm brown eyes and a showstopper of a smile. That smile was the first thing that attracted me to him, and it still gets to me every time he directs it my way.
“I’m sorry. I’m just distracted.”
“Thinking about your friend?”
