Page 8 of Someone to Remember
“We’re here for the long haul,” Gage says. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”
His sweet words bring fresh tears to my eyes. Who could’ve imagined when I cofounded the Wild Widows with Iris and Christy that I’d need the group twice in one lifetime? Not me. That’s for sure.
“I want to see Will.”
“Let me go find out about that,” Gage says.
“His foreman, Bryan, was here and asked about it earlier, but I haven’t heard anything more.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“It’s good of Gage to be here,” I tell Iris. “He barely knows me.”
“But he knows what you’re going through, and he wants to help. We both do.”
“Other friends would’ve tried to talk me out of seeing Will. You guys know not to do that, which is what I need right now.”
“You’re in charge.”
“I have to call my parents and ask them to stay with the kids.” I make yet another excruciating call to my parents, who adored Will and were so thankful for the happiness he brought back to my life.
“What’s wrong?” my mother asks.
“Will is dead.”
“What?”
Her cry wakes my dad, who takes the phone from her. “What happened?”
I have to say it again, through tears and despair so deep, it’s all I feel. “Will died in an accident at work.”
“Oh God, Taylor. I don’t know what to say, honey.”
“Can you and Mom relieve Kate with the kids? She’s been there for hours.”
“Of course. What about you? And the baby?”
“My friends Iris and Gage are here with me. The baby is fine, but the doctor is keeping me for observation. My blood pressure is up, but I’m okay… Or, well, not at all okay, but you know…”
They’ve been through this with me before. The last time, however, we had plenty of warning that Greg’s valiant battle was coming to an end. The shock of this loss will take months, if not years, to fully process.
“Tell Kate we’re on our way,” Dad says. “And, honey, we’re so, so sorry.” His voice catches on a sob. “We loved Will like a son.”
“I know, Daddy. He loved you, too.”
“What should we say to the kids when they wake up?”
“Tell them I’ll be home soon.” My kids are intuitive, wise beyond their years. They’ll take one look at the grandparents they know as well as they know anyone and realize something terrible has happened.
“Okay, honey. Keep us posted on how you’re doing. I wish there was something more we could do.”
“Knowing you’re with my babies is what I need right now.”
“We love you. We’re so sorry.”
“I love you, too.”
I no sooner end that call than the phone rings with a call from Kate.
