A Taylor-Made Life (31 page)

Three and a half months after my
transplant, Uncle Bilbo was finally allowing limited social
contact. Aaron shifted in my arms, and I adjusted my hold, pulling
him closer. His little lips clamped tight over the pacifier, and he
sucked loudly. I rolled my eyes at the noise but smiled.

Brad looked up from his papers, caught
my gaze, and nodded. “We’re here for the reading of the Last Will
and Testament of Gavin Michael Taylor.” He commenced with the brief
formalities and got to the crux. “To Sara Renee Eddes, my friend
and assistant, I leave the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand
dollars in appreciation for her years of service and
loyalty.”

Her friends nodded in silent
approval.

“To Jon Chen, Nicholas Glint, and
Sophia Middleton, I leave all copyrights and trademarks for
Turion
to be split equally and royalties paid quarterly
beginning the first quarter after this reading.”

The guys shook their heads, smiling in
wonder. Jon spoke softly, “Gavin, you…you….” His voice
cracked.

As if unaffected by the emotion, Brad
continued, “To my half-sister Rebecca Jane Grable, I give the sum
of three million dollars to be set up in a trust administered by
her mother Grace Grable.”

Grace dropped her head, and teardrops
dampened her skirt. Ben squeezed her shoulder.

“Finally, to my wife, Taylor Marie
Taylor, I leave the remainder of my estate, including controlling
interest in TM Enterprises and the residence located at 2475 Field
Street. My memories I’m taking with me.”

My lips quivered, but I had determined
not to cry. Not yet.

Brad finished with a few more short
formalities then looked up from the document. “That’s all, folks.
You’ll be getting your paperwork with specific information
shortly.” He stood. “I believe there’s coffee and refreshments
being served in the kitchen, if anyone’s interested.”

Mom squeezed my arm. “You
okay?”

I could only nod.

“Here, let me take Aaron to his crib.
You visit.”

I gave my little guy a squeeze before
his Grammy took him, then stood and walked to the big window in the
living room. Looking down on the winding street, I watched the cars
pass. A strong, warm hand squeezed my shoulder, and I leaned into
the touch.

I turned to meet Brad’s gaze. “Thanks
for everything. You’ve been lots of comfort and a great
friend.”

He smiled. “My pleasure.” He set his
coffee on the table and pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket.
“This is the final item I’m to deliver for Gavin. It’s the second
in a pair of personal letters he wrote. I’ve already delivered the
other.”

I blinked and took the envelope. My
name was written on the front in Gavin’s handwriting. I stared at
it then glanced up at him. “Do you know what it says?

He shook his head.

A tremor ran through my body, and
tears stung my eyes, but, damn it, I wasn’t going to cry. “You said
there’s another letter. Who was that to?”

Brad shrugged. “A Matthew
McCallum.”

My mind spun. “Matt? What did it
say?”

“Don’t know. And unless Mr. McCallum
chooses to share the contents, we may never know. But what I do
know is that Gavin loved you, Taylor. I’d never seen him happier
than when he was with you.”

My heart pounded.
Gavin, what did
you do?

Brad slid his hand over my arm and
squeezed. He studied my face and acted like he wanted to say
something else.

I raised my eyebrows in
inquiry.

“Taylor, if you ever want to get
out…to talk or have dinner….”

I smiled and patted his hand. He
wanted to help. “Thanks.”

He nodded, leaned over and kissed my
cheek. “I have to go. Call me if you need me.”

* * * *

I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring
down at the unopened envelope. Two and a half months since I’d
received it, and I hadn’t mustered the courage to open it. I hadn’t
been ready. But now I was. Six months after my transplant and Uncle
Bilbo had released me from house arrest. Physically, my body had
never felt stronger. Even my hair was growing a little, though,
technically, I was still pretty bald. Zelda refused to allow me to
eat junk food and prepared only organic meals. The veggie burgers
weren’t horrible. The turkey bacon–not so great.

Aaron was beginning to scoot along the
floor and would be crawling soon. Grammy had left him on a pallet
for a minute and came back to find him wedged under the couch on
the other side of the room. I smiled at the memory of Grammy
fretting, while Mom sprawled on all fours and pulled him
out.

He was too smart for his own good. For
my own good. His bright blue-green eyes and dark hair were all
Gavin, and when he smiled with his two teeth shining, the past came
roaring back to me.

I picked up the envelope and held it.
Other than Brad, I’d told no one. This was mine alone. Swallowing
hard, I tore it open and pulled out the letter.

Taylor,

It breaks my heart to leave you. Not
because I don’t think you’ll be okay. I know you will. But because
I’ll miss you.

Living with cancer has been hard—the
hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s taught me a lot. Dying with
cancer doesn’t seem so bad, except for losing you and Aaron. And
truthfully, dying is what I did every day without you.

I know you blame the cancer. Hate it.
Think it killed me and defeated you. But that’s not true. Cancer is
what allowed us to be who we were for ourselves and each other. It
created the perfect circumstances for our love.

I don’t regret a single minute of all
I’ve suffered. In fact, I embrace it. Because, Sweetness, if it
weren’t for this disease, I would never have known you, tasted your
goodness, or felt your love. And for that piece of heaven, I would
have suffered a thousand times more.

You think I saved your life. But the
truth is, you saved mine. Because of you, I changed and healed. You
showed me not only was I worthy of great love—I was capable of it.
These last ten months with you have meant everything to me. And
there’s not one thing I could have asked for that you haven’t
already given.

Before you, my greatest fear was that
no one had truly known or loved me, and no one would miss me when I
was gone. But you’ve known me like I know myself and loved me
anyway. I take comfort in knowing after I’m gone, you’ll
remember.

I got the easy end of this deal. You
now have the hard part. To take up the fight.

Go. Live your life. Be happy.
Accomplish your dreams. Take the money and do something worthwhile
or just spend it.

Take care of our little one. May he
bring you life, and in that life, may you find joy.

Cry lots, Sweetness, but don’t cry
long.

All my love,

Gavin

P.S. Find my dad. Tell him I love
him.

Wracking sobs ripped through me. I
buried my face in my pillow.

And I cried.

Lots.

* * * *

I bounded down the stairs in my sweats
and running shoes. Mom sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper
and drinking her morning coffee. Dad was back in Dallas trying to
sell the house, but Mom had already moved to California
permanently.

Aaron sat in his highchair next to
her, scooting Cheerios around his tray.

I kissed his head, took a seat and
grabbed a piece of turkey bacon, crinkling my nose as I chewed. Not
the greatest. I shot a sideways glance at the guilty-looking
Zelda.

Mom laid the paper down. “A producer
from OWN called. Oprah wants an interview. I guess you’ve finally
hit the big time.”

“Ugh. Diane Sawyer and Anderson Cooper
still want interviews, too. Macmillian and Simon and Schuster both
say they have the perfect ghost writer, but Warner Brothers wants
the movie rights.” I stretched my arms overhead then took a sip of
orange juice.

Aaron babbled to himself.

I looked at him and smiled. My heart
warmed at the sight of his face, so familiar. Those eyes. His
father’s eyes. “You don’t say, little guy? That’s what I think,
too.”

“Mammma.”

Mom folded her paper. “Did he just
call you
Mama
?”

I laughed. “I think so.” I took his
hand in mine and bent to kiss it. “That’s right. I’m Mama. I’m your
Mama, little man.”

I picked him up and sat him on my lap.
He cuddled close. Even though I’d spent most of the morning with
him, I could never get enough time with my guy.

Interrupting our baby banter, Mom
asked, “Have you sifted through the PR resumes Sara
sent?”

I glanced up from Aaron. “No. I think
I’ll let her hire one.”

“Probably just as well.” She took a
swig of her coffee. “So. Now that Dr. Monroe has released you and
you’re footloose and fancy free, what’re you gonna do with
yourself?”

I handed the baby to her, finished my
bacon, and gulped down some juice. “I don’t know. Go back to work
and finish Gavin’s final project. Go to college, maybe. I’ll
definitely be spending more time with this little guy.” Thoughts of
school and normal life felt good roaming my mind. It had been so
long since anything close to normal wandered there.

Standing from the table, I gave Mom my
best-dimpled smile. Her eyes glittered with tears, and she grinned
back as if she could read my thoughts.

I ran my hand over the fine hair
growing on the top of my head.
Humph
, I’d forgotten my hat.
Before taking off out the door, I turned and said, “As far as the
future goes, I’m not sure. But right now, I’m going for a run. I’ll
figure the rest out later. I’ve got time.”

One Year
Later

Staring into the tiny mirror, I
smoothed down my recently waxed eyebrows and the smart-looking
ponytail that held my hair back. I closed the compact and dropped
it in my suit pocket.

Sara brushed imaginary lint from my
shoulders, warmth radiating from her. “You look great, and you’ll
do fine.”

“You know, I hate public speaking.” I
smiled at the woman who was not only my right hand but also my best
friend.

I clasped the note cards that
contained my speech, pushed my shoulders back, and walked on stage.
Gazing out over the crowd in the large hall, I was shocked by lots
of familiar faces looking back and so many more I didn’t recognize.
I caught the eye of Mom wrestling with Aaron in the front row. Dad
and the design team next to them, and Grace and Ben on the end. My
family.

Movement in the back caught my
attention as the lobby doors opened. A tall man with dark hair
stepped in and stood against the back wall. I blinked back tears.
Gordon Taylor made it after all.

I’d spent a small fortune to hire a
private investigator, and we’d had several face-to-face meetings
with the man. And after months of reaching out, he’d finally come
to meet his grandson and say goodbye to Gavin. A lump lodged in my
throat. My sweet husband’s healing was complete, and may his
precious soul rest in peace.

I took a deep breath and said, “Today
is a landmark day for TM Enterprises and those who call us friends.
As you’re aware, my late husband had a project he wasn’t able to
finish. When I took over for him a year ago, I made his last
assignment my priority, and today, I’m pleased to unveil TM
Enterprises’ newest game, VITA.”

A screen lit behind me with the
three-dimensional logo, and the crowd applauded and cheered.
Cameras flashed.

“VITA is a 4-D compatible game with
the most cutting-edge graphics and effects. It took countless hours
and innovation from our design and development team to create and
finish. While the strategy of the game is a simple one, it’s not
easy, and VITA is suitable for any age and skill level.”

The audience watched as the pictures
and video scrolled over the screen. I explained the basic functions
and strategy. When the presentation finished, I said, “We here at
TME have high hopes for the game, and believe it will be our most
successful to date.”

Warmth spread over me like two
comforting arms wrapped around me from behind, and for the second
time since his death, I felt Gavin with me. “With the expanded
market of home gaming systems as well as online users, VITA will be
able to reach the widest audience of any TME game.” My voice broke.
I took a moment to compose my thoughts and continued, “And the best
part about VITA is that a percentage of all profits will go to The
Melanoma Research Foundation in honor of Gavin Taylor.”

The crowd gave a round of applause,
and I was lit in another barrage of camera flashes.

“Thank you for coming today and enjoy
VITA.”

I stepped from the podium to another
round of applause and headed down to my family in the front row of
the auditorium. Grace grabbed me first and squeezed
tightly.