Life Without You (34 page)

I smiled, sweeping away the heavy thoughts. None of those. Not now. Now was about Vivi and doing what I had come to Azalea’s today to do.

I wasn’t delusional enough to think that I—or any of my words—was going to be the magic bullet and fix everything for any of them: Vivi, Annabelle, or Savannah. But I
was
hopeful enough to believe that something in all that I had said to them would matter just enough to make them think, to make them see things from a different perspective, to open their eyes just a little bit to the fact that they were irreplaceable and important and beautiful. To show them that, even in their flaws, they were priceless and that their lives touched more people that they knew.

Just as Grammie and her cakes had touched each of them, they had touched others without ever really realizing it. And they had touched me.

“We’ll be there to pick you up at the airport, Dellie,” Mama said later that evening. “It’s going to be so nice to see you. I feel like it’s been so much more than a month!” She laughed on the other end. “Are you sure it wasn’t?”

I smiled. “Nope, just a month. But you’re right, it does seem like longer, in a way.” I was sitting out on the deck, rocking slowly back and forth on the porch swing and savoring the last few minutes of sunset before I went into the house for the night. Grandpa was inside, showering after spending most of the late afternoon taking care of manly things like mowing the lawn and weed-whacking. Dinner was still up in the air, but I had a feeling we were probably just going to chow down on leftovers of one of the soups he’d made in the crockpot earlier that week.

“I’m proud of you, Dellie,” Mama said, breaking into my thoughts. “Have I told you that?”

I paused my swinging, as though it would make me understand her words. “What are you proud of me for?” I asked. It was a genuine question, not a fishing expedition. I wasn’t looking for compliments.

“I’m proud of you for going out there, even though it was scary for you. I’m proud of you for doing things that are out of your comfort zone. I know that trip to Wilkes was hard for you. I know going to the cemetery was hard for you. But you did it anyway, and I’m so very, very proud of you for that.” Mama paused, and I knew she was probably thinking about everything she had gone through in her own life, dealing with anxieties of her own. She had survived them, yes. But more than that, she had
overcome
them. She had taken the steps to reclaim her life and her joy, and she had made a beautiful life, when others might have given up. She had persevered, and she had found her strengths.

“You’re starting to do it, Dellie. Now you just have to
keep
doing it, even when it’s so hard and so scary that you don’t feel like you’ll make it. You have to
choose
,” she urged. “And know that we’re here for you. You’re not alone.”

My nose was running, the tears were streaming down my face, and I had no doubt that the mascara I’d swiped on that morning was probably running in streaks down my cheeks. But I didn’t care. She was right. I had been doing things that felt dangerous to me, even though they were perfectly normal things for the rest of the general population. Things that had me so anxiety-ridden that I would much rather have retreated from them back to the safety of my protected little cocoon. I had done them anyway, choosing to face the fear instead of bending to it and allowing it to steal even more from me, and that was something to be proud of. Something to celebrate. Something to inspire me to keep going, keep pushing, keep fighting.

“I love you, baby girl,” Mama said and I could hear the tears in her voice.

“I love you, too, Mama. And thank you for being proud of me,” I squeaked.

“We’ve
always
been proud of you, Dellie. It’s not a pass or fail here—we’re proud of
you
for being you. But you need to know that we see the changes you’re making, and we realize how important even the little ones are.”

I swiped the back of my hand across my cheeks, wishing I had a tissue. Or a whole
box
of tissues.

“It’ll be nice to be home,” I said at last, not really knowing what else to say. “I miss your hugs.”

“I miss yours, too. And when you get home, I’ll give you the biggest one ever.” Mama laughed. “We have a whole month to make up for!”

There was much more than a month to make up for. More than missed hugs. There was missed
life
. But making up for it wasn’t a matter of paying penance or of begging for forgiveness. It was about changing, about taking back my life by seizing the moments that came my way. Moving forward, not looking back. I’d made many, many mistakes; but I wasn’t alone in that. Life was full of mistakes.

Learning from them, turning them into good, was the most important thing. I wanted to live my life, not run from it. This was the only life I was going to get, and I wanted to make it the very best life it could be.

“We do,” I said quietly, wondering if she had any inkling of all the thoughts and emotions swirling through me as I spoke those simple words. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds around me—the bark of the neighbor’s dog, the soft swish of the tree leaves as the breeze rifled them. I would miss this place, but I was glad to be going home. It was going to be different, though, I vowed silently. I wanted more now than just that little world that had become
so
small,
so limiting. I wanted more, bigger. Better. Brighter.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes again, noticing that the sun had finally slipped away, the color-washed sky of sunset now replaced by the darkness of nightfall.

Time to go in, I thought.

I blinked, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw something I hadn’t seen in all the days I had been here so far—I finally saw the very first flash of a lightning bug.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The morning of my departure came far faster than I could have imagined, and my last two days flew by in the blink of an eye. There were still things that I would have liked to have done, still people I would have loved to see, but I would be back.

Sooner
, rather than later. I would be back, and the relationships I had formed and the ones I had rebuilt would continue.

Reconnect With Family
. I wasn’t taking that item on my bucket list lightly.

As I packed up my suitcases, I did I a mental inventory of the past month here, marveling at everything that had happened, all the things I had learned about myself and about the people in my life. All the ways that I was being given a chance to see the possibilities for my own life and the ways that I could take charge of it, if only I really took the steps.

Unfortunately, Olivia’s heavy schedule didn’t allow her to come back to Hampton, nor did it afford her another pocket of free time to spend a few hours in an afternoon with me, even if I had been able to get up to Richmond to see her. But our visit had been so good, so needed, that both of us had been making a renewed effort of maintaining close contact. We’d been talking on the phone and texting regularly, rather than sending out random Likes and comments on Facebook. This was far, far more intentional, now that both of us had realized just how much we had come to miss being in one another’s lives.

I could tell, though, more and more from each conversation, that the grueling schedule was wearing on her, that being away from her son so much was emotionally draining. And even though she hadn’t come right out and spoken the exact words, certain things that Olivia said made me fairly certain that if she’d had her heart’s desire, she would have loved to have been working on cakes, creating a business of her own and spending more time with Ethan, rather than cramming every waking hour with school and work. The fact that she was doing all of this, pushing through even the roughest parts, was one more testament to her strength, one more credit to her character. One more way that showed just how dedicated she was to being able to give her son stability. Maybe one day she would have the chance to make her dreams a reality; but for now, she was sacrificing them for a greater good.

Uncle Luke’s visits to the house had been frequent enough, and he’d even taken me to lunch once during my stay. It had been nice to have him all to myself, to talk to him about things that were going on in our lives and to get to know him better in a way that I hadn’t before, when I was a child rather than an adult. Nice to know that he was one more person so firmly in my corner.

I was saddened by the fact that I hadn’t gotten to see my other uncles, but I was also realistic. The stars didn’t always align, and real life didn’t always accommodate our wishes. Even so, I’d made a point to call them both while I’d been in Hampton—not only to let them know I’d come up for a visit, but more importantly, I thought, to let them know that I missed them and that I loved them. Being here had made me realize even more just how crucial it was to take every opportunity to show the people you loved just how much you loved them. There were no guarantees on time, no matter how old or young you were, and it was better to live every day without the regrets of words that hadn’t been said.

There were new clothes to pack into my suitcases, reminders of the ways that I wanted to change. Reminders of the ways that I
deserved
to change and was worth the fight. I had many, many battles ahead; but I wanted, more than anything, to win them. To feel happy and healthy and beautiful again.

To live and taste,
really
taste, a life of freedom.

My trip to Wilkes after the cemetery visit with Grandpa had certainly not come without its share of anxiousness. I’d ordered my sandwich with a massive knot of fear in my gut, almost to the point of nausea. And, much as I wanted to retreat and back down from the challenge, I also wanted to be able to bite into that sandwich with abandon, with the knowledge that this was a fist pump of victory, one more step closer to normalcy. The unending stream of emotional and psychological warfare that came afterwards was nothing short of torture, but I did it anyway. I fought away the thoughts. I fought away the desire to overcompensate.

And the world around me carried on.

I
carried on.

And it made me feel strong.

One more thing to cross off my bucket list, to
keep
crossing off my bucket list until the fear was gone.

The tears in my eyes as I packed and reflected blurred my vision a bit, obscuring my ability to really see what I was doing, so I had to stop and dab them away. I grabbed a tissue from the box on the dresser, thinking of Annabelle and her handkerchiefs. How would she decide to go about making some sort of peace agreement with Grandpa? I was curious to see, but I had little doubt that, once she set her mind to doing it and figured out her game plan, she would be able to make it happen. She was an inspiring woman, and I was glad to be able to count her among my friends.

Grandpa and I hadn’t broached the subject again, after we’d had that confrontation over Annabelle. I had said my piece, and that was all that I could do. The rest of it would have to be left between him and Annabelle.

Vivi and Savannah’s futures were something else I wondered at as I zipped up the last of my bags. Would Savannah feel confident enough in her own talents to take Annabelle’s offer of a loan? Would Vivi come to really, fully understand that she was the driving force of Azalea’s, that she was its lifeblood and that
her
passion was what was keeping it alive and so successful; or would she forever feel in her mother’s shadow, unworthy of the legacy she had been left to carry?

Only time would tell, but I had a feeling that there was magic in the works somewhere…and I couldn’t wait to know how it all played out.

I had gotten to say my good-byes to all of them the day before; we’d met at Azalea’s for a late lunch, and we’d talked and laughed and cried until the dinner crowd had crushed us out. It was four hours of good-bying, of promising to keep in touch and making plans for future visits. None of the promises seemed empty, though, unlike those so often made during the rosy glow of vacations when everything seems so ideal, only to be eclipsed by the realities of a busy life once the vacation is over. All four of us were equally determined to keep our promises, and four determined women can be a powerful force.

“Are you ready, Dellie?” Grandpa called out, shaking me from my reverie, reminding me how close I was to departure.

I tugged my suitcase off the bed and gathered my purse and carry-on, taking one last glance around the room to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. The bed had been stripped and remade with fresh sheets, the closet and the dresser emptied of my clothes and shoes. It looked the same as when I’d come, the same as it had for more years than I could remember. It was a comforting sight, a reminder of happy nights spent here in my childhood. Of whispered secrets in the dark with Olivia and Charlie, of giggles and mischief that lasted far past bedtime.

“Coming!” I called back, hefting my bags out the door with a peek toward the bathroom, once again taking a mental inventory of everything. It may have been stripped bare of things, but it would never be stripped of memories, never be rid of the fine dust of countless morning applications of powder, of the lingering mists of hundreds of thousands of baths given to children who grew up to have children of their own, all bathed in the same tub, sudsed and scrubbed back to freshness. The tiny bathroom was a box of treasured memories; and no matter how many years went by, those memories would never truly be gone.

I trudged down the hall and into the kitchen, where Grandpa stood waiting, keys in hand and ready to roll, looking like a man on a mission. I smiled at the sight of him, the familiar face of the man whose presence figured so greatly in my history, whose blood and sweat and love had built a home and family with the woman he loved. He was a treasure, even though he might never understand how special he was; and I was glad to have been given the chance to see a clearer picture of him, to know him better and discover more of the many things that made him such a gift.