Only One (Reed Brothers) (10 page)

I hear the curtain shift behind me and I can’t even force myself to turn around. I know it’s her and I know she’s naked. I know she’ll give me all of herself because she loves me too. I can feel it inside me, but I don’t know what to do with it.

“Nick?” she asks, and she lays her fingers tenderly on my back. I look over my shoulder at her and she has a question in her eyes. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s okay.”

She picks up a bar of soap and slicks her hands with it, and then she lays them on my back and slowly sweeps them around. She traces my tattoos with her fingertips and I have to brace myself on my elbows on the wall. My knees feel like they might give out at any second.

“Do you want me to go?” Her voice quivers.

I couldn’t kick her out now for anything. “No.”

“Okay,” she says.

She picks the soap up again and slides it over my shoulders and my back, then down over my butt and the backs of my legs. Her hands aren’t hesitant at all, but I can feel her shaking. Her breaths brush the backs of my knees and then she pushes my hip to make me turn around. She’s still down by my feet, but I squeeze my eyes closed tightly and turn. She makes a little noise, but I’m a chicken so I don’t even look at her.

She soaps up the fronts of my legs and over my hips on each side. Then she stands up and makes little circles over my chest and down my arms. She lifts my arm and washes my armpit and it makes her giggle.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“You are,” she says. “You’re looking everywhere but at me.”

She picks up a shampoo bottle and starts to wash my hair.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say.

She waits a beat, and then she says, “How long has it been since anyone has taken care of you, Nick?” She tilts my head back and washes the soap from my hair, and I’m glad she does, because damn if tears don’t well up in my eyes. It’s been a really long time since anyone has taken care of me, since anyone has cared what happens to me.

But Carrie cares. I can tell that she does. I can tell she has true feelings for me. But will they be enough for us? That’s what I’m not sure about.

“It’s been a long time,” I whisper, and I pull her naked body against me.

“Let me take care of you,” she says.

I nod into her neck.

Her slick fingers wrap around my dick and she begins to stroke. I open my mouth to groan, and her tongue slides into it, and she starts to kiss me as she strokes me, pulling my very soul from my body with every tug of her tender little fingers.

“Carrie,” I grunt out.

“What?” she whispers against my lips. “Let me take care of you,” she says again. “Just trust me.”

Trust her? I don’t trust anybody. Not really.

Until now.

“Okay,” I say.

Her fingers tighten infinitesimally, and suddenly I feel like my balls are trying to crawl out my throat. I come with her little fingers gripping me, splashing her belly, and she just whispers encouragement to me as I die a little death at her hands.

I have to make her stop now because I’m just too sensitive, so I take her hand and lift it, pressing it and her against the wall, with my hands holding both of hers by her head. “Why did you do that?” I ask with my head buried in her neck.

“I wanted to make you feel good.”

“You don’t have to do that to make me feel good.”

“I know.” Her brow furrows. “You didn’t like it?”

I laugh and pick up the soap. I wash off her belly and her skin ripples as I touch it. “I think there’s plenty of evidence that I did.” I smile.

She giggles as I clean her off.

“What about you?” I ask. I kiss her, and she pulls her head back from me.

“I told my parents we wouldn’t be gone long.”

“But that’s not quite fair,” I protest.

She giggles again and gets out of the shower. I’ll have the image of her naked body in my head from this moment forward, though—for the rest of my life. I wrap her in a towel and dry her off really quickly, and she gets dressed again.

We get back in my jeep and I take her home. The wind blows her hair dry and she laughs as we take a turn too fast, grabbing for the overhead bars. “Nick!” she cries. I stop. Then she grins at me and says, “Do it again!”

So I do. And again, and again, and again.

But when we get to her house, there’s an ambulance in the drive.

Carrie

It’s time for hospice to come. While we were gone, Mom had a seizure and it scared the crap out of Dad, so he called 9-1-1. They spent the day at the hospital and then they came home, and a nurse showed up that night. Mom can still get up every now and then, but she’s so tired that it doesn’t last long. They had told us we had a month, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to be the case.

When we get home, Matt and Sky come over and they bring dinner. It’s really sweet of them, and I start to cry over their generosity. I can’t help it. Matt pulls me into him and holds me for a second, murmuring to me that it’s all going to be all right. That I’ll see. That I’ll understand it. But I don’t. And I probably never will.

Seth asks me if I want to take a walk with him, while the rest of them talk. I agree, because Nick had to leave to go to work. I don’t have anything else to do, and I don’t think Nick will mind.

“My mom died of cancer a few years ago,” Seth says to me the minute our feet hit the sand. “I just wanted to tell you that.” He looks at me. “Matt can tell you he knows what you’re going through, but he doesn’t. Not really. He didn’t watch his mother waste away and feel helpless because he couldn’t do anything. So I just…I just wanted to tell you that I do know what you’re going through and that I’d be happy to listen if you want to talk.”

“Thank you,” I say. But I have nothing on my mind that I want to say right now. “I might take you up on that later.”

We walk in silence.

“So, you and Amber, huh?” I ask with a grin.

He shakes his head. “No, she hooked up with some guy named Dean last night,” he says. He winces. “Don’t know what happened there.”

We walk and talk for a little while and finally head back. Friday and Reagan are in with Mom when I get there, and they’re all talking. I stand at the doorway and listen. I hear Mom say, “If I could do anything differently, I would never have gotten divorced. I wish we were still married now. But I guess it’s too late.”

Mom dozes off, and Reagan motions me out of the room with a crook of her finger.

“I have an idea,” she says.

###

Reagan and Pete are supposed to get married today, in a beautiful ceremony on the beach, but at the last minute, women storm the house. They run Dad out amid his mighty protests, and I just grin and push him toward the Reed men, who take him out for an hour to go shopping, and I hope they’re telling him the plan.

Reagan drops down in a chair beside Mom and takes her hand. “So, I had this tiny little wedding planned,” she says.

Mom nods. “I’m planning to be there, even if they have to carry me.”

Reagan shakes her head. “But I decided I don’t want to do it today.” She motions Friday into the room, and Sky behind her. They’re carrying all sorts of makeup, and clothing in big bags. “Pete and I talked about it, and we decided that we’d rather watch you and John get remarried today.”

“What?” Mom’s eyes fill with tears. “I can’t,” she protests, just like we thought she would.

“You can. I won’t take no for an answer.” Reagan is adamant. Mom cries. I cry. Everyone cries.

“What if John doesn’t want to?” she asks.

Friday snorts. “I don’t think that’s the case.” We look toward the doorway and find Dad standing there, looking so handsome in a tux.

“Get ready, Pattycakes,” he says. “I’m carrying you down the aisle, if you don’t meet me at the end of it.” His voice catches on the last sentence, and he walks away rubbing his eyes.

Mom throws up her hands. “Well, I guess that’s a yes,” she says.

We do hair and makeup, and then Reagan drops her own wedding dress down over Mom’s head. It’s a little big because Mom has lost so much weight, but it fits well enough. Reagan’s Mom, who flew in with her dad and her little brother for the ceremony that now isn’t happening, tells Mom the dress looks much better on her than it did on Reagan. Mom laughs. It’s nice of her to say so. And even nicer that Reagan gave up her day.

Mom squeezes Reagan’s hand. “I’m so grateful.” Reagan wipes away a tear.

“Are you ready?” Matt asks from the doorway. “John is waiting down on the beach.”

Mom smiles. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Matt pushes her wheelchair into the room.

“No,” Mom says. “I’m walking.”

“Mom,” I protest.

She holds up a hand. “I’m walking,” she says.

I nod and swipe a tear from my face. “Okay,” I croak out. I take her arm and let her lean on me, and we walk onto the deck.

She stops to stare at the beauty of it. Right in front of our deck they’ve set up chairs and an arbor of flowers. Dad is standing in front of it, and he holds out his hands and says, “All this is for us, Pattycakes!”

I walk down the aisle with Mom holding on to me, but then I hand her over to Dad and go sit with Nick. He takes my hand and smiles at me. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and concentrate on the beauty of the moment. Mom and Dad declare their love, and then Dad slips her ring back onto her finger, and she does the same with his.

There are camera crews there for the Reeds, but Matt assures me they’re making a video that will be just for us, something to look back on.

I watch the wind as it blows through Mom’s hair and a feeling of peace settles over me. Nick squeezes my hand and I kiss his cheek.

After they say “I do,” Dad picks her up and carries her to the deck, where he sits down in a lounge chair with her reclining against him. I hear him ask, “Are you okay?” She nods, and lies back against him.

Emily pulls out a guitar and begins to play. She plays her song, and suddenly Mom asks, “Do you know ‘I’ll Fly Away’?”

Emily nods and starts to sing about one fine day when this life is over and flying away. Mom sings too, and everyone else on the deck joins in. There’s not a dry eye on the deck when it’s over.

Mom is tired, but she stays awake until the sun sets, and we live and laugh and love. Then she asks me to help her change clothes. “I want to go to the lighthouse,” she says.

“Okay,” I say hesitantly. I go and ask Nick if there’s some way we can get her there.

He pulls his jeep down onto the beach and we get in. Dad carries Mom to the lighthouse, and then he and Nick leave us there for a while.

Mom and I talk. We talk about her and Dad, and life, and me and Nick. And it’s the best talk ever. A shooting star flashes across the sky and Mom whispers, “Make a wish.”

I close my eyes and wish. But I can’t say out loud what it was for, because then it won’t come true.

And I desperately need for it to come true.

Nick

Carrie’s mom died on Sunday. Carrie and I sat on the deck for hours afterward, not saying a word. She was devastated, but it was a good kind of loss, the kind where you have to be thankful because someone is no longer in pain. The kind that guts you, because you will never have them again, but it makes you relieved to see their pain end, when relief is the opposite of what you want to feel.

The Reeds hang out with us, bringing food and greeting guests. Matt and Logan sit down beside us on the porch finally as the sun is about to set. “It was a beautiful service,” Logan says.

Carrie nods. Carrie’s a little choked up, because her dad just gave her the video diary, and she’d played the “on the day I die” video. There’s a video for all sorts of occasions, and Carrie is determined she’s not going to look at them until she gets to those mile-markers.

But in the “on the day I die” video, Patty admitted something to Carrie.

I guess I can tell you now, since I’m gone. But I wished for you to be able to see me in the un-ordinary. You remember when we were lying by the lighthouse on that last night, and the shooting star flew by? I wished for you to see me in things not typically found. In the rainbow after a rain. In the twinkle of a star. In the butterfly that lands on your shoulder. In the breeze as you walk down the beach. See me. Feel me. Because I will always be there.

Matt heard the message too, and he got all choked up. Suddenly, Matt sits up. “Well, would you look at that,” he breathes. Then he realizes he said it out loud and he looks a little chagrinned.

“What?” Carrie asks. Then she sees it too. There’s a yellow swallowtail on the porch rail. It opens its wings and closes them. “Wow,” Carrie breathes.

I am dumbstruck. Absolutely dumbstruck. The butterfly flitters around and lands on Carrie’s shoulder. She sits absolutely still.

Logan takes a notepad out of his pocket and starts to draw. The butterfly stays there long enough for him to capture the image in pencil. Carrie sits there with the butterfly on her shoulder, completely still the whole time. She looks so peaceful. And so does the butterfly.

Logan tears off the page and hands it to her. She thanks him, and I feel like my heart is in my throat. But it always is when I’m with Carrie.

“Matt, do you think you could tattoo that on my shoulder?” Carrie asks.

He nods. “I believe I could.”

The next day, he puts the image on her shoulder. Logan drew it, and it’s a three-dimensional image that looks like it’s lifting right up off her skin. It’s one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

Aside from Carrie, that is.

###

Carrie left on Friday. And I’m afraid she took my heart with her. She has to go home to pack her college things before she heads to the dorm. Her dad is still here, because he’s closing up the house. I look around at my memories and I know what I have to do.

I have to go. I have to sell the house. I just have to.

I go to visit with Carrie’s dad, because I know he’s a realtor. I’m hoping he has some suggestions about how to start.

“So, you want to go to school?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

He raises his brows. “You want to go to the same school with Carrie?”