Written in the Scars (41 page)
“Cord gave his life for my husband and brother. His bravery, his selflessness is unparalleled. I challenge each of you to live your life the same way.”
Adjusting the microphone again, I find Becca. She’s watching me with rapt attention, her eyes swollen from crying.
“One of Cord’s most annoying traits was that he was always right. It didn’t matter if it was about Jiggs’ truck or my marriage, he had an uncanny way of knowing what the right answer was.” I glance at my brother. “Sorry, Jiggs.”
The crowd chuckles again.
“His little snippets of guidance taught me many things, but the most important were about relationships. That sometimes you have to take a step back and breathe. That you can’t make
insane decisions
when your head is a mess. That even when you can’t walk in someone else’s shoes, you do have to try them on.”
Glancing at the casket again, I smile. “It’s not just the words we speak in a moment, but the weight of words over the course of time that matters. The words you choose every day add up. You are the words you speak, whether that’s constructive or destructive. Cord was a light. His legacy, the heft of the words and actions he left behind, are proof.”
“We need to live like Cord,” I implore. “We need to treat the people in our lives, whether it’s our spouse, parents, or friends, with care. Give them the benefit of the doubt. Lend an ear. Be sensitive to the trials they might be going through that we can’t see.”
“We can let our friend live through us in the way we treat one another in the good times and in the bad. Relationships can get messy. My own marriage was in shambles not too long ago.” I look at Ty as his face tightens. “It was Cord that reminded me to fight for what I wanted, even when I was scared. To live and love bravely. It takes courage to love. But to have someone to love and to love you back is worth every bump in the road.”
I smile at my husband and watch his features soften. “Life isn’t easy. Love isn’t for the faint of heart. You have to just put your fears aside and go for it. I learned that from Cord, the man that thought he couldn’t love,” I laugh. “Cord never quit on the people he loved, even when things got hard. Even when he was deep in the Earth. Even when he knew the end.”
Leaving the podium, I walk across the burgundy carpet and peer into the casket. My hand rests on his as I give Cord one final smile. “We love you. So much.”
I look back to the crowd. “You are all here to pay your respects to one amazing man. Don’t let it stop when you walk out the door. Love fully, even when it gets hard. Give forgiveness, even when you aren’t sure the other guy deserves it. And in every friendship you’re in, don’t forget to actually be friends.”
I gaze across the sea of faces until my gaze lands on Tyler Whitt. He smiles the same smile he gave me the morning he asked me for a piece of gum so many years ago.
As I start to take my seat and a hymn begins to play, a peace settles over my soul. Ty takes one of my hands and Jiggs takes the other. I squeeze them both, the warmth in their palms comforting me.
Six months later . . .
ELIN
“Are you sure I’m not too heavy?” I start to lean off Ty’s lap, but he pulls me down again against his Arrows’ shirt.
“Will you stop it? You aren’t too heavy.”
“I’m huge,” I say, rubbing my swollen belly. “This baby is going to be ten pounds. I know it.”
“You’ll be the prettiest ten-pound-baby-carrier I’ve ever seen,” he teases, rubbing my nose with his.
I settle against him as we sit in a loveseat in the nursery. The sun streams through the windows, the tree outside casting shadows on the golden walls.
Baseball decorations adorn the walls and crib, and sure enough, a signed picture of Lincoln Landry on the closet door.
It’s the perfect room for little Cord, even if it is a little cheesy. But Ty’s gusto to decorate and his enthusiasm for his vision—how could I say no?
We rock gently back and forth, feeling the late afternoon sun on our skin.
“Did you get your homework done?” I ask him.
“Yes, Mother,” he mocks, kissing me on the shoulder. “I’ll be glad when
my
homework is done and I’m giving it out instead.”
“Wait until you have to grade it,” I point out. “Not so fun.”
“Remember how fun grading papers is with me?” His eyebrows waggle and I laugh. “Besides, you’re not going to do that for me? It’ll be geography papers, and I hate to say, much more interesting than your cut and paste sheets.”
“Maybe you can take them over and get Jiggs to help you. That nine-to-five job of his at the power plant isn’t enough to keep him occupied. Lindsay is ready to murder him,” I laugh. “She was saying yesterday that it’s a good thing they didn’t move to Florida. Without you to entertain Jiggs, she’d be out of her mind.”
Ty rolls his eyes. “You’d think he’d have that truck working by now with all the time he has on his hands. Maybe Delia can help him when she gets older.”
“Speaking of Delia,” I say, grinning, “I told Jiggs we’d watch her tomorrow night so they can have a date night. Jiggs had me make reservations for them and order flowers and everything.”
“It doesn’t count if you do it for him.”
“Yes, it does!” I laugh. “I just hope you want to cater to me like he does Lindsay after I have Cord.”
“Don’t I already?” he says, kissing my cheek.
“You do. Just remember me when your little sports buddy arrives in the world,” I laugh, hearing the back door squeak. We wait as heavy footsteps walk through the house and the nursery door opens.
Dustin’s head pops around the corner. Yogi bursts in at the opportunity and plops down at our feet. I reach down and scratch her behind the ears.
“Hey, can I go play some ball with Jason?” Dustin asks.
“Yes. Dinner is at six-thirty, so make sure you’re back by then,” I say, smiling at my new foster son. He returns the gesture, a softness in his eyes that’s just begun to settle in.
The Case Manager from Child Protective Services said Dustin had lived in five different homes since being turned over to them. That helped explain his attitude and behavior issues. Once we passed the foster care courses and pulled some strings, he moved in and things have changed.
His grades are markedly better. His disciplinary record at school much cleaner. And the lightness in his step much easier.
Dustin told me he’d never had a room of his own and never went shopping for his own shoes. The day he picked out his own bed and basketball shoes was one of the happiest days of my life, just because of the joy on his face.
It’s the little things. I knew that before the accident, but I know it more now. It’s not about money, it’s not about cramming in a week’s worth of work in one day. It’s not about getting from point A to point B and it’s surely not about getting irritated over the little things in life. As a matter of fact, that’s what it’s all about.
Life is about stopping to chat with Ruby at the counter at The Fountain while she makes my Bump. It’s about planning the Thanksgiving menu with your sister-in-law and arguing about who is hosting it this year, burning dinner because your husband won’t keep his hands off you. It’s about setting up Becca with every man I meet so she finds her happily-ever-after even though I don’t have time and arguing with your foster son about his curfew and making a scarecrow every fall.
Some of those things might hurt. Life does pack a punch. But it’s the scars that make us who we are, that tell the story of the life we lived.
“What are you making for dinner?” Dustin asks.
“Baked chicken and pasta. Maybe an angel food cake.”
I look over my shoulder to see Ty beaming at me. He takes my hand in his and strokes my knuckles with the pad of his thumb.
“Awesome!” Dustin grins and closes the door behind him. His footsteps beat down the hall again and he leaves, the door squeaking.
“Are you ever going to fix that door?” I ask.
“Nope.”
I look at him and make a face. “And why not?”
His cheeks flush just a bit, a shade most people wouldn’t notice, but I do.
“What’s that all about?” I ask, chuckling.
“Want the truth?”
“Absolutely.”
He shifts my weight on his knee and looks me in the face. “When I was trapped, I kept thinking about how I needed to be here to fix the door and the furnace and all the things you don’t know how to do. So now I don’t want to fix them because it reminds me of my job here, if that makes sense?’
I kiss his full lips. “It does. But you have lots of jobs here. Can you fix the back door?”
His lips press against mine again, his hands starting at my cheeks and skimming my neck, shoulders, until they land on the tops of my rounded breasts.
“I can think of another job I’d like to take care of around here, if you’re feeling like it.”
I look at his handsome face. “I’m always feeling like it.”
“Then let’s go.”
USA Today and Amazon Top 10 Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.
She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather’s nice and there’s always a piece of candy in her pocket.
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