Bonus Kisses - Freya Barker Page 0,6
of the past almost decade on narrow cots and barely-there mattresses. It was tempting to simply stay in bed indefinitely, instead of facing my family again.
As luck would have it, my parents already went home last night, so there was a little less tension in the room when I walked in. Most of the morning was spent getting Nicky released and ready for the trip home, and sorting out her medication at the hospital pharmacy. The drive to Eminence had been relatively quiet, something I was grateful for, since the increasingly familiar landscape of the Ozarks brought on a full range of memories for me. Good and not so good.
My parents had been waiting at the house I grew up in when we got there, but they didn’t stay long. They moved to a small bungalow in town when Rafe bought the clinic, and with it the house, nine years ago. Shortly after Dad was diagnosed he retired, determined to get as much traveling in as his condition would allow.
Rafe didn’t hang around long either. He had some work to do at the clinic before Kathleen dropped off the children. Nicky was visibly tired but wanted to stay on the couch, not ready to let me help her into the hospital bed set up in front of the bay window in the living room.
“They’ll love you,” she says, a soft smile on her face before worry replaced it. “But for the record, I’m nervous too. Now that I’m home, I’m second-guessing if this was such a good idea.”
I drop the dishrag in the sink and wipe my hands before joining Nicky on the couch.
“I’ve learned that in most of Africa,” I start, taking her hand in mine, “death is seen more as a transition than an ending. They don’t look forward to the inevitable, but focus instead on the living that is left. Those who die continue to exist in a spiritual way as part of their family. They don’t believe death is final, but rather an unending circle.”
“I like that.” Nicky sniffles, and I hand her the box of tissues off the table.
“Me too. I like the idea we don’t stop being part of a family, simply because we’re no longer there physically.”
I don’t realize the double meaning of my words until I feel my sister’s hand squeezing my own.
“I like that even better,” she whispers. “You may not have been here, but you were never gone from my heart, Taz.”
I blink a few times when my nose prickles with the tears that want to come. No time for that with the kids on their way home.
“Ditto,” I respond in a raw voice, before clearing my throat and changing the subject. “I’m not a parent, but maybe it would be easier to let the kids come with their own questions about what is happening. From my experience, kids are not stupid and often more tuned-in than we think. Let them indicate what they’re ready to hear. We need to take their cues and be honest in our answers.”
Nicky nods and opens her mouth to answer when the front door slams open and a tow-haired little boy comes barreling through.
“Mommy!”
My heart pounds in my ears as I watch the little Rafe replica advance on his mother, throwing his spindly arms around her neck. Pleasure and pain display in stark contrast on Nicky’s face as she closes her arms around his small body. I have to swallow hard.
Not far behind, Kathleen guides in Spencer’s more restrained big sister. Last time I saw Sofie she was a precocious toddler with a ready smile for everyone. There’s no smile now, only suspicious eyes and a sullen look on her face.
“Oh my God, Taz.” Kathleen lets go of the girl and I can barely get to my feet before she throws herself in my arms. “It’s so good to see you,” she sniffles in my neck, and I have a hard time keeping my own emotions in check.
Over the past years my friend has kept me informed on the welfare of my family. Pride had prevented me from reaching out myself, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t lapping up every little tidbit of information Kathleen shared with me.
She lets me go and takes a step back, her hand reaching up to tug on my dreadlocks. “When did you get these?” she wants to know, her fingers rubbing over the odd beads I had woven into my hair.
“Years ago. It was either this or shave