Everything in me says I should.
My knees bounce underneath the table, and I’m two seconds away from jumping up from my chair, when my gaze slides to Gray and Gemma. Both are looking down at their plates, their faces forlorn, and their food barely touched.
I can’t leave them. My heart aches at not being with Molly, but I can’t leave our kids like this.
I’ll be back soon, Molly, I silently whisper.
An hour later, I pull to a stop in a parking space in the small parking lot at Ponduke Lake. I let out a breath of relief when I see only one other car in the lot. It’s late afternoon, so I expected the park to be fairly busy. When I first suggested Ponduke Lake earlier, I wasn’t thinking about being forced to be around other people, which I’d prefer not to do, so I’m glad that’s not the case.
I grab the loaf of bread I brought with us, and we all three get out of the car at the same time. There are benches close to the water’s edge, and that’s where we go. Several ducks linger close by, with a bunch more hanging out in the water. Before we leave, we’ll be surrounded by ducks.
“You want the first piece?” I ask Gemma, holding out a piece of bread for her.
“Yes, please.”
She breaks the bread apart in several chunks before tossing them toward the waiting ducks. When they begin quacking and waddling over, Gemma giggles. Hearing that sound again lessens the constant pain in my stomach a fraction.
I pass a piece over to Gray, and he breaks his apart too, throwing it toward the new group of ducks making their way up the bank. He doesn’t giggle like Gemma does, but I do notice the tiny twitch in his lips. We used to come to Ponduke Lake often, but it’s been a while. We’d bring a picnic basket and sit underneath one of the big weeping willow trees. After we ate, I’d lean against the tree with Molly between my legs as we’d watch the kids feed the ducks. We always brought two loaves of bread, one for Gemma and one for Gray.
This is just another place I’m going to have to get used to visiting without Molly. There are so many places that carry memories of her.
“Aww… look!” Gemma calls loudly, pointing out to the lake. “There’s a momma and her baby ducks!” She grins, and this one does reach her eyes. “Do you think they’ll come up here so we can feed them?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, passing her another piece of bread. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
The growing pile of ducks squawk as she breaks the piece of bread apart. Instead of throwing it at them, she tosses it closer to the water’s edge, trying to draw the momma duck and her babies to shore. It seems to work because they slowly swim closer.
After giving Gray another piece of bread, I pull one out for myself. I break pieces off one by one and toss them toward the ducks closest to me. One duck catches my attention. It’s a big one, and from the slightly curled tail feather, I know it’s a drake. He doesn’t frantically go after the chunks of bread like the others. Instead, he stands near and lets the female ducks grab the bread. When another drake approaches, he chases him off. This must be his harem of ladies.
A rusty chuckle leaves my lips, and something warm slithers through my chest. If Molly were here, she’d say the drake was being romantic, letting his women eat before he does and making sure no other males poached on their meal.
I frown, lifting my hand to rub at the sudden stab of pain in my sternum.
Gray comes over to sit beside me, momentarily distracting me from the pain. “I’m scared, Dad,” he says so quietly I barely hear him.
I wrap my arm around his shoulder and tug him to my side. “I am too.”
“I don’t want Mom to die.”
I work my molars for a moment before I respond. “I don’t either.”
Gemma comes back for more bread, and I hand her several slices. Gray waits for her to walk away before he speaks again.
“How are we supposed to live without our Mom?” He looks up at me, his eyes pleading with me to give him an answer he’ll understand.
“I don’t know, Gray.” I decide on the truth. “The only thing we can do is take