UNFORGETTABLE (Able Series Book 3) (29 page)

“Waiting for my mommy. Why is Claire crying? Is she in trouble?”

He sighs, then sits on the bed next to me. “How about we take a ride?”

I jump up. I’m super excited. “In your police car?”

He smiles at me then says, “Yes, Nick.”

Claire walks in and her eyes are so red. “Claire! I’m going for a ride with Mr. . . . .” I look sadly at the policeman because I forgot his name.

Sniffling, Claire says as she picks me up, “Mr. Morales, Nick. I need to pack you a bag too, okay?”

“Why? Will mommy go with me?”

Claire’s eyes starts to water and her lips starts quivering. “Nick, your mommy . . . your mom-my got hurt really, really bad.”

“Got hurt? How? Is she, okay?”

She wipes her eyes then says, “Remember how your mommy talks about Heaven?” I nod at her, still not understanding what’s going on. “Mommy is there now, Nick. She’s safe there, okay?” Claire embrace me so tightly and starts crying.

“She didn’t say goodbye.” I start crying, missing her already. I know what Heaven is . . . I know people who die go there. Claire helps me pack and tells me how I’m going to enjoy staying at Nonna’s house.

Sighing, she says as she winks at me, “She wants you to go with Officer Morales and go to Nonna’s house. You remember her, right?”

“Yes, but . . . but I . . . I want Mommy.” I try not to cry, but I can’t stop.

“Buddy, how about that ride?”

“Okay.” I mumble as I wipe my face with the back of my hand.

Claire hands a folder to Officer Morales, plus my backpack and my rollaway luggage. How long am I going to stay at Nonna’s house?

He nods, and Claire walks us out. I remember something—something my mommy told me I should always have. I run to my room and get two things—a picture of her holding me, and her picture with her angel. She’s my angel, too.

I’m enjoying my police car ride, we get to Officer Morales’ office really fast. His office is a huge, huge building. Wow! He holds my hand while pulling my luggage with the other, then he tells me to wait in a room. He tells me I can play with the toys Claire packed for me. Then, the door opens and Officer Morales walks in with a very pretty lady, but not as pretty as Mommy or my angel.

“Hi, Nick. I’m Ms. Lynn Mckenzie. I’ll take you to your Nonna’s house. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Ms. Lynn.”

“Ms. Mackenzie, here are the papers Ms. Dunlop’s roommate gave me. All documents are in order and properly notarized.”

I look back at Officer Morales, and he smiles at me as he gives me a big, big hug. He walks us out and. . . . wow! Ms. Lynn’s car is just like my mommy’s. It’s a yellow VW Beetle, except hers is a lot nicer and shinier. Ms. Lynn likes to talk. She’s been talking forever and stops only to buy my dinner at Mc Donald’s. After eating my nuggets and my fries, Ms. Lynn said it’ll be another hour and a half until we get to Nonna’s house. One hour and a half? How long is that?

I’m dreaming I’m floating on the clouds. Wait is that Superman flying with Batman, then I hear voices.

“Mrs. Mancini? I’m Ms. Lynn Mckenzie. I’m a social worker for the county of L.A.”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“Mrs. Mancini . . . I’m sorry for your loss.”

Then, I see my mommy waving at me with Superman carrying me. I like my dreams.

BRIAN

I leave Tami still asleep while I drive down my parents’ house earlier than I normally would have but they called me late last night to discuss something important. I just can’t find it in me to leave my wife, especially at night since it’s when she’s most vulnerable. It’s when the sadness hits her the hardest.

I go through the kitchen ready to call out to my mom when voices from the living room stop me in my tracks. My parents are sitting across a woman positioned next to a boy who’s staring down at his feet. The words that register in my still sleep induced brain, are death, Carrie, and foster home; but what wakes me up from my stupor is my mom saying . . .

“Nick will be happy with us, Ms. Mackenzie. Carrie lived with us when she was sixteen. Once she aged out of the foster system, we convinced her to stay and finish high school with us. I’ve loved that girl like my own, and we’ve communicated through the years. They moved from San Francisco about three months ago, but between everything going on with my daughter-in-law and Carrie’s new job, we really couldn’t find the right time to visit.”

“Do you know if she has a sister, maybe a cousin?”

“Ms. Mackenzie . . .”

“Mrs. Mancini, please call me Lynn.”

“Lynn, as far as I know, she doesn’t have any siblings or living relatives.”

“Well, can I show you something?” She turns to face the boy and asks, “Nick, may I please have the picture? I want to show it to them.”

The boy stands up and carefully pulls something from his pocket. He opens it up and hands it to Lynn as he watches her every move. As soon as Lynn hands it to my mom, a loud gasp leaves her mouth as she covers her mouth in shock.

“Oh my God. This is Tami . . . my son’s wife.”

That did it for me. I can’t hold it any longer, so I step in and make my presence known. Forgetting my manners, because hearing Tami’s name just about brings me to a state of confusion enough to start interrogating the little boy.

“How is my wife involved in this?” I ask sternly.

“Pardon my son, Lynn.” My mom turns my way. “Brian, please sit down.”

Taking a deep breath I ask again, “How is my wife involved in this?”

My dad, probably sensing my impatience, breaks the silence, “Nick, do you want to go outside? I want to show you our rose garden and the Koi pond Brian helped me build.”

“Ms. Lynn, can I please have my picture back?”

My mother gestures for Nick to come to her, and as soon as he does, she hands him the picture which he carefully folds and securely puts it back into his pocket. He grabs my dad’s waiting hand and looks over his shoulder at me, but what catches my attention is his smile . . . it reminds me of Dominic’s before he died. I shake that thought from my head to deal with what’s facing me, or rather my mother.

My mom faces me then says, “Last night, Lynn dropped off Nick. Carrie was involved in a car accident on her way home. She . . .” She wipes her eyes then continues, “. . . . she died instantly.”

I hate seeing my mother cry, especially now. We’re barely recovering from losing Dominic, and now this. I try to remain calm and not let my emotions rule, but if I leave it up to my mother, she’ll take the boy in.

“Brian, let me explain. Carrie always talked about your family to Nick every chance she got, especially you, Mrs. Mancini, and the lady in the picture. According to Nick, his mom considered her a sister, and that’s why I assumed she was either a cousin or maybe a half-sister. The whole drive from L.A., Nick told me many stories about his mom and Tami until he fell asleep. Nick calls her ‘his angel.’ He even said that they made a pact that when they had their own kids, they would name them Dominic.”

Perhaps I look confused to my mother, but I’m trying to think as far back as my high school days to remember when this picture was taken. I knew Carrie stayed with us when she was a sophomore and I was a senior, which puts Tami in college. How in the world did they meet? Of course, my mother answers that question.

“That picture must have been taken during one of our parties. Tami was already in college and Carrie was in her second year in high school. They really got along great. In fact, they would talk, mostly during the weekends, especially when you were in boot camp, Brian. Tami would always make time for her whenever she visited.” Smiling as she remembers, my mother continues, “She would call Tami for boyfriend advice. I don’t think you’ll remember Brian because you were always with Lorraine.” She shakes her head sadly. “Remember, Lorraine didn’t like Carrie. She was jealous of her. Anyway, when Carrie started hanging out with girls her own age, their closeness diminished somewhat.”

Accepting my mother’s explanation I ask, “Why my parents? Can you start from the beginning, please?”

“Like your mom said, I dropped Nick off last night since Carrie named your parents Nick’s legal guardians. Is that something she discussed with you, Mrs. Mancini?”

Nodding my mom answers, “Yes, she mentioned it to me on more than one occasion, and I didn’t think twice. I said yes.” A faraway look crosses my mom’s face. “Carrie, that girl, often times told me she’d die before us. I don’t know why, but she always has said that.”

I can’t hold my tongue anymore because this circus going on here is giving me a headache and stress my parents or I don’t need. It might be selfish on my part, but I don’t care. Between relocating from L.A. to San Diego, and Tami’s still delicate situation, we don’t need this right now.

“Excuse me, but my parents are too old to take on this responsibility. Surely, there has to be someone else.” Turning to my mother I say, “Can I have a word with you, Ma?”

My mom looks at me much like how she used to when she wants me to shut up. “Lynn, I’ve already expressed what we intend to do. Make sure it happens, and of course, you know where to reach me. Also, can you leave me the number of who I need to call to claim Carrie’s . . .” Mama stops as she wipes her eyes. “ . . . Carrie’s body.”

“There are still documents that need to be signed and filed, but with all of Carrie’s paperwork being in order, it shouldn’t take me that long to finalize everything.” Lynn grabs a card in her purse and gives it to my mother. “Thank you, Mrs. Mancini. Let me say goodbye to Nick, and I’ll be sure to keep in touch.”

My mother gifts Lynn with her sweet smile which disappears as soon as she faces me. “Brian. Kitchen please, now.”

I quietly follow her, preparing myself to knock some sense into her so I attack first. “Mom, you’re not seriously thinking of doing this, right? You’ve stopped doing that years ago. If this is your crazy way of getting over Dominic’s death, don’t . . . just don’t. That wouldn’t be fair to that child.” I vehemently say, pointing at the direction of where my mother’s current obsession sits—on the deck steps.

“What happened to your compassion? Did your own son’s death make you bitter? That poor child lost his mother. Are you going to fight me about claiming Carrie and giving her a proper burial as well?”

“Mama, I’m just looking out for your best interest. Anyone would question you on this. You and Papa are old! You don’t need the stress of caring for a child.”

“I’ve already made up my mind, Brian. It’s done!”

Just then, little feet appear, stopping at the edge of the doorway completely putting a stop to our conversation. My dad sits on a stool next to the breakfast nook and motions for the boy to do the same. I stand giving him my back. I don’t want to be mean, but right now with my own heart still hurting, I can’t stand the presence of a child. . . . not at all. It hurts too much—and that’s my choice.

“Are you hungry, Nick?” My father asks.

Nick doesn’t say anything as my mother walks past me, paying me no attention. She goes straight to the refrigerator, pours a glass of milk, and cuts a freshly baked blueberry muffin in small bite sizes, puts them on a small plate, and serves them to the boy.

“Angelo, outside,” she says in a clipped tone without glancing my way.

My mother only uses my middle name when she’s upset with me, and clearly she is. I should have known not to get between my mother and a child, but sometimes severe loss can cause one to act irrationally. At the moment, I think my parents want to mask the pain of Dominic’s death by taking on a child. Once the cold morning air hits my skin, my mom’s cold stare hits my eyes; I cave for a second.

“I never thought your heart could turn to stone. Perhaps, I’m wrong. Nick doesn’t have anyone, Brian. His mother got hit by a car on her way home. She didn’t have anybody . . . there’s no one she trusts to take care of her son. Am I too old, sure I am; but . . .”

“You are old, Mother!” I stop, blowing out a breath I’ve been holding since I woke up this morning. “I know you want to help him because that’s just you, and quite frankly, there’s nothing wrong with my heart. I’m not being mean or cold hearted. The cold truth is you and Dad are too old to take this responsibility head on. There are other capable, much younger couples who can take him in.”

She smiles sadly at me while making me feel as though I’m two feet tall. A look she has perfected over the years, which to be honest, she hasn’t used on me since I graduated boot camp.

“If Dominic were alive and God took you away from him without warning, I . . . I would take him in without thinking because I love him. I know losing a parent is too much for a child to handle, and I know that’s what you would want me to do. Love is love, Brian. There’s no limit on it, no age that says you can’t love anymore, no time that says ‘it stops here.’ Love lives inside of us because we give it freely. Once it’s taken away, it hurts just look at your wife. She’s drowning in her own hurts, afraid to accept the reality. Just maybe, in her heart, if she hangs on to that hurt, that little memory of her holding her son will make her feel him again. It’s a scary thought to lose that connection. Can you imagine a child feeling that loss?”

Her words hit me like a cannonball. I sit down on the top step leading to her garden to let her words truly sink into my heart. I know Tami is hurting, so am I; but probably for different reasons. She’s hurting because it’s hard to
let go,
while I’m questioning myself how
easily
I was able to let go. I guess it was easy for me because I accepted our fate—Dominic’s fate with a broken heart, but an open mind. I finally learned to open my arms, to accept what I can’t change, and to learn to live through it with hope that someday—someday, He’ll bless me yet again.

Little feet rest against mine planted firmly on the wooden plank when I gaze down and see Nick looking at me. He’s thinking while his eyes are stripping me of the tight defense I have wrapped around my heart. His gray eyes disarm me.

“You’re sad too? Can we be sad together?” His small yet brave voice asks while I try to clear my throat to say something—anything.

“I guess,” I dejectedly say, frustrated he wants to talk to me instead of my parents.