White Lilies (A Mitchell Sisters Novel) (21 page)

But the hiccups stop and then Sherry sticks her head out the door and says the words we have dreaded for the past month. “It’s time.”

We both belt out a pained whimper into the darkness of the night. Then we compose ourselves and do what we have to do. We go say goodbye to the woman who has single-handedly changed our lives.

We walk past her family as they quietly sob, all gathered around the kitchen. I try not to look at them. I want to be strong in these last moments. I know Erin probably won’t be able to hear me. She won’t even see me, but I need to be strong for her anyway. I can fall apart later. Once she’s gone. Right now, I need to be here for her. For Griffin.

I’m stunned at what I see when we walk into her room. Her eyes are open. They’re as clear and as blue as I’ve ever seen them. She follows our movement to the side of her bed. I take one side, Griffin the other. I’ve read about this. I’ve read how some terminally ill patients have one last moment of cognizance before they die.

Her body is relaxed and I immediately notice her hand is not curled up in front of her. Her hair has finally lightened back to the glorious blonde spirals that I love. Her face is peaceful, despite the dark circles, faint lines, and hollow cheeks that have come from a lack of nutrition. Her respirations are slow and the time lengthens between each gurgling breath she takes. She doesn’t speak but her eyes say volumes. I nod at Griffin. He needs to say goodbye.

“Sweetheart, I’m here. Skylar is, too,” his shaky voice cracks. “God, I love you so much. You have brought such joy to my life. I can’t even begin to explain what you mean to me. When I had no family, you took me in and made me part of yours. You believed in me when nobody else did. Even now, when I thought I could never forgive my dad, you managed to bring us together.” He can barely get the last words out, but I know he needs her to hear him so he pushes through. “You’ve done everything that you needed to do. You let us take it from here. Thank you, baby. Thank you for being my wife.”

He bows his head and gives her a kiss on the lips. Then he nods to me through his tears.

I take a deep breath and pray I get through this without breaking down. “Erin Pearce, you are the best friend I’ve ever had. I could look to the ends of the earth and never find another friend like you. You see the good in people. You look past what others can’t. You have changed my life in the short time I’ve known you and I will never be the same. Heaven will be a better place because you are in it. Aaron will have a better life because you are his guardian angel. I will be a better person because I’ve known you. You don’t have to worry about anything now. We’ve got you covered. I love you, Erin. Thank you for being my very best friend.”

I can’t tell if she’s heard us. Perhaps the words we’ve spoken are more for us than they are for her. We continue to praise her with our love. We tell her it’s okay to leave, that we’ll be fine, that Aaron will be alright. But her eyes dart between us like she’s not quite done with us yet. Like she isn’t ready to let go. Her eyes fall onto our hands. Each of us has one of Erin’s hands in ours. She fixes her gaze on them as if willing her limp hands to move within ours. Then, Griffin reaches across the bed with his free hand and grabs mine. We hold hands on top of her chest, forming a circle, each of us holding the hands of the other.

Erin lets out a deep sigh as the life exits her body along with her final breath. She peacefully closes her eyes and slips away. As I watch my best friend leave this world, I try not to drown in my loss. Instead, I rejoice that she is once again whole. She’s no longer confined to the broken body she was sentenced with. She is free to be Aaron’s guardian. She can go to Paris and free fall from a plane. She can dance on the clouds and have dozens of babies.

Staring at her lifeless body, I realize her face looks different. It looks younger. Even the dark circles and lines that riddled it moments ago seem to be gone. She’s as beautiful in death as she was in life.

I put my hand on my belly and feel Aaron shift around inside me as I think how one life has been traded for another.

Griffin silently cries into her dressing gown as I make my way out to the family and give him one last moment with her before they come take her away. I slowly walk as far as the kitchen when I feel my legs collapse out from under me. But before I hit the floor, strong arms come around me from behind and pick me up, carrying me up the stairs to the room that has become mine.

The last thing I remember is Griffin telling me everything will be okay.

chapter nineteen

I sit and stare at the urn on the table. The urn that has been entrusted in part to me, in the house that has been given in part to me. What the hell did she do this for?

I curse her for the millionth time since Baylor read Griffin and me the letter with Erin’s final wishes. It was only yesterday, the day before her funeral. The letter stated that her body was to be cremated, not buried. We knew this, but it went on to say her ashes were to be given to Griffin and me. That we were to decide together when and where to spread them. She was explicit about it being a place of happiness and life. That when the time was right, we would know what to do.

The letter also went on to explain that the townhouse, which was solely in her name—a wedding gift from Griffin—was deeded to both Griffin and myself. We know what she’s doing, of course. She’s made it perfectly clear she wants us to keep, and live together in, the townhouse.

Along with Erin’s parents, I’ve stayed here the few days since she died. At first, I was too exhausted to do anything else. Then, her family asked me to help with the reception being held here today, just hours after her funeral. The funeral that was adorned with what I’m sure was every last white lily in the city. I loved it. Nobody else would understand. Nobody else had that connection. When I walked into the service to see every available space draped with Erin’s favorite flower, I saw life, not death. I saw life and boy babies and long pistols. I saw Erin’s smiling face. For one very brief second, I may have even seen hope for the future.

Other than making an appearance at the reading of Erin’s letter and the funeral, Griffin has been holed up in his bedroom. I don’t know how to console him. If I touch him, he may think I’m trying to take Erin’s place. If I don’t, he may think I’m not interested. I desperately want to honor Erin’s dying wish. Even if I wasn’t already in love with him, I’d want to. But I’m just not sure what the proper amount of time is to grieve your best friend before shacking up with her husband.

Maybe we need some space. Some time to grieve separately before we try to be together. I decide to pack up my suitcases and head home tonight. It’s the right thing to do. Erin’s family will be leaving and heading back to White Plains after the reception. I don’t want it to be awkward with only Griffin and me in the house.

The Mitchell’s catering van arrives, followed by Baylor’s clan. Friends and family trickle in all afternoon. We do our best to make it a celebration of Erin’s life, so I take it upon myself to bring up pictures from Griffin’s studio. Pictures that depict Erin at her happiest moments during her last weeks.

Baylor hands little Jordan to me. She’s barely a month old. I know what Baylor is doing. She’s trying to get me comfortable with babies. But babies don’t like me. Jordan squirms and cries and looks freakishly uncomfortable in my arms. Knowing this doesn’t come naturally to me just feeds my anxiety.

Griffin comes downstairs, making small talk with whoever engages with him, but he has closed himself off. He sits in the corner of the living room watching me with his pensive slate-gray eyes. Is he wondering how he’s going to do this? Or maybe he’s wondering how he’s going to let me down. I try to ignore his punishing stares as I mingle with Erin’s loved ones.

The setting sun has most of the mourners leaving. Erin’s parents pack up their car as her sisters and nieces help clean up, sealing the leftover food in freezer containers that will feed Griffin for a month. Everyone says a tearful goodbye as we promise to get together soon. Even though the bean is not their blood relative, it has never crossed their minds not to treat him as such. They’ve taken me on as a daughter, an aunt, a sister. They’ve become my second family and one more support system for Aaron.

I close the front door after the last of her family leave. Suddenly, the house feels huge. I have no idea where Griffin is. Back in his bedroom I presume. Being here by myself feels wrong. I’ve never needed another person as much as I do now. I’ve never felt so utterly alone in my entire life. I touch my growing belly and remind myself that I’m not.

I make my way up to my bedroom and pack up my belongings. I put my suitcases by the front door and go in search of Griffin to tell him I’m leaving. His bedroom door is cracked open. “Griffin?” I gently push the door open wider. I let my eyes wander over the room. The suit he had on at the funeral is crumpled in a pile on the floor. There are pillows and a blanket on the couch in their sitting area and I realize that’s where he’s probably been sleeping as my eyes find the perfectly-made bed. He couldn’t get himself to sleep there without her. I wonder if he’s slept on the couch since she moved downstairs. Maybe now that everyone is gone, he can sleep in a guest room instead. Part of me hopes he chooses the room I was in. Part of me hopes he will lie on the same pillow I did and inhale my scent. All of me hopes Erin isn’t damning me from heaven for wanting these things.

I pass by the nursery and wonder for the hundredth time if this is where Aaron will grow up. Erin didn’t leave out a single detail. She had a mural painted on the wall. A baseball mural. She hated baseball. Another selfless move on her part. Knowing the sport is very near and dear to Griffin and me, she probably hoped that we would share our love of it with Aaron. She conspicuously left any specific team names out of the decorating and it’s obvious to me Griffin doesn’t visit this room or he’d have noticed the array of tiny Yankees outfits I had already purchased.

I descend the stairs and look out on the back porch to find it empty. I sadly think how maybe Griffin won’t frequent Erin’s favorite spot anymore. There’s only one other place he could be. I make my way down to his studio. He doesn’t notice me standing in the doorway so I silently watch him. He’s holding a picture in one hand. And a bottle of Jack in the other.

He stares at a picture of Erin on the display board. He yells, “What the fuck do you want from me?”

I turn to walk away, but my heel catches the doorway and he turns, seeing me before I can escape. “I wasn’t yelling at
you
, Skylar.”

“I know. I’ll leave you alone. I just wanted to say goodbye. I’m moving back to my apartment.” I walk away.

“Wait,” he calls after me. “You have every right to stay here. It’s your house, too.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know what she was thinking.”

“Yes you do.” He walks towards me. “We both do. But what I want to know is how the hell she left us that generic letter. A fucking business deal. Did she have no parting words for us?” He takes a swig of Jack and I’m pleased to see the bottle is still mostly full. He paces around the room. The tension rolling off him is palpable. “Split my fucking ashes. Split my fucking house. That’s it?”

I’ve never seen him so mad before. Except maybe the time he hit that guy at the baseball game. No, this is worse. He’s mad at Erin and she’s not here to defend herself. “That’s not fair, Griffin. She spent the last month giving us her parting words. You know how much she loved you. You know what you meant to her. Did you really need to see it spelled out in some letter rather than remember the words that came directly from her lips?”

“Yes!” he shouts. He points his fingers between us. “You and me, we poured our hearts out to her that last day. We didn’t want her to leave without knowing everything we felt.” He takes another drink. “What if she changed her mind? How am I supposed to know what to do? Where the hell do we go from here? Why the fuck did she think it was okay to leave us without telling us what she wanted? How could she be so selfish?”

I walk over and slap his face. For the second time in my life, I slap him.
How dare he?

The picture he was holding flutters to the ground when his hand comes up to feel the reddened flesh of his cheek. I follow the picture to where it settles on the floor only to see it’s a picture of me. The one from Central Park. The one he said was his favorite.

“Selfish?” I shout at him. “You think she was selfish? I’ve never met a less selfish person in my entire life. She gave me her baby. She gave me her fucking husband. Who does that? She’s a goddamn saint. I swear to God if you ever call her selfish again, I will knock a hole in your fucking teeth.”

I’ve never been so mad and upset at the same time. Tears run down my cheeks, yet I’m too pissed off to wipe them. Through my blurry vision, I’m positive I see him experiencing the same two emotions.

He throws the bottle against the wall, shattering it and sending liquid spreading across the tiled floor. “Goddammit, Sky. Quit saying fuck!”

“Why, Griffin?” I draw my eyebrows at him. “Why do you always have such an issue with me saying fuck? What’s your problem?”

He blows out a long breath. “My problem is that it makes me want you, okay? When you talk like that, all I want to do is throw you down and screw the hell out of you.”

My jaw drops. I’m stunned into silence. We stare at each other for about two seconds before our feet propel us forward and our bodies crash into each other right before our lips do.

When our lips meet, I could swear we both cry out in pain. Pain because we hurt that Erin is gone. Pain because we worry that we are hurting her. We pull back slightly and our glistening eyes meet. I can tell he needs this. I need this. Maybe this is how it’s supposed to happen. Rip off the bandage.

He cups my face in his hands and brings his mouth back to mine. Our lips mold together in a perfect, albeit hesitant, sensual dance. But once we allow our tongues to mingle, I lose myself in him. I know our mutual grief is driving this. I know the alcohol he consumed is allowing this. I know my heart craves this. I permit myself, in this moment, to let go of the pain and I hand myself over to him completely.