Legacy by M.A. Foster
_____________________________
Katie
The bell on the door chimes as I step inside Adeline’s Flower Shop.
“Good morning, Katie,” Adeline greets me with a warm smile and holds up a finger. “Let me go grab your order.” She walks to the back and disappears behind the glass door of the cooler. A moment later, she reappears with a large bouquet of pink, purple, and white magnolias and sets it on the counter. “What do you think?”
“They’re beautiful.” Smiling, I lean forward and breathe in the sweet floral scent. “Thank you, Adeline.”
Reaching into my purse, I pull out my wallet.
“Not today, sweetie.” She shakes her head with a sympathetic expression. “I know what today is. This one is on me.”
Emotion bubbles in my chest, and I blink back a fresh wave of tears. “Thank you,” I say softly.
“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart. I’ll see you next week.”
“Maybe we should pull over until this passes,” I suggested nervously.
The rain was coming down in sheets, making visibility nearly impossible.
“It’s not safe,” Danny said as he lifted his foot off the gas pedal to slow down.
Normally I didn’t mind the summer storms. They hardly ever lasted more than a few minutes. Florida was hot this time of year, and the afternoon showers were a welcome relief. However, I wasn’t a fan of driving in them.
My belly tightened as a contraction moved around my middle. I sucked in a sharp breath, resting my hands on top of it, and blew it out.
“You doing okay?” Danny asked.
Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached over and placed his right hand over mine.
“Yeah. Just focus on the road and get—” My words were cut off as a cluster of red lights pierced through the pouring rain. Danny slammed on the brakes, moving his hand back to the steering wheel, gripping it tight as the car fishtailed.
“Hold on,” he yelled as he tried to get the car under control, but the road was too slick.
The car slid sideways, and a paralyzing fear I’d never known existed coursed through me. A scream was trapped in my throat as another contraction rolled across my belly, stealing my breath. The chaos around me faded, the sound of a beating heart filling my ears. A tear slid down my cheek as I closed my eyes and accepted my fate.
A sharp pain spreads through my chest as I steer through the gates of Heritage Gardens Cemetery and park at the curb. I check the clock on the dash and see I have an hour before I have to meet the girls for breakfast.
My phone rings from inside my purse, and I reach over to grab it. An unfamiliar number from Portland, Oregon flashes on the screen. Probably a phone solicitor. I send the call to voice mail and set it back on the console. Turning to the passenger seat, I grab the small blanket and the bouquet of magnolias before climbing out of the car, locking the door with my key fob.
The sky is gray with rays of sunlight piercing through the cracks, and the air is thick and humid. I make my way up the path, weaving through the cemetery until I spot the familiar headstone. “Bennett Daniel Cross” is carved into the black granite with a sleeping angel just below his name. At the bottom is a quote his father picked out: “Born an angel because his feet never touched the ground.”
I draw in a deep breath as I lay the blanket down on the damp grass before dropping to my knees.
“Happy birthday, Bennett,” I whisper as I pull last week's flowers from the vase and replace them with the magnolias. “I can’t believe you would’ve been three already.” I heave another breath, trying to ease the tightness in my chest. “These last three years have flown by, yet every day feels like I’m swimming against the current. I’m trying so hard to keep my head above water, but I’m drowning.”
A hand touches my shoulder, and I startle before Vanessa falls to her knees beside me. I look over my shoulder to find Gabbi and Kennedy standing behind me, flowers and balloons clutched in their hands.
Covering my face, I burst into tears, my entire body convulsing as I cry through the pain. “Why does it still hurt so much?”
An arm curls around my shoulders. “Grief is painful,” Vanessa says softly. “I grieve my mother every day. It’s normal to associate grief with pain because we’re hurting, and heartache is the last thing we feel when we lose a loved one. But grief is also love. Even though they’re gone, we still carry around all this love with nowhere to put it but in our hearts. It’s heavy and it hurts. It’s overwhelming and consuming, and if we don’t find a way to balance the pain and the love, the grief will pull us into a dark place. It’s okay to let the grief consume you. Let it pull you under, let it fill your lungs, but don’t let it drown you.”
“It should’ve been me,” I murmur.
Someone gasps, and then Gabbi drops to her knees beside me. “No, it shouldn’t have.” She sighs. “I’m supposed to be the strong one, but right now I feel completely helpless.” She sniffs. “Your life has been changed forever, but in order to heal, you have to accept it. Bennett was your son, and he will always be a part of you. It’s okay to cry, to scream, to yell, to question why this happened to you. It’s okay to have good days and bad days. It’s okay to hurt. It’s also okay to live, Katie.”
“She’s right,” Kennedy says.
I look over my shoulder to see the tears streaming down her cheeks and offer her a sad smile. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try,” I relent, wiping my damp hands over my yoga pants. “Just don’t push me.”
“The fact that you’re willing to try is a huge step forward,” Gabbi yields, “and I’m here for all of it. Whatever you need.”
Nodding, I blow out a breath. “I mean… we can’t have the Gabbi Martinez walking around feeling helpless,” I attempt to joke, and Vanessa snorts.
“The scandal,” Kennedy gasps.
Gabbi purses her lips and flips her hair over her shoulder. “I do have a reputation to protect.”
I laugh out loud, getting to my feet, then hold out my hands, helping Gabbi and Vanessa to stand. Kennedy steps forward and places the extra flowers and balloons next to the vase filled with fresh magnolias.
Grabbing the blanket off the ground, I shake it out and fold it, draping it over one arm before scooping up last week's flowers. I press a kiss to three fingers and brush them over Bennett’s headstone, and my friends do the same.
“Happy birthday, baby boy. I’ll love you always and forever.”
* * *
The Brunchery is in The Village of Magnolia Park. It’s been our favorite breakfast place since high school, and on Sundays, they have bottomless mimosas.
“I still can’t believe you’re going to London,” Gabbi says. “I mean… I can, because you’re an ace at your job, and they’re lucky to have you. I’m going to miss you.”
“Me, too,” Vanessa adds. “I just got back and you’re leaving.”
“I’m not leaving until next month,” I remind them.
“New Year’s in London.” Kennedy does a little happy clap. “Something to look forward to after finals.”
“Speaking of London.” I pin Gabbi with a look. “How did it go with Cooper last night?”
“A lady never tells,” she singsongs, her eyes shimmering with amusement as she sips her mimosa.
“Yeah, but you’re not a lady,” Kennedy quips, and I crack up because I knew that was coming.
“Hey.” Gabbi balls up her napkin and tosses it at Kennedy. “I resent that. I’m very much a lady. A lady with needs.”
“Then spit it out, Gigi,” Vanessa urges.
“Fine.” Gabbi sighs, setting down her glass. “If you must know, it was fantastic.” She lowers her voice. “Cooper is a bit of a freak. We were going at it pretty hard, and out of nowhere he asked if he could fuck my tits.”
Kennedy drops her head to the table.
I choke out a disbelieving laugh. “TMI. Jesus, Gabbi.”
She gives a careless shrug. “Hey, you asked.”
“What did you tell him?” Vanessa asks.
“I said, ‘I don’t know you like that.’” She averts her gaze and clears her throat. “But then I changed my mind. It was hot.”
“I’ll bet.” Vanessa grins, then looks down at her chest. “Do you think I have enough boobs for that?”
Gabbi tilts her head and pretends to inspect Vanessa’s chest. “Definitely.”
Her eyes dart to my chest, and I hold up a hand. “Don’t even go there.”
* * *
After breakfast and a trip to the salon for a mani-pedi, I say goodbye to my friends and head home to get ready for the week.
Climbing behind the wheel of my Grand Cherokee, I roll down the front windows and open the sunroof before twisting my hair into a messy knot on top of my head and slipping my sunglasses over my eyes. Hot wind blows around me as I cruise down Oceanside Drive with a smile on my face, thinking about starting the Bliss project tomorrow. I can’t wait. But first I have some adulting to do, like cleaning my loft and doing laundry. Instead of moving back to Magnolia Park, I bought a loft in Heritage Bay, just past downtown, near the aquarium.
Rolling to a stop at a red light, I tap the button on the steering wheel, scanning the radio stations for a decent song. Catching the familiar intro to Depeche Mode’s “Policy of Truth” playing on the local eighties station, I crank up the volume.
A black Mercedes pulls up beside me and the driver rolls down the window, revealing a familiar face. Jaxson McAllister, quarterback for the Heritage Bay Storm, hooks his finger over the bridge of his sunglasses, sliding them down his nose, and winks at me. I should be flattered, but last I heard, he’s engaged. Ew. Instead, I give him a tight smile, then turn my head to stare out the windshield. The light turns green, and the Mercedes takes off.
My cell rings through the Bluetooth, interrupting my jam, and the same number from Portland, Oregon pops up on the screen. What’s with the phone solicitors today? It’s Sunday. Since they didn’t leave a message earlier, I decline the call before turning down my short street and pulling into my driveway.
Gathering my things, I shut off the car and climb out, closing the door and locking it with the key fob before making my way up the paved walkway to my door and punching in the code.
“Excuse me,” a male voice calls out.
Turning around, I see a man approaching with a floral arrangement.
“Are you Katie Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“These are for you.”
“Really?” I raise my brows. “Wow. Okay. Hold on.” Pushing the front door open, I accept the flowers before stepping inside the foyer and placing them on the small table, then returning to sign the receipt.
“Have a nice day, Ms. Bennett.” He nods.
“You, too.”
Closing the door, I move back to the table, setting down my purse before plucking the small envelope from the arrangement.
Thinking of you today and always. Miss you. ~ Your favorite brother
He’s my only brother.
I didn’t grow up with my siblings. My mother was forty-two when she had me, and by then, my brother and sister had already moved out.
Nicole lives in Connecticut with her husband and two children. We aren’t very good at keeping in touch except for Thanksgiving and Christmas. To be honest, I don’t really like her all that much. She’s kind of a snob, and we don’t have anything in common. But she’s my sister so, of course, I love her.
Mark lives in Hollywood with his producer husband, Dave, and their two Boston terriers. Mark and I aren’t super close, but when the accident happened, he and Dave were on the first flight to Florida.
Tossing the card on the table, I walk over to the patio door, flicking the lock before sliding it open and stepping outside. I click my tongue, and a moment later, the furry head of my pet squirrel pokes out of the faux tree in the corner. He hops out and meets me at the pail where I keep his treats.
Rocky was only a few weeks old when I found him on the ground near my door. He’d apparently fallen out of a nest or something had happened to his mother. I took him in, did some research on Google, and raised him. Although I lost my son, I didn’t lose my instinct to nurture. Call me crazy, but taking care of Rocky fills a small portion of the hole in my heart.