“That’s quite an impressive Mater that you’re coloring, Benji,” Nick encouraged softly, pulling away from the brilliant world of his own Disney’s Cars coloring book to observe the youngster’s creative works. Of course, Benjamin said nothing to acknowledge Nick’s presence. Instead, he continued to use his blue cast as a paperweight and scribble on the old beat-up truck with a dark brown crayon. Circles swirled about the paper with no collective reasoning nor attempt to stay within the lines; no words parting from his pursed lips. In fact, since arriving Grace’s home for the funeral reception, Benjamin had said not a word. Instead, he had clutched to his mother’s side and became increasingly fussy when others attempted to pull him away. Nick, already entirely uncomfortable being around the mourners that encompassed his friend in a shroud of belittling sympathies, decided it was no trouble to scoop the child into his arms. Benjamin fought briefly, but his younger sister seemed to soothe his potential hysteria as Nick carried them into the playroom. After all, the deceased was not his friend. He was here for the widow. So, gathering coloring books he had remembered he bought for some miscellaneous holidays, he had hoped to entertain them till the crowds of family and friends parted.
“’Icky,” the toddler, Isabella, suddenly grunted, pulling Nick’s attention away from the pained Benjamin in a moment’s notice. Glancing away from Benjamin, he smiled toward the one-year-old girl standing at his feet, chewing on one of the large plastic blocks from a massive kit he had bought them recently. She had been constructing a tower, but by the looks of the stuffed animals seated atop the pile of blocks, he assumed destruction had been her ulterior motive. Her large emerald eyes looked hopefully to him before outstretching her hands.
Grinning, Nick leaned forward to help the little girl into his lap. “At least you’re talking to me, huh, Izzy?”
“’Ove, ‘Icky,” Isabella cooed in appreciation, offering him the block she had been chewing on.
“Well, thank you very much, Sweetness,” Nick retorted, taking the block before leaning forward to press a kiss to her face. Smoothing away the platinum curls that had fallen over her forehead, he smiled appreciatively when she leaned against him to smack a wet kiss to his nose. The photographs that he received in emails from Grace had not done justice to her daughter’s beauty. Nor had they been able to capture the wide-eyed attentiveness and impish curiosity that radiated from Isabella’s firming personality. “You’ve gotten so big, Izzy. Last time I held you, I know you fit perfectly into the crook of my one arm, but I doubt I’d be able to do that with you now. And, Ben--”
Looking down, Nick sighed when he noticed the preschooler take his crayons and coloring book to the opposite table. Throwing them upon the surface, he then slumped into one of the chunky, blue plastic chairs to continue his work, but not before offering Nick quite the sour glare. It was heartbreaking to say the least, having Benjamin act as if he were infected with the worst possible case of plague. Especially when months before, Benjamin had been attempting to crawl into Nick’s luggage as a stowaway when he prepared for the Never Gone Tour.
“Don’t take it too personally, Nicky. He hasn’t talked since…” Grace’s intrusion trailed to the inevitable conclusion as she stood at the threshold of the playroom. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her body as she crossed her bare legs and leaned against the frame of the door. Her entire body ached with exhaustion as if she hadn’t slept for years. Every person’s sympathies were no doubt appreciated, but ineffective at this point. The last of her friends and family had left with promises of returning soon; not that she had asked them to do so. If anything, she just wanted to be left alone with her children, Nick, and the hopes of not being asked to dredge up painful memories.
“He won’t even talk to you?” Nick questioned in surprise, watching Benjamin lurch up from the table to hurry toward Grace. Smiling softly when she bent down to receive the boy and heft him to her hip, he gestured there was room on the couch for them. There was no use in denying that Benjamin was a Momma’s Boy; he had been so since the day he was born. Though, Nick teased Grace it was because she opted to breastfeed and any man would be grateful to suckle at her breast. The bruise from her punch lasted about two weeks.
“Guess he doesn’t have much to say right now,” Grace murmured, running her fingers through Benjamin’s slicked curls while settling onto the couch. Tucking her bare feet beneath her, she shifted Benjamin into her lap, helping to curl her arms around him quite protectively. The boy said nothing as he burrowed deep into her embrace and rested his cast upon her thigh. “Right now, I don’t think any of us have much of anything to say right now… Do you know how useless idle chatter is at this point in my life? Not that I’m saying--”
“C’mere, Gracie,” Nick interrupted gently before she could begin her usual habit of rambling because of her discomfort. Reaching for her hand, he tugged her till she fit perfectly against his side. Then, keeping an arm around her shoulders, he helped Isabella cuddle between them before burying his face in the softness of Grace’s golden curls. She had gotten a quick shower it seemed, wanting to gather herself before assuming her stoic place. Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a simple t-shirt, Nick couldn’t imagine her looking any better. Her hair damp and her skin soft from the lotion she always applied, she smelled of sweet vanilla; a familiarity Nick loved. And, before he could help himself, he murmured softly, “God, I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too, Nicky.” Touched by his confession, Grace brushed her fingers delicately down his chest, thankful that he had come to her aid. She supposed she had sounded quite desperate on the phone, begging for him to put aside his daily tasks to fly home, but it didn’t matter. He was here now. All the pain that had been built underneath their relationship vanished, because he had finally come back. So, curling her fingers in his white undershirt, she relished in his closeness. Typical of Nick, he had done everything in his power to dress down when returning to the house. His black jacket had been shed. His tie unknotted and tucked into a pocket. His dress shirt unbuttoned. “Thanks for taking care of the kids.”
“Not a problem. I love the kids and I’d do anything for you, Gracie,” Nick promised truthfully, knowing there was no place in the world that he’d rather be than at her side. It might have been selfish, knowing that he was the only remaining man in her life that had any significance and had no remaining threat to that position, but he couldn’t deny the feelings. Logan had stolen Grace from him and there was still resentment toward the deceased because of that. It would be something that Nick had to come to peace with eventually, but not now.
“I appreciate that so much, Nicky. You have no idea,” Grace murmured, glancing down to see her children had both collapsed against her in an exhausted sleep. One of the wires of tension that had strapped over her heart seemed to break at seeing their peaceful expressions. Sleep had been a rarity in the house since Logan’s death; even the children, despite their young ages, recognized the loss that had occurred. Each day Isabella would still wander about the house in search of her father for her morning coffee break, though she would have a cup of milk to dunk a donut in and more milk and mashed donut would end up on the floor than in her mouth. And Benjamin would simply sit in his father’s private office, just staring at the empty leather chair, void of emotion. Grace would give anything to take the pain away from her children, but knew it was impossible.
“I know…” Nick trailed, gently playing with Isabella’s curls while he watched Grace. “I figured I’d stay for at least a week or so? I’ll do anything you need me to do. Fix dinner. Watch the kids. Do laundry. Snuggle you. Clean, even.”
Snorting with a small smile, Grace arched her golden brows with great skepticism. “Nick Carter? Clean?”
Grunting, Nick offered a rueful smirk. “I said I’d do anything for you, Gracie.”
“But what about all the recording and planning for the new album?” Grace suddenly inquired with a concerned expression crossing her beautiful face. She had always been mindful of Nick’s career, appreciating his talent in ways that he would never understand. She had made a point to always visit him during any vacations, several that actually had her flying across seas to be with him during tour. She had even established friendships with his band-mates, though she always teased Nick that she’d like to establish something deeper with AJ McLean. Of course, that was just to see the way Nick’s nostrils flared, a crease form in his brow, and his sapphire eyes turn into a potentially deadly storm. Just adorable. “Are the guys pissed at me?”
“God no. They’re all worried about you. Hell, I had to put a foot down to keep them all from flying out. Told them that even though you have a fucking mansion that we wouldn’t all fit in the guest bedrooms. Of course, Aje then suggested that he’d sleep with you--”
Grace laughed softly, leaning to rest her head on Nick’s shoulder, comforted at the perfect way his body accustomed hers. “How are they?”
“Like I said, they’re all worried about you, but they’re good. Brian is a married old crow and whipped more than a Dominatrix’s favorite boy-toy. But he just celebrated his fifth wedding anniversary with Victoria, who is getting ready to write another book. Then their son, Baylee, turned four this past November, so he’s just a bundle of…”
“Boy?” Grace guessed, subconsciously brushing her fingers down Benjamin’s cheek. Baylee and Benjamin were the same age and Baylee was not much older. Their birthdays were separated by a few days, Baylee being born on November twenty-sixth and Benjamin being born on December seventh. In the best of circumstances, they should have been best friends, but they had been babies when they met. And, afterwards, life became complicated once more and Grace had been separated from her friends.
“He is exactly like Brian in every sense.”
“And probably fifty percent of your personality rubbed off on him in the process, too.”
“Probably.”
“But, they’re doing well?”
“A sickeningly happy and perfect little family.”
“Good. Now, the rest?”
“Howie’s good and doing business as usual. Kevin decided not to come back for the next album because he wants to concentrate on his family, mostly because his mother’s been riding him for a grandchild, though he’s too much of a man to admit that. And, Aje, he had his birthday last week and--”
“I forgot to call him!” Grace groaned, rubbing her face against his shoulder in dismay.
“Such a tragedy,” Nick murmured, unable to hide the pleased smirk creeping to his face. He had always regretted introducing Grace to AJ, especially when the older man’s first comment was offering her a chance of scoring with a potential pop-star. He had just been thankful that she said she already met that goal while pinching Nick’s backside. But that never stopped AJ from trying. Not even her marriage.
“He must think I’m--”
“You had an excuse, Gracie.”
“And you’re just enjoying this too much.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Nicky…”
“You can always call him later.”
“I suppose…” Grace trailed, shifting carefully to snuggle closer to the warmth of Nick’s body. Her husband had died last week and every day she had mourned the loss. Tears came randomly just like the memories of a beautiful marriage. Now, sitting with Nick, she was comforted that he hadn’t bothered her with questions about her time. She just wanted to gather her bearings before she told him what had happened. The pain was too fresh from the funeral and just to hear that the others were doing well pacified her. “I will call him later, but I need to know about you.”
Nick tensed for a moment, wondering if she would bring them back into the same familiar dance of arguments that had always kept them from being lovers. Neither of them had ever denied the love they had for one another, but the obstacles in their way proved to be too difficult. He was constantly running all over the world, leaving Grace behind to ache in loneliness without him until she found a way to rise above the fame. To get her own life. To marry another man and have children with him. Children that Nick always hoped would be his. “…What?”
“How are you?”
“Gracie…” Nick sighed, leaning close to press a soft kiss to her temple. “What are you worrying about me for?”
“Because I haven’t seen you in over a year—And don’t even make that face, because phone calls, emails, presents, and letters just aren’t the same.”
Groaning, Nick affectionately rubbed his nose against the side of her face. He couldn’t imagine any other woman who had just lost her lover of almost seven years to be concerned about the welfare of others. It was a quality unique to Grace’s personality that Nick admired. “You’re right, but I’m fine, Sweetness.”
“You always say that…”
“Okay, so I’m better now that I finished filming House of Carters with the kids and shit-machines they call pets.”
“Everyone thinks that you guys act outrageous just for the cameras, if they could have only seen the brood when you were little. You always trying to give Aaron away. Aaron always trying to outdo you. Angel rushing around doing fashion shows. BJ getting into trouble. Leslie stuck in the middle. I always missed having Leslie tag along with us…”
“She misses you, too, and Aaron sure does miss watching you change through the window at night--”
“And how would you know?!”
“Fuck, I gave him the ladder and twenty bucks for copies of his pictures.”
“Nickolas Gene Carter,” Grace laughed with disbelief, lightly pinching his shoulder. “You’ll never change…”
“Neither will you. You’re still the same girl that stole my heart when we were in diapers.”
“But are there any new girlfriends that I need to scrutinize?”
“Nah,” Nick chuckled with a soft smile. “No woman is even close to meeting those high standards of love that you set when we were teenagers.”
Opening the door that separated the master bathroom from the master bedroom, Grace had to fumble momentarily to locate the light switch, surprised that the room was encased in darkness. Night had quickly approached since she snuck into the bath for privacy. She hadn’t expected that she’d take that long of a soak, but the opportunity had presented itself when the children were tucked into their beds for naps and Nick confessed that he was exhausted from jetlag. Since Logan had passed away, she couldn’t even manage to think of a single occasion where she had been alone. Now that she was the sole caregiver of her children, they demanded her attention more so than before. Then Logan’s parents, especially his mother, sought solace in her. Then came the friends and coworkers. Just the thought of the next wave of the mourners caused a familiar exhaustion to settle over her already weary soul. Not that she didn’t appreciate the love and support, but she feared she couldn’t possibly offer the comfort that the others hunted her for. She was supposed to be the mourning widow, not the soother.
Wrapping the thick terry towel about her body, she moved into the bedroom and went about the familiar motions of preparing for bed. Tossing the towel about her golden locks to the nearby chair, she allowed her curls to fall loosely past her shoulders while she retrieved her favorite bottle of vanilla scented body lotion. Working the lotion into her arms and then legs, she walked over to the dresser to pull out a shirt for the night. But when the familiar spiced scent of Logan’s cologne swept over her, she stopped. Looking down, she realized that she had taken one of Logan’s t-shirts to wear as she always did. Feeling the impending sob form a tight ball in the back of her throat, she stuffed the worn t-shirt back into the dresser and wrenched out a camisole and shorts. Clutching the garments to her chest, she collapsed onto the large, plush bed and felt the tears start to swarm.
No one ever told her how hard it would be to face the constant reminders of her love after his death, not that anyone had ever prepared her for the chance that he might die. It just didn’t seem fair. Logan had been a great man and a dedicated pediatrician. He loved children and did everything in his power to provide them with the best care, which might have made him an eel in the eyes of other local physicians, but a hero to nurses, parents, and children. And as fabulous as he was as a pediatrician, he was even more astounding as a father. She still remembered the day he asked if they could have children. The sparkle in his eyes and the hopeful expression on his face had been undeniable, which had only seemed to magnify with each child’s birth. And a husband. How he had been an extraordinary husband. God she missed him.
“Logan, I miss you so much…” she whispered painfully, reaching for the familiar photograph on her nightstand. It was her favorite image of her husband when they had gone on their honeymoon to Puerto Rico. They had been taking a walk on the beach and he tripped, causing them both to crash upon the shores, her on top of him. Looking down at his embarrassed face and adoring smile, she couldn’t resist stealing the moment forever. Blinking rapidly, she stifled a sniffle while her fingers brushed over the face she had adored for so long. The dark almond eyes that always found her even in the most crowded of hallways. The thick light brown locks that she always played with in the afterglow of making love. The smile that always caused her to do the same even when it was at its smallest hinting. The heart that loved her no matter how many buttons she pushed to elicit a terrible fight, which always ended in some kind of snorted laughter. “Damnit, how can I live without you?”
When no answer came from any source, Grace pushed the photograph away and began to cry openly. She had been so numb since the funeral, afraid that she had no more tears within her body that could possible slip out. But, overcome with grief, the tears never seemed to cease. Instead, her body shook with the power of her loss. Her breathing ragged as she wrapped her arms about herself, void of the comfort that Logan’s arms would never be able to bring again. How she wished she could have been the one in the vehicle instead—
“Mommy?”
“Benji,” Grace stifled in surprise, torn away from her grief with the timid call from her eldest. Looking up, she sucked in a deep breath to hold the sobs at the sight of her son standing in the shadowed doorway. Tucked behind the cast braced against his chest was a stuffed Mater from Disney’s Cars – the last birthday gift from his father. His blonde curls were wild from sleep and his reddened and weary with exhaustion. Furiously rubbing her face, Grace ushered her son into the room, opening her arms. “What are you doing up, Sweetheart?”
“Can’t sleep,” Benjamin stated simply, carefully shuffling forward into the room before climbing onto the bed. When he came close enough, his mother hurriedly wrapped him into her arms and leaned back against the headboard. Resting his head on her shoulder, he regarded Grace with a soft sigh. “Mommy, are you crying?”
“Yeah…” Grace trailed softly, not wanting to lie to the boy. Years of studying the science of nursing and a focus in pediatrics had afforded her the skills to help the grieving child, though she hoped she’d never have to help her children grieve. Sighing, she gently pulled back the locks from Benjamin’s forehead to assess the healing wound on his right temple. The stitches had been removed before the funeral much to the boy’s relief, who constantly complained of being itchy. “I’m pretty sad right now, Benji.”
“’Cause of Daddy?”
“Yes, I miss him very much.”
“Can he come home soon?”
“Oh, Benji… Remember what we talked about today? How Daddy went to Heaven?”
Benjamin offered a meek nod. “An’ he can’t come home.”
“But he’ll watching us every day.”
“From Heaven?”
“From Heaven.”
“…Mommy?”
“Yeah, Sweetheart?”
“Is him’s still got owies in Heaven?”
“Oh, Baby…” Grace whispered painfully at the innocence of Benjamin’s question, now realizing why the preschooler couldn’t sleep. Curling her arms quite protectively around Benjamin, she stifled another soft sniffle as tears started to fall. Benjamin had been in the accident that had killed his father. He had been so excited that day when Logan told him they would go shopping for Grace’s birthday. Benjamin had been working hard on chores to earn money for the shopping trip and his father had promised him freedom to buy whatever he thought Grace would love most. Then, on their way to dinner with Grace and Isabella, a car filled with delinquent teenagers blew past a red light and plowed into the side of the vehicle. Trapped in the mangled mess, Benjamin had been witness to his father’s painful death. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the psychological damage that her child had suffered that day on top of the injuries from the accident. And, of course, the teenagers walked away with little to no injuries. “No, Baby, no. Daddy doesn’t hurt anymore. You can’t hurt in Heaven. No more owies for Daddy.”
Nodding slightly, Benjamin was diligent in clearing the tears away from his mother’s face, hating that she was crying. When he was sure they were all gone, he leaned up to press soft, feathery kisses to her face. “Nicky still here?”
“Yes, he’s going to spend a few days with us. He said he missed us bunches and he can’t wait to play with you.”
Benjamin offered his mother a skeptical glance. “And then? He no be here like Daddy?”
“No, Nicky’s not going to leave like Daddy.”
“You no leave?”
“No, I’ll never leave you,” Grace promised soothingly, understanding why Benjamin had been so distant with Nick earlier that day. Young children thrived on stability of their relationships and the loss of his father had been detrimental, shattering any type of security the boy had felt. Now, he feared that others in his life would disappear as well. And, since Nick usually did come and go and was like another father, Benjamin prepared himself for the inevitable loss by already severing ties with him. “I would never dream of leaving you, Benji, and neither did Daddy. We love you and your sister so much… Sometimes bad things just happen.”
“…Mommy, c’I sleep with you?” Benjamin asked, obviously tired with the conversation as he reached for the covers of the bed.
“Of course, Sweetheart,” Grace agreed, not having the strength nor the confidence to push them into a conversation she herself couldn’t enter just yet.
