Van held his hands over Cheyenne's eyes as they walked outside, the surprise snow crunching beneath their feet.
"Where are we going?" Cheyenne asked.
"Right here," He said, stopping in the driveway. "Merry Christmas." He uncovered her eyes.
Before her, Cheyenne saw a pink Cadillac convertible and shrieked. "Van! Is this for me?"
Van smiled as she ran to it, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Just for you."
She opened the door and slid in. "This is great!"
Van climbed in beside her. "Do you like it?"
"Do I like it? I love it!" She ran her hands along the steering wheel. "So this is why you've been sneaking around and working late- to pay for this!"
"Yep." He grinned. "I hope you're not mad."
She shook her head and gave him a kiss. "I'm so not mad."
Van grabbed her hand. "Good. Because I worked really hard to get this all put together."
"You did it all by yourself?"
"Well, Rose's dad helped me. He builds cars for a living. Oh, and I have one more thing to show you. Come on."
He motioned her out of the car and ran around to the back end. "Look," He said, pointing to the license plate. "For your dad."
The tags read: MEMRY BEH, meaning Memory; Brock Enroll Hart.
Cheyenne smiled, wrapping her arms around Van and thanking him once again for the wonderful gift. She let a tear fall, however, as she thought about the tags. Her dad. She loved her dad. And she would keep on loving him until the day she died.
Christmas was Brock's favorite time of year. Reba had put up the Christmas tree in the bedroom so Brock could look at it. He didn't get out of bed often. He was too weak to walk, but surprised the doctors by making it until the holiday.
Reba sat beside him a lot. She read to him, sang to him, played games with him when he felt up to it, and brought up Esme to be with him every time she was awake.
But on Christmas morning, Esme was downstairs with Jake and Henry, making what they thought was a surprise pancake breakfast. Reba knew all about it, though, and she appreciated their kind actions.
"Reba," Brock called quietly from the bed.
She walked out of the bathroom and went to him. "Do you need more water?"
"No. Not right now. I just need you." He motioned her down. "Today. It's today."
Reba knelt beside him, shaking her head. "No. Not today. Not today."
Brock nodded slowly. "I can feel it. It's the cold that gives it away."
Tears ran down her face. "Are you sure? Maybe you're wrong."
"I can tell. I can feel it deep down."
Reba grabbed his limp hand and held it to her heart. "I can't let you go yet."
"It'll be okay."
The radio on Reba's end-table softly played a song. One they had kept in their hearts for years. With a shaky voice, Reba sang along.
"How do I live without you? I want to know. How do I breathe without you if you ever go? How do I ever, ever survive? How do I, how do I, oh how do I live?"
Brock squeezed her hand. "You'll figure it out."
He stopped loving her today.
Please don't kill me... I had to do it. I believe it was Fake Cubic Zirconium that said early on there was gonna be death in the future. You hit the nail right on the head. When I first read that review, I thought, "Dang it. How do they know that?" Haha. But anyway...if you haven't heard the song How Do I Live, go listen to it! LeAnn Rimes and Trisha Yearwood both recorded it, but I like Trisha's version better. Look it up. And please, please review. I know this was short, but I'll post the very last oneshot story super soon. (: