Chapter 33 – Memories of Before

"Emmett? Where are you?"

"Just coming up from the basement!" I yell back. I heft the giant plastic tub up in my arms and carry it carefully up the stairs and into the living room.

"Did you call the paediatrician?" Angela asks, clearing some paper and crayons off the floor so I have space to put the tub down. Bram and Zeke immediately come over to investigate.

"Yes, and Holly's last bloodwork was great – kidneys working at a hundred percent again. And I weighed her this morning and she's back up over eighteen pounds, so I'd say she's completely recovered, aren't you Jellybean?" I grin at Holly, who drools and smiles back at me from inside the playpen. The effects of her severe bout of stomach flu had lingered, and the doctor had been monitoring her carefully. Today's clear results were a welcome relief. "No more needles!"

"That's great!" Angela says. She taps the plastic tub. "What's in here?"

"Ski gear." I unclip the lid and it immediately rises up as the down filled clothes inside expand. "All the kids' snowsuits…if we're going to go away for Easter I need to make sure they all have something that fits." I pull out a purple ski jacket and check the tag, and then dig for the matching pants. "This was Daisy's from last year – it should still fit."

Angela kneels on the other side of the tub and pulls out an orange snowsuit, holding it up against Zeke. "This is an 18 to 24 month size – it should be okay for Bram or Zeke."

"Well that one was Mac's, so there should be another one the same size that Noah wore so the little twins will be covered." I cast aside a pink bunting. "That was Daisy's first snowsuit but it's already too small for Holly…do you think this will work if I fold up the cuffs?" I hold up an all in one suit. "I don't think she'll be spending too much time hanging out in the snow, but she'll need something. Blue or red? I've got two because of the twins."

"Blue, it'll match her eyes." Angela rummages through the rainbow pile of snow gear. "Here's the other 18 to 24 month size suit, but I don't think you have anything that will fit Mac or Noah. They probably need the same size as Daisy now."

"Yeah, they've both grown heaps since we last skied; I'll have to go by the outdoor store and pick them up something new." I comb through the pile of assorted mittens and gloves that have migrated to the bottom of the box, attempting to pair them. "As long as I have a left and a right it should be okay, shouldn't it? It doesn't matter if they're not actually a match."

"Will I be able to hire ski clothes and boots at the resort?" Angela asks.

"Yeah; we always go to the ski shop first thing and hire boots for the kids. Skis and stuff too – don't worry about it." I look at her. "You still want to come, right? I know it's five days…but you won't be stuck inside with the babies all the time, there's childcare at the resort that we can use whenever we want so you'll have plenty of breaks. You can go skiing and snowboarding, or chill out in the café or at the pool or library or whatever you want."

"I'm looking forward to it," Angela assures me, adding with a nervous smile, "Although I've only ever been skiing a couple of times with school trips, so I'm not very good. My dad was a minister…we didn't exactly go on ski resort vacations!"

I snort. "Yeah, my childhood wasn't exactly ski slopes and luxury villas either! I didn't even go with school; Rosalie taught me to ski when I was eighteen. And it doesn't matter if you don't know how to ski, you can go sledding and make snowmen and have snowball fights with the kids and we'll have a blast. Besides, you can pick it back up…Jack will hire an instructor to work with the big kids, and you can tag along with them. It's really fun."

"A private instructor? Really?" Angela looks a little overwhelmed.

I grimace. "Welcome to the world of the privileged. To be very blunt here, Rosalie's parents are loaded and they will probably spend more money on this Easter ski weekend than I've made in the last two years. Airfares – and it's first class all the way - then accommodation, ski instructors, childcare, restaurants and ski hire…it goes on."

"You sound unhappy about that," Angela looks at me carefully.

"It's their money," I say abruptly. "They can do whatever they want with it."

After a pause, I go on in a more measured way. "It's…difficult. My relationship with Rosalie's parents is kind of complicated. They weren't good parents to her – I mean, there was no abuse, and materialistically Rosalie got everything she ever wanted or needed and then extra on top of it, but emotionally it was…poor. And then Jack didn't want her to marry so young, or at least not to me, and said some pretty harsh things about that – it's not that I bear a grudge exactly, but it's not something that that's easy to forget either." I shrug. "At the same time, they've been surprisingly good grandparents. They love the kids, and they've given them some amazing experiences. All the travel we've ever done has been with Jack and Lily, and they've done things like take Daisy to the Olympic trials for gymnastics and take them to Legoland. When Rosalie died Jack paid for everything while he was sorting out her estate, and even now he pays for health insurance for the kids and I, and subsidises what I pay you." I hold out my hands helplessly. "It's all still money, but it's…I guess I accept now that it's the best Jack knows how to do. It's his version of love. And if that means I have six kids with fully paid up college funds before they're out of diapers and I can spend two days in hospital with my baby daughter and only be out twenty bucks for vending machine coffees, then I just have to be grateful for what it is, and try and let go of what it's not. And if they want to take the kids skiing…then I have to try and make it happen."

"Well I suppose there are worse things," Angela says with a sigh.

I grin. "Yeah…I'm sure we can put up with first class flights and luxury resort living for a couple of days while we ski!"

I bundle the spare snowsuits back into the tub and snap the lid on, and stuff the ones we'll use into a heavy canvas bag. "I'll grab my jacket and put it in here with the kids' things," I say. "I think I might just leave my skis at home and hire some this time – the amount of crap we're going to need to haul through the airport is astronomical enough already without adding skis, and it's not like I'm that good that rental equipment will hold me back!"

My stomach tightens a little as I go into the walk-in closet in my room, which is still full of Rosalie's things. I still can't bear to use it on a regular basis, and keep most of my clothes in messy heaps in the bedroom instead, but I haven't worn ski gear since last Easter. Without looking around I find my boots and gather up my jacket and pants, and then pause for a moment, my eyes caught by Rosalie's snow things still stacked on the shelf. Along with the outfits I remember her wearing there's a new set, still with tags attached, that she'd bought in anticipation of our next trip. For a moment I stand still, undecided, before I take a deep breath and grab them.

"Here," I say, dropping the coat and pants in Angela's lap as I walk into the living room. "You may as well have these, and then you don't have to worry about hiring any. I think they'll fit okay." I don't look at her as I stuff my clothes into the bag with the kids' things.

"Oh Emmett, are you sure?" Angela says uncertainly. "I don't want…if it makes you uncomfortable…"

"Rosalie never wore them," I cut in. "She bought them because we were supposed to go skiing at Christmas and then…it's stupid for you to hire gear when there's a brand new set just sitting there." I try to smile. "Seriously, it's fine, I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't. I'm really glad you're coming with us…I've got to go to work now, but I'll see you tonight." I don't wait for an answer.

I actually don't know what I would have done about the ski vacation if Angela hadn't accepted my invitation to come along. Even with all the private ski instructors and resort childcare and room service that Jack and Lily will throw at me, doing anything with six children in an unfamiliar environment is so fraught with difficulty it borders on impossible. Just getting us onto the plane to fly to Whistler is a logistical nightmare. I pick up Angela on the way and we make use of the valet service to get the van parked in the lot, but we still have to haul six kids, three carseats, a canvas bag full of snowsuits, three suitcases, a diaper bag, four other carry-on bags and a double stroller through the airport from the kerb to the gate. Getting everyone through security is nothing short of an ordeal.

Once we're on board the flight staff are fantastic. They board us ahead of the other passengers and help me juggle babies and get bags stowed away and carseats installed and kids buckled in, ready to go. During the flight they're endlessly kind and helpful and attentive, heating Holly's bottle for me and helping to keep the kids happy and distracted, and somehow always managing to appear with snacks and drinks at exactly the right moment. I feel a bit guilty for creating so much extra work, especially when they have to soothe several disgruntled passengers who board after us and are clearly unhappy to discover that half of first class looks like a childcare centre.

The kids are great on the flight though. They're noisier than the usual run of first class, no doubt – they're excited about their vacation and they talk a bit, but there's no real screaming and any crying only lasts a few moments before I take care of it. The three older kids all have headphones for watching movies, and they're quiet while they draw or read or shuffle through handfuls of Pokemon cards. Holly cries on take off until I find her pacifier, but that's as difficult as she gets. Bram and Zeke are the most challenging, as they won't wear headphones and have the attention span of a gnat, but between me, Angela, their siblings, the flight attendants and a random businessman who is crazy homesick for his own toddler and quite happy to temporarily adopt mine, we manage to keep them amused and (relatively) quiet and trouble-free for the majority of the flight time.

Jack has arranged a car (actually, a super stretch SUV limo that makes Mac's eyes light up and Angela's nearly bug out of her head) and we're met at the gate by a driver holding a sign with my name on it. A driver who earns every cent of the tip I empty my wallet to give him when he takes in the situation and slings the diaper bag and Noah's Pokemon backpack over one shoulder and then leads us out to the car carrying a sleeping Holly in her car seat and entertaining Mac with tales of all the cool cars he gets to drive. He helps me install all the car seats, produces three booster seats for the older kids, and then gives everyone an Easter egg before we head off on the next leg of the journey.

It's a huge relief when we're finally safely arrived in the family suite Jack's booked for us at the resort. The kids run around exploring the rooms and jumping on beds while Angela feeds Holly and I do a quick sweep to remove everything that the little twins could either break, damage, or otherwise use to cause destruction. Remote controls, complimentary toiletries, breakable lamps, resort branded pens and pencils and souvenir mini bottles of vodka all safely out of reach, I flop down on the sofa with a yawn.

"This place is amazing," Angela says. "It's so beautiful outside! And I suppose after the first class flight and the limo I should have expected it, but I still can't believe how gorgeous this suite is."

I look out through the sliding glass doors to our private balcony and the view it offers of the winter wonderland outside, and smile. "Yeah, despite what a nightmare it is to get here with the kids, I'm glad we came. They're going to have so much fun over the next couple of days! Rosalie and I used to ski a lot before we had kids, and I know she was looking forward to being able to go more as they got bigger." I can't stop a faintly regretful sign. Another one of the million things that will never happen now.

"When will we see Rosalie's parents?" Angela asks, putting aside the empty bottle and sitting Holly up on her lap. "I thought they might have been on the same flight or something – are they staying in here with us?"

"No, they'll be in some penthouse suite somewhere." I laugh a little. "They're not the personally helpful kind of grandparents…I mean, you noticed they didn't book onto the same flight as us! They won't exactly be hanging around in our room doing bath time and bedtime and making sure everyone's snowsuits get hung up to dry. Jack will be at the kids' ski lessons tomorrow morning, and Lily has promised to take Daisy and Noah to get manicures some afternoon, and they've actually booked us dinner tomorrow somewhere family friendly – as in, it will have high chairs and a menu I can read and chicken nuggets, which is much better than the places they used to drag Rosalie and I to where I had to wear a tie!"

Angela giggles. "And they don't mind that I'm tagging along? I mean, I want to meet them and say thank you for the plane ticket and the ski hire and everything, but I don't want to intrude on family time."

"No, it's fine, you're more than welcome." I yawn again. "God, I'm tired. I thought we'd just get room service for dinner tonight. I've put your things in one of the bedrooms, and put Mac and Noah and Daisy in next door. I'll have the little ones with me so that I'll wake up when they do and Bram and Zeke won't be roaming around free. That could be a disaster."

"I could take Holly," Angela offers. "I don't have to have a room of my own while you cram three kids into your bed!"

"It's all right, they've already set up a crib in the main bedroom for her. She's pretty good at night anyway, aren't you Jellybean?" I smile affectionately at my baby and then look back at Angela. "You really don't have to work all the time while you're here – I want you to have fun too. As well as the ski instructor every morning, Jack and Lily have sorted it so that we can leave the kids in the childcare whenever we need to so that we can do things with the big ones while the little ones are taken care of, or we can go skiing without worrying about them…it should be good."

The kids come tumbling into the room, Mac and Daisy wearing white fluffy hotel robes that drag behind them like capes, pulling open all the cupboards and investigating all the drawers. They find the mini bar hidden in a cupboard and I tell them that if they shut the door and promise to never, ever let Bram and Zeke know that it's in there they can crack open the can of Pringles they've found. Giggling, they share out the chips.

Noah climbs into my lap and offers me a pringle. "Did we come here with Mommy? I don't remember."

"Sure you remember!" I try not to sound as desperate as I feel. I've known from the day Rosalie died that Mac and Noah's memories of her would be limited. But even as I welcome the softening effect time has had on their grief, watching their memories of their mother becoming hazier and more nebulous has been a particular kind of agony.

Please don't forget her…I'm not ready to have her fade away.

I try and grin at Noah. "We came here with Mommy for Easter last year too. You did skiing lessons and we went sledding and there was an Easter egg hunt out in the snow, and Daddy tried to follow Mommy down one of the trails and I fell into a snowdrift and she had to dig me out? Well, you didn't see that bit but I know she told you about it! You remember that, right?"

Noah laughs. "Did that really happen?"

"Yes! I was trying to be as a fast as Mom and I totally misjudged a turn and flew off the trail into a snowdrift. Mommy had to come and haul me out." I laugh, remembering Rosalie's exasperation and the way I'd pulled her down into the snow with me. I'd kissed her, and her lips had been cold and her tongue had been warm and the heat between us had been everything.

"Mom loved skiing, didn't she?" Daisy says, bouncing onto the sofa beside me.

"She sure did."

"Do you think she would be happy that we came skiing, even without her?" Noah fingers worry anxiously at his hair, although it's too short for him to get a proper grip.

I gently hold his hand in mine. "I know Mommy would be happy that we came skiing. She would never want you guys to be sad, or to miss out on something fun just because she's not here. I am absolutely sure that she would be glad that we've come back here this year, to spend some time with Grandpa Jack and Grammy Lily and have fun. She really loved seeing you guys enjoying yourself last year…look, I'll show you some pictures."

I grab my phone and flip back through the camera roll until I hit the previous Easter. "Aww look…Bram and Zeke were so little! Holly must have been growing in Mom's belly already, only we didn't know it yet. And here you guys are, skiing, and here's the Easter egg hunt…"

The kids crowd around to look at the photos and videos, and for once looking at the pictures on my phone brings laughter and not tears. I shore up their memories with this evidence of what it was like, and get them excited about what's to come. And my heart aches because Rosalie isn't here but oh Rosa-girl, it was good for so long, WE were so good…I love that I had that.