March gave way to April and April gave way to May. It had been ten weeks, three days, and I'm sure I would be able to figure out the minutes if given a clock since Nigel was put into the ground. He was put in a plot near to Max and Emily. From his plot you could see the St. James River winding its way through the landscape. I'll always remember that day; I'll always remember that sadness I felt for Jordan and Calleigh. I will always remember the cries of a girl that was old enough to know what was happening, but too young to understand why. I'll always remember Calleigh asking for her father; I'll always remember taking her outside in the black of night to see Orion. I was glad to see the day come to an end, but I knew that the emotions wouldn't end with that day.
I had been sleeping on the couch at Jordan's house for nine weeks. Jordan tried to manage on her own for over a week, but she said that she was tired. She said that it was too hard to always be strong for Calleigh. She admitted to only crying in the shower. Jordan stood outside my door one week and three days after Nigel's funeral. It had been raining that evening; it was the first rain of the impending spring. Her hair was plastered to her face and her shirt soaked through. Calleigh stood beside her; Calleigh had been well-taken care of, but her mother was too tired to take care of herself. I let them in; Calleigh and I went to get coffee and hot chocolate while Jordan showered. I'd later ask Jordan why she came to me; she said Garrett was working and Bug and Lilly had a newborn in the house. She said that she needed me. It was a momentary lapse in her normal stoic façade. I wasn't sure why she needed to keep justifying her decision to let me in. I was sad that she felt that was something she needed to do.
I drove them home late in the night. Jordan needed to carry Calleigh into the house; my braces prevented me from being able to walk freely. It would take time for my bones to heal just as it would take time for Jordan and Calleigh to heal. Jordan asked me to stay; I fell asleep on the couch. The next morning, I made breakfast and took Calleigh to school. Jordan slept late into the afternoon. She woke up thinking the last few months were a dream. I held her while she cried. I went home only to pack an overnight bag; I didn't realize that overnight meant that I would be staying there indefinitely.
I went back to work two weeks later. I was shoved behind a desk; I essentially pushed papers around for eight hours a day. I would be stuck behind my desk for up to six months; I had hours of physical therapy in front of me. In the future, I would also have to prove that was physically and mentally fit to be carrying a gun and working out in the field. I had been to the shooting range once; the sound of gunfire made my heart race. I was often exhausted during the day; I would wake up the second I heard Calleigh cry. Calleigh knew that I didn't move fast; she would often crawl out of her bed and come to find me. She would tell me about her nightmares. I asked why she didn't tell Jordan; Calleigh said that the nightmares were too sad . . . she didn't want to make her mother even more sad.
Jordan's nightmares were so much more torturous than her daughter's. Jordan would wake up in the middle of the night wondering what would have happened if she insisted that Nigel see one more specialist or what would have happened if they tried the new treatments. I often had to remind Jordan that Nigel didn't want to suffer. Jordan said that she missed him. One night not too long after I had taken up residence on her couch, Jordan woke me up at three in the morning asking to hear the story about Orion. I told her the story and wound up falling asleep at the kitchen table as we talked about Nigel. I hadn't meant to fall asleep, but my medications often got the best of me.
As spring began to fade into summer there were a variety of new things to experience; Jordan and I attended school plays, dance recitals, and Calleigh's 'graduation ceremony.' I was there to catch every second on video. Dr. Macy and I often traded barbs as we each tried to line up the perfect shot of the most beautiful ballerina we had ever seen. The warm day in June when Calleigh graduated from the early childhood classes to grade school classes, I gave her a locket. It was similar to the one Emily had so many years ago. The locket contained one picture . . . Nigel; I wanted to make sure that Calleigh always had her 'daddy' with her. The outside of the locket was a smooth gold with tiny diamonds placed in a random pattern. They reminded me of Orion . . . they reminded me of Calleigh. I hadn't intended to walk passed a jewelry store and walk out a little poorer, but the locket was in the store front window. I saw it and thought of her. There were a lot of things I saw that for some reason or another made me think of my daughter.
"Hey, I thought I would find you out here," Jordan said as she snuck up behind me. She always took me by surprise; Jordan would often startle me. She would always snicker at the response she got out of me.
"You know if you are going to stare at the stars like that, you should start learning more stories about what you are looking at," Jordan said as she sat next to me. It was late in the evening; Calleigh had been sleeping for hours. Sleep didn't come as easy for me. I had become conditioned to stay up late into the night in anticipation of nightmares, but those days were slowly fading. Now, I stayed up to think.
"I suppose," I replied. Jordan slid a little closer to me; she rested her head on my shoulder. "Penny for your thoughts?"
"You should just move in. It's ridiculous that you are paying rent for a place that you never go to anymore," Jordan replied. I had contemplated going back to my apartment, but I always drove to Jordan's house after work. I would often do this subconsciously. I didn't realize where I was until I pulled into the driveway.
"You sure?" I asked.
"Yah, you're a man of few words tonight. Are you tired?" Jordan asked.
"No, just thinking," I replied.
"About?" Jordan asked.
"Well, wouldn't you love to know," I kidded. Jordan sat up and lightly slapped my back. She began to laugh when I pretended that she had indeed mortally wounded me. She laughed so rarely. I don't think I had ever really listened to her laugh before. It was musical against a background of crickets and the gentle humming of the radio that was on in the kitchen. It was beautiful; it was one of the most beautiful sounds that I had ever heard.
"You should come in and go to bed," Jordan said as she stood up . . . still smiling.
"Not tired," I replied. It wasn't all that convincing since I had yawned as I was talking.
"Are you already having second thoughts about moving in? You don't think it's too soon, do you?" Jordan asked as she quickly sat back down next to me. Those were precisely the things that I was thinking about. As magical as the last few months had been, I wondered if the transition between 'guy that sleeps on the couch' and 'guy that lives there and still sleep on the couch' was being made too quickly. I wondered what the neighbors would think; I wondered what Jordan's co-workers would think. It was first time in a long that I really cared about what people thought of me. I took as a sign of the changes to come. I was getting better; I was no longer crippled by the depression . . . I was no longer as hardened as I was in Milwaukee. I started to feel whole again.
"Is it too soon?" I asked. Jordan furrowed her eyebrows annoyed that I had asked her a question in return.
"I don't know. I don't know if I'd be able to let you leave . . . I don't know if I could do this by myself," Jordan replied. I knew she was wrong; I knew that she was strong enough to be able to be a single mother. I knew I wouldn't let her be a single mother, but Jordan was so much stronger than she thought she was.
"We might want to give it some time. Let's not rush into things. Let's not make the mistakes that we did last time and the time before that," I replied. I did want to do this right; I wasn't going to waste my third, fourth, or, maybe even, fifth chance. I was ready to be patient; six years ago I wasn't this patient . . . I pushed Jordan when she wasn't ready . . . I tried to make her commit when all Jordan could do was run. This time, I wouldn't push.
"You're probably right, but who's going to help with carpool?" Jordan asked. I wanted to laugh even though I knew that she was being completely serious.
"I'm going back to my apartment . . . I'm not running. You just need to call when you need me," I replied as I wrapped an arm around her.
"Are you planning to have your cell phone surgically attached to your hand?"
"You can do this. If anyone can handle a household, you can . . . God knows, you never let me be the one in charge," I replied. Jordan laughed.
"So how long do we wait?"
"We'll know when it's right," I replied.
I went back to my apartment for seven months. I still attended piano recitals, dance recitals, and school plays. I felt my presence declining the moment I was sent out into the field. I worked long hours; Jordan had begun to work part-time with Dr. Macy's blessing. I still had certain responsibilities in Jordan's home; I had become a 24/7 handyman . . . I had become the designated carpool 'mom' on Thursday evenings when Jordan had to work the evening. I loved every moment of it.
I didn't move in with Jordan and Calleigh until seven months after the night Jordan and I spent looking at the stars. On Mondays, I had fallen into the comfortable routine of going to work and going over to Jordan's for supper. The morning was rather unremarkable, but in the early afternoon, I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun held by an eighteen year old accused of shooting a sixteen year old in cold blood. In those moments, all I could think of was what I would leave behind. I would leave behind a beautiful daughter and a woman that I loved more than I thought I ever could. I quit my job that evening. I found myself standing on Jordan's doorstep just needing to know that 'my girls' were both safe. Jordan asked me to stay. I packed up my apartment and took up residence on the couch for a week until Jordan asked me to share her bed.
I became a stay-at-home-dad for three months. I helped with homework; I learned to cook more than spaghetti. I was there for Calleigh's sick days and Jordan's bout of pneumonia that had me scared to death. I loved every moment of my time with them.
I took a job as head of security with a large biomedical engineering firm. The job was in no way as glamorous as being a detective, but I would never stare down the barrel of a gun again. I worked days and spent the evenings with Calleigh and Jordan. I had never been happier.
Jordan and I married two years later. Calleigh was six years old . . . nearly seven. Before asking Jordan to marry me, I asked Calleigh if she thought her mom would like to have me as her husband. Calleigh promptly asked me if she would get to pick out a dress to wear for the wedding. Jordan and I were married on a beach in Barbados with Cal, Dr. Macy, and Calleigh by our sides. Eighteen months later, Jordan and I welcomed Lydia Marie into the world. Five years later, I officially adopted my own daughter. As much as it pained me, Calleigh would always believe that Nigel was her father.
Our lives were a quiet existence. Our lives revolved around each other. My hardest days were those when I realized that Calleigh and Lydia were all grown up. I'll always remember prom dresses and homecoming dresses; I'll always remember wishing that the dresses contained more fabric. Jordan joked that I would send them to prom in burlap sacks if I had the choice. I'll always remember the look on their boyfriends' faces when I told them the consequences of not treating my daughters like ladies.
I'll never forget the day that Calleigh left for college. I'll never forget what it felt like to leave her at the dormitory at Brown. She promised to call; she promised to visit. Jordan and I looked forward to her visits, but we always wished that they came more frequently. The day that Lydia left for college in Hawaii I felt my heart break into a million pieces. She was going to be a marine biologist; Lydia never listened when I told her that there were plenty of marine creatures in the neighboring ocean. She laughed and told me not to worry so much. Jordan cried when the plane took off; Jordan promised to never tell Lydia that I had also cried on the warm August morning.
Jordan and I were married for forty years. We had forty wonderful years together before I woke up on cold February morning to an even colder body in my arms. My girls took care of me for four additional years until I would too meet my maker. I remember my daughter sitting around my bed telling me that I would always be with them as long as Orion was still in the sky. With that my tired body left them to be with my wife in good health that I hadn't felt since my first stroke.
I look back at my life and wish I hadn't wasted time, but I also look back not wanting to change a thing.