Sunshine and Lemons part VII

Well, we are at the end...the final chapter. I do believe that Jay would have made a great father, even with the burden of doing it all on his own. I want to thank you all for reading, for your comments and for your reviews. I hope you enjoy the final installment.

Reilly

The door in front of me whipped open, revealing Liam who seemed to be a bit perturbed. I wasn't sure what to do or say, and while I was trying to figure it out he began to apologize—profusely. I watch him, somewhat amused, as he explains that his father had come by, then his uncle, and he had thought it was one of them coming back to annoy him further. It took him a minute to wonder why I was even standing there. But he finally did ask, and it was my turn to explain.

"I was worried about you," I began. "I texted and called, but never got a response. I thought you just ghosted me, but, there was something that was nagging me. I would put it, and you out of my mind, and would even be successful for a few days, but then it would come back. There you would be, front and center in my head. I figured I was just being self-centered, not believing that you had just forgotten about me, when clearly you could—but, I couldn't let go.

"I checked the internet for injuries or," I pause, "cops who were killed. But I came up empty. So finally Nina," I say as I look over at my cousin who was standing next to me trying to be invisible, "told me we needed to come up and find you. But I couldn't remember your address so we had to run around a little bit."

"Come inside," he offers stepping back to allow us through. "I don't really have anything to offer you except a place to sit down though."

"I'm going to head over to Amelia's place," Nina tells us, looking back at the Uber we had taken and was awaiting further instructions. "Come over later." She says, her smile tentative at best.

I nod at her as I step into Liam's house. I wanted to say that he looked good, but he didn't. He looks frail and broken.

"So how did you find me?" He asks, his face flushed with something that left me uncertain.

"Like I said, I couldn't find anything on the internet with your name."

"I work in SWAT and am undercover a lot. They won't put my name or likeness in public view."

"Oh wow. That sounds exciting." I tell him. I knew he was a cop, suspected he was some kind of detective or plain clothes officer as I never saw him in uniform or evidence of one other than the blues in the back of his closet encased in plastic from the dry cleaners. I had been searching for a jacket to borrow and came across them one evening.

"It can be. But you seem to be quite the detective yourself."

"I remembered your friend Kyle's name. I had called a few precincts and asked for you, but I guess because of your anonymity, I got nowhere. So I called around asking for Kyle Casey and finally got his number at the twenty-first precinct."

"District. In Chicago, they're called districts." He corrects me.

"Oh, sorry. So I called there for him, but he never called me back. Probably didn't recognize my name."

"He's a busy guy."

"I'm sure he is. So Nina and I found out where the twenty-first district," I say emphasizing the word district, "was and went over there to wait for him and just happened to get there while he was around. He came down to talk to us and recognized who I was. So I told him my concerns and asked if you were okay. He told me what happened to you. He said a building fell down on top of you."

Liam shakes his head and one side of his mouth turns up. "He's being melodramatic."

"So what did happen?" I demand to know.

"Okay, so a building did fall on me," he admitted and then explained what happened as he sat down on the couch. No wonder he looked so frail and broken. "So my phone got smashed and I only got a new one today and just started looking through it hoping to find a message from you, because my contact list didn't make it."

I grab his phone from where it sat on the couch, suddenly feeling emboldened, I hadn't come all the way here for nothing. I sat down and started to scroll while my eyes began to blur as I went past message after message. "Did you ever find mine?" I ask, my voice as lost as my messages were among these endless invitations, some being quite graphic.

"Not yet," he said looking mildly embarrassed.

I shake my head and sigh. "Well, I'm glad that you are okay and there was a reason why you didn't text me back. I thought you were wanting to end whatever it is that we have." I say as I realize I have no right to believe that we have, or had anything to begin with.

"End it? I don't want to end anything," he says as he sits up straighter, though it seems to take effort. "In fact all I could think about was how you probably thought that I was ignoring you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Have you hung out with any of these—these texters," I ask showing him his infinite text bubbles that sailed by.

"Not one. Honestly, I wished that you would come up, but then you didn't know where I was and I didn't have my phone so it might have been worse if you had. But it's like you heard me, because here you are. You figured it out, you didn't give up."

I sat for a minute and absorbed what he was telling me. He was gazing my direction, his eyes slightly unfocused and I wasn't sure if it was his injuries, fatigue or—or something else. He was right, a self-described homebody who considered going to a new store a big adventure, didn't give up, came up to the city and tracked him down.

"Are you okay to be here alone?" I finally ask as I notice a grimace on his face as he shifts positions.

"I've been at my dad's but I couldn't stay there any longer. So he came by to say I couldn't be alone, but he did bring me a new phone. Then my Uncle Will came by and said I'll be staying with him for the time being."

"How come you can't stay with your dad anymore?" I ask, sensing an emotional cloud was hanging over his head.

"Long story."

"When does your uncle pick you up?"

"Later tonight."

"Well then, we have plenty of time. Start talking," I order. And he did.

He began at the beginning, telling me everything from his first memories living with his father, to crying himself to sleep at night when his mother failed to return. To when he was ten and saw her again, learning the truth of her family. The time he was fifteen and found her note and fell into alcohol and drugs as a response. How Jay pulled him out of every pit he fell into, until his mother came back and stayed.

"Now I feel like I just don't fit in to their little household."

"But she's your mother and he's still your father."

"I know that, my head knows that, but it had been just the two of us forever and I'm struggling to pretend that she didn't do exactly what she did."

"Abandoning you? But she seemed to have a good reason."

"She believes that."

"And you don't?"

"I'm not sure what I believe. I feel like she had other choices, but she refused to entertain them. She made a unilateral choice and it wasn't fair."

But she's back now and your dad is happy and the twins have a family. I can't believe you saved them, by pretending to buy them. It sounds like a movie." I say still in awe from that part of the story.

"That's just it," he begins, ignoring my accolades, "how can I not want her around when she is making a home for them. So that adds to my guilt and frustration."

"You're sure you can't go back?"

"I need to step away. I don't think I've processed what my life was like because of her. The decision that she made affected me and my dad and I think she forgets that. I tried so hard, I pretended for so long that her return was what I wanted, and it was exhausting."

I study him. Last I saw him, he was strong and fearless and I had felt as if nothing bad could ever happen to me as long as I was with him. But now he looks worn down, his emotional state as broken as his physical one. I can't even believe he survived. I think back to the night we had first met. He had taken me around to different spots in the city. He had given me the space that my uncertainty demanded. He had instantly picked up my disquieted fluster and not only recognized it, but respected it. My eyes had kept drifting down to his gun and badge that were solidly clipped to the belt that snuggled up to his waist. It took him all of three seconds to catch on to my wandering eyes and asked if I wanted him to put them in the car. I was too much of a coward to ask anything of him and just shook my head no, but I appreciated his attention in the matter. And somehow I felt some level of importance hanging out with a real live cop that was influential enough to not even have to wear a uniform. Later I discovered most cops buck at the idea of leaving the gun and badge in their car in case the vehicle is ever stolen or broken into. To lose those essential provisions is a monumental no-no. Some officers even go to the lengths of having their badge replicated and carrying the twin as to keep the original in place safe and unseen by the human eye. The gun they have to carry, but it appears to be a constant companion, never to drift any further than an active two-year old in the middle of a crowd. His offer had meant more than I was prepared to understand at the time.

But as I thought back to what Kyle had told me, I realize that he probably gave me more details than he originally intended. Perhaps it so that I would feel sorry for Liam and that any anger I may have built up by feeling rejected would slip away. The thought made me wonder what he had been told about the time Liam and I had spent together. Our awkward beginning moving on to an odd affiliation that couldn't exactly be defined. Was he as uncertain and hazy as I was on what our actual relationship was or wasn't? I sit and stare at him, realizing that he must have been in so much pain emotionally that it drown out his physical pain and it nearly killed him. And I hadn't been aware of any of it or if I had, I hadn't been brave enough to do anything about it.

I startle him as I move closer and realize just how shaken he is. I take his hand in mine and and gaze into his eyes that are now a muted blue, the sparkle all but gone. "So you have to stay with your uncle so that you aren't alone for twenty-four hours?"

"Yeah. I can pretty much take care of most things by myself, but in case I need some help or have an issue they don't want me alone all day. I mean Will works twelve hour shifts, so he won't be much of a babysitter. But, he'll make sure I'm eating, taking care of myself, not in a heap on the floor, and then he'll sneak in an exam or two."

"What if I stayed here with you? I mean if that's okay. I will. I'll help you," I tell him having no idea that my brain had come to this decision. I had always felt so safe with him, now I wanted to return the favor and be strong for him.

His eyelids flutter and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.

"You'd stay here with me?" He asks and I swear a tiny firework went off in his baby blues.

But I begin to second guess myself, I shrug and say: "sure, why not?"

"What about your life? I can't ask you to drop everything."

"My life? Let me tell you what I would be leaving behind: a part-time job that will no longer exist in one week due to the fact that nobody reads anymore, so a bookstore isn't necessary, overbearing parents that think that our tiny town is utopia and nobody could possibly need anything beyond it's six thousand people, two stores, three gas stations and five bars. I went to the local community college for two wasted years that took me nowhere. There is no job that pays enough for any crappy rental in town or nearby and not only do I know nearly all of the population, but I don't even like most of them. I need to get away, so you'd be doing me a huge favor," I finish, but then realize that he might feel guilty if he says no.

"But I can make other plans. Maybe I'm not ready for city life. I mean I like it here, but it terrifies me too. I'm not completely sure if this is the right move for me, but I just can't wither away back home."

I have lived in my small Missouri town since I was two. My mom is a bookkeeper for a local medical practice and my dad manages the grocery store. They are good people and would be happy if their only child just lived at home while searching for my niche in life. I was fine with it, until I met Liam and realized there was much more to life than two stoplights, Friday night fish fry's and football games. I look back at him and figure I blew it, overreached, appeared too desperate, but as he gazed back at me, his lips began to turn upwards in a smile.

"I couldn't think of anything better than you staying with me."

Several weeks later Liam was mending well. The healthy glow had returned to his entire being. He was moving around with much less grimacing and he was gaining strength. We spent our days going to doctors appointments, check-ups, scans, and physical therapy sessions. I made sure he was early to every one. He in turn, introduced me to the nooks and crannies of Chicago and taught me the CTA system. We explored the buses and trains that made up the Chicago Transit Authority. He taught me how to read the schedules, where the transfer stations were and the places that I shouldn't get off. I was beginning to lose my novice status, but he still wouldn't let me travel alone and that was just fine with me. But I knew one day soon, he would be healthy enough to return to work and where would that leave me—I was basically mooching off of him now, how would I be able to justify my presence once he was healthy.

Since he was hurt in the line of duty, he was still being paid. The city decided just to continue his paycheck instead of having him collect disability. Next week he would most likely be signed off for light duty and then I would be alone, but would I be here and alone, or at home and alone, freeloading off of him, or off of my parents. I needed to find something to keep me busy and that came with a paycheck. I needed some independence or at least a chance to earn my keep.

"Have you called your parents?" Liam asks me as I set down a glass of ice tea in front of him while he is going over some paperwork. Kyle had stopped by with his daughters the other day to check in with Liam and have him look at some kind of case file. It was clear that both girls, adored Liam. Neither one wanting to let go of him when it was time to leave.

"I've texted them," I reply.

"You need to actually talk to them. Anyone can text them and say its you. You're not giving them much peace of mind."

"I guess I never thought of that. You are such a cop."

"Because I am a cop." He replies looking up at me, concern in the corners of his eyes. "They don't even know you are here—with me—a man, do they?"

"Nina told them I was staying in the city. But no they don't know I'm staying here. But I mean I'm just here for you, taking care of you. They'll have me barefoot and pregnant, and you as some kind of dude in a wife-beater t-shirt and a neverending beer in your hand. We haven't even been together—we don't even sleep in the same room." I say as I had taken up residence in the lower bunk of the spare bedroom. Liam had offered me his bed, but there was no way I was going to accept his offer. I felt bad enough as it was, and in no way was I going to roll around in his queen size bed, while he recuperated in the lower portion of a bunkbed.

"Is that how they'll really see me?" He asks, his eyes wide and uncertain.

"That's how they see everyone who doesn't live within five miles of them. The funny thing is there's quite a few people in that range that look just like that," I say with a slight titter to my voice, hoping he sees that I'm not concerned with my lies of omission.

"Look, my parents are good people, but if I went back, my dad would try to squeeze a few hours for me at the grocery store and they would say I could live as long as I want at the house and maybe another class or two at the college could help or perhaps a job would open up there. I don't want their life and they can't understand that."

"What do you want?" He asks me, his eyes unyielding, yet gentle at the same time.

"I'm not exactly sure, I guess I'm more certain about what I don't want." I tell him, but inside I'm screaming, "I want you." But I am nothing if not steeped in reality. He is one thing and I am another. He is a fearless SWAT team, undercover, excitement junkie who is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, along with a humble personality that belies his looks. But I know where it all comes from. Jay has come by several times, both alone and with the twins, to check on his son. I see so much of Liam in his father which makes sense since it was basically just the two of them for so many years.

Jay is a great guy, his concern overflowing for his adult son, but he tempers it as best he can in my presence as to not upset or embarrass his son. The twins aren't quite as good at hiding their emotions. Josh is uncertain as to who I am or why I'm here in his brother's house. Jenna—well Jenna just assume I take a hike and never return. Liam had warned me of this, saying she was very protective of him and why. But my concern when it came to our relationship wasn't very deep as I had no idea what the future might bring, although my brain had been busy foolishly dreaming about a fairytale future like a twelve year old school girl who would doodle her chosen husbands name all over her notebook.

Liam brings me back to the present as he clears his throat. "So, I am just a tool to break free from your parents. Are you here to be away from them or to be here with me?"

His words echo in my brain, clanging around like cymbals crashing down concrete stairs. My breathing is both shallow and rapid. I feel like I am on top of a cliff, an effort to get here, the view beautiful, but one wrong move and I collapse into a bloody heap, even more broken and bloody than Liam had been.

I tell myself not to screw this up. And suddenly words just find their way out of my mouth despite the fact that I haven't officially given them permission. "Do you believe in love at first sight?" I ask in a rush.

I can tell I rattle him with my question. He makes no move to speak so I fill the void, something I had never been known for in the past. "Well, I think I do. You know why?" I ask, but leave him no time to answer. "Because the risk of me going with you that night we first met, outweighed the risk of losing you. Me leaving with you alone, was so out of character, it wasn't even in the same stratosphere. I was so scared."

"Of me?" He asks quietly.

"Of everything. You, the city, the possibilities. I mean what were the odds that you were both gorgeous and nice. But you were, and are; beautiful in every way." I say suddenly winded as if I had run a marathon. I begin to grow concerned as he remains quiet. I begin to rationalize my outburst. I needed to try—I had to go for it, it's okay he doesn't feel the same way about me, I mean I get it; small town girl, average looks, no special abilities and tentative in everything. But he had brought out a side of me I had no idea had been hidden away. I had gone with him that first night—a daring act that I wouldn't have thought to be capable of. Then coming up here when I didn't hear from him. It was as if I was taken over by some tenacious spirit that I had previously never met. Those acts had to mean something. They just had to.

"I've always felt a little lost and uncertain in life, like I never really fit anywhere," I finish trying to repair the huge hole I had just blown open.

"Except here?" He asks, faintly. "Do you fit here?" He asks again. I stand up and stare at him, mute, spent of any emotion I had been holding onto. He sets down the paperwork he had been holding in his hand but ignoring the last several minutes and stands up facing me. "Honestly, I've never wanted to believe in love at first sight, because it would validate my parents relationship and I just wasn't ready to accept that. It would explain how they could never completely walk away from each other when I was young. And how my father so readily took her back when she returned. Except when I was ten—she came back, but he was angry then, didn't give her a second thought."

"How come?"

"Because I was all twisted up about it, he only focused on me. He let her go—was actually angry with her because her visit had only upset me."

"So maybe now, you feel a little betrayed that he has focused on her."

"But I'm not a little kid anymore."

"Since when does that matter?"

He looks at me as if this has never occurred to him. We realize we both have our own issues, vastly different ones, but they have crept inside of us and are threatening our happiness in the world and with ourselves. I look up at him as he looks down at me. It seems so cliché, but it is happening all the same. Our lips meet, me on my toes, him leaning down. My carefully organized thoughts suddenly scatter—Liam has that affect on me. It's as if my brain is a sheet a paper suddenly blown into confetti. I have no idea what I'm doing, but quite clearly he does. He is soft, gentle, a tenderness I'm not sure I had ever felt before. His tongue is tentative at first, but when I don't protest it becomes more greedy. I am swept up and find myself disappointed and feeling empty when we part.

As I catch my breath, I discover that I have a particular affect on Liam as well.

"Sorry," he mumbles, clearly embarrassed at his body's involuntary male reaction.

I smile as he is suddenly childlike. "It's been a while," I say. "Probably the longest you've gone in years."

"I haven't been in great shape to do much in that department," he says looking away.

"You don't have to be in great shape to be taken care of that department. Those women, the ones in your contact list, they could take care of you." I tell him, suddenly feeling inept and mediocre.

He looks at me and smiles, it's not a funny smile or one that says "I feel sorry for you, poor stupid girl," it is one I can't explain and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

"I don't want them."

"Now or ever?"

"Ever. They're nothing to me. My past."

I chew on my bottom lip, trying to organize the thoughts that he had just blown to bits. This could be some kind of turning point and I didn't want to screw it up. My brain is like one of those prize wheels that you spin around and it finally landed on something halfway intelligent. "Then what am I?" I dare to ask, afraid it is too bold, audacity has never been one of my strong points. He looks at me and I'm frozen, my breath has left my body and has refused to return.

He looks at me, his eyes boring into mine and finally speaks. "You are my future."

Weeks later, he has gone back to work, desk duty only which is driving him crazy. But we spend our evenings together, going for walks, riding the L at night, my new favorite activity, or we just talk. We could talk about everything and we could talk about nothing. Even when we don't have much to say the silence has an air of comfort. It is if we don't need the mindless chatter to make everything okay, we both knew when to talk, when to listen and when to just be. And it all seemed so unforced and natural. I felt as if I was finally home.

He took me to the Willis Tower, which like most natives he still referred to as the Sears Tower, despite the fact the store and name had been defunct for quite some time. Who says the urban environment isn't just as nostalgic and dependent on its traditions as any small town? As we stood up on the clear ledge and looked down, he sensed the fluttering intruders in my stomach that were telling me I was insane as well as stupid in my attempt to defy gravity. I put my faith and hope in the plexi-glass or whatever sat at my feet, was strong enough to hold us up so high. He grabbed my hand and held it with an intensity that was more than strength, as it discharged love, devotion, protection, and every other good thing I could think of. I felt as if I was in one of those movies where the woeful and in-love girl, spun around in the field of wild flowers as birds chirped around her head and other small woodland creatures darted in and out with wide eyes and twitching whiskers. Except instead of wildflowers, I had buildings 103 three stories below, and instead of furry little creatures there were cars and delivery trucks. I couldn't have felt happier or more content, as I gazed out upon the giant structures jutting up, creating a forest of steel and glass, and Liam's hand holding mine.

I had been encouraging him to see his mother and he in turn urged me to invite my parents up for a visit. We both dragged our feet, but eventually progress was made. We were at his parents house to pick up some of the things he had left behind after he had abruptly fled the house months ago. The family was out, as Liam knew they would be. Baby steps I suppose.

"Did you grow up here?" I ask him after I had made him wait on me as I stared at the entire street of attached brick homes that held more architectural wonder than I could absorb within the five seconds it took him to walk from the car and up the stairs into the house. There were bay windows, arches, turrets and ornate metal banisters up the concrete staircases. Each home, although attached was different from its neighbor, almost stating, although we share a side, I am nothing like you. I eventually let him lead me into the house where I gaze at the spacious living room before we climb the stairs, the wall adorned with family pictures. I recognize the one with the five of them taken on adoption day. Pictures of the twins, together and apart. Liam at various ages. A wedding photo and one of Liam as a child with Jay wearing matching flannel shirts.

"No. This is definitely a two income house. I lived in West Town with my mother when I was little, then my dad found a place in Bucktown where we lived for years until I went to high school and we moved to Lincoln Park. We always rented."

"I love all the names of the neighborhoods. What's this neighborhood called? It's really nice."

"Old Town. Apparently my mother came back with a big enough wad of cash for a huge down payment. This neighborhood is a great place to raise kids."

"You're pretty lucky to end up with your own little house." I tell him as we end up in Josh's room where Liam's belongings sit in the corner, a matchbox track attached to the top of the pile, creating a pretty steep hill for shooting cars across the room. Liam gently moves the track and picks up the bags, one in each hand. He nods his head back towards the door as I look at the posters and pictures on the walls. There is a framed photo of Josh on Liam's shoulders, both wearing giant smiles.

"I got a good deal and it's on the south side so that helps." He tells me as move back into the hallway.

"I think it's charming and I love the history it holds. When was it built?"

"1885 or something. But it has been updated a few times."

"Yes, indoor plumbing is a plus. Is that your parents bedroom?" I ask as I peek in and ask about the obvious.

"It is," he replies as I step inside the room. It's tastefully decorated, holding a queen sized bed, two dressers, twin nightstands. Several days ago Liam and I had made love for the first time. He was gentle and sweet and made it all about me. I had never loved anyone more than I had at the moment. I knew then, that this was the man—this was the man that I wanted to see come home from work and pick up our children and hold them close. I wanted to create a family full of laughter and love with him. He was the one whose even breathing I wanted to listen to every night. Who I wanted to be angry with when he didn't agree with me so that we could work it out and tumble back into harmony. He took me for who I was and didn't insist on anything more than that. In return I did the same for him.

Last weekend my parents finally came up and I could tell they wanted to hate Liam with every fiber of their being, but he charmed them right out of it. Oh they complained about the traffic, the congestion of city living, the expenses and many other things, but as hard as they tried they just couldn't see Liam as some kind of predatory creature or corrupt Chicago cop. And I'm pretty sure my mom could tell we hadn't yet slept together. So the same night they returned home I climbed into bed next to Liam and we finally consummated our relationship. I could still feel his lips moving up and down my body, his voice soft and calm, his hands supporting me in every way.

I see a small stack of photographs on Emma's nightstand. On top was a picture of the five of them, all smiles and happiness. "When was this taken?" I ask as I sit down on the bed.

"An outing at Nature Museum last summer." He says as he looks over and sets his bags down on the floor.

"You all look so happy."

"We were." He says, a small smile on his lips.

I stare at the five faces and imagine Liam's mother shuffling through each photo before she went to bed every night. The next picture is of Liam, he is in black from head to toe. It is clear he is wearing a bullet proof vest and in his hands a deadly looking weapon that I had to guess spit out bullets in quick succession.

"Is this your work attire?" I ask him.

"Sometimes. Depends on the day."

"Damn babe, you're sexy." I say, but I'm equally terrified that this is what his work apparel looks like. Or is it worse when his costume is jeans and a flannel shirt trying to buy drugs—or children.

I continue to flip through the pile and find a couple pictures of the twins, one of Jay when he was younger and find the similarities between father and son almost mesmerizing. Then, at the bottom of the pile, as if they were to be savored at the end were two pictures, so worn it looks as if they had been laundered repeatedly. They are of a little boy, blond haired and blue-eyed. They are Liam. I hold them up and look at them with an intensity that makes my eyes burn. I turn them over to discover that the back of each one holds a heart written in very faded ink and the words 'my heart, my love, my soul' encircle the heart. I am so taken with them I don't even notice Liam standing motionless, hovering over me. Suddenly the air is thinner and breathing becomes a task. "Is this you?" I ask the obvious. He remains quiet. "You were adorable," I chatter nervously, realizing something is about to spring forth from within him. "Look how blond you were," I continue unabated.

"Yeah, my hair got darker as I aged," he explains, somehow unattached to the words that he is speaking. "I'm not even sure what color this is?" He asks as he absentmindedly touches his hair.

"Dark copper?" I suggest. Whatever it is, it's beautiful. Something in the auburn family I guess. "Do you know how old you are in these?" I ask, my words meandering all over the place.

He takes them from me and stares as if he's never seen the subject before. He finally clears his throat and replies. "I'm five in this one," he says, "and ten in this one. It is my school picture, fifth grade."

"I think that she looked at them all the time. They both have hearts on the back."

"She must have taken this one with her," he says of the five-year-old picture. "This one," he stops, his expression is suddenly so far away that I fear it won't come back, "the gangway," he whispers.

I wait a beat before I ask. "Gangway?" I ask, still unfamiliar with Chicago terminology. I picture something on a pirate ship.

"In-between some houses by my friends place—I was ten and spent the night at his house. I had been in trouble, skipped school, but could go because Tyler had leukemia." I hear his rambling and know that he has gone away, no longer with me in his parents bedroom. He is seeing something that I will never be a part of. I reach out and touch his arm, but he doesn't feel me.

"My mother was there—I saw her, we rode the L. She had to leave—my father told her to go. He carried me home. But he must have given her this picture—he had one in his wallet."

"She must have held these pictures all the time. Look how ragged they are. And she still has them," I point out the obvious. "She clearly missed you and loved you so much." I tell him as he begins to shudder, his body holding a private earthquake and I realize he is sobbing so hard he can barely breathe. I pull him over to me and sit him on the bed, while I hold him close and wrap my arms around him trying to absorb his agony and I realize that I never want to let him go. I want to take his pain away or at least hold him until it subsides. I have never had much confidence in myself, I had always been content in being a wallflower, but suddenly I feel needed, that there is no other place that I should be but here. As tacky and cliché as it sounds, we fit together as if we were custom made. Two puzzle pieces, the sum of two parts—pick a euphemism that's what we had become. Or at least that's what I secretly hoped.

It takes several minutes, during which I fear the entire family will troop in and discover this awkward and visceral moment. Finally Liam comes up for air, gently pulling away from me, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will ease his tears, but apparently it does and they seemed to have stopped.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, though I am uncertain why. Then I realize I am the one who needs to put words to his tears.

"When you were a kid you probably hoped that she was in some far off land, thinking of you. But that made it harder to hate her. Now you discover that is exactly what she was doing and it is impossible to hate her—at least in the totality that you desire.

"You need to try and have a relationship with her. She did what she believed was the right thing for you, for your father. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. But she gave you a beautiful gift which was the bond that you and your dad formed. She did what she did for love. You both lost each other due to her choice, but it wasn't made with malice or discontent, it came from a desire that you live the best life that she could give you and unfortunately that meant that she couldn't be in it.

"I'm afraid you will regret it if you attempt to exclude her from your life. You don't have to pretend her absence never happened, but you can move on—start from now. Let her mother you now, watch her mother the twins. See her as your father's wife.

"It's okay that it hurt, that it still hurts. I believe she is still in a lot of pain too. She probably second guessed her decision on a daily basis, an hourly basis. But she stuck with it, because you were her priority all those years. Maybe, now it's time to tell her it's okay, to let her be the priority for just a minute. This time you call the shots, you're in charge and you can move at your own pace. I'll be right here at your side—if you want me to be."

I'm not sure what to expect. Did my words even make sense? Did he even hear them? Does he even care? Should I have just kept my mouth shut? He is staring off at the wall and I feel disappointed, I gave him my best, but it still wasn't good enough. I shift my body and move away from him. I'm looking at my shoes when I feel the bed move and he is next to me and pulls me into his lap as if I am weightless. He holds me tightly, his chin rests on my head, now my tears are flowing, dampening his shirt. We stay like that until the tears on his shirt are dry and I realize that I will never love anyone more.

Fifteen Years Later~

Liam

I clear my throat as I look at everyone seated in front of me. As an undercover officer, I am used to being on the spot, having to perform for others in an instant. But this is different and the struggle is real. I look over at Reilly who gives me a smile of both sympathy and encouragement. She has been, and continues to be my rock. She knows when I need an emotional boost, when I need her advice, when I need her to merely listen and when I need her to put me in my place. I have put her through a lot, but she remains at my side, her hand in mine.

Our twelve year old son, James Patrick, known as Jamie, is stoic and tries to act grown up. His brother Sean William, who just turned ten sits next to him, his feet swinging in an effort not to fidget too much. The twins, now in their twenties are doing their best to keep their faces impassive. Will has his arm around Jenna, comforting her. And my dad, he sits in the middle of all this, trying to hold it together. He starts to rise, but I shake my head and he sits back down as my three year old daughter, Ella Rose ambles my way. She, like me, was unexpected, but as her light brown curls bounce as she toddles my direction and I can't wait until she gets close enough for me to scoop her up. Somehow she knows exactly when her daddy needs her, and I need her now.

Everyone waits patiently as I meet Ella in the middle and gather her into my arms, her little pink dress fluttering as I lift her up. Her tiny feet kick at my hip with the impossibly small black shoes that have the strap she never leaves alone. Her hair tickles my face as I inhale the scent of baby shampoo and rose petal bubble bath. For a moment my mind is only wrapped up in my little girl, but as she lays her head on my shoulder I remember that I have a job to do.

The chuckles that had followed Ella's short adventure from my father to me have died down and I cannot stall any longer. I look out into the assembly in front of me and clear my throat again and begin. "Most of you know that my mother and I had a complicated relationship." I hear movement and a few laughs float my way. "My early days were divided between missing her and despising her absence. I felt as if she teased me with her presence, whether it be in person or the written word—and that only seemed to open the wounds even further. But then one day she was back, back to stay. But by then I was beyond her efforts, or so I thought. I made it through my childhood without her and I certainly had no need for her as an adult.

"But then she went and married my father and the fairytale was well on its way, only to be capped off by the arrival of Josh and Jenna in their lives," I continue as I nod at my siblings. "She had it all. But I felt left out. I pretended not to, but finally couldn't fake it anymore and one day I broke her heart. I knew her reasons, I knew the facts that took her away, but they just weren't good enough. How could anything have been more important than me—but then I realized that they weren't—that I had always been the important one.

"She never bragged or spoke of all that she had gone through in her lifetime, and instead of respecting her humility I blamed her for all that I didn't want to understand. It took an equally amazing woman," I say as I look over at Reilly who smiles weakly and brushes a tear from her cheek, "to show me how to open myself up enough—to let go enough and let all the good that I had been so busy missing, back into my life.

"All that I hated about her absence was history, her return was for my taking and I couldn't be bothered. It is true that coming to my baseball games, dropping me off at sleepovers, helping me with my homework or chaperoning my junior high dances were off the table, but she was still my mother and her love was all that mattered.

"But I denied her that—for too long. But slowly we found a place—a place just for us that was made of our modest memories but attempting to make new ones whenever we were able. It was a circle that was meant for only the two of us—she had a separate one for my father—and that one they can keep private," I say smiling as laughter echoes around the room. Ella picks her head up to see if I'm still the one holding her, satisfied that I haven't handed her off she puts her head back down.

"Our relationship, our history isn't enviable, but it was ours. And instead of standing here with regrets, I stand here with a satisfaction that we made the best of a difficult and occasionally impossible situation. She gave me so much—more than the blue eyes that landed me my wife," I say looking over at Reilly, who blushes. "She gave me courage, selflessness, a healthy respect for life and all it had to offer. She taught me to never give up and that even when life seemingly takes everything from you, there is still plenty left to embrace. She reminded me to soak up the sun." I say, recalling my essay from so long ago.

"Together, my parents were a force, an amazing wall of humanity that I am grateful to have emerged from. I hope that I can continue to carry that fortitude and determination throughout the rest of my days and pass them on to my children. That her legacy will forever be in this world, even though she no longer is."

I step away from the small podium I had been standing behind, my arm holding tightly to my daughter as I walk over to the table that held the urn with my mother's ashes inside. I place my free hand on it and bend over and kiss it. As I stand back up, Ella blows a kiss like only a three-year old can. The tears begin to fall, and I don't attempt to hide them as I walk past my family and sit back down.

Jay

People are milling around, I'm being handed drinks and food even though I already have them. I have set three sandwiches, a plate of meatballs, cheese and crackers and two beers on a shelf by the window of the small hall where we held Emma's service. I have managed to get through several waves of people and there is currently a lull in the activity.

I look over at Jenna and Josh who are surrounded by friends. Josh is a journeyman plumber, living with two roommates in Ukrainian Village. Jenna is still at home with me, she tried dorm life when she went to college, but didn't last a month. She's just not ready to leave the safety of the nest and I am absolutely fine with that. She is a receptionist at a downtown law office, and is taking coursework to become a paralegal. She was an amazing help when Emma suffering her worst.

I see Liam with his daughter and smile, so grateful for the gift of children and grandchildren. I retired a year ago, as the cancer began to take bigger chunks from Emma that she could bear on her own. Despite our best efforts, it won in the end. She smiled throughout it all, shine on she would say. She was happy for all she had—all that she was able to enjoy. Her greatest accomplishment in her mind was reconnecting with Liam. Not, killing her father in an effort to save us, not hiding all over the world, but reestablishing a relationship she thought was lost forever.

There were bumps, a few crashes, but all along I knew Liam wouldn't deny her love, not for himself, not for his children. I knew I had raised a man who would recognize that the gift of devotion that didn't often come along. I think back to the first time I held him, how perfectly he fit into my arms, how I never wanted to let him go.

I marvel at how much Liam and Emma had in common. Both suffered from a life of uncertainty. Had fathers that came with varying amounts of adversities. And both put up walls to protect themselves. But in the end the walls savagely came down, nearly taking their very existence. But both had beaten those disintegrating walls and eventually began to build again. They survived to continue to serve and protect others. Survivors with a purpose and that purpose ultimately became the greatest gift they could each give and receive.

I see Jamie, who not only looks like Liam, but is beginning to gain that preteen attitude that Liam introduced me to all those years ago. He's a good kid, and I have no doubt he will land on his feet, especially with all the eyes we have trained on him, but I have a feeling it's going to be quite a ride.

As I watch him he picks up Ella, who shrieks with delight as he jiggles her. Sean comes my way with a plate holding a piece of cake and a brownie. He favors his mother, brown hair, light brown eyes, furtive glances abound as he makes his way over. He is his mothers son and the sweetest kid I have ever known. "Want some Grandpa?" He asks me as he holds the dish out to me.

I can't tell him no so I smile and take the plate with one hand as I put my other one on top of his head. He eyes the brownie so I hand it over to him and he looks back at his parents who are looking the other way and crams the whole thing into his mouth.

Reilly chose the boys names, she insisted on them. She actually wanted Sean's first name to be William, but Liam and Will both talked her out of it, stating William was too long, two Will's would be confusing as would two Liam's and nobody liked Billy. When Liam was around eleven he looked at Will one day and realized their combined names made William. "Will plus Liam equals William," he had declared. They are still close today and I'm so glad that my brother had come back to Chicago all those years ago.

Reilly takes Ella from Jamie and holds her tightly as she wiggles in an effort to get down. Liam is across the room talking to Kyle but catches my eye and gives me a supportive smile. If I could have picked out a wife for Liam it would have been Reilly. She is his balance. She is kind, calm, knows exactly what he needs and when he needs it. And the best part is that he realizes it. She has this quiet strength and without her encouragement, I'm not sure if Liam and Emma would have ever reconnected, at least not as quickly as they did after Liam's near tragedy and their verbal falling-out. Reilly knew just the right amount of pressure to apply and when to apply it. She had made him whole, when he had been anything but.

They have been married for over fourteen years and are completely devoted to each other. She shares her concerns with me about his job and its risks, I reassure her as best that I can, as I so often did to Liam when he was young. I'm not sure how much it helps, but it seems to ease both of our worries at least for the moment. He is more than competent at his job, but that doesn't make it any less dangerous.

She is also an amazing mother, patient and gentle with seemingly infinite resources to offer to all those around her. I see so much of Emma in her and wonder how life would have been if she hadn't had to leave us all those years ago. Both are stronger than they give themselves credit for.

Sean looks back at his brother who is waving at him to go outside and I nod my permission that he can leave, and watch as they head for the door with Reilly reminding them to not go far. I think back to Sean's last conversation with Emma. He had been telling her about a classmate that had been giving him trouble and she gave him typical grandmotherly advice about ignoring the kid, trying to be nice to him etc.. But just before he left her bedside she motioned him back and told him that no matter what he was a shining star and to always shine on because nobody could take that away from him. He nodded at her and turned to leave again when she called him back. She looked up at him, her face serious and told him to never let the bastards drag him down. He giggled at first of hearing a forbidden word, but then became serious as he looked at her and promised that he wouldn't—not ever. It was something that she lived by—she kept trying and never let the bastards drag her down.

Since her return so long ago, my mind would wander to all those years that she had been on her own, without us, without anyone. No home, no family, nothing to anchor her to the world. Knowing we existed, but unable to connect in any meaningful way. Did her hate for those that kept us apart seep into her soul? The event that killed her entire family sans her brother Liam, wasn't particularly shocking or surprising, but the articles I hunted down made an interesting picture in my mind. How awful was the itch to return to us; the only cure being the demise of her family. Every member of her god-awful clan was there but one, they often congregated, but were in constant flux of coming and going rarely all in the pub at the very same time; except for that one evening, the evening Liam was late or not coming at all, he would never say. The night that the James family ended and Emma was finally free. Was it great intelligence by their rivals? Was it careful reconnaissance? Was it pure dumb luck? Or was there someone from the inside that knew more than most and shared it? Was it Liam? Was it Emma? Was it simply fate? My head went around and around. The questions would be on the tip of my tongue but never managed to find daylight. Did it matter? What was she willing to do in order to come back to us? Did that matter? The biggest question was if I really wanted to know. I had killed more people than I could count in an effort to defend myself and others. It was something I saw as necessary but wasn't particularly proud of. Was she just as capable as I was in order to protect herself and her family? Questions that will go unanswered and I would have to make peace with that. I had to be satisfied that the bastards went down and they didn't take her with them.

Shaking the dark thoughts from my head I look over at Ella, the one child Liam named. I like to think it is because Ella sounds suspiciously close to Emma and roses were always his mother's favorite flower. My granddaughter is toddling my way, her face focused on her trek, a pastry of some sort clenched in her tiny fist. One strap on her shoe is loose and flopping a bit, but it doesn't seem to slow her down. She finally lands at my feet and looks up at me with her soft brown eyes and a smile that can light up a room. "Gampa," she says as grabs my pants.

I reach down and pull her up and into an embrace and blow kisses on her neck to which she squeals in her joy. How close had I been to denying all of this so many years ago? Too close. I am grateful for second chances. The second chance I got for life when I returned from Afghanistan to raise a son that wouldn't allow me wallow in self-pity or in the infinite sadness that I occasionally wanted to slip into.

I also appreciate the second chance to finally be with and marry my soulmate. To build a life with her. Raise children with her. Watch her reconnect with a son she feared was lost forever.

I'm not sure how I will exactly spend my days now that I am retired and no longer needed as a caregiver. It was easy for me to leave the job, because for one, it was time. I had pushed my luck for years, over forty of them and I figured I owed my family a successful career, one in which I wasn't killed in the line of duty. Secondly, I knew Emma needed me. She needed increasing care with each month that passed by and I wasn't going to allow someone else to do what I had promised in my vows—vows I thought I'd never have a chance to make.

Her cancer had come quickly, with no forewarning and I had to watch her fade away. But she handled it well, her smile never leaving, regrets were never the subject of the day. She went peacefully, Liam had made it by minutes. We told her goodbye, each of us holding her hand. Awful and beautiful at the same time.

Ella is telling me all about the cookie in her hand that looks a lot more like some kind of croissant. But then everything sweet to her is a cookie. In fact Liam's nickname for her was Cookie. She is chattering away, but I only understand some of her narrative. I watch Liam duck outside to check on the boys and then walk my way.

"I know you're not okay, but how are you doing?" He asks as Ella attempts to wipe her sticky hands in my hair. Liam intercedes and pulls her from me, and Reilly seemingly aware that she would be needed, pops up and takes her, and heads off in search of water or baby wipes.

"I'm hanging in there."

"I'm sorry I was so awful when she came back."

"You were entitled. It was your childhood that paid the price."

"It was. But it wasn't her fault. I understood her decision twelve years ago when Jamie was born and I'm not sure if I would have the same strength. She was amazing."

"Yes she was."

"I'm glad you got her back. I'm glad I got her back." He says before continuing. "You're coming to the house tonight right?" He asks.

"I don't know. I should go home," I tell him, looking over his shoulder.

"I don't want you home alone tonight. Jamie wants to show you that new game he got. And Sean is already excited about you sleeping in his bed while he camps out on the floor. Plus I don't think Ella was done with her cookie explanation."

I look up at him uncertain and then stare off again.

"Dad. Please. Jenna has her class tonight and she usually spends the night at her friends house by the campus. I don't want you to be alone—not tonight."

"Liam," I begin, but am unsure what I'm even going to say.

"Dad. The truth is—I don't want to be alone," he says, but then realizes he is far from alone. "I mean, I want—I need you to be with me. Just like I needed you when I was a kid."

I know I have a lot to keep me busy. I volunteer at Jameson's facilities working with under-served families. I still consult from time to time with the CPD and I have three active grandchildren. I am terribly sad that I have lost my soulmate yet one more time. But this family, this family before me, the one that she gave me, the one that was clearly meant to be—has given me everything I will ever want—ever need.

"Of course I'll stay tonight." I say, the relief washing over Liam's face.

He leans in and hugs me tightly and I embrace him back. Despite the fact that we were nearly the same size—he fit just as easily into my arms as he did when he was an infant. I hold him as if I never want to let go and he doesn't resist. Despite my overwhelming grief I feel a wave of gratitude, contentment and yes, happiness. My life ended up just as it should have, as it was meant to.

The End (again) (for real this time)

Soundtrack

The Wanton Bishops | Come To Me Back from the Edge by Lord Huron

Time in a bottle by Megan O'Neill

Shine On by the Porters