Page 48 of Save You

“So, you like Dire Straits, huh?” he says to her in that silly voice us grown-ups reserve for babies and fluffy, cute animals. “That was your mummy’s favorite when she was little too.”

A traitorous tear escapes down my face when he mentions Beth, especially calling her ‘mummy’, a role that was so unfairly stolen from her. I cannot help but shut my eyes as I lean against the basin where I’m cleaning up bottles; I don’t want to lose it in front of him, or Rosalie. I have to keep strong, otherwise, I might not come back from where I will fall.

He begins to sing a different song, another by the same band, and I listen to Rosie gurgling at the sound of his voice humming close to her ear. I’m so caught up in the sound; I instantly jump when I feel a hand touching my shoulder.

“Xander?” a lost, whimper of a voice calls out to me. Beth’s mom, Jen, looks back at me with so much grief, it gives me permission to fall into her outstretched arms and let mine escape too. I shudder violently as we cry into each other’s embrace.

“I’m so damn sorry, Jen,” I whimper on top of her tiny frame.

“Shh,” she tries to soothe me, even though she’s crumbling just as much as I am. “It’s not your fault,” she whispers as she rubs my back, “it’s not your fault.”

By the time Rosie goes to bed, I actually miss her. Beth’s folks, including her brother, have monopolized most of her time this afternoon, and I’ve let them because it’s important to her. To be truthful, it’s also important to them, and it’s important to me too. After the way they arrived, with Mal’s gratefulness when I offered him Rosie to hold, as well as Jen’s open affection toward me, I’m no longer anxious about their intentions for my daughter. As such, I told them that I need for them to always be in her life, but that she’ll be staying here with me. Fresh tears were spilled, hugs exchanged, but the message was clear, and the decision of where Rosie should remain, was thankfully agreed.

They also told us that they would not be staying in the States. Beth’s mom explained that it’s too painful, and they also don’t want to run the risk of running into either Oliver or Carl Steele. Their priority is to keep Riley safe, something that as a new father, I can completely understand. I’m sad for Rosie’s sake but told them that they have my full support.

“We tried to find out where Oliver buried her, but got nothing but dead ends,” Mal explains sadly as we sit around on the living room sofas.

It’s late and I should be getting to bed because I know Rosalie will be waking up bang on five o’clock. However, I don’t have the strength to stop talking about Beth. When I listen to her parents telling us about everything they know, I eat it up. A little morsel to try and stay connected to the girl who I’ve lost forever.

“We want to keep trying though-”

“Er…if I may?” Uncle Stephen suddenly interrupts, speaking for the first time this evening. He seems to have purposefully kept his distance, as though he isn’t part of the family, even though he probably did the most to try and save us.

“What is it?” Beth’s mom seems to be instinctively worried about what he’s going to say, which more than shows by her pale complexion.

“The last time I tried to find out where he had buried her, I didn’t just meet a brick wall,” he sighs, “I met a bunch of threats and a brick wall full of guns and knives, all telling me to stay the hell out of it.”

“What threats?” I growl through clenched teeth, suddenly feeling angry over the fact that he’s been keeping things from me, things that concern my family.

“I was warned that if I didn’t stop nosing around, they’d come after Rosie,” he replies ashamedly.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!” I leap up dramatically in outrage, no doubt fueled by grief and exhaustion. Mom practically lunges between us, trying to hold me back with a beseeching expression.

“Xander, please,” she begs me, “you have more important things to focus on right now. As much as it pains me to say, perhaps we need to leave Beth at peace. The last thing she would want is for them to get hold of her daughter. Please, think about it!”

A few moments pass before I let my muscles relax and finally slump back against my chair. The last bit of my adrenaline merely fuels my fingers to run anxiously through my hair. I have been plagued by nightmares since that awful night when Carol told me about Beth’s death. I had held onto a tiny bit of hope that perhaps this was all a lie concocted by Oliver Lawrence; he certainly has the connections to create such a smoke screen. However, when I voiced my theory to both Stephen and Carol, the poor woman gave me a step by step recount of how Beth’s life had been cut short - the blood, the unconsciousness, the c-section, the blood transfusions, how many times she had crashed – her description has been so vivid. She looked all but destroyed by the end of it.

If that wasn’t enough, she offered to show me the first picture she has taken of Rosalie lying on top of her mother, right after they had tried to save her. She explained she had felt torn about taking such a photograph but wanted to give me the choice of having it to one day show Rosalie. The only picture she would have of her with her mother, as sad as it is. I couldn’t look at it, I couldn’t become like Stephen, keeping death masks under my pillow at night. So, instead, my uncle looked at it for me. He confirmed Carol’s words with just his eyes, just before he sent the picture to his own phone for safe keeping. As for showing Rosalie one day, I have no idea how I feel about that. I guess the decision will be up to her when she is old enough.

“Your mother’s right,” Beth’s mom finally breaks the atmosphere, as well as my painful memories, with her sad words. “Beth’s last thoughts would have been for Rosie. We can’t risk anything happening to her.” She takes a deep, painful inhale of air before she speaks again. “We…we can hold a memorial or something for her. We don’t need her b-body.” She clasps her hand over her mouth and begins to wail into it. Mal pulls her in tightly against his chest, attempting to soothe her while also trying not to break as well.

“There is, at least, some good news,” my uncle continues, coughing awkwardly when all eyes shoot back to him. His last admission didn’t go so well, and I can see how uncomfortable he is by his shuffling around in the corner of the room. “Oliver Lawrence has left the state. This morning. My sources tell me he is relocating to New York, both for personal and professional reasons.”

“Oh, thank God!” My mom sighs in relief, praying toward the ceiling, even though she has never shown any belief in religion. “So, you and Rosie can stay here!”

“No,” I reply rather too bluntly, “Rosie and I are going live at Stephen’s house, if the offer still stands?”

I look straight at him, unable to bear the hurt expressions covering my family’s faces. He simply smiles and nods once in affirmation.

“Please don’t be sad, Mom,” I eventually say as I walk over to take hold of her hands inside of mine, “I just need to do this properly, which means not relying on my mommy anymore. It’s not like I’ll be far. Plus, I’m ready to learn, to take on what Stephen is offering me. You guys understand, right?”

“Of course, we do,” Mom whispers, cupping my cheeks before kissing my forehead.

The relief is euphoric; having made this decision nearly a week ago, I’ve been putting it off for fear of offending them. These people are my pack now. My village to help me raise a daughter who is without a mother.

“We’re so proud of you, Xander!” My dad steps in and rests his large hand over my shoulder, which feels heavy, but in a solid, we’ve-got-your-back, kind of way.

“Will you let me organize the memorial?” Casey suddenly asks, her voice nervous, which is something you would never have accused her of being before now. “I want to do something for Beth, and this is my way. You can all stay here and get to know Rosie before you have to go back to England. Please?”

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