Page 12 of My Heart Before You

“They’re letters for your future.” His mother’s fragile voice came out more as a sigh. “I have been writing to you since . . .”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence; he knew what she meant.

His mother took a deep breath from under her oxygen mask. “My sweet, sweet boy, I love you more than you will ever know.” She attempted to raise her hand, but it was already ensconced inside his own. “I wish . . . I wish I could be there. I wish I could see everything.”

He didn’t dare say anything, not wanting to interrupt her when speaking was already so hard for her, but as she took another breath, he stole the moment.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as his words choked out of his mouth. “I love you too, Mom. I love you so much. I’m going to miss you so much. I already miss you.”

A little cough tightened her hand in his. “I know. I miss you too.”

She took a long time to swallow before continuing. “Read these as you grow and know that as you become the wonderful man you’ve already shown me you are, I’m there for you every step of the way in spirit and here in my words. I will always be with you, now and forever.”

He lay his head over their hands. The pain radiating through his body was so pronounced and profound, he doubted it would ever go away.

“I want you to keep laughing, okay?” Her other hand softly rubbed the hair at his neck. “I want you to laugh with your dad, and I want you two to take care of each other. He will take care of you. Will you take care of him?”

Colin lifted his face and wiped his tears with one hand, keeping the other firmly over his mother’s. “I will take care of Dad.”

A relieved smile stretched across her sunken face. One of the hospice nurses had put her in her favorite blue nightgown with a daisy flowered scarf upon her head. Even with all the disease ravaging her body, to him, she still looked beautiful.

“Good. Now, please get your father for me.”

He stood in the hall while she talked to his father until he heard his name called. As Coin reentered the room, he could see how tired she was.

“My boys.” Her lips lifted once before she closed her eyes. “I’d like some fresh air, please. Fresh air can cure anything.”

He and his father opened all the windows to the house and let the oppressive, humid southern summer air enter. They sat for hours listening to the sounds of life: insects buzzing, birdsong, the metallic scream of lawn mowers, cars driving past, kids shrieking with joy jumping into a neighbor's pool, and the sounds of death: the raspy last breaths of the most beloved woman in their lives, their own tears, and the whimper of their hearts breaking. As twilight approached, his mother took her last breath in this world.

Colin missed his mother every day, but had long since learned to live with her loss. Reading these letters always made her seem closer, though there were still a few milestones he hadn’t passed. He picked up the envelope labeledWhen your father passesand turned it over.

Heat flared in his chest as his skin flushed with thousands of pin pricks. His father’s death could have been prevented. Itshouldhave been prevented. Exhaling deeply through his nose was ineffectual against the firm set of his jaw and teeth. Carefully, he placed the envelope back into the box and shut the lid before his hands fisted.

There was so much he expected his father to be there for—all the things his mother wrote letters for because she couldn’t be. Quick strides took him to his bedroom to find his running shoes before jerky, hard movements tightened the laces to his feet. At least now he knew what to do with his morning. He flung open the door to his condo and raced down the stairs to pound the road for a long, hard run.

?Chapter 5?

Slapping the nightstand aimlessly, Emilie searched for her ringing phone. When she finally found it, her sleep-crusted eyes glimpsed Analie’s face on the screen before swiping to answer the call.

“Whhhhhyyyyy?”

“Good morning to you too,” her sister clipped.

It sounded like she was outside, walking briskly by the click of her heels, probably on campus.

“Analie.” She drew out the whiny version of her sister’s name as she’d done every time she was annoyed with her since she’d learned to speak. “It’s my day off.”

As mature as it was to be acting like a sulking teenager at thirty-three, her sister sometimes brought out old habits.

“And you have an appointment in Cambridge in an hour, if I recall.” Even though Analie was only a minute older, she’d always been the boss of the two of them, which was usually fine. Sometimes, however, her twin pushed that one minute advantage too far and teetered into mother territory.

Emilie pulled the phone away from her ear and saw the timestamp in the upper right corner read 8:02am. “My alarm was set for 8:10. You just cost me eight minutes of precious sleep.”

“You and your sleep.”

“Mosthumansneed it.”

A puff of air was her sister’s response.

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