Page 50 of Beside the Rolling Waves
Mr. Carson came over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Would you like to ride along while we take your sister to the cemetery?”
She wanted to say yes, and she looked over at Rodney, who had both babies in his arms and was bouncing them.
They had gotten fussy during the service, but she barely noticed, and she certainly hadn’t offered to help. She felt bad now, but he looked more than capable.
She lifted her brows. He couldn’t have had any idea what she was asking, but he nodded his head. As though to tell her that whatever she needed to do, he had the babies and he was good. She didn’t need to worry about it.
She looked at Mr. Carson. “Please. I’d appreciate that.” Not only did she want to, but it would get her away from all of these people. They meant well, they truly did, and she appreciated the fact that they were here, showing support, paying respect to her sister, and it was gratifying to know that so many people cared. But she wanted to be alone. She needed to be alone.
Mr. Carson put a hand on her back and guided her down the aisle.
She hadn’t been to too many funerals, and she wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen after this. Maybe a meal? She hadn’t even thought about a meal. Maybe the next funeral she planned she could remember that, and then she almost choked on her laughter. She couldn’t laugh at the end of her sister’s funeral. She didn’t want to ever, ever have to plan another funeral.
If she and Rodney got together, she might have to plan his eventually.
That wasn’t a reason to avoid getting together with someone, was it? Because one wanted to avoid planning any more funerals in their lifetime?
She wasn’t sure. It seemed like a pretty legitimate reason to her. But the idea of telling Rodney that she never wanted to see him again was…too hard. She had eighteen years. He’d be around for eighteen years, he had said. She could count on that.
With that thought, she walked out into the cold, late February day and got in the passenger seat of the hearse as Mr. Carson held the door for her.
She was going to say goodbye to her sister. And she was going to do it alone.
Twenty-One
It was another late night as Rodney pulled into the parking lot of Rita’s apartment. He had expected it to be, and Becky had again fallen asleep. It was like the night they had come home from looking at the house. Only this time, he left the car running and tried not to wake her as he got the babies up, carefully unhooking them and carrying them in. Neither one of them were awake either. He set them down softly.
He had both babies in, and he wondered what to do with Becky.
Just let her sleep in the car? Should he wake her up?
Or should he try to carry her?
He had been a regular at the gym a few weeks ago before his life imploded. He didn’t mean imploded. Imploded implied something bad. He felt like his life had taken a turn for the better, but it had changed abruptly, and he hardly recognized any of what it was like now, compared to what it had been.
Suffice it to say, he hadn’t been to the gym in several weeks, but Becky had always been small, and that hadn’t changed. So, while he thought she would probably prefer that he not carry her in and just wake her up, he decided that he was going to try.
He opened her door softly and reached over, shutting the car off and unbuckling her belt at the same time.
She stirred a little, and he murmured, “I’m going to carry you in. We’re home.”
“Huh?” she said sleepily.
“I’m putting my arms under your legs and around your shoulders. If you can hold onto me, that would be helpful.”
“Rodney?” she asked, softly, like she didn’t know where she was or who he was.
“Yeah. It’s me. I’m going to carry you into the house. It’s okay. The babies are already in there.”
“We’re home?” she asked, sounding confused.
“Yes. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
“I know. I’m always safe with you.” She snuggled deeper into his arms as he straightened and closed the door. He felt her warm breath on his neck and wished the apartment was a mile away so he could hold her that long.
But by the time he got up the steps and maneuvered her in the door, he thought that a mile might have been a touch too much.
Still, he could make it to the couch and sit down with her.
