Page 126 of Nineteen Letters
“What are you doing here?”
“I … umm … spent the night. I hope you’re okay with that.” He takes a few steps towards me. “I took your mother out for dinner yesterday, and …”
I hold my hands in the air as I close the distance between us, before wrapping my arms around him; I don’t need details. “I’m more than okay with it,” I say. “I’m so happy to see you here.”
“I’m happy to be here … you have no idea how much. We have you to thank for giving us the push we both needed.”
“I would have been okay having you both talking again, but this …” I draw back from him and wipe my eyes.
“I know, pumpkin … I know.”
“You look ridiculous in that robe, by the way.”
He clears his throat, and I laugh when he tries to adjust the front of it. “I wanted to make your mum a cup of coffee. I used to take one into her every morning when I lived here.”
“Maybe you need to bring your own robe with you next time … this one is way too small for you and pink isn’t your colour.”
He chuckles as he leans forward, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. “That’s a good idea.”
When Braxton picks me up later, he can’t believe my father spent the night, but he is just as happy about it as I am. As we leave, my parents are making plans to spend the day together.
My high from yesterday continues, and over the next few hours, my cheeks ache from smiling so much. My family is well on its way to becoming an actual family once more. The best part is, they feel like a family to me now.
Although I still have no memory of my past life with them, in my heart, they belong to me, and I belong to them. That empty feeling of not belonging that I felt when I first woke from my coma seems a distant memory now.
“That smells and looks delicious,” John says as I place his dinner down in front of him. I roasted pork today. “It reminds me of the Sunday roasts my Grace used to make.”
Today’s a good day for him memory wise, which only heightens my good mood. I move around to Braxton next, placing his plate down in front of him. “I gave you extra crackling, since I know how much you love it.”
His eyes widen as he looks up at me. “You remember that?”
I don’t know.
Did he tell me that, or do I remember?
I can’t answer that honestly. It wasn’t mentioned in the letters because I know them off by heart.
“I must,” I say with a shrug. I don’t have an actual memory of it; it’s just something that felt familiar as I dished up his dinner.
The hopeful smile I see on Braxton’s face as he reaches for my hand tugs at my heart. I’m not sure if my memory will ever return, but I’ll never stop hoping.
John appears to enjoy his day with us, but as the afternoon wears on, he becomes tired and confused, so we take him backto the nursing home around seven. We stay for a while until he’s settled.
Today, as I observed Braxton fussing over him, trying to make him as comfortable as possible, I could tell how much he loved having his father at the house. It warms my heart to watch them together.
He did the same thing when we arrived here. After helping his father change into his pyjamas, he got him seated on the recliner and covered him with a blanket before scanning through the television channels for something suitable for him to watch. He’s a great son and an exceptional human being.
My father’s car is in the driveway when we pull up outside Christine’s. It brings an instant smile to my face. I glance over at Braxton, and I see him smiling as well.
“Do you want to come in and say hello?” I ask.
“Maybe another time.”
“Okay.” I try to mask my disappointment as I remove my seatbelt. I think it’s more that my time with him has ended, rather than him not wanting to see my parents.
He removes his seatbelt, reaching for me. “Let them have their time together. This is all new to them … kind of like us. Who knows, he may even move back in.”
“I hope so.”
