“And we can put on a dance show for you and Gray.” Her eyes light up. “You can be the band and play a song on your guitar for us to dance to!”
I chuckle. “That sounds like it’s going to be the best dance show ever.”
She nods, her red curls bouncing around her shoulders. “It will be! The best one anyone’s ever seen!”
“All right, beauty,” I announce once she’s finished brushing Crissy’s hair. “It’s time to hit the sack. I think I just saw Crissy yawn. She must be pretty tired after all the fun she had with you and Aubree today.”
She giggles and flips her doll around to look at her face, as if trying to catch her yawning. “You’re silly, Daddy.”
Darting my hands out, I tickle her ribs. “But you love silly Daddy.” Her girlish giggle fills the room.
After our tickle fest, she climbs onto my lap and wraps her tiny arms around my neck, putting her face close to mine.
“I do love it when you’re silly Daddy. I love you all the time.”
I hug her to me and kiss her cheek. “And I love you all of the time too, beauty.”
A few minutes later, Gemma is tucked into bed with Crissy lying on the pillow beside her head. Mr. Cuddles lays on her other side.
“Goodnight, baby. I’ll see you in the morning. Momma will come in a few minutes to say goodnight.”
“Okay. Night, Daddy.”
I flip off the light and pull her door shut until it’s opened only a couple of inches. With a smile, I walk toward Gray’s room. Every night Molly and I go from one room to the other, saying goodnight to the kids. It’s been our thing since the moment we brought each of them home from the hospital.
Hearing soft murmurs, I stop just outside Gray’s door.
“I’m so sorry about what happened earlier, Gray,” Molly says, her voice sounding so small it almost comes out childish.
“It’s okay, Momma.”
There’s some rustling, and Molly speaks again. “It’s not okay, baby. I know that had to have hurt. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you or Gemma.”
I lift my hand and rub at the ache forming in my chest.
“I know,” Gray answers softly. “But you didn’t mean to. You and Daddy said you might forget things.” He pauses, and his next words break my fucking heart. “Are you going to forget about me and Gemma?”
“Oh, Gray,” Molly cries softly. Hearing movement, I know she’s got her arms wrapped around our son. “I don’t know. But I promise if that ever happens, don’t ever forget I love you. I will always, always love you and Gemma. No matter what happens.”
Leaning my head back against the wall, I close my eyes, just as the first tear falls.
Chapter Sixteen
MOLLY
Dear Linc,
Is it normal to feel guilty for not writing in this journal for several days? I swore when I was a child and first started writing down my thoughts, I would only fill my journals with happy things. I fear now, with the path my life has taken, I may not have many happy things to write down. Yes, I still have my family, and I love and enjoy every second I have with them, but even when I’m with them, my happiness is overshadowed with reality. I’m going to die. I’m going to leave my kids and husband behind. They are going to suffer because of it. And if I do manage to forget about being sick for a few moments, I’m instantly reminded of it when I stumble or my speech slurs or I forget something important. It’s been a little over a month since that fateful day in the doctor’s office, and already my symptoms are worsening. My legs have been stiffening more often, and it lasts longer. I can feel my mind slowly deteriorating as well. The worst being when I forgot Gray’s friend, Andrea, a couple of weeks ago. I hated myself for putting Gray through that. There’s only been a few other minor instances in front of Lincoln or the kids, but it’s happened more often than they realize. I don’t want them to worry any more than necessary, so they only know about the times they’ve witnessed. I don’t think I’ll be able to hide how bad it’s getting for much longer, though.
A week later, I sigh and drop my journal and pen to my lap. Closing my eyes, I pull a deep breath of air into my lungs and let it out slowly. Writing in my journal has always brought me peace, but I’m finding it more and more difficult to find that peace lately. I don’t write my thoughts down because I need an outlet to release thoughts I can’t verbalize out loud. I write them down because I enjoy doing so. I like seeing the things I love on paper. Up until a few weeks ago, my life was full and perfect. Now it’s dark and dreary. I know my words will be read one day, and I don’t want the reader to see my depressive thoughts. Not when I’m still the luckiest woman in the world to have a wonderful and attentive husband and two beautiful children. My illness should not take away the little bit of happiness I have left to live. Rereading what I wrote today makes me sound ungrateful.
I’m tempted to rip the page out and toss it, but decide to leave it for now.
I’m reaching for Anna’s journal to read a few entries when Gemma comes barreling into the room.
“Mom! Mom!” She stops right in front of me, her little chest pumping up and down as she tries to catch her breath.
“My goodness. What has you out of breath?”
She grabs my hand and tugs. “Come on! We’re going to go get some ice cream! Then we’re gonna go to the beach!”
With a laugh, I get up from the couch before she pulls my shoulder out of its joint. “And whose idea was this?”
“Daddy’s.”
I let her lead me out of the room, my mood suddenly lifting at seeing the joy on her face. If there’s anything that can pull me out of my depressive thoughts, it’s seeing my kids happy. We find Gray and Lincoln waiting for us by the door.
“Ice cream, huh?” I ask, walking up to Lincoln.
He bends down for a quick kiss. “Yep. I’ve suddenly got a craving for it.”
Seeing the exhilaration on Gemma’s face as she babbles to Gray about what new flavor she’s going to try, I turn back to Lincoln. “You know, I’ve suddenly got a craving too.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re pulling into the parking lot of Grumpy’s. It’s a small, hole in the wall place, but their ice cream selection is extensive. Almost every flavor of ice cream you can think of, they have it.
Gemma settles on a Lucky Charms flavor, Gray chooses the buttery popcorn, Lincoln goes with his usual chocolate swirl, and I pick a strawberry pretzel cheesecake combination. We take our cones and decide to sit at one of the picnic tables.
“How does yours taste, Gemma?” Gray asks.
“Really good. You wanna try?”
They lean over the table toward each other, and Gray takes a big bite. “That is good.” He holds his out to Gemma. “Wanna try some of mine?”
“Duh.” She giggles. “You know I do.”
I laugh. They always try each other’s ice creams.
“You wanna try mine, Momma?”
“It does look pretty yummy.”
Leaning over, I take a bite. The cold sweetness hits my tongue and it immediately reminds me of the sugary marshmallow cereal. “Mmm…. Yummy.”