Two weeks. That meant he’d be off island for their golden birthday.
The pain of that realization was matched only by the knowledge that it was time to let Louisa go.
Cody took an Uber to his mother’s apartment in a small suburb outside of Chicago. Marley had moved out for college, and after graduation she found her own place downtown with friends. While he had two weeks off, he didn’t plan to spend them with his mom. He was only here to give her the check.
And maybe also to gauge her anger level.
He knocked on the door and waited until she opened it. Her eyes lit up like she hadn’t just seen him a week and a half ago, and she pulled him in for a hug, one it seemed she needed.
“Look at you,” she said. “I made spaghetti and meatballs—your favorite.”
The scent of garlic and oregano struck him as he walked through the door. He inhaled a deep breath. “It smells amazing.”
She glided back into the kitchen, removed the lid from a pot on the stove, and stirred the contents with a wooden spoon. “Flight was good?”
Cody dropped his bag on the floor by the door and took out the white envelope. “Everything’s good, Ma.”
“Great.” She looked up with a smile, which quickly faded when she met his eyes. “Then why are you here? You hardly ever get leave.”
He slid the envelope across the counter.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
She covered the pot and did as he said, eyes widening as she saw what was inside. “What on earth?”
“It’s what Maggie left us,” Cody said. “That’s what her lawyer wanted me to give you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She was rich,” he said. “Because of Dad.”
His mom frowned.
“After Warren lost Maggie’s money, Dad repaid it—but he invested it, the way Warren was supposed to.”
Her frown deepened.
“I know it’s easy to think that Dad took care of everyone else but us, but I don’t think that was it. I think he had a plan to take care of us, too—it just got interrupted the night he died.”
His mother’s body went rigid.
Cody had been thinking about it for days now—his father’s choices and how they impacted their lives. It would be easy to be angry or bitter, but that wasn’t what his father would’ve wanted. It wasn’t how he’d lived his life.
“Dad loved Warren and JoEllen,” Cody said. “And he loved Maggie.”
His mother stood, unmoving, like a statue.
“He loved them enough to take care of them, to sacrifice for them. It’s rare, that kind of love. Remember? He called it ‘Jesus love.’”
The phrase had come to him on the plane, inside a fresh memory of his father leaving on Christmas Day to bring dinner to a single mom from their church. Cody remembered being so sad that his dad was leaving, but his father knelt down and explained, “This is how we show the world what real love looks like, Son. For some people, all they see is sadness and anger and negativity. If we can shine a little light in their lives, shouldn’t we do that?”
Cody nodded.
“You know I’m coming home as soon as I can. Those kids can’t say the same about their dad.”
“I know.” His father hugged him. When he stepped away, he tugged his coat off the hanger by the door and Cody stopped him.
“Dad? Can I come with you?”
His father glanced over at his mother, and something passed between them—something Cody didn’t recognize.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Dad finally said.
They drove in silence to an old house on the other side of town. They pulled containers of food from the trunk and walked up to the woman’s door, where they were met by four small children. The mom appeared in the back of the house, baby on her hip. She instantly burst into tears.
Cody could still smell the musty stench of the house. He could see the dust in the corners and the dirty dishes in the sink. The woman asked Cody and his father to join them for dinner, but they were careful not to eat too much of the food—they wanted the family to have leftovers. Cody felt awkward and out of place, even though one of the boys was right around the same age he was.
As they left, the woman thanked them through a stifled sob.
Cody ran to the car and grabbed the new remote-control truck he’d gotten for Christmas. It was the only thing he really cared about, and he hadn’t been a bit surprised to find it under the tree. He’d never doubted that he would.
He rushed back to the house and knocked on the door. The little boy, the one who was about his age, pulled it open, and Cody handed him the truck. “Merry Christmas.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “I get to keep it?”
Cody nodded. “It’s for you.”
His face lit up. “Cool! Thanks!”
Cody turned and saw his dad standing by the car, waiting for him. While he knew his dad was proud of him, it wasn’t his father’s approval that warmed him from the inside that day—it was the way the other boy’s happiness made him feel.
The memory had come, unwanted, on the flight, but it stuck with him. How long had it been since he’d shown anyone that same kind of love? How long had it been since he stopped wallowing in his own pain and started focusing on how he could make other people happy? Even Louisa—whom he loved more than anyone—hadn’t received that from him. He’d withdrawn his love from her the moment it got hard.
It shamed him to think of it now.
“Love without condition,” Cody said. “Dad taught me that. His sacrifice to save my life nearly killed me in a lot of ways, but I know he’d do it again if he had the choice. That was how he chose to live. We haven’t been living that way. We’ve been living angry.”
His mother stiffened again. “You know how hard this has been.”
“I do,” he said. “And I know that we made it. We’re still okay.”
She set the check on the counter. “This doesn’t change anything. Maggie’s generosity is appreciated, but it can’t bring him back.”
“I don’t think she was hoping to replace Dad.” Cody could feel his own frustration brewing. “She just wanted to help.”
“Why didn’t she help twelve years ago?” She was crying now, and he realized it was the first time he’d ever seen her cry over his father’s death. Her stone-faced exterior was one of anger and bitterness, but it only masked a deeper pain, one she didn’t allow herself to process.
Maybe he’d adopted some of her defense mechanisms. Maybe this was why he found it easier to push people away. Maybe the fear of feeling that pain was so overwhelming they’d both built walls around themselves to stay safe. Walls constructed out of bricks of anger.
His father wouldn’t want them to live there another day.
“Mom?”
She met his eyes.
“This terrible thing happened. Our family was torn apart, completely shredded. And you still kept us together.”
She scoffed. “I don’t feel put together at all.”
“But you are. You did it.”
“Do you think that makes everything okay? Do you think what Warren did was okay?”