“Me, too,” Avery said, her voice not as loud but equally enthusiastic. “Bigger than a tree.”
“Buildings are bigger than trees,” Kade argued.
“No, they’re not.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What about you, Kate?” Gage asked, politely breaking them up.
Travis’s attention shifted to Kate, who was slowly gathering up snow into a little yellow bucket. She didn’t answer, so Travis walked down the steps to join them.
“Kate?”
She turned her head, clearly not having realized Travis was there. Her brown eyes glistened with what he knew were tears.
“What’s the matter?”
Kate looked at him, then looked at Gage. “I wanna make a snowmommy.”
Travis’s chest tightened and he had to swallow the knot that formed in his throat. He looked at Gage, saw his eyes were glassy, too.
“Then let’s do that. Let’s make a snowmommy,” Travis told her. “What does she look like?”
There was a hitch in her voice when Kate said, “Like Mommy.”
For a second, he thought he might be having a heart attack, his chest constricted so tight, and it was painful to breathe. But Travis pushed through, wanting to support Kate. The therapist she was still seeing had told them the best thing they could do right now was to be supportive, to show her they were there for her.
“What should I do?” Travis offered, hoping to distract her.
“We need more snow,” she decided.
“Here!” Kade hopped over to him, passing off his purple shovel. “You can use mine.”
“You can use mine, too, Daddy-O!” Avery said, giving him her blue shovel.
With one in each hand, Travis squatted down, scooped snow into a pile. Kade and Avery transferred it over, forming it into a ball.
It took some time, but they managed to scrape enough snow from the grass to build a decent-sized snowmommy. And by decent, it topped out at maybe two feet, not quite the building or the tree they’d been going for. When they were finishing up, Kate took off inside, leaving Travis and Gage to stare after her.
“You think she’s all right?” Gage whispered.
“I hope so.” He looked at Gage. “You want to talk to her? Or me?”
Gage passed Maddox over to Travis. “I’ll do—”
Just then, Kate came racing back outside carrying a handful of things. She stopped at Travis’s feet and stared up at them.
“Can we use these?”
Travis smiled through the tears that formed as he saw the sunglasses Kate was holding. They were Kylie’s favorite pair, the ones they’d bought her for her birthday a few years ago. She was also holding a rainbow-colored scarf. Or what was supposed to be a scarf. It had been Kylie’s attempt at knitting, one she’d done with Kate and Avery. Aside from being long and slender, it didn’t much resemble a scarf, more like a scraggly, skinny attempt at a blanket, but he knew Kylie had worn it on occasion because it made the girls happy.
“Perfect,” Gage said. “You wanna put ’em on?”
The kids worked together to get the glasses and scarf situated. Travis focused on breathing as he held Maddox.
“She needs arms,” Kade decided, wading over to the row of bushes along the back porch.
After a couple of minutes of deciding, and after snapping off a dozen or so twigs, he returned holding two, one twice as long as the other. He passed one to Avery before stabbing his into one side of the snow.
“We need to take a picture,” Kate informed him.
“Definitely pictures,” Gage agreed before snapping a few dozen as the kids posed with their attempt at a snowman … or rather, snowmommy, as Kate was referring to it.
Travis didn’t think this was a turning point—not by a long shot—but it was baby steps. And he had to think that one day they might be able to move forward.
As much as it still hurt, Travis knew that they needed this.
*
“It’s gettin’ worse,” Gage told Travis when he joined him in the living room a few hours later.
After their outdoor excursion, they had gathered the kids back inside, warmed them up with hot chocolate and vanilla wafers. Now the kids were doing their own thing, Maddox and Haden having gone down for a nap, Kate, Avery, and Kade working on bead jewelry at the little art table they’d set up in the corner.
“We’re lucky to still have power,” Travis said, motioning to the television.
On the screen, a reporter was talking about thousands being without power and water, urging people to stay home if at all possible. Austin had all but shut down in its attempt to accommodate. The schools that had shifted to virtual learning to keep kids home were now shutting down completely due to the power outages. Businesses were doing the same in an attempt to keep their employees safe.
They’d been lucky that they only had a few guests remaining at the resort, and they’d been able to cancel anyone coming in this week, but because flights had been cancelled in and out of the area, those remaining few were stuck. However, from the updates Gage was getting as they all rotated to manage the place, no one seemed to mind. As long as they maintained power, he figured. If that went out and the generators failed, he doubted the guests would be all that pleasant.
“I moved the buckets of snow into the kitchen,” Gage said. “Figured it might melt that way on its own.”
They had decided they would start melting snow to use for flushing the toilets since the water had gone out completely an hour ago. No one seemed to know when it would come back on.
“I could’ve helped,” Travis said, glancing over at him.
Gage shrugged, as though it was no big deal.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, something that had become the norm for them. The past month had proven painful for everyone as they attempted to come to terms with Kylie being gone. It wasn’t easy, that was for sure. The kids had nightmares, waking up crying for their mother often. Gage wasn’t getting much sleep either, lying in their bed by himself. Part of him understood why Travis couldn’t go in their bedroom. It certainly wasn’t easy, but Gage needed it. Being in there allowed him to remember that connection.
During daylight hours, it was a little easier. The kids had their good days and bad. Taking cues from the therapist, Gage and Travis were suggesting little projects for the kids. Drawing pictures of their favorite memories with their mom, hanging them on the refrigerator. Making craft projects—paper flowers, beaded bracelets—they planned to put on Kylie’s headstone the next time they went to visit.
They were dealing in their own ways.
It was still hard to believe it had been a month since the funeral. It felt like just yesterday. The only difference was it was getting easier to breathe, to make it a few hours without feeling the unbearable pain. Time would heal them, of that he was certain, but he doubted they would ever be whole again.
When it was clear Travis was going to remain glued to the television so he didn’t have to interact, Gage got to his feet.
“I’m gonna make SpaghettiOs for lunch. And I’ll scrounge up some candles just in case.”
Travis nodded. “I was thinkin’ I’d start a fire.”
And that was the extent of their conversation for most of the day. They spent the afternoon coloring with the kids, watching movies, and playing video games. From the outside looking in, it would appear they were a highly functioning family, but Gage knew it was all to keep from thinking about Kylie.