The Last Goodbye

© Copyright 2012 Rebecca L. Masker.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4892-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4894-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-4893-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012913070

Trafford rev. 07/18/2012

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Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

March 2013

HOW COULD A CHANCE ENCOUNTER at a grocery store decide someone’s fate? This and a hundred other questions ran through Amy’s mind as she sat cross legged on the grass, fingering the petals of the flowers she had brought. She always brought flowers; the same kind every time. He had enjoyed working in the garden in his spare time. Though his friends often teased him for this hobby Amy had enjoyed watching him through the kitchen window as he worked. It was one of the things she missed most.

Amy would always remember how innocently it had all started. In the days and weeks following the events of the previous year she would always come back to that; how innocently it had started. She had spent countless hours dissecting everything that had been said, everything that she had done, wondering if she should have seen what was coming from the very beginning.

For the first few months after it happened Amy had been compelled to visit this spot every day. Gradually this tapered off to twice a week and then to once a week. Now she came out once a month, always with flowers, regardless of the weather or what anyone thought. So many people told her that she couldn’t tie herself down like this. They told her she had to move on. Realistically she knew they were right, but it was so much easier said than done and she often wondered what they would think of the same advice if the situation were reversed.

Nolan was the one truly bright spot in her life. And yet even he was both blessing and curse. They looked so much alike and for the first few months after it happened she had found it physically painful to even look at Nolan. Things were better now. At eighteen months old his smile and bright blue eyes could brighten up her day no matter how sad she got and she thanked God for bringing him into her life. The day would come when he would ask questions and she would answer them the best she could, but for the time being she was content in the knowledge that he was too young to be anything but oblivious to what had happened.

She’d had to go to work outside the home, something she hadn’t wanted to do until Nolan was old enough to start school, but bills had to be paid and both she and Nolan had to be fed. Sacrifice was a part of life and, though it had been gut wrenching leaving Nolan at daycare, she had gotten the hang of it and it didn’t bother her quite so badly anymore. She was down to calling the daycare center to check up on him twice a day instead of the five or six times she was calling them the first few weeks after Nolan started going there.

Now, one year later, Amy devoted her life entirely to Nolan and to surviving from one day to the next. She slept, ate, worked, paid bills and spent time with Nolan. That was the extent of her day and, though it was often monotonous with none of the youthful spontaneity she’d once enjoyed, it was also comforting in its familiarity. Nolan needed her to be consistent and she was determined to provide that for him at all costs.

Amy shifted position on the ground, wincing at the pins and needles sensation in her feet and legs from being in the same position for so long. Heaving a heavy sigh she uttered a short prayer and leaned the bouquet of flowers against the stone. Touching the granite she traced the indentations of the engraving with her fingertips, her eyes closed as memories raced unbidden through her head. When a single tear escaped one closed eye Amy brushed it away almost absently, sighed again, and stood up. She stretched first one leg and then the other, trying to encourage blood flow to the limbs again. When she felt sure she could walk again without her legs giving out she kissed her fingertips and pressed them against the cold stone.

I miss you, she whispered. Before the tears could come in earnest Amy turned and walked back to her car, parked at the curb. Before climbing behind the wheel she stopped at the driver’s side door and looked back at the stone, zeroing in on the bright and colorful flowers she’d left behind. As she stood there she said one last thing in the stillness of the day, the three words she spoke every time she visited this place.

I’m so sorry.

Chapter 1

March 2012

IT ALL STARTED ON A Monday, the most innocuous of days. Amy woke that morning to the sound of birds chirping incessantly outside the window of the bedroom she shared with her husband. Sunshine streamed through the partially open curtains and Amy heard Scott groan and grumble in his sleep, yanking a pillow over his head. Her husband was definitely not a morning person.

Amy stretched luxuriously in bed, groaning in relief when she heard her spine crackle. She crawled out from beneath the covers and went to the window, closing the curtains to block some of the sunlight so Scott wouldn’t be disturbed. He could sleep for another two hours before getting up for work.

Amy crept quietly to the room where their son still slept peacefully in his crib. Amy peeked down at him, unable to stop the smile that spread across her face when she saw her little boy sound asleep. She was perfectly convinced that Nolan was the most perfect baby in the world and nothing would ever sway that opinion.

Confident that the baby would stay asleep for a little while longer Amy slipped back into the master bedroom and then into the bathroom. Closing the bathroom door behind her Amy pulled off the long T-shirt she slept in and stepped out of her panties before turning the shower on. As usual it took a few minutes for the water to heat. That was only one of many downfalls that came with living in an old house.

When the water was finally hot enough Amy stepped into the tub, angling her face towards the spray and letting the warm water wash over her, making her feel wide awake and refreshed. Using a sponge she quickly soaped her skin and then rinsed. She washed and rinsed her hair before adding a leave in conditioner.

By the time she was finished the water had begun to cool a little bit and Amy shivered as she turned the water off. Wrapping a towel around herself she stepped out of the tub and went to the sink. Reaching for her blow dryer she plugged it in and turned it on low, drying her hair in quick, practiced moves.

When her hair was dry she reached for a bottle of moisturizing lotion, squeezed a small amount into her hand, and applied it to her arms, legs, neck and chest. Turning off the bathroom light Amy slipped quietly back into the bedroom. Scott was still out like a light. He had rolled over so he was half on his side of the bed and half on hers, his arms wrapped around one of her pillows.

Smiling softly Amy went to the dresser and pulled out panties and a bra. She closed the drawer quietly then went to the closet to find something to wear. Removing the towel she’d wrapped around herself Amy dropped it into the dirty laundry basket. She dressed quickly in faded jeans and a short sleeve blouse. Sneaking a quick peek in the mirror above the dresser she ran her fingers through her hair, the soft blonde waves falling past her shoulders. Satisfied with how she looked Amy glanced over at Scott again, but he hadn’t so much as stirred as she got dressed. Amy quietly opened the bedroom door, slipped out into the hall, and closed the door softly behind her.

She crossed the hall to her son’s room again and broke into a wide smile when she saw the baby standing unsteadily at the bars of his crib. In his excitement at seeing his mother Nolan lost his balance and landed on his bottom in the crib. Amy laughed as she watched him struggle back to his feet, the smile never leaving his face. Nolan was always such a happy baby and, as she always did when looking at him, Amy felt incredibly blessed to be his mother.

Good morning, sweetie, she said and was rewarded with happy babbling from her son.

Reaching into the crib Amy lifted Nolan into her arms and adjusted him so his bottom was supported by her arm; his decidedly damp bottom. With Nolan still in her arms Amy went to the dresser and removed a short sleeve bodysuit with snaps. Closing the drawer Amy carried Nolan to the changing table and laid him down. Keeping one hand firmly on his chest she reached for a clean diaper, diaper wipes and powder. Nolan was at a very mobile stage and Amy had learned the hard way not to let her attention waver for even a second when he was on the changing table. It had been almost a week since Nolan had accidentally rolled off the changing table, but the memory still haunted Amy.

Nolan’s arms and legs kicked furiously as Amy removed his wet sleeper and then his soaked diaper, dropping the soiled diaper into the pail she kept beside Nolan’s changing table. She cleaned him carefully, added a touch of powder, and put a fresh diaper on him. Putting on his snapped shirt was a lot harder. Those flailing arms and legs made dressing difficult. But Amy was patient and finally she managed to get the shirt over his head and his arms through the holes. She snapped him up and then lifted him into her arms again. As she always did first thing in the morning she breathed deeply, savoring the smell of baby powder and milk that always seemed to be strongest in the morning. The strength and intensity of her love for Nolan was sometimes a bit frightening, but she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

With Nolan in her arms, snuggled comfortably against her hip, Amy carried him out of his room and into the kitchen. Nolan was looking around curiously, as he did every morning, and Amy knew he was looking for Scott. Amy savored the close bond her husband and son shared; it warmed her to see the two of them together and she looked forward to all the father-son things they would do when Nolan was older. When Nolan couldn’t see his father he let his disapproval be known in a stream of unhappy babbling.

Daddy’s still sleeping, sweetie. You’ll see him before he goes to work. The familiar and lilting sound of Amy’s voice was enough to distract Nolan and within seconds he was back to his usual, bubbly little self.

Nolan protested briefly when Amy strapped him securely in his high chair. He was growing more and more independent by the day and he didn’t like when he couldn’t explore his surroundings.

Are you hungry, sweetie? Is Nolan hungry?"

Amy listened to Nolan’s happy babbling as she made up a bottle for him. For the last few weeks she had been slowly weaning him off of breast milk and introducing formula. He was still receiving half breast milk and half formula and the change didn’t seem to be bothering him in the slightest.

While Nolan drank from his heated bottle she fixed him a bowl of brown rice cereal. Nolan was still getting accustomed to solid foods. The brown rice cereal was one she hadn’t tried with him yet and she was curious about how he’d react. In addition to the cereal she also scoured the refrigerator for a few seconds before choosing a container of pureed peaches, one of the fruits she knew Nolan really enjoyed.

Grabbing a spoon from one drawer and a bib from another Amy sat down in the seat nearest Nolan’s high chair. He fussed a little when she fastened the bib around his neck but when he noticed the food she had with her he started licking his lips and bouncing in the seat.

You’re going to try something new today, Nolan, Amy said.

Amy loaded the spoon with a little bit of the brown rice cereal, testing it on her own lips to see if it was too hot. Deeming it warm but not hot enough to burn Amy offered the spoon to Nolan. He stared at it for a few seconds before opening his mouth and accepting the spoon.

The first bite of the brown rice cereal didn’t go over well. Nolan promptly spit it out as soon as it touched his tongue. Patiently Amy tried again with the same result. On the third try Nolan rolled the cereal around in his mouth for a second before swallowing. When he opened his mouth eagerly for another spoonful Amy laughed.

Good boy, Nolan! she exclaimed, pleased that he was accepting another new food. Such a big boy!

Amy fed Nolan his breakfast, alternating between the cereal and the peaches to give him a little variety. When he had enough he let her know the way he always did; turning his head when she tried to offer him the spoon.

Putting the lid back on the plastic container of peaches Amy put it aside to replace in the refrigerator for later. Using the bib around Nolan’s neck she wiped his face, ignoring his protesting cries, and then removed the bib to put in the dirty laundry later. Nolan squirmed