Angel Smits - A Family for Tyler

“Looks like we’re all here.” DJ spoke first, rubbing his hand over his military buzz cut as if even after two years, he still wasn’t used to it.

“I guess we should have brought lunch.” Tara’s voice sounded too much like Mom’s. They all smiled, missing the woman they’d said a permanent goodbye to only a few hours ago.

The laughter and tears mingled. The sunglasses came off and the healing began.

“Mom loved this room.” Tara stood and went to the cupboard. The coffee, sugar and creamer were just where Mom had always kept them. She started a pot and plunked the containers on the table.

“We all did,” Wyatt agreed, walking to the silverware drawer where he pulled out five spoons. Wyatt didn’t need one. He took his coffee black.

As the coffee brewed and they fixed their cups, they talked. Voices overlapped and memories entwined. Even Jason relaxed, pulling off his jacket and rolling up his pristine shirtsleeves. Mandy’s heels fell to the floor in a mangled heap of leather. “This feels right,” she said as she rubbed her toes.

Addie smiled sadly. “Mom would have liked this—us all here together.”

Wyatt silently leaned on the counter as Addie’s words jabbed at his heart. She was right. If only they’d taken more time when Mom was alive. Sipping his coffee, he took in the view. Normally this group was a rowdy, teasing, rambunctious bunch. Today, rightfully so, they were quiet. He missed them all, missed who they were. Not just because Mom was gone, and they’d just come from the cemetery...but because they were all scattered across the country and he didn’t see them often. Who knew when, or if, they’d ever be together again.

Addie was the only one who still lived in Austin. But the wear and tear of caring for Mom as she’d battled cancer showed on Addie’s face. He set his cup down and reached out to rub her shoulders.

She’d filled her coffee cup first yet it was the fullest. Not because she’d been doing most of the talking, either. He watched her, feeling the tension in her shoulders, noting the circles beneath her eyes. She’d been Mom’s caregiver clear up until the end. He’d helped when he could, driving in every weekend to give her a break, but the ranch was a full-time operation two hours away, never mind that he hadn’t known what to do. The toll that the past few months had taken showed in the lines around Addie’s eyes.

She turned her cup around, the ceramic making a soft grinding sound against the old wood. She turned it again. And yet a third time. He knew, without being told, that she was formulating what to say. He almost held his breath waiting for her.

“Those last couple days,” she began.

Wyatt reached out, as if subconsciously thinking he could stop her. Then he had to stop himself. She needed to say this.

She took a deep breath and started again. “The social worker at the hospice called it life review,” she whispered. “Mom talked about her childhood. I learned a lot about her family. Stories I’d never heard before.” She didn’t go into those stories, but he saw everyone perk up, hoping, like him, that she would.

The silence grew and for a minute Wyatt thought maybe Addie had decided not to go on. Tara spoke up first. “What kinds of things did she talk about?”

Tara looked ready to break. The youngest, she’d always been coddled by them. While that babying hadn’t necessarily been the best for encouraging Tara to grow up, the old habits helped Addie regroup. She shook off the trance and faintly smiled at Tara.

“Lots of things. I...I started writing them down. I’ll get them together for you all. But I think there’s one story you should hear now.” Addie took a deep breath. “About a week ago, we were sitting out on that big old porch. The orderly, William, you all met him?” She looked around and they all nodded. He was a big man with a gentle touch. “He carried her out there, all wrapped up in that quilt Aunt Bess gave her. We sat out on the swing.”

Addie cleared her throat and took a deep swallow of her obviously cooled coffee. Everyone waited. “She told me about when she met Daddy.”

Wyatt smiled. He’d always thought it was strange that his sisters, well into their adult years, still referred to their father as Daddy. Now he appreciated the affection that went with the moniker.

“I’d never heard her talk about that,” Addie continued. “Did you know he used to drive a cattle truck out to her dad’s ranch? Out where you live, Wyatt. He’d come out every week, just about the time she was getting off school. He’d pick her up and drive her the rest of the way home.”

Jason chuckled, the lawyer in him coming out. “Nowadays he’d get arrested, not marry her.”

Mandy laughed and swatted Jason’s arm. “You are so not a romantic. He was what, two years older than her? He had to have been only eighteen.”

Jason had the smarts to laugh at himself. “Go on, Add, tell us the rest.”

“Seems Gramps didn’t like him much. But Daddy’s father paid the best for the stock. Daddy was actually bribing him to let him see Mom.” Addie genuinely smiled. “I had no idea they snuck off and eloped the day after she graduated.”

“No, they didn’t,” Mandy protested. “What about all those wedding pictures?” The book was still upstairs, Wyatt knew. Addie was taking it with her. He’d helped her find it and wrap it up just this morning.

“They had the formal wedding the next summer, once Gramps cooled off.”

“Wow.” DJ got up to refill his cup. Shaking his head, he turned his back on them, looking out the kitchen window over the yard. “There’s so much we’ll never know about her.” His sadness filled the room.

“Maybe.” Addie turned in her chair and met Wyatt’s gaze. He nodded and moved closer to their youngest brother. The man was a soldier to the rest of the world, but here, he was the little boy they’d all patched up a million times.

“We all have our secrets, Deej. It’s not a bad thing,” Addie said.

DJ met Wyatt’s gaze. The soldier was back and Wyatt immediately missed the boy. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Addie stood, too, dumping her cold coffee down the drain. “Mom had a wonderful life, and she gave us all an amazing home.”

Addie took her gaze from him and looked over her shoulder at the others. Finally, Addie’s composure fled. Her shoulders drooped and Wyatt did as he always did; he tried to fix things by pulling her into a reassuring hug.

“I only hope I can be as good of a mom if I have kids someday,” she said.

Silence, punctuated by only a few soft sniffles, filled the room. Finally, Addie moved away and Wyatt felt cast adrift. He vaguely wondered who’d been comforting whom. As he settled back in his seat, Addie reached into her purse and took out several folded sheets of paper. She slowly handed them out.

“Mom divided everything. Here are your lists. All we have to decide on is this.” She ran a loving hand along the edge of the huge, old table.

They each looked down at the chair they were sitting in. Not a single eye was dry. Wyatt found himself caressing the chair’s arms, just as their father used to do so long ago. Mandy turned and ran a finger over the curved wooden back.

“Can... Do we have to... I mean...” Tara hiccuped and her words faded. Silence reigned for an entire moment. Then pandemonium broke loose.

“I want it.”

“Me, too. But I don’t have room right now.”

“I can’t imagine being without it.”

Wyatt listened as their voices mingled and no one seemed to fully hear what the others said. Finally, he stood, an idea forming. He whistled to get their attention. “I know what we can do.”

“What?” Addie looked at him, hope and a bit of panic in her eyes.