Five Years Later
Mercy died less than a year after she wrote the note for me. She wasn’t wrong; she didn’t have much time left. In fact, before the month was even up, she was bound to a wheelchair, her muscles so broken down she could no longer hold herself up. The doctors had no idea what was happening to her. It was as if her body was rejecting life, giving up.
And give up it finally did.
Our relationship didn’t go out without a reconciliation, though. In the months that followed after I begged for guardianship of the kids, we worked on our relationship. It was never easy, but we didn’t make it all that hard either. In the end, Mercy parted with this world on a good note with me and the kids. I even grew to love her in my own way.
After her death, we found out something that was life changing: she left us the house with only six payments left to be made. To say we were stunned is an understatement. I had no idea when Mercy did this, but I like to think it was before she agreed to give me my guardianship. I like to think she always wanted us to stay together.
So, Haley and I packed up our small apartment and moved into the old house on the corner, one that held sad memories for me and none for her.
Then, we created new ones.
The kids attached themselves to Haley almost instantly. They adored her, and so did I. Even five years later, every time I watch them together, my heart speeds up a little.
It took all of us some time to get a rhythm flowing that worked for everyone. Gia needed us to be hands-off, the twins hands-on, and Graham needed something right in the middle. We learned quickly that parenting one child a certain way does not always translate well to another child. Even with Haley’s experience with kids, it was a challenge, but we made it work.
Gia’s in college now and the twins are right behind her, scheduled to start this fall. It’s hard to believe that at thirty I have three “kids” in college. Graham’s the only one left at home, and he’s officially a teenager. Basically, the fun starts all over again with him.
Aside from finally being able to build solid relationships with my siblings, my favorite part of the last five years has been Haley. Our marriage may have seemed hasty to most, but I still stand by my vows today. Nothing’s changed there. If anything, we’re more in love now than we were back when the Vegas lights set our hearts afire. Don’t get me wrong—we haven’t had a perfect marriage. It’s been a struggle to map out our own relationship in the midst of raising four kids, but just like everything else, we make it work.
I run my hand over Haley’s head, trying to calm her cries.
“This is horrible, Gaige. I can’t believe you got me into this mess.”
“Hey, it takes two to tango, Nikki.”
She grins at my nickname for her, something that’s stuck after all these years. Her quick moment of happiness turns to pain as the contractions take over again.
“Why in the shit did we do this!”
“Because we’re absolutely insane.”
“It fucking hurts!”
“I know, baby, I know it does, but you’re almost done.”
“I’m with him,” the doctor interrupts. “I just need two more good pushes. You can do this, Haley.”
My beautiful wife starts sobbing. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to…” She drifts off, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Haley. Baby, come on. Hales. HALEY!”
Then my entire world falls apart.
I watched the birth of my only biological daughter through a glass-paned window, having to endure seeing my wife lie there lifeless on the operating table.
During those last two pushes, Haley stopped responding. They said she passed out from the pain and panic of it all. She ended up having to have a C-section, and once that began, I freaked. The doctors deemed me too “unstable” for the room and I was forced to leave. When everything was said and done, I wasn’t surprised by her reaction, or mine. She’d been in a state of dread since we found out she was pregnant. We were terrified everything would fall out from under us. For her to even make it as far into her pregnancy as she had was almost a miracle in itself.
My friends rallied around me in the waiting room once our miracle baby was delivered, and it was the best support system I could ask for. It took me over two hours to finally kick them out and force them to go home. Hudson refused to leave, but I told him I need some time alone. He reluctantly agreed, leading his tear-stained wife from the hospital.
“Do you need anything?” the nurse asks quietly from the doorway.
“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”
“She’s beautiful,” she tells me. “She looks like her mother.”
I smile down at my baby girl. “She does.”
