Page 118 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

Mom’s been gone for two weeks. We didn’t tell Izzy until she and Reid came back from their getaway. I didn’t think she’d much care, and when we told her, she proved me right. Maybe she cried in private or will grieve our mother in her own way.

I’m not mourning in any way I ever imagined. I’m empty and free at the same time.

We refused to go through the trailer post-mortem, and relinquished disposition of her body to the coroner’s office. The new sheriff dropped off some original documents, like our birth certificates, that they found in the trailer. We were shocked she held onto them.

Christmas was a somber affair. As a combined family, Andersen-Hayes-Clark-Dalton, we decided to postpone any holiday celebration until spring. I’m continuously blown away by the support from this family we’ve found.

“Just tell me,” Quincy says, growing frustrated. “How did she pass?” she says, softer, apology in her eyes.

“She overdosed on meth and had a heart attack,” I say frankly. “Years of addiction caught up to her, and instead of robbing us—or god forbid shooting us—she died.”

Both Connor and Quincy gape at me wide eyed, surprised by my cold response.

“I’m sorry, Quincy. I don’t mean to be so insensitive. I know Sam...” I trail off, ashamed of my behavior.

“No sweetheart, you’re fine. Like I said, we can talk about these things, and nothing you said was untrue. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you won’t get to have the relationship with your mom you wanted,” Quincy says.

Sadness shimmers in Connor’s chocolate eyes, because neither he nor Quincy will ever have the relationship they want with their dad ever again—except instead of death, he’s disappearing before their eyes.

The screen door clacks open, startling us all.

“Ball’s about to drop,” James’s floating head says before disappearing back into the main house.

Our blended family has joined to ring in the new year, and to celebrate Sam. We shared memories and stories about Sam throughout the dark hours leading to midnight.

There’s no cheering or fanfare when the clock strikes midnight. Mr. Andersen gently kisses his wife, says goodnight to the rest of us, and leads her to their bedroom as she dissolves into tears.

Reid kisses my sister, and they branch off to admire Sam’s funny little armadillo collection in the family room.

James gives Harper—asleep on the sofa—a peck on the cheek for his midnight kiss.

Greyson kisses the top of Olivia’s head, and they lean on each other for support.

“Happy New Year, Delilah doll,” Connor says sweetly.

“Happy New Year, stud.”

He kisses me softly, cradling my head in his hands, supporting me as he always does.

“Any resolutions, baby?” Connor asks.

“Just one,” I say, gazing at my husband.

“To leave the past in the past. It’s a new year. We’re married, our past brought us here, but unless it’s a happy memory, it has no bearing on our future. We’ve graduated and despite any hurdles, are embarking on new careers.

“We can’t bring anyone back from the dead, but we can cherish the good memories and let the rest fade with time. I want to move forward, not linger on things from the past we can’t change.”

“I couldn’t agree more, doll. We’ll go into the new year with our heads held high, side by side. I love you so much,” he says, dipping down to kiss my lips gently.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”

49

Connor age 18, Delilah age 17

“It’s badass, seriously,” CJ assures me.

It hurt like a bitch and was weeping with plasma and blood, so the tattoo artist bandaged it so I could put my fucking shirt back on.