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“And we’d sneak out to ride horses at night.”
“And Jack would drive us all out to get ice cream in town, and he’d turn the radio on real loud and we’d all sit and eat it in the truck bed.”
“And Monica would always try to get us to dance.”
“And I always loved working in the garden. Making things grow. And doing the reading every night with everyone.” She’s smiling for real now, even as her voice is growing fainter. “I had a good life. I knew love. I loved you all, and you loved me.”
“We do.” I’m still stroking her hair back. “We always will.”
“It would have been nice to fall in love. To have someone look at me the way Jack looks at you. But I had a really good life without it.”
“I’m glad you did.” I can’t process anything except the feel of her hair against one of my hands and the knife I pulled from my belt with the other. “And my life wouldn’t have been nearly as happy without you.”
“Thank you for saying that. I know it’s hard for you to open up. You always have to be so tough. You’ve done so much to take care of all of us, and now I’m asking you for even more.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just fine.”
“At least you have Jack.”
I don’t know what to say to that. It’s too much for me to wrap my head around. I wouldn’t argue with her right now for anything, however, so I respond in a mumble, “Yes. I have him.”
Molly licks her lips and gives me a faint smile. “Do you remember that night last year when Langley left the door open and the pigs escaped? We were all running around like crazy, trying to round them up.”
I laugh faintly at the memory. “Miguel fell down and got covered head to foot in mud.”
She giggles. “Then he walked around with his arms outstretched, trying to give everyone muddy hugs. We laughed so hard. That was a good night.”
I should do it then. While she’s smiling. Jackson told me to wait for him, but I’ve never given one of my responsibilities to someone else.
I grip the knife in my hand and tell myself to make it quick. It’s what she wants. It will be a mercy.
But I wait instead.
She’s drifted off to sleep without warning. Her breathing is really raspy. Painful.
I watch her for a long time until I realize she isn’t breathing anymore.
I gasp. Check her pulse. Try to feel any breath.
There’s nothing.
She’s gone.
I don’t know how or why it happened so quickly. With my mom, it was day after day of agony.
I’m still holding the knife, but I don’t need it now. I can’t even imagine why not.
Jackson finds me there eventually. He comes into the room on his own, and I hear him make a wordless sound when he sees me.
“Fuck,” he mutters, closing the door with a click. “Oh fuck, kitten.” He strides over and takes the knife from my hand. Pulls me to my feet. “I told you to wait for me.”
I open my mouth to try to explain. This was what she wanted.
He stares down at the knife, as if he’s confused that it’s clean and dry.
“I didn’t have to,” I manage to say. “She just... died.”
I start to shake then. I can’t seem to help it. He wraps me in a quick, tight hug. I want to take comfort in the feel of it—of him—but I can’t let go enough to do so. I pull away from him.
