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Aunt Carol, who reminds me so much of Dad with her straight, graying eyebrows and long nose with a slight hook in it, flashes us a brief, sympathetic smile. I hug her, too, our embrace much warmer, before stepping into the sanctuary.
Shayla follows me down the side aisle on the right and takes the seat next to me after I slide in next to my brothers and sister on the first pew. For the next twenty minutes, low murmurs fill the room, and multiple extended family members and Dad’s friends stop by to offer their condolences. Nearly all of them take note of Shayla sitting close by my side with our babies on our laps, and a few even ask who she is, but she merely introduces herself by her name and doesn’t expand on who she is to me.
And just who is she to me? I don’t know exactly. She’s certainly not just my neighbor and Grayson’s babysitter. Not anymore. But she’s also not my girlfriend, as she introduced herself yesterday.
The church quietens when Mom and Aunt Carol walk down the middle aisle to join the rest of us. My siblings have left an open space at the front of the pew for them, and just as they are about to sit, Mom does a double-take when she sees us and stiffens. We might not be touching, but I swear I can feel it when Shayla freezes as Mom hurries toward us in her black pantsuit buttoned up to her neck and houndstooth jacket.
Shayla shrinks back when Mom’s lips curl downward. “What is she doing here? This pew is for family only.” Several people nearby who haven’t taken their seats yet turn their heads toward us when they hear her sharp tone.
The words spill out before I can think them through. “She is family.” I palm Shayla’s left knee where her skirt has ridden up, my fingers tingling at the contact with her warm skin. What I said might be a lie, but it doesn’t feel like a lie. God, how I wish it weren’t a lie.
I silently beg Shayla to play along, and I subtly exhale when she scoots closer to me so that we’re sitting with our thighs pressed together. She even places her hand on top of mine, and when I flip my hand palm up, she slips her fingers between mine. My heart thumps hard, and I squeeze her hand twice.
Mom is getting ready to say something else, but the pastor interrupts, asking everyone to take their seats. She pinches her lips together and stalks back to the front of the pew, silently seething. Any lingering goodwill I still felt toward her is gone.
Shayla leans in and whispers under her breath, “I’m sorry. I should probably move if it’s going to upset your family.”
I turn my head, and my cheek rubs against hers. “Please don’t. I want you to stay.” She nods, further brushing our cheeks together, and I close my eyes, savoring the feeling of having her so close. “Thank you.” I dare to shift a little more and press a kiss to her temple. She sucks in a quick breath but doesn’t object or pull away. So I kiss her again, then turn to listen to the pastor give his funeral sermon.
Hearing Dad’s friends speak about him, sharing stories I’ve never heard, causes my chest to tighten. They share a side of Dad that I’d never known. I wish we’d had the kind of relationship where he shared those stories with me himself, but I’m grateful I get to hear them now. Tears pool at the corners of my eyes as they go on to talk about what a good man and good friend he was and how much they’ll miss him.
I let go of Shayla’s hand so I can wipe my tears away. I hang my head and close my eyes as I continue to listen. That’s when I feel Shayla’s hand coasting along my back, rubbing slow circles, and Lainey’s tiny hand on my cheek. I straighten to look at her, and when she reaches for me with her short, chubby arms, I transfer Grayson to Shayla and pull Lainey to stand on my lap. I have to pinch my eyes shut and hold back the sob that threatens to work its way loose when Lainey hugs my neck. She’s only ten months old, yet she shows me so much more love and kindness in two minutes than my own family has since we arrived in Virginia.
She gets it from her mother.
I pull her closer, inhaling the scent of her baby shampoo when I press a kiss to the side of her baby-fine blonde hair. When I sneak a look at Shayla, she’s watching us with a sweet smile on her face and something akin to adoration swirling in her gorgeous eyes.
My sweet angels. My angel and my Angelainey.
I hold Lainey on my lap for the rest of the service while Shayla rocks Grayson when he fusses. When he refuses his bottle, she excuses herself quietly to find a private area to nurse him. When she returns, she sits even closer to me and holds my hand in her lap, squeezing it when I sniffle.
* * *
Shayla and I sit with Aunt Carol on the ivory floral couch in the corner of Mom’s formal living room after the funeral service. Aunt Carol coos at Grayson, trying to coax another smile out of him, which he obliges, much to her delight.
Lainey pulls herself up to stand on unsteady legs at the gaudy coffee table. She squeals happily when we clap, then again when she loses her balance and falls on her butt. The sound fills my heart with joy on such a mournful day. When she crawls to the diaper bag at our feet and starts digging out her building blocks, I slide down to the floor next to her and lean back against the couch. Lainey hands me block after block to stack, then giggles when she knocks it over onto my lap.
“So, tell me, how have things been going with Grayson?” Aunt Carol asks me between rounds of peek-a-boo with her great-nephew. “I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy after Lauren passed.” Before I can respond, she lowers her voice and leans forward to squeeze my shoulder. “Speaking of, I’m so sorry about your sister. I wish I could have attended her service so you’d have some family to lean on. Lauren was a beautiful soul, and though I didn’t get to see her often these last few years, I miss her all the same.”
Aunt Carol was the only family member I invited to the service since I knew Lauren wouldn’t have wanted anyone else from our family to come, and I know she feels guilty for missing it. But, with her health issues, she needed to stay close to home and was unable to fly to New Mexico, where Lauren had settled after college.
I swallow back the lump in my throat, thinking about my sister. Aunt Carol is the first person to bring her up, other than when Mom made that callous crack about Grayson being as difficult as Lauren was. I’m grateful that somebody around here cares enough to ask.
“Thank you, Aunt Carol,” I say as I pat her hand on my shoulder. “I miss her too. And it’s been rough, to say the least. But Shayla has been a huge help.”
“Oh? And how did you two meet?”
I twist to the side to face her and Shayla as I start on the next tower for Lainey. “She’s my neighbor from across the street and offered to help. I didn’t know a thing about taking care of an infant, and she walked me through all of it. She’s the only reason Grayson sleeps through the night now, thankfully. I don’t know what I would do without her.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Aunt Carol says with a smile. Then she quirks a brow up and eyes us back and forth. “You two get to spend a lot of time together, then?”
“As much time as possible.” My attention drifts to Shayla, who blushes so prettily and ducks her head. I smooth my hand along the back of her calf, and she shifts her leg imperceptibly closer to me. I’ve found all kinds of little ways to touch her today, thrilled every time she leans in instead of away.
Lainey babbles and waves a block in my face to get my attention after knocking down the latest tower. She squeals when I pull her into my arms and blow a raspberry against her cheek. We’re just about to start on another tower when Mom approaches and hisses, “Keep that girl quiet. This is not a playground.”
I’d maybe see her point if my brothers and uncles weren’t currently in the den watching football, cheering and slapping each other on the back every time their team scores a point.
When Mom snatches Lainey’s block out of her hand, making her cry, it’s the final straw for me. The final straw with this whole damn family, save for Aunt Carol.
