The Life You Stole (Life Duet 2)

You’ve reached Corey and Madeline. We’re too lazy to answer your call. Please leave a message.

Just before it clicked over to record the message, she giggled. My dad must have made her laugh before she ended the recording. I’d never know if he loved Mom like he loved his first love. Their house in Denver sat idle and untouched with the exception of his single bag of clothes that he took to California. That meant something. It meant he wasn’t ready to say goodbye. That kind of denial only existed in the depths of a shattered heart.

“Hey, Mom …”

I blinked, unleashing months of pain. Who was I to judge denial? I hadn’t been to their house since the day of her funeral. Mom lived in those walls—every picture on the mantel, every fringed pillow on the navy crushed velvet sofa, and the baskets filled with quilts stitched by her hands, petite and perfectly suited to thread needles, decorate birthday cakes, and wipe tears. I missed those loving hands.

“You left quite the void.” I laughed, swiping my fingers across my wet cheeks. “Franz still asks about you. I told him you had to leave this life for something new, but part of you lives in the things you loved most, like the birds that gathered at the feeders in your backyard. Now, whenever he sees a bird, he says, ‘There’s grandma.’ It’s beautiful … and completely heartbreaking.”

The fragility of my existence vibrated through every cell in my body. The perfect life existed on a narrow ledge with a sea of tragedy awaiting ten stories down on the other side. It was surprising how much strength the human body possessed, yet a single misstep left you free falling to unforgiving waves of despair ready to crush your existence.

A few too many cancer cells.

The slip off the edge of a mountain.

A tiny finger reaching for an exposed wire.

“That says so much, doesn’t it? I guess we can only hope our lives mean enough to leave an un-fillable void, proof that we’re part of something greater than a singular entity. Did you know that your love was my happiness, your strength was my success, but your willingness to let go … well, it’s become my greatest hope. Hope that this isn’t everything.”

Leaning my head back against the headrest, I closed my eyes where Mom resided in my memory. The smile she gave me when my dad rolled his eyes at my decision to open a bath shop.

Evelyn, I’m proud of you … always.

I knew I would always love Franz and Anya that way. Everyone needed someone in their life who was just so damn happy to be part of their existence that absolutely nothing else mattered. A mother’s love should be everything—always. A love that transcends time. Still, I felt her love. Always, I would feel her love.

“Uncle Josh moved grandma to Florida last week. She’s been quiet and a little confused since you died. I’m glad she’ll be closer to family since I don’t get to Denver that much, especially come winter.”

I missed her so much. The pain felt like a new organ in my body with its own pulse. Or maybe that part of my heart broke free and would forever throb, reminding me of what I lost. Disconnecting the call, I dialed the number again, just to hear her voice. Before it went to voicemail, I pressed End and called her another time.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

You’ve reached Corey and Madeline. We’re too lazy to answer your call. Please leave a message.

“I miss you, Mom.”

“Hey, Sue.” I toed off my shoes as Anya ran toward me. “I’m sorry. I made a quick stop, but I assumed Ronin would have been here.” Anya stretched her arms up to me and I picked her up. “Hey, sweetie.” She smelled like lavender, just like Sue.

“Ronin called and said he was meeting some friends for dinner. He said he messaged you.”

I frowned, releasing squirmy Anya to her feet again while fishing my phone from my pocket. Sure enough, Ronin left a message. I must have missed it while repeatedly calling my mom’s phone.

Ronin: Having dinner with Noah.

“Huh. I missed his message. Again, I’m sorry. I should have come straight home.”

“Don’t apologize.” Sue waved me off as she tiptoed down the hallway. “Boo!” Peeking her head around the corner to Franz’s room, she grinned. “Your mom is home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” he said.

Anya rolled around on the floor, wrapping herself up in a small blanket like a burrito. Toys littered the floor, books covered the sofa, and dishes awaited washing. Just how I liked it. That meant Sue spent the day playing with the kids. Usually, Ronin and I would work together to make dinner and piece back together the house.

Not that night.

“You’ve been crying.” She tilted her head to the side, eyes squinted as she threaded her arms through her cardigan. Sue always wore a cardigan, even in the summer.