A Family For Easter

“I know she’s in heaven. I’m not a dummy.” Diego’s face reddened, and he opened his mouth as if to say more. But Eduardo squeezed his shoulder and, when Diego looked up, shook his head.

Diego’s shoulders slumped.

“Our dad’s in heaven, too.” Ryan bumped against Diego’s arm in a friendly way and then dug up a pebble with his toe, booting it down the sidewalk. That was Ryan, kindhearted and empathetic. “C’mon!”

Diego pulled away from his father and jogged alongside Ryan, kicking a stone of his own.

“If she’s in heaven,” Maya said, looking up at Sofia and Eduardo, “then why are you going to the cemetery?”

Fiona blew out a breath and squatted down beside her inquisitive seven-year-old. “Every family does things differently. A lot of people like to put flowers on a loved one’s grave.”

“I’ll show you,” Sofia said, tugging the truck key out of her father’s hand. She clicked open the vehicle and pulled a pot of hyacinths from the passenger side. “Today, we’re gonna put these on Mama’s grave.”

“They’re pretty.” Maya stood on tiptoe to sniff the fragrant blossoms. “I never saw a cemetery.”

Fiona didn’t correct her. Of course, Maya had been at her father’s funeral, together with the other kids, including Poppy, who’d been just two months old.

“Some of the graves have tricycles on them, or teddy bears,” Sofia announced. “That’s kids who died.”

“Sofia.” Eduardo gestured toward Poppy, obviously urging silence in front of a little one.

“Sorry,” Sofia whispered and then squatted down on her haunches, holding out the flowers to Poppy. “Want to smell?”

Poppy did and then giggled as the flowers tickled her nose. Distraction accomplished.

“Can we go with them?” Lauren asked unexpectedly.

Fiona opened her mouth and then closed it again. She knew it was important to deal with kids’ questions about death, but really? “We don’t want to intrude,” she said, putting a hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “It’s their private family time.”

“We don’t care,” Diego said as he passed by, chasing the rock he was kicking. “We go all the time.”

They did? Fiona couldn’t help glancing at Eduardo curiously. He must still be grieving hard for his wife.

“We go once every month,” Sofia corrected her little brother.

“Why don’t we go to our daddy’s grave, Mom?” Maya asked.

“Because our daddy was bad,” Lauren said before Fiona could put together a response.

Poppy tugged at Fiona’s hand. “Was our daddy bad?”

Pain and concern twisted Fiona’s stomach, along with anger at Reggie. He’d hurt her, badly, but even worse was how he’d hurt his children.

Nonetheless, she knew what she had to do: keep her own feelings inside and be positive about the children’s father, lest they grow up worrying that they themselves carried something bad inside them. “He was your daddy who loved you and there was lots that was good about him,” she said, making sure her voice was loud enough for all the kids to hear. “But his grave is back in Illinois, where we used to live.”

“Our mom was the best,” Diego said. “Daddy has a picture.” He tugged the keys out of his sister’s hands and showed the photo attached to the ring.

Fiona squinted down at it, and Lauren and Maya leaned in to see as well. A petite dark-haired woman held a baby, with a little girl who must be Sofia leaning into her. Eduardo stood behind the woman, arms protectively around his whole family.

“She’s really pretty,” Maya said.

“Was pretty,” Lauren corrected in her automatic big-sister mode, then reddened and looked over at Sofia. “I’m sorry your mom died.”

Sofia nodded and leaned back against her father, who knelt and put an arm around her. Taking back the key ring from Diego, he held it so Sofia could see. “She was very pretty. Just a tiny little thing, but strong. You look a lot like her.”

“I don’t,” Diego said, obviously parroting what he’d heard before. “I look more like you.”

“Your mother loved both of you very much.” Eduardo squeezed Sofia’s shoulders, let her go and then patted Diego on the back. “She loved to cook for you, and play with you, and read to you. We’ll talk about her at the cemetery, like we always do.”

Fiona’s throat tightened. Helping kids through the loss of a parent was an ongoing challenge.

“Do we have a picture of our daddy?” Maya asked. “Because...” She looked up at Fiona, her face uncertain. “I don’t really remember what he looks like.”

“Back home in our albums, stupid,” Lauren said.

“We don’t call each other stupid,” Fiona said automatically. “And, speaking of back home, we should get going and leave the Delgados to do what they were planning to do.” Maya still looked unhappy—rare for her—so Fiona stooped down and grasped her hands. “Do you want to look at our albums when we go home? There are some good pictures of you and Daddy.”

“Okay.” Maya nodded, her momentary distress gone.

“Are we still having hot dogs?” Ryan asked. “I’m starving!”

“Yes. Come on, everyone in the car.” Fiona clicked open the door locks and then looked at Eduardo. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He nodded, his eyes unreadable. “And I’m sorry for yours as well.”

As Fiona drove home, her mind kept going back to Eduardo’s family picture. Obviously, he wasn’t over his tiny, beautiful, loving wife.

She had no right to feel jealous just because she’d struck out in the marriage game. It was nothing more than what her mother had always predicted—at her size, and not being the brightest woman around, attracting any man at all had been unlikely. The chances of him being a good, responsible, trustworthy person? Just about nil.

She had more than she deserved in her four wonderful children, and she was content with her life now, as it was.

* * *

Later that Sunday afternoon, Eduardo pulled up in front of Fiona’s house, stopped the truck and waited. He knew exactly what his kids were going to say.

“That’s their house?” Sofia asked. “It looks like it’s from a movie!”

“It’s cool,” Diego said. “Is that where we’d live?”

“No. Mrs. Farmingham is looking to rent the carriage house, out back. I haven’t seen it, but I’m sure it’s nothing fancy.”

Diego shrugged, then poked his sister in the side. “C’mon, let’s go! There’s Ryan!”

“Wait.” Eduardo turned in his seat to face both of his kids. “We need to remember some things.”

“I know. Good manners.” Diego had his hand on the door handle.

“Like what?” he prompted.