Chapter 9

We drove back from our lunch with Travis in silence. A couple of times, I looked over to see Maureen staring out the window lost in thought. When we got back to the house, she squeezed my hand and then retreated into her room.

"I have something for you, Mommy," my daughter said later that night.

"What is it sweetheart?"

She placed a card in a sealed envelope on the table. The number 74 was written in one corner. "Mom told me to give this to you."

I smiled to myself. Before she died, McKayla had given Maureen a giant binder full of CDs and letters. She had also made arrangements for a birthday card to be delivered by hand to our daughter each year until her death. The binder came with a specific list of life events with instructions on when to play the message she had left on the disc. There was a graduation message, a pre-wedding message, 30^th birthday message, and so on. I also knew that there was a "When you meet your father" message. I think there were about 200 in total. She had also left a pair of flash drives in a safety deposit box in case the discs were lost or destroyed.

Most of them were intended for Maureen, although every now and then, she had left one for me. I never asked Maureen what her Mom talked to her about, nor did our daughter ask me what mine were. I also knew for a fact that Maureen never watched the discs out of order, nor did she get ahead of herself.

"Do you ever date?" Maureen asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"Not much." I shrugged. If it seems like I've spent the last six years pining away for my wife, don't get the wrong impression. I have gone out a couple of times, with both men and women. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but I do worry that someone might be after me for my money.

When Maureen was growing up, I concentrated on being her mother first. I spent about two years grieving and feeling sorry for myself, even though I knew had she been there, McKayla would have smacked me around a time or seven. I didn't want Maureen to think I had moved on quickly, but nor was I fixated on living out my days in celibacy.

"Mom says to tell you to sell the house, find someone who makes you happy and make me a little brother or sister."

"I'm not selling the house, sweetheart," I smiled. After she watched the message her mom left her, Maureen always told me the same things. "And I'm too old to be having any more children."

"She said you'd say that. Again." Maureen flashed me the same smile that she shared with her mother. "So I'm supposed to tell you that Mom loves you, but she doesn't mind waiting a little longer to see you in Heaven."

My daughter bent over and kissed me on the top of my head. Then she went back to her room, and tried to cover up the fact that she had been crying.

I went over to a drawer and drew out a knife. I cut into the envelope and a picture fell out of the card. I opened it up and smiled.

In the picture, McKayla had her arms around me. She had a goofy smile on. My head was turned and I was kissing her cheek. Maureen had taken it when we had spent a month living at a villa in Rome when our daughter was eight.

PS – Sell the house, find someone who makes you happy and go make babies.

I smile wistfully. The picture went on the refrigerator. I scribbled the date on a corner of the card the put it aside to go in the box with all of the other cards McKayla had left for me.

For a little while longer, I sat in the kitchen, listening to the sounds of the ocean coming through the open bay window. Then I stood and went into the bedroom and began digging through McKayla's closet.

"Sweetheart, I have something for you," I called. After a minute Maureen came into the bedroom. I handed her a small box, which was full of a dozen bottles of lotion.

As soon as she popped one the lid on one of the bottles, we both smiled as a wave of memories overcame us. They say that smells can trigger memories more than any other sense.

"Where did you get these?" Maureen poured a dollup out on to her hands, then took my hands in hers so we both smelled like her Mom.