Page 29 of Never Forget
"Yeah," I said after a moment. "I think he will be."
We'd never actually talked about it. Not directly. Mark knew I was filing for guardianship. He'd been there through all of it, handling logistics, making arrangements, being steady in the way he always was. He hadn't said anything against it.
"Good." Loretta squeezed my hand across the table. Then her face shifted. Something harder settled into the lines around her eyes. "I need to tell you something."
I straightened in my chair and leaned closer.
"My daughter is due in a month. I promised I'd be there to help her through those first few weeks." She shook her head. I could see how much it cost her to say the words. "I hate that it's coming out of this. But Jack had been looking for someone to take over. He never found anyone he trusted."
I thought about Jack, making calls, meeting strangers, trying to find someone good enough to help raise his daughter.
"You stepping in for Rosie," Loretta continued, her voice thick. "I know it's not how any of us wanted it. But maybe it's how it was supposed to happen."
I'd been thinking about being Rosie's guardian in terms of paperwork. But I hadn’t thought deeply about what being Rosie’s guardian actually meant. I wasn't just going to be the aunt who showed up for birthdays and holidays with toys and candy.
I was going to be her mother.
Before the thought could settle completely, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Megan
When are you heading back to New York? Can I see you before you go?
I stared at the message for a long moment. This morning I was convinced I was only going to stay for another week or two and then I’d be back in New York. But now…
Jamie
Not anytime soon.
Megan
Lunch soon? My house?
Jamie
I'd love that.
We made plans for Thursday the following week. I set down my phone and looked out the window at the backyard where Jack and I used to play as kids. The swing set was new, installed for Rosie, but the oak tree was the same one we used to climb when we were young enough to believe we were invincible.
Jack had been such a good father to Rosie. The same way he'd been there for me when our parents died. He never hesitated. He just stepped up.
Now his daughter needed a parent. And I wasn't going to let him down.
The next few days blurred together in a haze of paperwork and waiting rooms.
I learned that death had its own bureaucracy—a mountain of forms and signatures and certified copies that had to be obtained in a specific order from specific offices during specific hours. The Vital Records Office for death certificates. The lawyer's office for the will. The courthouse for guardianship filings. Each errand led to another trail of grief translated into documentation.
I drove across Havensworth in Jack’s car. The city had changed since I was last here. There were new restaurants where old ones used to be, and construction had reshaped familiar corners. There was a new coffee shop on King Street that I didn’t remember being there.
On Wednesday afternoon while I was on my way to meet with the probate lawyer, I passed a campaign sign staked in someone's front lawn.
Bryce Montgomery For Solicitor
His face smiled at me from the glossy poster. He looked older now, but it was still unmistakably him: the same blonde hair, the same blue eyes, the same easy grin that?—
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
I looked away and kept driving.
