Page 94 of Carter

I smile to myself, still staring at the boxes and holding the phone to my ear. None of this makes sense. It’s all so confusing. But what can I do about it other than move on? I just need to move forward and see what life has in store for me. See if I can reach my goals and be happy.

“Okay,” I say. “I think I’m ready to do this.”

“Call me if you need me.”

I almost say, “I always need you.” It’s on the tip of my tongue but it’s too soon for those kinds of proclamations. So I just thank him and get off the phone.

Unstacking the first box is easy. Sitting on the floor in front of it is also easy. But reaching for it to open… that takes me a minute. A few rounds of box breathing. But eventually, I reach for the flaps and tug them open.

The faintest hint of Ryan’s scent hits my nose, this sweet, almost fruity scent that I could never figure out where it came from. This box is full of clothes. I pull them out, some with memories and some without. It hurts at first, more than I thought it would. My chest aches. My eyes burn. But I’m doing it. I’m moving forward.

I make two piles with the clothes. What I’m keeping and what I’m donating. I try to keep thekeeppile small. I can’t hold on to everything, just the special things. Each item that I pull out, I hold it to my chest, breathe, and decide if I need to keep it or donate it.

I get through all the boxes of clothes, and then move on to the other stuff. Books, mostly. A few of his other things. I keep his copy ofTuck Everlasting. The rest can be donated.

I don’t need to hold on to Ryan’s things to hold on to Ryan—to remember him. I can do that all on my own. These items could help someone in need, someone who has nothing. Ryan would want to help—it’s always what he wanted.

My phone rings from on the bed, and I lean over to grab it. It’s an unknown number, but something tells me to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Carter?”

“It is. Who’s this?”

“It’s Heather. I adopted Teddy.”

I let out a shuddering breath. “Hi,” I say. “How is she?”

“She’s doing so good. Can I video call you?”

“Yes, please.”

The ring comes in, and I click the button to switch it over. Her smiling face fills the camera.

“I knew I could send pictures but I thought this would be better. Also, I’m so sorry if it’s late.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” I say, casually wiping my eyes like I’m not crying.

But I am.

Because how is this possible? How is this not a sign? How am I doing one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do and then this woman calls? The one who has a son named Ryan. The one who adopted Teddy. This has to be a good sign, and I’d be stupid toignore them. Clearly something in this universe is trying to tell me I’m heading in the right direction.

“Okay, here we go,” she whispers, pulling the phone back to flip the camera.

It takes a moment for it to focus. The room is dark, just a night light on the wall giving enough light to see. She moves forward and shifts the camera so it’s facing a twin-sized bed with railings on either side. It’s closer to the floor than usual beds, with a higher headboard and footboard. In the bed, all tucked in, is Ryan, sleeping peacefully under his Dalmatian print blanket. And tucked right beside him, sleeping soundly, is Teddy.

It hits me so hard I can’t breathe. I cover my mouth and shift the phone so it’s looking at the ceiling and she can’t see me losing it silently.

She’s lying in bed with Ryan, sleeping with him.Protectinghim. She’s finding her place, she’s accepting love. She’shappy.

“Are you there?” she asks.

“Yes, sorry,” I say, taking a deep breath and wiping my eyes before bringing the camera back to my face.

She frowns. “Are you okay, honey?” she asks sympathetically.

“Yes and no,” I say with a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m just dealing with my own stuff right now and this is… it’s beautiful. I’m so happy that you have Teddy. I’m so happy she’s doing well. I’m just… so happy.”