Rekindling the Flame (Smoky Heights #1)

Chapter 29

TWENTY-NINE

AURORA

“Careful!” I gripe at Lexi.

She turns to steady the painting that’s still swaying on Mom’s living room wall from where she bumped it. The one my mom finished a few weeks back when I had the instructor come to her house for her, Lexi, and I to all do an at-home paint and sip together.

Lex glares at me over her shoulder once it’s steady, a classic scowl on her face, then chucks the lighter she was using at my head. “ You light the candles, then,” she says, wild hair bobbing with every erratic motion of her head. I catch it, but it hurts, so I glare at her.

“Bet I can do it without knocking anything over,” I taunt her.

She mocks me, singsonging nonsense back at me, and we both laugh.

It is tricky to step between everything we have set up and get the candles lit so the experience is fully ready for Mom. Duke gave us the final warning, so now is our chance.

Lemongrass wafts toward my nose as my hand circles the air in front of me, pulling it forward, and as I move one step over, a spicy blend greets my nostrils, and then a strong hit of jasmine permeates as well.

It might not be Thailand, but it’s the closest we could get for her.

Lex and I step back, right in front of the TV that’s cued up and ready to go, and we admire our handiwork, shoulder-to-shoulder.

It was weeks of planning, of shopping online, of coordination between the two of us and Duke, but I think we might have nailed it.

There’s a path through the center of the room so we can navigate, but virtually every other surface is covered.

Just about every wall in the house has been covered in giant, oversized poster prints of the landscape and skyline you’d see were you in Bangkok. No hint of the house we grew up in remains.

The dining room has been turned into one of Thailand’s floating markets, or as close as we could get, being on land. All four chairs were pushed back against the wall, and we’ve balanced child-sized kayaks on each seat, chock full of baskets of different exotic fruits and vegetables in each, bundles of tropical florals nestled in the open spaces so the entire thing is completely covered. Her antique wooden table is buried in the feast Lex and I prepared, courtesy of Goldbelly. The best LA, New York, and Chicago had to offer, every dish she could want to taste, nibble, or sip, and then some.

We moved all of the furniture out of the living room and into our old bedrooms and turned the main space into a silk market. Racks of clothing, of raw material in every color and pattern imaginable, are lined up along one wall, with an entire wall of authentic options set up on the other, all imported for her to browse and peruse. Then there’s also another several hundred samples folded in precise stacks that line the available spaces around the racks.

Our matching robes I had custom made and flown in are on hangers at the end of the display, a shiny moss green with tan and pink florals artfully adorning the sides, a thick trim all down the inside hem, and a coordinating silk tie around the waist.

Lexi and I change into ours, along with the vibrant, handmade slip-on shoes I also ordered for each of us, and wait for that door to open. When we hear the car door close, she hits play on the TV, completing the ambience with a video of scenery and sounds from the place my mom will never get the chance to go. Now it will look, smell, taste, and sound like Bangkok in here. As close as we can get to her feeling like she’s experiencing the real thing.

The back door opens, a frigid wind rushing in with it, and there’s my mom, frailer by the day but still holding strong, in her wheelchair, Duke pushing her from behind. The door closes behind them and the daylight that was framing them disappears.

It took all three of us teaming up on her for a while, but eventually she caved. Her balance has gotten bad enough that it was safer and more comfortable for her to use a wheelchair to get around when she leaves the house, and I don’t want to think about how bad she must be feeling if she finally agreed to make the swap. Getting her to accept using a walker was hard enough.

Her care team say the prognosis stands, still another five months at best, but they won’t be pretty ones. As the tumor grows, the cancer progresses, her body will be going through hell, and so will everyone who loves her. I’ve had months to ponder the circumstances, and I still don’t know what’s better. Is it easier to lose someone suddenly, have to live with a lifetime of wishing you got to say goodbye, got just one more day with them, one more hour , or is it easier to watch them suffer, to know the inevitable is hanging in the balance, a pendulum waiting to drop at any moment, but at least you have the selfish chance to make the most of the time you get with them? I don’t think there is a right answer. They’re all wrong answers. There’s nothing right losing someone you love, period. Preparing for it, or dealing with the shock of it, grief is grief, either way. I’m not sure anything could make it better.

Watching her suffering ratchet up week by week, it makes me wish for nothing more than this to not happen to her. To take her place. For some way to make this easier for her. But we’re past the bargaining stage now. We’re in this shitty phase called acceptance, where we know what our options are, they all suck, and we’re going to make the best of it while we can—in between the tears that come with acceptance—because that’s all we can fucking do.

So when her face lights up, when she takes in the way her home has been transformed, what’s waiting for her there, I know she figures it out on her own, but Lex and I can’t help ourselves from giving her the welcome speech we’d practiced anyway.

“Welcome to Bangkok,” I start off.

“Your all-inclusive, one-day visit includes an all-you-can-eat buffet, a trip to the silk markets, the floating markets, a trip to the Grand Palace, as well as an authentic Thai massage, an exclusive ethical elephant experience, and a tuk tuk tour,” Lexi says proudly, sweeping her arm toward everything we have set up for Mom to enjoy.

“Please, enjoy your stay in Thailand,” I tell her, bowing.

Duke’s face has been less stressed for weeks, ever since he let me start helping on some of the financial aspects, and seeing the joy there now, his eyes glassy as he watches my mother, I’m right-clicking and saving this one in a mental folder called Best Moments. He leans down and kisses the top of her head, a lot like Wyatt does to me sometimes, and steps away. “Have a great time, love. I’ll be back after girls’ day is over. Don’t let that masseuse’s hands get near anywhere that’s just for me, okay, no frisky business while I’m gone.” That last warning was to me and Lex, and we both promise. Lexi even mock solutes him.

“Let’s get you changed,” I say to her once Duke is gone.

Lexi grabs the robe and shoes for her, and I’ll never forget the look on Mom’s face when she sees how all three of us will be matching. I hate myself for robbing her of more moments like this. For not giving her more memories of the three of us together, but I’ll make tonight the best I possibly can, another in the first set of as many memories as we can fit in before it’s too late.

Our at-home paint and sip and Thanksgiving should be filed in that same folder too. We made it through that day fairly unscathed as a family of four, and Wyatt even stopped by for a bit after he couldn’t take being home with Weston any longer. Felt a lot like the best holidays of my life used to, just with a better male role model present.

“How did you—when—what?” Mom stutters, unable to form a complete question, but just the way she’s gawking in appreciation is enough to make this entire thing worth it.

Our masseuses show up right on time, having driven the hundred or so miles from the city, and they set up the tables in the walkway in the living room while we start our agenda off with hot green tea.

An hour later, I can’t speak for the others, but I’m feeling loose and refreshed. Based on the noises Mom was making, I’d say she enjoyed the hell out of hers too. Once the ladies have left, Lex and I take Mom to the table, where the chafing dishes and burners have kept the food warm until we were ready for it. Cost a fortune to have a catering company set up these dishes for us, but it was worth it after all the effort Lex and I put into the food, and we wanted it to stay ready all day, for whenever any of us might want it.

Mom has a blast selecting flowers and sifting through the fresh produce for goodies to try. And while she doesn’t have the appetite she used to, she picks and nibbles at every single thing we made her, tasting each dish at least once, while Lexi and I shove our faces full of our favorites after we tried it all. Her alarm goes off during our meal and she downs another small handful of pills, but she doesn’t take a nap like usual. She manages to milk every second out of our day together.

Later, we go through the silk market, and Mom oohs and aahs at the variety available, and I insist that she picks out a few materials to have a couple of new pieces made out of. She chooses a bright teal with a bold floral design, and another that’s a subtle rosy color, with gold woven throughout it. When she says they remind her of the two of us, I get a little misty eyed. We set those to the side to have more robes made out of, souvenirs for her from today.

The next portion of the itinerary requires a VR headset that Wyatt helped me set up and prep after it arrived in the mail.

“What the heck is that thing?” Mom asks as I approach her with it.

“This is what’s going to let you visit the Grand Palace,” I tell her, fitting it over her head.

It takes a few adjustments to get it set up right for her, and then she’s cackling, waving her arms out in front of her, swiping at something she can see on the headset that the rest of us can’t. Until I open the app on my phone, and her display is mirrored on my screen, so Lex and I can see what she’s seeing.

“Move your head, Mom,” I tell her, and watch the scenery change on my phone as she looks up, then down, turns her head from one side to the other, and faces back to front.

The sky, the ground, tourists all around, and the beautiful Grand Palace right in front of us.

“It’s beautiful,” Mom whispers. “It’s like I’m right there.”

“Take a step forward,” I tell her.

She does, and then lets out a tiny scream, which makes Alexis and me laugh. We come around either side of her and hold an arm each, stabilizing her so she can walk freely, the headset reacting in real-time, like she was there and not in her living room.

“When you’re ready, we can take you to the sanctuary so you can have an ethical experience with the elephants from here,” I tell her.

Mom’s face turns toward me, like she’s looking at me, but she’s got the headset on, which looks like a giant set of goggles you’d wear snorkeling, but neither of us can see through the screen in front of her face, so it just looks ridiculous.

“Elephants?” she asks in a choked voice.

“Up close and personal,” Lexi confirms.

Mom turns her head to “look” at her eldest daughter, and I see the smile spread on Lexi’s face.

We cue it up through the phone and sit her down so she can feel like she’s sitting in the field of elephants all around, watching them toss their heads around, ears tumbling with the motion.

I lose track of how many times Mom laughs, how many times Lexi and I look at each other, grinning, or how many times one of them squeezes my hand when words aren’t good enough.

As busy as the bank case has kept me, I couldn’t be more thankful I prioritized planning and pulling today off. All of my other workload has been reassigned to other associates, the senior partners having seen what a massive opportunity we have with the case against Brown Stone Bank, the things I have planned on that front, and I managed to balance keeping up with heading that while still doing this . Even managed to fit in some boring things from Mom’s list in the meantime, like helping her organize her financial matters and her will.

Fit in a few nights with Wyatt, too, though none at his place, yet. (Even though the only box dye I was willing to trust arrived from NYC shortly after Mom’s arrest, and my hair is back to my natural brown—as good as it’s gonna get for now— technically fulfilling my stipulation on a sleepover with him.) He’s been visiting me at the bar whenever we can both swing it, but tonight might finally be that night for more.

I have to say, though, seeing the result of these past weeks, the joy present on these women’s faces, it makes me want to be the Rory who can do it all again. The working badass and the one who makes her family a priority too.

“Is it the drugs I’m on, did I hallucinate it, or did y’all say there was gonna be a tuk tuk ride?” Mom asks, once we’ve finished with the elephants and she’s resting after the adventure we’ve had today.

Lex and I look at each other, and she stands first. “Let me grab your chariot,” Alexis says, while I help Mom stand.

“Close your eyes,” I tell her.

Lexi pushes the wheelchair up quietly behind Mom, and I guide her back into it, eyes closed. “Keep ’em closed,” we say together.

I cue up the right option on the VR headset and put it back on her head.

“You can open now,” I say, watching both her face and the phone in my hand to see what she’s seeing.

“Are you ready?” Lexi asks.

Mom nods, and the view in the headset moves with her head.

I hand the phone to Lexi and take hold of the handles on the back of the wheelchair as she pushes play, and the experience begins. I push Mom’s wheelchair forward, through the path we left in the house, as the VR tour starts on the headset. Lexi holds the phone up so I can see what Mom sees, walking next to us, and I push our mother through the house, narrating as we go.

“On the right here, you’ll see the Emerald Temple of Buddha, constructed in 1783. Fun fact, this temple was constructed specifically to house the Emerald Buddha that is believed to have been carved in the year 43 B.C. Oh, and it looks like next we’ll be taking a shortcut to the Flower Market,” I say, swinging her though the kitchen and looping her around so we can come out to the dining room again, in time with the video.

When I say flower market , Lexi hands Mom some of the florals from the setup we’d prepped, and Mom takes hold of them, putting her nose in deep and taking a big whiff. As we pass by each area of the house, Lex grabs different items and blows on them to get the scents to Mom—food, flowers, candles—making it an immersive experience.

I run at full speed when we reach an open stretch in the main living space, and Mom’s laughter hitting my ears is a sound I’ll cherish forever. “Oh, and now we’re already to Wat Arun, one of the most mesmerizing landmarks in all of Bangkok,” I say, breathing heavily.

Lexi and I keep it going, up and down the path we’d laid out in the house until the video tour ends and we come to a stop. Mom takes the headset off, and we help her out of the chair and onto some cushions we laid out on the floor earlier, plopping down on either side of her. She’s gotta be exhausted, but I’m impressed at how well she’s done.

“How on earth did you pull this off?” she asks us.

Alexis and I look at each other, and she shrugs while I pop a shoulder.

“This must’ve cost a fortune,” Mom breathes out, still reeling in the best way.

“Eh, believe it or not, it wasn’t much more than our trip would’ve been,” I tell her.

“I don’t know what to say, girls.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” I assure her, a hand on her knee.

This is one of those moments where words just won’t do.

But this feeling? I’ll keep it with me forever.