Beginnings

All the firsts of their children, walking, talking, first day of school, school plays, graduations, dates, heartaches, childhood injuries. Everyone of them they attended together. Carmen was such a wonderful father, both firm, yet loving.

He'd cried when he walked Fiona down the aisle. She hadn't seen Dave, her biological father, since she was a child; and, when her longtime boyfriend, Michael, proposed to her, it was Carmen that he went to to ask for her hand and it was Carmen that she went to to bestow the honor of giving her away. As they stood there with Carmen lifting her veil to give her a kiss on the cheek and pass her hand to Michael's, she looked at him with tears in her eyes, "I love you ... Dad" and Carmen's tears wet his cheeks as he told her "You may not be my daughter by blood; but, you are my daughter by love. I love you too, Princess." Siobhan placed her hand atop his as he took his seat beside her, her own tears flowing.

She'd cried when both Morgan and James had moved out on thier own within months of each other, her nest now empty, her babies all grown up and Carmen had held tightly, comforting her, throughout those worst first few days.

As they days came and went, they settled into a life with finally just the two of them; and, for a while, they bedded like teenagers, starving with need, acting like they'd just begun their lives together, instead of being in the middle of it. They'd been married almost 25 years, still full of love for one another. Carmen had begun doing all the things he'd done at the start of their relationship, and they brought back the tradition of the Saturday morning coffee, cinammon buns, and fresh flowers. She'd squealed with delight as he surprised her that first revisting of it; and, after she'd finished her coffee and pastry, she squealed with pleasure at showing him just how delighted she was.

If she'd only known that ... "No! I won't think about this now! I can't bear it!" she yelled to herself, tears brimming, then spilling, her hands balled into fists against the steering wheel. She couldn't fight the memory hard enough; but, still it came ...

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"Von. Honey. Wake up." Carmen whispered, softly shaking her awake.

"Mmmmm ... yeah, Babe?" she mumbled, stretching and chasing the sleep from her eyes.

"I'm gonna go get coffee and pastries. I'll be back in a bit. I just wanted to let you know I was leaving; so, go back to sleep." He leaned down, kissing her on the tip of her nose and she reached a hand up to lightly stroke his face as he stood back up.

"Mmmmmm ... okay" she sighed, sleep already claiming her. He turned and left then, heading down to the local Starbucks that, by now, knew him by name as well as why he came every Saturday and the female employees all loved him for it, silently -- and some not-so-silently -- wishing that they had a man like him in their lives.

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Siobhan woke with a start, her heart racing. She jumped out of bed, grabbing her robe to cover her nakedness, and flew down the stairs, looking for Carmen. It was well past noon and he normally made his Saturday coffee run by 9:00. She knew that he should've been back by then and, like a woman possessed, she tore throught the house, looking for him. Not finding him inside, she checked out back before checking out front for his car. She was afraid that it wouldn't be there and wanted to put off having that fear realized as long as she could. She tore open the front door ... his car wasn't there.

She tried calling his cell phone and she kept getting the message that the cell phone user wasn't available; but, still she kept calling, in the event that he was in the process of turning his phone on.

At the knock at the door, she threw the phone to the floor, scrambling to answer it. "He forgot his key. He forgot his key." she kept saying to herself over and over on her way to the door, praying that it was true. At the sight of the uniformed police officer, the color drained from her face and her knees buckled. She knew. In that moment, she knew that he was gone.

"Mrs. Carvalho?"

"Yes." she responded, her trembling voice choking on that single word.

"Ma'am, may I come in?" Like a robot, her face expressionless, tears coursing down her cheeks, she moved aside to allow the officer room to enter and he led her over to the couch, sitting her down, taking a seat next to her. She held the officer's hand in a vise grip, willing him to not say the words that she knew he'd say, hating him for what she knew he was about to say.

"Ma'am. I'm so sorry ..." he began, and Siobhan began to sob loudly. His voice breaking at her wailing, her pain, he proceeded to tell her about the accident which claimed her husband: he'd just walked out of the Starbucks, coffee and pastry in hand and was crossing the parking lot to get to his car when he saw a mother and child getting out of another car in the lot. The child ran off ahead of his mother, as children often do, not seeing the car pulling into the lot from the highway, the car not seeming to see the child. Tossing his purchase to the four winds, he scrambled in front of the car, pushing the child out of the way in the nick of time, being struck by the car himself. The force of the accident broke his neck and back; and, according to the officer, he was killed instantly. Siobhan thanked the officer for his time and escorted him to the door. He'd offered her a card for a grief support group; but, she declined the offer, saying that she didn't need it; and, if she did, she'd call them. He then told her that a tow truck would be bringing Carmen's car home within the hour and he handed her a manilla envelope containing Carmen's personal effects.

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Even through their worst times, the death of their first son, they'd never been apart, never slept in different beds. She had been without him now for six days, three hours, and seventeen minutes. "But, who's counting?" she thought wryly to herself.

The viewing was later that night, with the funeral set for the next morning, and she stood in front of his section of the closet, looking for something appropriate to dress him in. Here hands fumbled blindly through his suits, shirts, pants, jackets. She reached all the way into the back, her hands falling upon the stiff, smooth fabric of his black biker jacket, the jacket he'd worn the night they met.

Siobhan retrieved it from its hiding place and held it up to her nostrils, inhaling the masculine scent of him mixed with the smell of the leather, falling to her knees, soaking the jacket with her uncontrolled sobs. It finally hit her that he was gone and never coming back. She'd never feel his arms about her again. She'd never again know the feel of him inside her. Never see his smile or the way his face lit up when he laughed. It was too much.

She woke to the realization that she was on the floor in the closet, his jacket still clutched firmly to her breast. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she rose and picked out her favorite outfit, his navy blue, double-breasted Armani suit. She took out a black dress that Carmen always loved to see her in ... and out of ... and went to shower and change. The kids would be there soon to head over to the funeral home and she wanted to be ready. She needed to be ready ... for Carmen's sake, not her own.

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