Relinquish - His Second Chance

Chapter Nine

Sebastian

It's been almost five weeks since Beth passed, and with each passing day, I question my ability to carry on. The days are dull, the colours fading to black and white as I stumble through them with less zest than I've ever held, but Melody's my silver lining.

She's the only thing capturing my need to live, the only motivation to stick around here. She keeps me on my toes, and I run around for most of the day to her every whim.

A toy dump closely follows breakfast in the living room, which is then followed by lunch and then her nap time.

And though that sounds vastly busy and consuming, it's then when there's no sound coming from the house that my mind wanders to the nasty reality we are currently living.

I'm glad when she wakes, her little giggles giving me purpose.

But that only leaves a deep dread for her bedtime, which, of course, we've almost mastered, her bath before her book, which takes place in the rocking chair beside her bed just as Beth had always done, well, before the diagnosis that was.

She's almost asleep by the end of our routine, but awake enough to know I've put her on the mattress and covered her small body with the duvet and blanket.

It's always in that very moment I hold my shallow breath, for it's her who decides how our night will end.

Most evenings, she falls right asleep, snuggling that small and tatty teddy Beth had made when she was pregnant, but there is the odd night she decides to turn into her own rendition of a child exorcism.

I never had to deal with this side of her before, making me appreciate Beth's involvement even more so than before.

If I'm honest, I can't believe my lack of acknowledgement of her role as a stay-at-home mother.

Last night was one of those nights; she screamed more than sleeping, and she was as clingy as a wet leak to a linoleum flooring.

I'm not sure either of us slept well at all, probably catching enough hours to function but not enough to feel normal. And those measly few hours where she's screamed so much gave way to the headache of a lifetime.

Eventually, she fell asleep, and I got some fitful shuteye in the rocking chair beside her, which really isn't the greatest chair for sleeping on.

The sad reality that this is our life now has truly set in, but today is a particularly tough day that I haven't been looking forward to.

Legally Beth's lawyer needs to read her last will and testament, despite the fact I know exactly what she wants to do with her assets and our home.

So Melody and I will need to travel into town, to his office where I couldn't care less to sit but, nevertheless, I have to.

I'm hoping the time will pass quickly that the formality is painless, but you never know what might happen or who might crawl from the woodwork to lay claim on something that was never theirs to begin with.

You see, Beth never came from generational wealth like me. She worked hard, which was a merit to any woman who came from nothing and became someone.

I was always in awe of her tenacity, and despite telling her repeatedly that she didn't need to work, work she did.

Distracting myself, I make Melody her breakfast and draw my coffee from the machine that's seen better days. But you don't replace what's still working.

I lean against the counter, both hands beside me, as I watch Melody eat her mouthfuls whilst flipping the pages of one of her favourite books despite not having the capacity to read by herself at this moment in time.

The Hungry Caterpillar is her favourite book.

A book we've all read, a book that littered my childhood also.

It is safe to admit Beth was an avid reader, and it seems as though our daughter is following closely in her mother's footsteps.

I couldn't be prouder...

"In the light of the moon," Beth's voice arouses that sense inside me, making me raise my eyes to see her standing over Melody, her eyes lit with the need to read to our child, yet I find I hush her, taking over in the effort to mask that she's there at all.

I read the book twice at Melody's request, her hand holding mine as I flip through the pages.

"Again!" she requests with a grin.

"We can't reread it, sweetheart. We must get dressed; shall we pick an outfit?" I ask her, unbuckling her from the high chair and pulling her up to my chest as I move towards the stairs with purpose.

Of course, my strong-minded child picks her own fashion.

A brightly coloured dress with stripy tights and a knitted cardigan that Beth had made, but unfortunately, is getting tight on our darling girl.

I don't have the heart to tell her to pick another, so the ill-fitting cardigan must do, even though it won't button up.

"Good job," I exclaim with a grin as she twirls for me, "Daddy's going to get dressed now. Can you stay here and play with your toys for me?" I ask, holding her hand to twirl her once more.

She nods, and I move to my room, finding some jeans and a polo and throwing them on before putting my leather jacket over the top to keep warm in the spring chill.

With a splash of aftershave and a quick rinse of my teeth, I, too, am ready to face the music of reality.

Leaving the house seems weirdly strange and unwelcoming, yet needs must, so I put Melody in her car seat, only then realising I need a bag for her. Darting back into the house to grab her little rucksack, shoving nappies, wipes and a change of clothes from the clean washing haphazardly as I rush to get back to her.

Of course, she's quite happy when I go back out and the cars heated up in the time since I started the engine, but that doesn't stop the churning feeling in the bottom of my stomach.

"Are you ready for a little adventure, sweetheart?" I ask her as our eyes meet in the rearview. But instead of her eyes meeting mine with excitement and a nod, she has downturned lips and a frown on her perfect little forehead.

"Teddy?" She exclaims unhappily, her gaze moving to the house.

"Right, Teddy..." I note with anxiety. "I'll go get him," I say as I unbuckle and get out once again.

I race through the house, looking in all the places he might be, ultimately finding him in the last place I checked, my bedroom at the foot of my bed.

I feel stupid for not sorting these things before I took her outside; after all, Beth would never have had to come back several times. Yet here I am, failing at the first hurdle.

Our first outing became one littered with mistakes.

I slump back into my seat when I reach the car again, flinging back the Teddy in a huff more so at my lack of forward-thinking than having to get Teddy for Melody.

The drive is quiet and straightforward. The houses dissipate in turn for large buildings and traffic.

It's been a fair few weeks since I've needed to travel here into town, my lack of work exchanging itself for a quieter life at home, and I've come to realise I actually quite like the slower-paced life I've traded for the fast-paced business life, for the time being, that is.

However, I'm not prudent to admit that my life now lacks challenge, and I'm a man who needs to be challenged.

Before long, I'm indicating in, pulling up alongside the lawyer's office, my eyes appraising the building and the people inside the windows.

I turn off the engine, searching for the strength to get out, to walk inside the office to listen to the suited man read the last wishes of the wife I'm incidentally conjuring up at home.

It's laughable, really... isn't it?

A man such as me, going through something as abdominally unacceptable as this...

I take the sour turn of my thoughts as the cue I needed to climb out of my car, making sure to gather Melody's things before I get her out the back.

I'm juggling her, her bag and her teddy as I walk across the path to the office door, moving far quicker than my mind wants. Yet my body is derailed from my wants.

"Ah, Mr King," Roger Dennis, a tall greyed man in his sixties, greets me almost immediately. It seems he was waiting for me, watching even. "This way," he encourages.

I take his encouragement, moving through to his office, where I note several seats empty before his desk.

"How are you?" He asks me as I take my seat.

"As good as any husband can be after losing his wife, that is."

"Yes. Well, that's understandable, Me King. As you can see, no one accepted the invitation but yourself."

"Seb... I see," I agree with raised eyebrows at the chairs obviously placed out for others to attend this very meeting.

That only leaves me wondering who had been invited and why they chose not to come.

"I know this must be hard, Seb..."

"Just get along with it, Roger. I don't have the time for petty talk."

"Right," he stammers as I put Melody down with her teddy, grabbing some of his loose paper and one of Roger's pencils for her to draw with.

"We're both here to read the last will and testament of Bethany King... As you know, you and Melody are the sole beneficiaries to Bethany's Estate," he begins, and so I settle back onto my chair, legs spread as I hang my head backwards. The ceiling meetings my vision, and I trace the cracks as he recited every wish Beth had told me in the months leading up to her death.

"There are five properties. 11A Northshore Street, 44 Holborn Road, Flat 1B of Peartree Lane and your current residence, 101 Cottage Road," his words snap my attention to him.

"Does she suppose I lose the house?" I ask.

"No, only that at least one of these be kept in liveable conditions and put into a trust for Melody to do with as she wishes once she turns 25."

"Right, and who chooses the property?"

"That depends if you wish to inherit her entire catalogue of properties or whether you wish to sell and bank or invest the sums of money produced by the properties, Mr King."

"I'll keep the properties. We'll have to sort out property management. That way, Melody can choose what house she wishes to inherit when the time comes."

"That'll be a hell of a payout when you need to juggle the bills solely now, Mr King."

"I'm prepared to and able. I trust you can help sort property management, maintenance and anything else that's needed for the intermediate?"

"You have the problem of tenants in three of the four," he admits.

"Leave them be, of course, well sign new contracts at your earliest convince..." I note with a scratch to my chin.

"Of course," he grins, noting the business side of me taking over.

"That concludes Bethany's wishes."

"Good, have the will mailed to me to go over at my own leisure. We need to go," I lie.

"One more thing, Mr King...."

"What?" I ask, perturbed.

"Bethany gave me this letter to pass you when you come to me. I'm not sure she thought it would be so soon, but a promise is a promise."

"It seems my wife became quite the pen pal."

"It's her only form of communication now," he shrugs at me as he puts away the paperwork before him, unknowingly naive to his wrong opinion.

But it isn't, I want to say, but instead refrain.