Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Did she really have to show up every time they needed her, just because they needed her?

"Fine. Suit yourself. I'm hanging up now."

Vince stepped out of the bedroom, water glass in hand, intent on refilling it. He paused when he saw the kitchen light was still on.

The air was thick with the warm, buttery aroma of something baking—a blend of milk and eggs.

He walked quietly to the kitchen doorway and found Jessica standing at the counter, deftly spreading frosting over a cake.

She was making a cake?

Today was Henry's birthday.

She remembered.

Vince lingered in the shadows, keeping his distance.

About half an hour later, Jessica emerged from the kitchen, carrying the cake.

It was small-maybe six inches across-but carefully decorated, the creamy swirls on top forming a delicate pattern.

Vince watched her from behind a wall, hidden, silent.

He expected Jessica to box up the cake and take it to the hospital. Instead, she carried it straight back to her room.

Vince trailed her upstairs.

door closed

he watched as she set the cake on the coffee table in front of the sofa, then lit a candle shaped

Henry would have

her desk, pulled out a scrapbook filled with paper-cut illustrations, and curled up on

open the

long, Vince saw her

Jessica read through

of her and Henry together

her keeping vigil at his bedside when he was sick, never leaving

of them napping together in the

them watching TV, Henry planting a

So many memories.

tugged her back to

old enough to remember, he'd captured-painstakingly, vividly, with scissors

picture of the two

drifted to that visit to Oakwood, when she overheard Henry telling Sheila he wanted to give

once promised Jessica that when he could finish a book all by himself, he'd give her

He remembered.

gave his first completed book to

onto