Four-Fifths

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Four-Fifths

“This novel will do what few can, it will pull the deep feeling reader directly into the characters.”        -David –New York City-

 

Price: $13.95

An Excerpt from Four Fifths

“Oh! God,” Kyle said, sliding a croissant across the table. “How will I manage, Jeff? How will I be able to give her what she needs? She needs Angela, her mom. How can I possibly hope to give her what she needs most? I can’t be Angela. I’m not her father, I’ve never been a parent, and she’s a little girl, not a boy. How do I take care of a little girl?”

“Kyle, you are Katelyn’s best friend, the only father she has known, you’re a born parent, and you love that little girl. So go and buy her a baseball mitt, and just walk right on past the jock straps, think of the savings.”

“I need Angela,” Kyle said, drooping his head.

Jeff looked at his friend and understood. “So does Katelyn, but Katelyn doesn’t have her anymore. However, my friend, she has the next best thing. Katelyn knows it, Angela knows it, I know it, and by God so do you. And let’s quit this crap before I start crying . . . again. Once was plenty; let’s not make it a habit. That beautiful little girl is coming back to us, and we’re all she has. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready.”

Kyle and Jeff looked at each other across the table for a few long moments until Jeff broke the connection, for the potential for tears was becoming real. He said, “Mind if I eat this blasted thing,” as he took his first bite of a cold croissant.

Two weeks seemed to take two years, but the Sunday finally came. Kyle woke, took his coffee and bagel to the front porch, and sat waiting. The porch swing didn’t move back and forth as it always did when he sat with Angela and Katelyn, it simply wasn’t a one person swing. Mid-morning he heard the grinding of gravel and tires, and saw a white limousine lumbering slowly down the long lane toward the cabin. His pounding heart could be heard across the lake clear to Katelyn’s Cove. It seemed as if eternity passed before the car finally stopped. A man got out, walked around, and opened the back door. Out popped Katelyn.

She spotted Kyle on the porch and took off running toward him nearly as fast as Kyle was running toward her. Kyle bent down for the catch, grabbed her, and lifted her into a hug. He struggled to hold back the tears. He stood there without a word, Katelyn squeezing him so hard she nearly broke his neck, while he squeezed her so hard around the middle that she nearly broke in two.

Katelyn began crying. “It’s okay sweetheart, it’s okay . . . you’re home now.”

“I miss Mommy.”

That did it, Kyle was no longer able to hold back Hoover Dam, tears flooded his face. “So do I Katelyn, so do I my darling.”

A man and a child shared the same loss, felt the same void, missed the same woman; a mother to one, a purpose to the other. A man and a child merged their emotions, and fashioned a bond of unblemished love.

“Mommy said she was sick and God wanted her to come to heaven so he could make her better; can she come home?”

Kyle did not want to answer, didn’t want to acknowledge that Angela was no longer part of them. After a long pause he scraped from his depression, “No sweetheart, she can’t come home again, I’m sorry. She is very, very sick.” They tightened their grips on each other.

“Your mommy knows how much we love her, and she wants you and me to take care of each other. She wants us to be happy. With you here with me, I know I can be happy again,” he labored to say, doubting it could be true.

“I can’t,” Katelyn cried, “I miss my Mommy.”

“It’s okay,” Kyle repeated. “I miss her too, sweetheart, I miss her so much.”

He stood holding Katelyn, holding a large part of Angela, absorbing the love from each of them. A long moment later Katelyn asked, “Mommy said that you are my daddy now, are you my daddy?”

“Yes darling, I am your daddy, and you’re my daughter, my wonderful litt . . . big girl,” he answered in a wobbly voice, “My big, big, girl. And, guess what? Your daddy loves you more than anyone in the whole wide world.”

The limo driver had carefully unloaded several suitcases, a bike, and a half-dozen boxes from the car, placing them neatly on the front porch. He walked over to Kyle. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you are Kyle Ellis now do I?” he said, handing Kyle a manila folder.

With Katelyn still squeezing him with all her might, Kyle cleared his tear soaked eyes the best he could. “I don’t think so,” he said, taking the folder.

“If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you would sign the legal documents where flagged, I need to take them back with me. Those papers will make ‘daddy’ official,” he said, giving Kyle a pen and a caring smile.
Katelyn’s grip had not eased. It strengthened even more when Kyle released one arm to take the folder. Kyle placed it on top of the limo and opened it. He flipped through and signed several places conveniently marked with tabs. The last tab did not indicate a place to be signed. Instead, it marked a signature.

On the loose page was a hand-drawn heart. Within it was written, “Kyle, when I left Willow Falls, I left in your keeping four-fifths of my soul. You now have the rest of my soul, for it lies within my beautiful little girl. I love you Kyle Ellis.” It was signed, “Angela Collins Ellis, your wife.”

Kyle thought for sure the human body was capable of only three or four gallons of tears in any one day, but not so. He pulled that page from the package and tore off the blank bottom half. Nearly blind, he wrote, “Angela, my love, our souls were exchanged when you left, for you took with you four-fifths of my soul. My new soul, my life, and my love, will all be in one little girl, our girl. Thank you for giving me the two most precious parts of your life, your love and your daughter. I more than love you Angela, and yes, we will be together in the next life.” Kyle struggled, but managed to draw something that resembled a heart. Inside it he wrote, “Your husband and Katelyn’s daddy, Kyle.”

Blinded by tears, Kyle put the piece of torn paper on the top of the forms, closed the folder, and handed it to the driver. The driver took it from him saying with genuine care, “Thank you, I wish you the very best.”

Afraid to blink, the driver put his hand on top of Katelyn’s head, still squashed against Kyle’s neck, and gently rubbed his goodbye.

The pain in Kyle’s throat would allow no words, so he nodded his thanks. With Angela’s hand-drawn heart in one hand, their daughter in his other, Kyle walked into the cabin, squeezing and being squeezed, loving and being loved.[/toggle]
“Oh! God,” Kyle said, sliding a croissant across the table. “How will I manage, Jeff? How will I be able to give her what she needs? She needs Angela. How can I possibly hope to give her what she needs most? I can’t be Angela.”

“That’s right, you can’t, so don’t try. And you know damn well you can’t, unless maybe you have some dresses in your closet that I don’t know about. Nor does Katelyn or Angela expect you to be Angela. What she needs the most is for Kyle Ellis to be Kyle Ellis, the same man you were when you were all together.”

“I’m not her father, I’ve never been a parent, and she’s a little girl, not a boy. How do I take care of a little girl?”

“Kyle, you are Katelyn’s best friend, the only father she has known, you’re a born parent, and you love that little girl. So go and buy her a baseball mitt, and just walk right on past the jock straps, think of the savings.”

“I need Angela,” Kyle said, drooping his head.

Jeff looked at his friend and understood. “So does Katelyn, but Katelyn doesn’t have her anymore. However, my friend, she has the next best thing. Katelyn knows it, Angela knows it, I know it, and by God so do you. And let’s quit this crap before I start crying . . . again. Once was plenty; let’s not make it a habit. That beautiful little girl is coming back to us, and we’re all she has. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready.”

Kyle and Jeff looked at each other across the table for a few long moments until Jeff broke the connection, for the potential for tears was becoming real. He said, “Mind if I eat this blasted thing,” as he took his first bite of a cold croissant.

Two weeks seemed to take two years, but the Sunday finally came. Kyle woke, took his coffee and bagel to the front porch, and sat waiting. The porch swing didn’t move back and forth as it always did when he sat with Angela and Katelyn, it simply wasn’t a one person swing. Mid-morning he heard the grinding of gravel and tires, and saw a white limousine lumbering slowly down the long lane toward the cabin. His pounding heart could be heard across the lake clear to Katelyn’s Cove. It seemed as if eternity passed before the car finally stopped. A man got out, walked around, and opened the back door. Out popped Katelyn.

She spotted Kyle on the porch and took off running toward him nearly as fast as Kyle was running toward her. Kyle bent down for the catch, grabbed her, and lifted her into a hug. He struggled to hold back the tears. He stood there without a word, Katelyn squeezing him so hard she nearly broke his neck, while he squeezed her so hard around the middle that she nearly broke in two.

Katelyn began crying. “It’s okay sweetheart, it’s okay . . . you’re home now.”

“I miss Mommy.”

That did it, Kyle was no longer able to hold back Hoover Dam, tears flooded his face. “So do I Katelyn, so do I my darling.”

A man and a child shared the same loss, felt the same void, missed the same woman; a mother to one, a purpose to the other. A man and a child merged their emotions, and fashioned a bond of unblemished love.

“Mommy said she was sick and God wanted her to come to heaven so he could make her better; can she come home?”

Kyle did not want to answer, didn’t want to acknowledge that Angela was no longer part of them. After a long pause he scraped from his depression, “No sweetheart, she can’t come home again, I’m sorry. She is very, very sick.” They tightened their grips on each other.

“Your mommy knows how much we love her, and she wants you and me to take care of each other. She wants us to be happy. With you here with me, I know I can be happy again,” he labored to say, doubting it could be true.

“I can’t,” Katelyn cried, “I miss my Mommy.”

“It’s okay,” Kyle repeated. “I miss her too, sweetheart, I miss her so much.”

He stood holding Katelyn, holding a large part of Angela, absorbing the love from each of them. A long moment later Katelyn asked, “Mommy said that you are my daddy now, are you my daddy?”

“Yes darling, I am your daddy, and you’re my daughter, my wonderful litt . . . big girl,” he answered in a wobbly voice, “My big, big, girl. And, guess what? Your daddy loves you more than anyone in the whole wide world.”

The limo driver had carefully unloaded several suitcases, a bike, and a half-dozen boxes from the car, placing them neatly on the front porch. He walked over to Kyle. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you are Kyle Ellis now do I?” he said, handing Kyle a manila folder.

With Katelyn still squeezing him with all her might, Kyle cleared his tear soaked eyes the best he could. “I don’t think so,” he said, taking the folder.

“If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you would sign the legal documents where flagged, I need to take them back with me. Those papers will make ‘daddy’ official,” he said, giving Kyle a pen and a caring smile.
Katelyn’s grip had not eased. It strengthened even more when Kyle released one arm to take the folder. Kyle placed it on top of the limo and opened it. He flipped through and signed several places conveniently marked with tabs. The last tab did not indicate a place to be signed. Instead, it marked a signature.

On the loose page was a hand-drawn heart. Within it was written, “Kyle, when I left Willow Falls, I left in your keeping four-fifths of my soul. You now have the rest of my soul, for it lies within my beautiful little girl. I love you Kyle Ellis.” It was signed, “Angela Collins Ellis, your wife.”

Kyle thought for sure the human body was capable of only three or four gallons of tears in any one day, but not so. He pulled that page from the package and tore off the blank bottom half. Nearly blind, he wrote, “Angela, my love, our souls were exchanged when you left, for you took with you four-fifths of my soul. My new soul, my life, and my love, will all be in one little girl, our girl. Thank you for giving me the two most precious parts of your life, your love and your daughter. I more than love you Angela, and yes, we will be together in the next life.” Kyle struggled, but managed to draw something that resembled a heart. Inside it he wrote, “Your husband and Katelyn’s daddy, Kyle.”

Blinded by tears, Kyle put the piece of torn paper on the top of the forms, closed the folder, and handed it to the driver. The driver took it from him saying with genuine care, “Thank you, I wish you the very best.”

Afraid to blink, the driver put his hand on top of Katelyn’s head, still squashed against Kyle’s neck, and gently rubbed his goodbye.

The pain in Kyle’s throat would allow no words, so he nodded his thanks. With Angela’s hand-drawn heart in one hand, their daughter in his other, Kyle walked into the cabin, squeezing and being squeezed, loving and being loved.

 

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