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.

The door closed behind her.

All he could do was slip outside, making his way to the balcony outside Jessica's bedroom. From the far corner, separated by the glass, he watched as she set the cake on the coffee table in front of the sofa, then lit a candle shaped like the number six.

Today, Henry would have turned six.

Jessica crossed to her desk, pulled out a scrapbook filled with paper-cut illustrations, and curled up on the sofa.

She flipped open the book.

Before long, Vince saw her dabbing at tears.

This time, Jessica read through every page.

There were pictures of her and Henry together on his birthdays.

Pictures of her keeping vigil at his bedside when he was sick, never leaving his side.

Pictures of them napping together in the same bed.

Of them watching TV, Henry planting a kiss on her cheek.noveldrama

So many memories.

Each paper-cut image tugged her back to when that moment had happened.

The things Henry was old enough to remember, he'd captured-painstakingly, vividly, with scissors and colored paper.

He'd even made a picture of the two of them working on paper-cuts together.

Jessica's thoughts drifted to that visit to Oakwood, when she overheard Henry telling Sheila he wanted to give her the scrapbook.

He'd once promised Jessica that when he could finish a book all by himself, he'd give her the very first one.

He remembered.

But in the end, he gave his first completed book to Sheila.

A tear fell onto the open page.

She turned another page, and there was Henry's paper-cut of himself handing the book to Sheila. Underneath, he'd written:

"Even though Mom doesn't know I

gave my first scrapbook to someone else, I still want to admit I was wrong. I shouldn't have done it. I promised Mom, but I broke my word. I wasn't an honest child."

Jessica felt her heart twist painfully.

He knew he'd done wrong.

She closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Later in the book, Henry had written about the day he told a nurse that Jessica was the nanny, not his mom, while he was getting a shot. He explained he didn't know where Sheila had gone-he'd only said she went on a business trip with Dad because he didn't want to lose face in front of the nurse.

Jessica stared at that line for a long, long time.

That day, she'd misunderstood him She'd thought Henry knew Timothy had taken

and Sheila on a business trip,

she was the only one left in

the dark.

All along, it had just been a misunderstanding—a twist of fate that let her find out

Timothy had taken Sheila with him to Capital City.