FH: Just Found Heaven Ch. 03: Tara

"Well, one of the new nurses in the maternity ward is gay and single and I've seen her in person and can vouch that she's pretty, very sweet and that she loves kids."

I ignored the not-so-subtle hint. Even though her marriage had been far from years of tender devotion and adoration, Sofia was one of those women who believed in big families with white picket fences. If a spouse that would treat her and her girls with respect and commitment came along with that, she'd count her blessings forever.

I could get behind love, respect and the occasional cheese of cutesy romance. I was a secret fan girl of 80's power ballads so I didn't mind the occasional "extra." I just wasn't sold completely on the idea of being called mommy. I'd planned on becoming Aunt Tara to my brother's kids first as a sort of test run to gauge my level of responsibility and enthusiasm for changing diapers and dealing with potentially clogged milk ducts if my kid decided to follow in its mama's free spirit footsteps and do things like breastfeeding on its own time.

My tatas were perfectly perky handfuls--or mouthfuls depending on the preferences of whomever was in my bed--and even my fringe sense of feminine vanity urged me to keep them that way. But Nate's kids would've needed playmates and confidantes just like he and I had been, and that might almost have been enough to tip the scales in favor of nine months of nachos and a falling out with my feet when my belly obscured them. Unfortunately, life often decided to take unexpected, and craptastic turns without consulting you.

I inhaled deeply as I suddenly felt ninja-stealthy tears threatening to capitalize on the heightened emotions flowing every which way today. A wedding wasn't a proper one without laughter, well wishes and a few tears, albeit those were usually of the happy variety unlike the ones I was struggling to keep contained....

***

"Holy cannoli Batman!"

I felt my eyes widening as I took the delicate diamond ring my brother was holding out towards me so that I could inspect it more closely. I twirled it back and forth between my fingers, watching the clear center stone shimmer with perfect iridescence.

"Did you mortgage your soul for this sucker? If so, I approve. How many carats is this?"

Nate grinned at me, beaming with male pride. "Only one but the jeweler said size is less important than clarity."

"Your jeweler said size doesn't matter? Must be a man."

I grinned when Nate snorted.

"Smartass. Properly cut facets are what make a diamond really sparkle."

I knew that, but as his little sister, it'd always been my self-proclaimed, sacred duty to submit Nate to copious levels of affectionate grief. I grinned, feeling my eyes crinkle at the corners at the same time that Nate's did. We were far from twins, having been born 5 years apart, but everyone who knew the both of us always said our mannerisms and smiles were the same. He just had 6 inches over my own 5'6, and his hair was a little darker than my bright auburn, and more wave than curl. He'd gotten the worse eyesight though, having to wear nerd boy chic glasses daily, so I considered it a fair genetic trade off.

"Well sparkle it does, sir."

And it did, glowing like it was lit up from within by incandescent fire no matter which way I turned the delicate ring beneath the lights. Against the nearly white band which looked surprisingly like platinum, the single, round cut stone was classic high-end elegance; something that I hadn't been sure that my laid-back brother who usually shopped at thrift stores knew anything about. But he'd done good.

"Do you think Amy will like it?"

I eyed him with affectionate scorn for the absolute ridiculousness of the statement like Miss Marilyn herself would have done before she launched into sultry song. "Are you kidding? She'll love it. It's beautiful and classy, just like her. And if for some insane reason Amy experiences a brain blip and doesn't think so, give it to me. I can save it to whip out and show mom and dad that I'm ready to rock 'n roll if I ever find my forever lady love."

Nate saluted me with his beer bottle and another pleased smile as I twisted the ring around in the light then arched my left eyebrow at him in silent question. As usual he read my mind and nodded, giving me permission to slide the slim circlet onto my own left ring finger to further admire it.

"So, you're really doing this?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I thought you said a few months ago that you didn't think you and Amy were ready to get married."

Nate nodded slightly and an almost rueful smile touched the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I know, but then I did something you'll be proud of."

I could feel my left eyebrow arch again when his eyes, green instead of blue like mine, gleamed with the same mischief that had always appeared in them right before he'd yanked my pigtails when we were kids.

"What did you do?"

"I asked myself what my little sister, former hot mess turned amazing therapist would say."

He grinned when I leaned forward to pop him in the shoulder, rubbing the spot after II pulled back to flip him off. If anyone else had brought up my colorful past-- which had exploded for a year after I'd almost dropped out of college because of an epically failed relationship-- my oh so delicate fist would've ended up in their face. But Nate had been there to help me build the mini bonfire in his backyard where we'd burned all of my ex's things in effigy. He'd also been there to bring me an endless supply of coffee when I'd started breaking night with study sessions to get my GPA up, and my education back on track until I graduated with honors. Nate had always been the only person in my life who loved me unconditionally despite my many, many flaws, so he got a pass. Not a free one since I knew his shoulder was throbbing even if he was still smiling. I didn't hit like a girl after three and a half years of private kick-boxing classes but it was still a pass.

"I see. And what did that beautiful, brilliant creature tell you to do?"

"She said to imagine how I'd feel if I saw Amy smiling and happy on a Christmas card photo with 2.5 kids, a cat, two dogs and a husband that wasn't me."

I couldn't hide my grin as I lifted my glass and took a sip of my mint julep. I didn't keep up with many of the traditions from my conservative, southern upbringing, but I had a sweet tooth and a weakness for good bourbon, so I made an exception when it came to my drinks.

"Ah, so you realized that you couldn't live without the dogs? Such a softy."

Nate's grin matched mine. "Don't tell mom and dad yet, Red," he said, using the childhood nickname that only he could ever get away with using. Anyone else would've gotten popped less affectionately than he had earlier. Pippi Longstocking nightmares had been a thing when I was a kid.

"Amy and I want to tell them ourselves."

"Ok but you owe me big time for suppressing the public service announcement of the century since you know that in their eyes any children the two of you have will become the future salvation of the human race even if they end up as custodians and Food Lion cashiers."

Nate's smile slowly deepened and when he suddenly shifted like he was going to reach for my drink, I held it out of his reach, unwittingly putting my long, naturally auburn curls in the crosshairs of those deceitful, grabby fingers. The tug was gentle but still earned Nate the most withering look I could manage when all I wanted to do was smile because I was so happy for him.

Nate and I'd been close our entire lives. Aside from the occasional pigtail pulling, he'd been the textbook definition of a great older brother who'd always had my back and two strong, arms that he'd held out without any hesitation whenever I needed to hide in them. Those same arms had hugged me tightly after I'd come out my senior year in high school by asking out the gorgeous head cheerleader, Marcie Bouchard, to our prom and that endeavor had gone as disastrously as I should've expected.

All high schools are Hellmouths, and Marcie had shape-shifted from the nice, friendly person who'd been my study partner all year in advanced biology, into a heartbreaking, queer-shaming mean girl. She'd turned me down flat in front of our entire senior class during lunch with scathing commentary about my style and lack of coolness, before turning to kiss Josh Holloway, the equally cliché, too full of himself douche heartthrob quarterback. Josh had smirked as Marcie verbally decimated me, then called me a skanky dyke bitch himself before he and Marcie had broken every school code of conduct rule and made out in front of me like he was Jacques Cousteau on a horny dive to find her tonsils. I'd run out of the cafeteria in an explosion of tears that had still been flowing when Nate had come home from his part-time job at the local pizzeria four hours after I'd ditched the rest of the school day, and gone straight home to do the private, ugly girl cry thing.

After a hug fest where Nate had dried my tears and put me to bed with my stuffed sloth, Freud, and a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream, my mild-mannered, auburn haired, salt-of-the-earth, Clark-Kent-glasses wearing brother, had pressed a kiss to the top of my head and told me to take a nap. Then he'd gone to the diner that Josh liked to hang out at and beaten the shit out of Josh's 6'1, 200lb muscled ass in the parking lot when Josh had walked out to his car.

On prom night a week later, Nate had taken me to the dance himself. We'd danced all night, laughed at Josh's feeble attempts to sell a story that he'd been randomly mugged to anyone who would listen, and then had gotten waffle sundaes with extra maraschino cherries at Friendlys after the prom ended. Over copious amounts of sugar, Nate had told me to forget about Marcie because when I graduated from college with my psychology degree, I'd have women lining up around the block to lay on my couch. He'd grinned when he'd added that with some luck, some of them might not be patients.

It'd been one of the most amazing nights of my life and though I'd been a lit major for my first two years in college instead of going straight into psych 101, those years had been time well wasted. Women were suckers for poetry, and Nate's carnal couch predictions had come true on a relatively routine basis, building my confidence in the sexuality Marcie had tried to destroy in high school. I'd built up enough self-awareness that even after a bad breakup with my first real girlfriend, I was able to regroup, slow down the pussy parade and switch my major back to psych. To this point I still hadn't found anyone I cared about enough to make the transition from couch buddy to a more permanent playing house situation, though I'd gone out a few times with a woman I'd met recently through a mutual friend.

Melanie was sweet, pretty and knew her way around my bed as well as she did my couch. We had fun whenever we spent time together and our conversations were actually filled with substance between the sexy moments. As a librarian she was as well read as I was, and I had a thing for strong and intelligent women. I just didn't see her as my forever after yet. That didn't mean I wasn't thrilled that Nate had found his.

I'd liked Amy since day one when Nate had introduced us at a barbecue at our parent's place. She was intelligent and beautiful, but also real. She kept Nate in line and occasionally wrangled him into clothing a few steps up from items off of clearance racks. She also loved my brother as fiercely as I did and would go to bat for him anytime in true southern girl style; the type to bless your heart as she loaded her shotgun with buckshot to defend her own. She could even manage my parents, so they put their picket fences, and Sunday potluck dinner aspirations on her and Nate more often than they did on me; a nice change because before she'd come into the picture, my life had frequently been a topic of disappointment at those same Sunday dinners.

My parents loved me and were proud of my achievements of getting through college and becoming a respected and established therapist, but my Christmas cards were never going to have a smiling husband standing at my side beneath some mistletoe, and the idea of a cat and potentially a dog standing in for kids didn't wind the cranks of their internal grandparent's clocks. If Nate and Amy started popping out my future nieces and nephews right after their wedding when they were all settled in New York City now that Nate had been accepted into the FDNY, and Amy had gotten a job as an elementary teacher in a respected charter school, my parents, who weren't big on traveling out of our home state of Alabama, but who were huge on the idea of extending our family, would be on the first flight out to make it work. So would I. Distance was just logistics.

I smiled at Nate and held out my glass so he could clink his beer bottle against it before I raised my hand up to the lights again to watch the diamond shine...

***

I thought that I'd been doing a pretty good job of containing my emotions until I felt Sofia's hand touch my arm gently after I sat on the bed and leaned down like I was checking the strap on my sandals again to give myself a few seconds to school my expression into wedding appropriate happiness.

"Tara, what's wrong?"

"Nothing sweetie. I'm ok."

"No, you're not. Please look up and talk to me."

Years of experience as both a nurse and a mother had perfected Sofia's comforting bedside manner and 'pleases,' to the gentle equivalent of now.

"So beautiful and bossy."

Sofia squeezed my hand and I sighed, briefly looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds to employ the rapid blink trick passed down by women for generations so I could keep my tears back long enough for them to dry so they didn't ruin my eye makeup.

"Sofia, today is about Sam and Ben. Mourning ghosts won't help me achieve epic best woman status and I just can't fail at that. Not today." I cleared my throat, trying to push past the lump of emotion squatting there. "I never wanted to be a bridesmaid, but when my brother told me that he was planning to propose to his long-time girlfriend, Amy, I promised him that I'd be his best woman come hell or high water, no matter what ridiculous dress Amy picked out." I felt my lips tilt into a smile I knew wasn't reaching my eyes. "But it never happened because 911 came first, and Nate died before he ever got the chance to ask Amy to marry him."

"Oh Tara..." Sofia's own eyes shone with emotion as she curled my hand tightly between both of hers.

Like all of my close friends, Sofia knew that Nate had been killed when the first tower had fallen on that tragic, life changing day in NYC and that he, along with almost his entire firehouse's crew, had been trapped inside. So many lives had been lost and everyone who was left behind had also been left to pick up the pieces any way they could.

I'd tried to move forward as much as anyone who's had their heart torn out can, but the career Nate had been so proud of me for building had suffered for a long time after I'd started spending more time at casinos and bars than with my patients. When Melanie left me because I couldn't be present enough for her, I'd moved out of Alabama and away from the broken hearts of my parents to Florida to try and escape both their pain and anger as well as my own.

It'd taken years of failing at even going through the motions, lost in mountains of bourbon bottles before I'd finally been able to get it together. And all because of a kid whose bad decision to try and steal my purse--in a park mugging that was unsuccessful thanks to all those years of kickboxing classes--had led both me and the police to Maplewood, the halfway house for wayward teens that Ben had opened years before I'd even met him. That one poor decision by a broken teenager had introduced me to the man who'd settled my soul with patience and a kindness that I hadn't found in many people since I'd lost Nate.

Ben was a priest now, though he hadn't always been. His former high-end, rent boy lifestyle had put miles on him that helped instill deep levels of compassion, and the ability to look at his past mistakes and use them to propel himself forward after he'd finally forgiven himself. He believed in passing those beliefs on, and had made Eric return my purse. I hadn't pressed charges, choosing instead to take Ben up on his offer to work with the kids at Maplewood because in most of their eyes, I'd seen that same despair I'd walked around with since 911; lost souls who didn't think that they mattered to anyone and cried themselves to sleep every night because they wanted their old life back.

You could never get lost years back, but I'd created a new life in Florida with a clearer purpose, new friends, and the blonde dye job that my stylist helped me maintain flawlessly. Only people that had known me before I'd moved to Florida or those who'd taken a trip down my pants pre-Brazilian wax revolution, knew that I wasn't a natural blonde. I didn't even have any pictures of my red head days on my Facebook page. I faced most of my internal demons head on now, and without the help of daytime drinking, but my natural auburn color still reminded my heart too much of Nate's teasing nickname for me and the days of family dinners at my parent's house that I'd never been invited back to after he'd died. However, my life was back on track and I thanks God for every new day. I only wished Nate was been around to see it.

"I have the ring..."

Sofia's eyes widened slightly, accentuating the subtly winged eyeliner I'd talked her into along with the lipstick. "The engagement ring?"

"Mhmm. I gave it to Amy after Nate's body was finally found by the search teams and his identity had been confirmed," I said quietly. "But she returned it to me privately after the funeral, saying that she couldn't keep it if she wanted to move on with her life one day because with her heart as broken as it was, Nate's spirit would be trapped with it and he'd be unable to move on."

I didn't believe in ghosts but from a therapist's perspective I'd understood what Amy had meant. Before I started working with teenagers, I'd counseled mostly women and had moderated many sessions that included physical representations of letting go of what you couldn't handle; Helium balloons carrying long lists inside them of missed opportunities and failures had been released from my office window more than a few times.

Amy had needed to detach from her life with Nate. I got that, even if a small, resentful part of me had wanted to scream at her and ask her how she thought the rest of us were supposed to move on. But Nate had loved her enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her so I'd hugged her goodbye, wished her well, and we'd made promises to keep in touch.

I'd never seen Amy again, not even via the ever-loose Facebook friend world.

I'd kept the ring in its little velvet box in the bottom of my jewelry case for all these years.

"I'm sorry Tara. I can't speak for Amy and I know it's not the same situation at all, but when I gave Connor's dog tags to Sam, something in my heart settled and I was finally able to start looking forward with hope even if I'll never completely forget everything that happened between us."

When I was in a professional capacity, I always urged people to work through the difficult process of letting go of their pain and anger to move forward, especially when the person provoking those emotions was dead and holding onto the past wouldn't change anything. Sofia was a close friend but I was absolutely not applying for Catholic canonization, so I bristled inwardly over her monster of a late husband being included as part of the same sentence as Nate. My brother had been flawed like all human beings, but he'd also been one of the best people I'd ever known, and would never have lifted a hand to a woman. I didn't say anything though because I knew how complicated love can be, and Sofia had come so far that I couldn't angrily declare that it was absolutely NOT the same fucking thing.