A Life Well-Lived, Chapter 4
A Life Well-Lived
by CSIGeekFan
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters from the show.
Author’s Note: I want to give a big shout out to lucsmum and seattlecsifan for their wonderful beta work.
Chapter 4
Jenna Garret sat on the comfortable couch and watched her young cousin squirm. She really loved her job. Having already raised two kids, she truly felt for the teen who sat stiffly in the armchair across from her.
“So, Kyle, how is school going?” she asked, raising her brow. Of course she already knew. When her young cousin (many times removed) first appeared in front of her in court, she saw something very familiar. The middle-aged woman saw her father, Jacob Snyder. She saw the same mannerisms, the same ready wit, and the same pride.
Maybe it was that this boy’s great-grandfather had helped mold her own daddy that made two very different generations so alike. Kyle’s bored attitude and arrogance reminded many of Reid. She couldn’t say much, because so did hers. In some ways, she thought it might be a curse. Then again, Luke and Reid had been a big part of her own upbringing, and more than one “Oakhell” resident had pointed out her own conceit.
She could be patient, too, though (and thanked her father for that valuable skill, since no one else even knew the definition of patience). So she just waited. Oh yes, she’d already talked to the school today. And whether he appreciated it or not, Jenna refused to allow him to fail. In this she had the upper hand, and eventually Kyle lost the staring contest. He dropped his gaze and muttered, “School sucks.”
Yeah… Kyle had learned the first important lesson. Never try to bullshit family, especially if they wore court robes. It wouldn’t end well.
He’d never admit it out loud, but he really did like his cousin, even if she was a judge. Later that afternoon, after Jenna left, he grabbed Luke’s book and settled onto the back porch. The sun hadn’t descended enough yet to make use of the telescope, so he flipped open the tome and began to read.
“Life, if well lived, is long enough.” - Lucius Annaeus Seneca
Reid Oliver-Snyder hated weddings.
His husband loved them.
So the good doctor rolled his eyes impatiently at his husband, when their son David said, “I do.”
It had nothing to do with the overly sappy (and Reid secretly thought tacky) decorations of the church (which would be why Faith and Natalie should never be permitted to decorate). No, it had to do with the fact that Luke looked like the Victorian maiden he claimed to never be. The blond man quietly cried into his embroidered handkerchief - this after an hour of sniffling into Reid’s shoulder the night before.
Just as Luke sniffled once again, the minister began to pray.
Their boy hadn’t done things the traditional way. Then again, when had anyone in Oakdale? No… David and Sela had waited until their first two children, Lily and Adam had come screaming into the world like banshees before exchanging their vows.
Reid simply liked to give them shit about it because it was fun, not because he had a problem with it. And while he would never admit it, he found his toddler granddaughter and grandson to be adorable, standing up as best man and maid of honor.
But as the minister droned on, Reid felt his attention drift away, thinking of his own marriage. He was so glad his boy had found a woman he felt so strong about. They still had a lot to learn, but they knew each other. Like he knew Luke. And boy, did Reid know Luke.
Long ago, they’d discovered they couldn’t fool each other, although Luke still tried. The sap.
Then again, Luke’s surprises tended to backfire in spectacular style. David’s bachelor party had been disastrous. As best man, David’s best friend Hugh should’ve never let Luke help plan the bachelor party.
At least that had only resulted in the hiring of a gay, male stripper for a room full of (primarily) heterosexual males.
Not that it compared to the last time Luke tried to pull one over on Reid.
As the minister droned on in the background, Reid watched the scene in front of him, but thought back to his own spectacularly failed surprise engagement party.
He’d walked into a dark house, immediately kicked off his shoes, dropped his drawers, and pulled his t-shirt over his head. Then the poor doctor had gotten to experience the worst cliché in the history of man-kind. Why did shit like that always seem to happen when Luke was involved? When buck naked, why did the lights have to flare up and everyone yell “Surprise” with his fiancé standing there grinning?
Half of Oakdale had gotten a good look at the physician. Reid had been well-prepared to jump Luke within seconds of sauntering over the threshold. He’d been primed, and about to yell, “Man the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!”
But boy had he been surprised.
Luke squeezed Reid’s hand, pulling him from the memory and into the present, as those in attendance murmured, “Amen.”
Reid’s attention focused near the altar, where their fair-haired boy, his dark-haired beauty, and his two favorite carpet crawlers now squirmed in the arms of a groomsman and bridesmaid.
The look on David’s face reminded the good doctor of how he must have looked on his own wedding day. Stunned, stupid, and sappy.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister declared. The robed man turned to those in attendance and added, “I would like to present David and Sela Oliver.”
“We made a beautiful baby boy,” Luke murmured.
“He made beautiful grandkids,” Reid solemnly added, watching the children as they were passed from maid of honor and best man to bride and groom.
As their son and daughter-in-law approached with the kids, both men smiled wide, ignored the two adults, and reached for those very grandkids. They plucked them out of their parents’ arms, and snuggled the little, giggly bodies close.
Sela chuckled huskily and wryly said, “David, I don’t think we need to worry about the kids being a burden while we’re on our honeymoon.”
The grandpas waved away the newleyweds.
They had more important things to do.
By now, Kyle looked for comments written in the margins. All he found was one word.
Sap.
After dinner, Kyle sat unmoving at the kitchen table. Stories like the last one made him think more and more of his mother. In doing so, he thought of his father.
When his father finally passed, painfully for all involved, Kyle at least had been able to turn to his mother. Both of her parents had died in a plane crash. The young girl must have been so very scared.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Lily asked, settling into the wooden chair across from her son and leaning back. He’d been quieter than usual these last few days, and not in the teenage brooding kind of way.
“I’m sorry about Grandma and Grandpa,” he said, without really thinking about it. When he looked up and saw his mother’s eyes mist, Kyle wanted to kick himself, and plead, “Oh geez, don’t cry or anything. Please?”
“It’s okay,” Lily quietly replied, wiping away the moisture. Her son was growing up. Not easily. Not without a lot of bruises. But it felt good to know where his heart stood. Eventually, she asked, “What brought this on?”
“I’ve been reading Grandpa Luke’s book,” he replied with a shrug. He dropped his gaze to the table top and continued, “I guess I never really really got it. I knew. Of course, I knew that Grandma and Grandpa died when you just a kid, but, I never really understood. You lost your Mom and Dad.”
It always amazed Kyle how his mom could see deep into him when no one else could. She knew where her boy’s heart lay, and how much he missed his father.
“I know it hurts, Baby,” she murmured, reaching out to take his hand.
“It’s not that,” Kyle replied, laying his other hand over hers, effectively sandwiching it. “At least I’ve got you. Who did you have?”
His mother’s smile widened quite a bit, and she laughed huskily.
“Oh, Baby, I had my grandfathers to raise me, my brothers to protect me, and my best friend married me.”
Kyle hadn’t ever thought of it that way. His eyes misted, and he ducked his head, when she added, “And I get to watch you grow up. How lucky am I?”
With those words, she let her son compose himself and rose. As she walked away, Lily added, “You might like the story on page 93.”
And he thought he just might, when he saw a small note that Reid had written in the margins:
Our Lily will always be my little warrior.
"I’ve never understood pity and self-pity as an emotion. We have a finite amount of time. Whether short or long, it doesn’t matter. Life is to be lived." - Randy Pausch (The Last Lecture)
Lily sat on the edge of the bed, wiping her ten-year-old hand across her brother’s brow.
Every night, she sat next to her baby brother, soothing the shell-shocked five-year-old. The silent boy. Since the day their parents had died, August Oliver hadn’t spoken a word. The little boy worried everyone, and since the news had come that Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t be coming home, Lily had become his protector.
She didn’t cry at the funeral.
She wouldn’t talk about her Mommy and Daddy.
She looked at the sadness in her Grandpa and Granddaddy’s faces and she stayed stoic and silent. The little helper. And people began to look at the little girl and quietly comment, “She’s being so strong, that poor little girl.”
And she was strong.
Then, a month after that fateful day, she sat next to Auggie as he lay on his bed, and that tragic resolve began to crumble.
Because Lily couldn’t be strong anymore.
Silent tears began to drip down her cheeks, slowly at first, and then picking up speed. She didn’t realize she was crying until she couldn’t see anymore. And then she laid down next to Auggie, turned her back, and sobbed until his little hand reached out and pat her with his five-year-old palm.
“I mith ‘em too, Wiwy,” he whispered, continuing to pat her shoulder with an infinite amount of love in the gesture. Then Adam stood in front of her, and followed his brothers’ lead, standing as strong as a nine year old could.
From the doorway, Luke wept silently, with Reid’s arm around his waist and as two little boys stood watch.
One day, all would be well. But until then, they would stand guardian over one another, until together they found their way through the grief.
That’s what family did.
Kyle set the journal down on the kitchen counter and crossed to the little drawer next to the refrigerator. He drew out a picture his mother kept there and smiled a little sadly at the little family it portrayed.
His grandfather’s blond hair spiked out all over the place, making him look more like twenty than mid-thirties. His grandmother’s short black hair, classic features, and regal grin should have contrasted sharply and made the couple entirely mismatched. Yet they weren’t.
Instead, the warmth of their eyes and the contentment of the three children standing with them made them look… perfect.
All five of them wore beach apparel, and six-year-old Lily grinned with her arms full of blow-up beach ball.
Kyle ran his fingertip over his mother’s smile and sighed.
“We were happy,” Lily said, coming up behind her son. “For awhile after they died, we weren’t. But time really does heal wounds, even if scars are left behind.” Mother and son stared at the picture for a moment more, before she continued, “And every day, we had so much fun, honey. The real tragedy would be if I ever forgot that.”
X X X X X
Later that night, Kyle sat at the desk in his room, pulled out a sheet of paper, and tried to write. What he wanted to say was on the tip of his tongue, but words evaded. For half an hour he tried, though, tearing through half a dozen sheets before tossing his pencil down.
Grabbing up the journal, he moved over to the bed, dropped down onto his back, and nestled against the pillows.
“Live life fully while you're here. Experience everything. Take care of yourself and your friends. Have fun, be crazy, be weird. Go out and screw up! You're going to anyway, so you might as well enjoy the process. Take the opportunity to learn from your mistakes: find the cause of your problem and eliminate it. Don't try to be perfect; just be an excellent example of being human.” - Anthony Robbins
Lily Oliver sauntered down the path in Hyde Park, nearly dancing.
At twenty one, she’d finally left home (although her grandfather had complained bitterly that moving to another continent was uncalled for). Her other grandfather had squealed as loudly as she when she got into the international studies program. Then he’d taken her shopping for everything she would need for school away.
A whole year in London.
Twilight cast its late-summer rays along the path, and she twirled around. Giddy. Happy.
In fact, she twirled so fast, she didn’t see the young man until she slammed right into him, and they both careened off the path onto the grass.
There, laying flat on her back, breathless, she looked up into beautiful blue eyes and smiled.
Neither moved, although Lily’s smile softened - a little embarrassed and a lot intrigued. She could feel the young man’s breath on her face, and noticed how he flushed red in mortification.
While he tried to move off, she studied him. His round glasses had slid down his nose, and he finally settled on his knees. She found it rather endearing when he shoved the spectacles up, smiled shyly, and reached out a hand.
Together they stood, the moment turning awkward.
When she didn’t think it could get any more uncomfortable, he quietly introduced himself.
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Evan. Evan Jennings.”
His voice sounded like English heaven, and something inside the young woman sighed. So she accepted his palm and replied, “I’m Lily.”
When Lily went home for Christmas a few months later, she brought home a surprise. Her fiancé.
For the first time, Kyle laughed out loud. Not at the story, but at the flurry of back-and-forth comments between his grandfathers, running across every inch of margin on the page.
Thank God no sex was involved in this one.
How do you think we got our great-grandbaby?
Ewwww.
Oh please.
I don’t wanna think about it.
You were thinking pretty hard about sex last night. In fact, you were doing more than just thinking.
Don’t write shit like that on a page where we talk about our granddaughter, Luke.
Who’s the prude now?