I Still Love You by Jane Lark Page A

convinced she’d pull out of the idea. But that had probably been dumb, because this was not about her—it was about Saint, and she had always wanted to be the best, most perfect Mom, and do all the things for Saint her mom had never done for her.
    Of course she was going to take him trick or treating on his first Halloween, hell, in one of her mad moments she had even baked him a birthday cake after he’d been born—in the middle of the night, and it had been blue…
    But that was my crazy Rachel.
    “Hey.” I brushed a strand of her wig from her face. “Are you feeling okay?” She was going out trick or treating, but we were also supposed to go out to a party later tonight and she really didn't want to do that.
    “Yeah.” She shoved my hand away, she did not like thinking about what she’d done, or being sick. She was running from the fact she was sick now, pretending it had not been her.
    I let her go, and let her run. I was playing things any way she wanted.
    I’d talk to her about the party after we’d been out with Saint. I did want to go. I felt like we both needed a bit of normal life for people our age.
    “Come on, let’s go show your Mom and Dad our costumes.” We’d planned on trying to move out of my parents’ place this fall, but now, after what had happened, it seemed best we stayed here so Rach had someone around when I was at work.
    She bent down to pick Saint up. The little guy did look really cute. “Wait.” I picked up my cell and took a selfie of the three of us. She smiled for it. She hadn’t got the fire back in her eyes yet either, her meds were still quite high as the doctors were working out the balance she needed. She was never the carefree crazy person that I’d first met now. I felt a little sad about it, because it was like she wasn’t herself. I wanted her to be herself again.
    I turned the cell around and showed her the picture. “I’m gonna tease him horribly with that when he’s all grown up. You do know he is gonna hate you for that costume… ” I grinned at her.
    She laughed, and her laughter rattled through my bones, and seeped into my soul. It was a proper laugh. That was better than nothing, and maybe her spark of wildness would pierce her meds at some point too.
    “Come on.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to the door, opened it and swung it back then let her go first.
    Mom had let Rach borrow her wedding dress… that said how much my parents loved her. They did truly love her like a daughter.
    I had a suit on, one I’d bought for the interview when I’d gone for the job in New York—the move that had found me Rach.
    “Mom!” I called as we walked into the living room, when I heard her in the kitchen.
    Dad looked up and grinned, then he stood up. “Let me get the camera, I have to get a picture of you three. You look wonderful.”
    Shit, I was never going to live this down either. But then I caught our image in the mirror and we did look good. She’d done a really good job with my make-up.
    “Oh. Wow. Look at you. I’m surprised Saint isn’t screaming.” He wasn’t, he was smiling at his Mom, trying to pull her wig. “And that little man looks adorable as a pumpkin.” Mom came over and took him from Rach’s hands. She lifted him and cooed at him.
    Dad came back in with the camera, then we all had to pose, and Dad told us three times, “Not spooky enough,” and took another picture as we made faces.
    When the posing was over, I went back into the den we used as our bedroom and picked up Saint’s little sweetie-gathering pot, and then came out holding it up. “Time to trick or treat!”
    Shit, I felt down tonight myself, and I shouldn’t feel down, it was a big deal for Rach; it’s just I knew the old Rach would’ve been racing around super-excited, laughing and shouting, and cheering, and teasing me for wearing make-up, but this Rach was subdued, even though she’d laughed. It was like the meds were keeping her chained