Archive of Our Own ^beta

Heath sat beside Mother’s bedside, clasping the frail hand. He stared at the tiny soft fingers dwarfed by his large hand, calloused from decades working the ranch. In all the years since he’d come to claim his birthright, he’d never felt as alone as he did now.

This dear, sweet lady with a spine of steel had welcomed him into her home and heart even though he was tangible proof of her husband’s infidelity. She demonstrated in so many words and actions that she loved him as fiercely as her natural-born children. She gave him a family again and a place to belong. For that, he would forever be grateful.

Though he’d married and raised a son of his own, and in his mid-sixties now, his reserved manner had never changed … he was still a man of few words. And now, as the end was near, he struggled to find the right ones to tell the petite lady he cherished and loved as much as the woman who bore him goodbye.

As she slept, his mind rolled back over the years and all the goodbyes he’d said and didn’t get to say, seeking inspiration.

First had been Eugene. The young man had finished his medical training and returned to Stockton to set up practice. He was well respected and sought out by everyone, but sadly, he was taken from them only two years after his return by an epidemic of influenza as he tirelessly tended the ill until he couldn’t.

Mercifully, they’d arrived in town in time to tell Gene how much they loved him before he slipped away. With the whole family gathered around, crying and sharing words, he didn’t have much to add. So, instead of saying goodbye, he made Eugene a promise to watch over his mother and their siblings for him.

Silas unexpectedly but peacefully went to his maker in his sleep the next winter. When Heath woke that morning and found no biscuits waiting for him, he searched for Silas. He discovered his dear friend in bed, having expired sometime during the night. Heath sat with him for a long while and had one last conversation with the man who understood him so well. Though Silas didn’t and couldn’t engage in the chat verbally, he heard the responses in his heart. Although they hired someone to take over Silas’ duties, mornings were never the same for Heath.

Three years later, Jarrod, who never remarried after Beth’s murder, was killed in San Franciso. It had been classified as an accidental drowning, and no amount of yelling from Nick changed the mind of police. But they all knew their brother would never be so drunk as to fall into the water and drown.

After bringing Jarrod home to bury him beside their father and Eugene, Nick had torn out of here like a hellcat bent on revenge for Pappy’s murder. Of course, he followed his blustery brother, and they found the miscreant, who knocked Jarrod unconscious and tossed his body in the bay after mugging him. If he hadn’t gone, Nick would’ve been hung as a murderer, but he managed to stop him from killing the man, and they turned him over to the authorities.

They returned home after justice had been served, and the two of them stood side-by-side at Jarrod’s grave. When Nick broke down, dropped to his knees, and sobbed, Heath remained strong for him. He didn’t need words, only a hand on Nick’s shoulder to convey his feelings. But later, when alone, Heath knelt and lay that same hand on Jarrod’s headstone.

His own tears rolled down his cheeks as he told Jarrod how much he appreciated everything he’d ever done for him. His easy acceptance of him when he first came to the ranch as a hotheaded, angry young man changed the trajectory of his life. Saying goodbye to him hurt as much as saying it to Mama because Jarrod had become a pseudo-father figure to him as well as a stalwart brother.

Death came again about a year and a half later. He and Nick had wed twin sisters in a double ceremony a few months after losing Jarrod, and happiness returned. Their joy increased when they found out they would both be papas at about the same time. But two hellos and two wrenching goodbyes followed. Their wives went into labor on the same day, and both perished within minutes of giving birth to sons. Though grieving, two small miracles needed their attention more. His son, Jarrod, named in honor of their brother, and Nick’s son, Thomas, to honor their father helped ease the heartache.

Mother and Audra took to calling them TJ and JJ and were godsends when the boys were babies, taking on the role of mothering them. But a time came when Audra moved on. Her smiling face as she boarded the train with her new husband came to mind. He saw little of her after she married and moved back east, but her frequent letters were full of exciting news, especially when she had little ones of her own.

However, those ceased nearly twenty years ago when he lost his third sibling. Although a granite headstone for her stood under the tree with the other three family members, her grave held no remains. She, her husband, and four children all died somewhere in the North Atlantic Ocean when their ship went down. The sun dimmed the day they were notified. Mother grieved long and hard for her only daughter—as did he and Nick.

Audra’s spark of light and laughter had sustained him in the early years as he tried to fit in and learn what it meant to be a brother. He still visited her grave regularly but could never bring himself to tell his little sister goodbye. Instead, he sat and told her about the goings on at the ranch and his life.

In the passing years, he imagined Audra laughing at the antics of JJ and TJ. He used to think she would be happy their ranch would go on in the good hands of cousins who were raised as brothers once he and Nick retired. But that would never come to fruition.

Both boys signed on during the Mexican Border War, and only his son returned alive—a shattered young man. Thomas Jr. was buried near his uncles and grandfather, and not two weeks later, Jarrod Jr. was laid to rest beside him. The suicide note JJ left begged forgiveness for not saving TJ and apologized for taking the coward’s way out.

Words couldn’t express the depth of his loss, so he only told his son he would always love him, and he was not a coward—only another casualty of war. Then, instead of saying goodbye, he whispered goodnight to his beloved boy.

Afterward, he nearly walked away from the ranch but couldn’t. He shared the same bond with Nick that JJ had with TJ—one without the other felt so empty. Although grieving for his own child, Nick became his rock, and eventually, the pain lessened but never quite went away.

With no heirs to leave the legacy they worked so hard all their lives to build, and getting on in years themselves, at Mother’s suggestion, they took a page from their sister’s work with Father Andre at the mission. They set up a charitable trust to assist orphaned children.

Things were finalized a year ago, which is when Mother’s condition took a turn for the worse. They didn’t think she would live to see one hundred, but she had … and outlived all her natural children. His anguish was still so raw and heavy that it made it hard to breathe.

Nick died of a sudden heart attack only three weeks ago. They’d been out riding the parcel of land they had kept, reminiscing about the old days when they owned everything as far as the eye could see and more. They stopped on their favorite hill and gazed down into the valley when Nick waxed poetic.

His older brother told him he realized the greatest legacy a man could leave was to die with the knowledge he’d loved and had been loved by the people who meant the most—his family. Nick smiled at him, and he nodded at Nick with a half smile.

In the next moment, Nick gripped his chest, slumped over on his horse, and by the time Heath dismounted and helped him to the ground, Nick was gone. At the funeral, he stood dressed in all black—Nick’s favorite color—and placed his old spurs in the coffin. The only words he could get past his lips were, “You left one hell of a legacy.”

Despite the gaping hole in his heart, Heath went through the motions and visited with Mother daily. This morning, the somber nurse told him it wouldn’t be much longer until Mrs. Barkley passed on. So here he sat, wondering how he would say goodbye to her … the last of his family. He hadn’t been alone for nigh on forty years, and it scared him as much as it saddened him. He didn’t want to be the last one standing.

Tears dripped unheeded down his face as he gazed at Mother. Silently, he pleaded, ‘Don’t leave me alone.’ His vision blurred by hot liquid, he didn’t notice the slow movement, but when a hand covered his, he blinked to clear his eyes and found Mother’s eyes upon him. He tried to smile and think of something to say, some final words she would hear, but came up blank.

Her voice frail, Victoria said, “I love you too, and I will miss you terribly while we are separated. You have brought so much joy to my life. Thank you for coming to us … to me. I will not say goodbye, for we will meet again in Heaven. Our family will be whole again someday. And until that day comes, remember, you are never alone. We will always be in your heart, and we’ll be watching over you.”

They stared at one another, Heath’s feelings shining in his wet eyes until hers gradually lowered. When her hand slipped off his, Heath knew … her soul had passed on.

As she’d done for over forty years, she’d given him the words he needed to bear the earthly parting. He wasn’t saying goodbye, only see you later.