A Life Well-Lived, Chapter 5
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 5
Kyle willing walked into the police station the next morning. For a few minutes, he glanced around and frowned. He was the family screw up. The irresponsible nephew. The cause of his mother’s broken heart. Or at least, that’s what those on the outside of the family believed.
In reality, the boy struggled to stay on the straight and narrow, but he loved his family. The uncles, his cousins, his great-grandfathers meant more to him than he would ever admit.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Sean Hughes murmured, approaching the young man with a grin. “Whatcha doin’ here, cousin?”
“I missed my cell,” Kyle retorted, without thinking. He sighed and admitted, “I’m here to see my uncle.”
Sean jerked his head in the direction of a hallway and said, “Down there.”
A couple minutes later, Kyle found Auggie at his desk reading a file and making notes. So he settled into a little government-issue chair, made for functionality and not for comfort.
“What’s up, kid?” Auggie asked, dropping the file on his desk and rubbing his eyes.
“Wanna go fishing?”
That got the older man’s attention. It had been a couple years since he’d gotten his nephew out on the pond. They’d been avid fishermen until the kid had hit his teens and stopped wanting to spend time together.
“Yeah,” Auggie replied. “Gimme five.”
The pond never sported much in the way of fish. The closest anyone ever came to catching anything had been the day Auggie had snagged a rather large snake at the ripe old age of twelve. That didn’t stop generations of men from sitting on the banks and trying, though.
The two generations sat side-by-side on the ground with their hooks in the water and their legs outstretched as they leaned against an old log. Auggie had always loved the smell of the earth and the hum of the insects in late spring. Today wasn’t an exception. More than anything, though, he loved the way everything felt so much more settled. This place gave him more peace than any other in his life. He knew Kyle would find it eventually, too. So he put aside the part of him that was the cop and wore only the face of the uncle. And waited.
“What was Dad really like?” Kyle eventually asked.
Kyle had never talked much about his father, so far as Auggie knew. The boy had already started grade school when Evan had died, so the kid definitely knew his father. But he’d also been young - too young to have a lot of solid memories. And if time faded the longest of memories, Auggie had no doubt it faded the shortest even more.
“Your father was quiet,” he softly said. “Smart.”
“He wore glasses,” Kyle murmured, remembering how he used to run his finger across the lenses of those round spectacles. Not once did his father get upset. The man would smile, pick up the boy, and together they’d clean the smudges.
“And his curly hair did this swirly thing over his forehead. Every time his hair got shaggy, your mom would tease him about his Superman curl,” Auggie said, and then laughed at the memory. How often had he teased his brother-in-law about his appearance? How many times had he called his brother-in-law a geek or a nerd?
Eventually, he looked at his nephew and smiled.
“Most think of Grandpa Luke when they look at you,” Auggie said. “But when I look at you, I think of Evan. You have his eyes. And sometimes, when you’re happy, you get this look in them… the look he got in his the day you were born.”
Kyle appeared to mull over his uncle’s words for several minutes as the world kept humming around him, until the teen eventually asked, “That’s a good thing?”
Auggie placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder, squeezed gently, and gruffly replied, “That’s a great thing.”
X X X X X
Shadows settled across the house, and quiet followed stealthily behind. The doors and windows had been secured. Lily had taken her tea and ascended the stairs to her room with a good book, while Kyle had popped the top on a cold soda and headed towards his own bedroom.
Laying back on a mound of pillows, he sipped the bubbly liquid, opened the leather-bound tome, and flipped through the pages.
For the first time since he’d begun to read his grandfather’s book, Kyle really thought about the man who’d scrawled the words across the pages. His great-grandfathers had sure as hell become a legend in the town. Most tried to ignore Reid’s arrogant disposition and general snotty attitude, even though the man terrified an awful lot of people. He didn’t scare Kyle, though (or anyone else in the family for that matter). Those closest to the old man knew the big secret.
Reid melted like a marshmallow roasting over a slow flame when around his family. The shell might get solid and dry, but the insides would ooze if you got past that exterior.
So Kyle always laughed when people would cower in Reid’s presence. And boy did they cower. The man could barely stump his way along, but he did so with such a scowl that some have been known to move to the other side of the street to avoid him. He still terrified nurses, too.
How could a man who’d not worked at the hospital for over two decades still manage to make the nurses cry?
The neurology center had long ago been handed over to another internationally renowned neurosurgeon. And amazingly enough, she wasn’t related to anyone in Oakdale. Rather, she’d accepted the position because Reid had once seen her perform an intricate and difficult surgery in Paris when he’d been there lecturing.
Everyone had been pleased to have someone take over for Dr. Oliver when he finally retired. Aimee’s name even made them smile. It meant “much loved” after all. So everyone had been on pins and needles for her to arrive. The nurses had been so very eager to meet her and make her feel welcome.
Much to everyone’s dismay, she’d made three nurses cry the first day.
Kyle had heard that story a hundred times. He would probably hear it a hundred more. In fact, it was probably in this very book somewhere - probably towards the back. But that wasn’t why he remembered that story.
Whenever he told it, great-grandpa Luke smiled that special way that made everyone around him feel warm inside - like a toasty marshmallow.
X X X X X
“Only a life lived for others is a life worth living.” - Albert Einstein
Evan Jennings sat on the edge of his bed and nervously tapped his foot.
“You’re going to be great,” Lily said, running her hand down her husband’s freshly shaved face. “They’re going to love you.”
He only hoped she was right. He’d always known he wanted a life inside a classroom. The first time he tutored someone and watched that light go on in their eyes, he’d been hooked. So he’d studied hard, and worked his way into scholarships. Coming from a poor community and a single mother, he’d worked his way through college.
Then he’d gotten a scholarship to study overseas, and life had never been the same.
“Baby, you’re going to be fine,” Lily said, sitting on the bed next to her husband. It took everything she had not to smile. The last thing he needed was feeling made fun of. So instead, she leaned in and inhaled the scent of the new cologne Luke and Reid had given him as a congratulatory gift the day he’d gotten the job.
She knew he worried, and she loved him all the more for it.
“Give me your hand,” she murmured, grasping his fingers and laying his palm over her stomach. “If you need to ground yourself, think of this.”
No one else knew that they were expecting. They wanted that for their own for just a bit longer. And while it may be stereotypical, Evan felt like he owed it to his wife and unborn child to provide.
“I wish I could give you more,” he quietly said, looking into her eyes.
With his hand on her belly, she ran a finger down his cheeks and replied, “Oh baby, you give me everything.”
And for his humble spirit, she loved him all the more. Together, they built a beautiful family, and a beautiful home. And never did Lily ever have to ask for that simple thing that meant so much - his words of love. He gave them freely, often, and with a depth that most would never understand.
Evan Jennings never gave his wife jewels. He never could afford a new car. He didn’t buy a big house, but one that would fit a small family of three. Date nights often consisted of a picnic lunch in the backyard, even though much more was offered by the great-grandfathers.
Luke had tried to sneak in extravagances. Reid had shot his husbands’ ideas down, having come from humble beginnings himself. That common thread provided the foundation to Reid’s and Evan’s relationship. Reid could admire a self-made man. He admired a man even more when he quietly provided those things that made a relationship thrive - like love, commitment, and honesty.
No, Evan Jennings would never be famous. Not in the traditional sense. He would be there the day his son came kicking and screaming into the world. He would spend those extra hours every week with struggling students. He would take care of his family through thoughtful love and care.
And the day Lily Jennings laid her husband to rest, the true testament of Evan Jennings’ gift to the world came in the form of over five hundred students filing through the church doors.
Evan Jennings would never make the history books, but he would be remembered for generations.
Kyle searched the pages on which the story had been written, trying to find the words Reid or Luke would have written. He only found old tear stains.
He could understand, because tears silently streaked down his face as he closed the leather-bound book. With exaggerated care, he settled Luke’s writings on his nightstand, lay face down, buried his face into his pillow, and soundlessly wept.
Lily found him fast asleep, his face blotchy and drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. He rarely showed his emotions - having taken after Evan and Reid in that respect. Those few times he’d cried over his father, he’d done so in the solitary confinement of his bedroom.
Each time, it broke her heart.
X X X X X
Saturday morning dawned a little brighter than Kyle expected. He’d never be one to admit it, but sometimes letting himself go felt good. Like a cleansing of sorts.
This weekend, he had no plans. He couldn’t make any plans, either, even though he really wanted to take Gracie Hughes to see the latest horror flick. He liked the way she nearly crawled into his lap when the scary bits happened. Until he aced this assignment, he figured he wouldn’t be going anywhere. So he grabbed his great-grandfather’s book, hopped on his bicycle, and headed into Oldtown. Maybe he’d stop off at the library - grab a paper novel off a shelf or download an e-book. See Gracie at her job.
An hour later, he found Gracie had the day off from her job as at the library check-out counter. So instead he headed to the old café in the heart of their town. Once-upon-a-time it had been called Java. Now, bright neon flashed “Bean” above the entrance.
There, he flipped open the book, took a sip of his hot drink, and began to read.
“A life full of enthusiasm, hope and contributions through one's own talent is a life well lived.” - Kimberly Day
Luke Snyder loved his babies.
That’s what he called all the children who came into his life - his babies. It started when his son came screaming into the world, and continued on when his baby had babies of his own. Then his son and daughter-in-law died, leaving those precious babies all alone. So he and his husband of decades had opened their arms, their hearts, and their home to the orphans.
More babies for Luke to shower with love and attention, and Reid to pretend to scowl at (since it wouldn’t do for him to appear soft). Heaven forbid.
Then one day, little Lily had come home from her studies overseas with a boy in tow. They wed shortly after, and they’d blessed Luke with another baby.
Luke found himself settled on the couch, his arthritic hands aching a little, as four-year-old Kyle nestled against his great-grandfather’s chest. The child should have been asleep an hour ago; but his parents had left him at his great-grandfathers’ house, and the little boy was simply too excited to close his eyes.
“Tell me a story, Grampy,” the little voice asked.
So he did. While the boy hugged his blanket close, the old man wove a tale of intrigue and love. Laughter and tears.
“And they lived happily ever after,” Luke murmured, smiling down at the sound asleep little boy in his lap.
“The drool monster out yet?” Reid asked, grinning at his husband and the latest generation, who had, indeed, drooled all over Luke’s white silk shirt.
When Luke smiled in response, the gray haired doctor bent down, retrieved the little body, and said, “You’re lucky I love you enough to put up with these germ magnets.”
Luke, though, knew his husband loved all of the babies just as much. So instead of scowling, he grinned wide and retorted, “Yes, I am… and if he stays asleep, I might be able to show you how lucky you are.”
Reid had an extra spring in his step as he aimed for the nursery.
The next day, with Kyle on his lap, Luke wrote out that story he’d told his great-grandson. Six months after that, a compilation of those tales he told three generations came out in hardcover, with the dedication reading, To all of my babies, especially Kyle. Thank you for the inspiration.
Kyle remembered that story, and the book that followed. It had become a remarkably well-received children’s novel. And it had been followed by others. After all, Luke had many tales he’d told over the years.
He barked a laugh at the comments written throughout the margins, though. Reid and Luke had had a field day with this particular short story.
Sap.
I’m not a sap. I love all my babies.
Sap.
Am not.
Are too.
Am not.
What are you. Five?
Jerk.
One day, someone’s going to read these comments.
Oh shit.
Watch the language. You might taint your babies.
Asshole.
It occurred to Kyle as he closed the book, that those who really mattered in his life had held him up during the darkest hours - that no matter the pain he may cause them through reckless actions and selfish disregard, they hoisted him above the chaos of life. Even through his brushes with the law, they loved him. And while he might still miss his father, they gave him all they could to try and make up for it.
In that moment, Kyle felt true shame course through his veins, and wanted nothing more than to rebel at the very feelings raging in his blood. Maybe it was the natural progression of age, or that he just couldn’t hide behind youth, but he found himself settling at the thought. Instead of blaming that ache in his gut on someone beside himself, he closed his eyes and let the knowledge settle in its rightful place. His heart.
“I promise,” he murmured under his breath, unsure of the pledge to make. He just knew he needed to make one.