Beautiful Chaos/A Jordan Knight FanFic/ Book One in the Beautiful series. ✔️

01

Dallas

MAMA HAS BEEN DYING ALL DAY.

ALS is a stealthy thief. It stole Mama's wide, crooked-tooth smile and left her face a plane of twitches and jerks. That funny snap, snap she'd do with her fingers before she started making a fresh batch of biscuits? That saucy little pop and sway of her hips when she raced around the house on Sunday mornings, late for church? ALS snatched those long ago. Now, Mama's fingers lie limp at her sides on the bed sheets, the complete stillness startling and sad.

ALS is a slow assassin and it's been killing my mama for five years.

But I only realize now that the sound of her breath—barely a wheeze breezing past her lips—is the sound of her dying today.

"Mama?"

I bundle up a question and a plea into that one word and pray for an answer to either. I'm asking if she's still here. I'm begging her to stay. Oh, I hear that thin, labored breath. I feel that thready pulse, faintly thrumming through the vellumed skin of her wrist. I know she's alive, but is she still here? I've sensed her soul wrestling with her body all week, trying to break free for the promise of Heaven that keeps Mama going on her hardest days.

The Hospice workers trickle in and out of Mama's small, orderly bedroom, keeping her as comfortable as a woman slowly choking on her own breath can be. They don't know if she can hear me. They only know that she can no longer respond. I am left waiting for the battle to end and for her soul to escape its bodily misery. Mama has endured this last stretch of a race I wouldn't wish on anyone.

I confess there were times I longed for this day. Longed for it to all be over, not just for Mama but for me too. I know it's selfish, but things have been so hard. So different from before. Most of my life, I have been at the center of Mama's world. Dance classes, cheerleading, gymnastics, and vocal lessons—I did them all. Our life was a flurry of activity, shuffling between the small diner downstairs Mama owns with Aunt Ruthie and any number of things I was involved in. Mama dedicated a good part of her life and energy to making sure when my big break came, I'd be ready. But the big break is in my heart. And even though months ago, with the last few words Mama could actually speak, she assured me she was ready, I know I am not.

The tears burn like kerosene, but I refuse to close my eyes. What would I miss? Her eyes flickering open for a last glance? Her mouth pulling into that tender just-for-me smile one final time? I won't look away.

"You need to get some rest, darlin'."

Aunt Ruthie's voice sneaks up on me from behind. I drag my eyes from Mama's face, pale against the faded floral pillowcase long enough to glance over my shoulder. Aunt Ruthie leans into the doorjamb, which I think is the only thing holding her up. Fatigue and weariness have made themselves at home in the deeper crevices around her mouth and eyes. Running Glory Bee, the best little restaurant in our small town, Glory Falls, by herself hasn't been easy. She may not be blood, but she is family, and she's been there for Mama and me through all of this.

Mama was the cook of the operation, and Aunt Ruthie, her best friend since third grade, was the business mind. It's so ironic that as far as I can tell, my Korean mother makes the best Southern food this side of the Mississippi. She's known nothing but Georgia though, so her Korean heritage is not so much lost as never found. My grandparents, a Southern Baptist pastor and his wife, adopted her days after she was born. They brought her home from their mission trip, much to their congregation's confusion and then delight. That little, odd-looking girl, so exotic among the farmers and simple, hard-working folks became the sweetheart of Glory Falls Baptist Church. And when Grandpa finally retired, his young assistant pastor was the natural candidate for his replacement and Mama's husband.