FLANKED BY HER family and Nick, Kaylan entered the church for Sarah Beth’s memorial service. It had been ten days since the earthquake. Crutches helped with the limp, but truth be told, she welcomed the pain. It kept her focused on placing one foot in front of the other.
Even now, tears refused to come. Only a gaping hole remained. Something had broken inside her when Sarah Beth had breathed her last, and that part lay buried beside her friend in the deforested land of Haiti.
Faces turned and studied her as she progressed down the aisle. Silence cloaked the sanctuary.
Sarah Beth was never quiet.
A slideshow played on the big screens on either side of the choir loft in the large room. Kaylan froze as Sarah Beth’s face appeared larger than life. She was two and making mud pies, then five with her arm around Kaylan and holding a hot pink Barbie lunch box. They were seven and dancing in The Nutcracker, wearing pink tutus, and then ten and riding horses with Pap. They had always been a team. Inseparable. Their lives intertwined from the earliest days, like a rope that had now frayed.
“You okay, babe?” Nick murmured.
She shook her head. How could she be okay? “I can’t do this.” She began to turn around, knocking into Micah, who grabbed her and held her still, hugging her as best he could with her crutches. David and Seth moved forward to shield her from curious eyes. The rest of the family cocooned them as well, Kaylan at their center. Her body shook. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even walk up the aisle. Not with Sarah Beth buried next to the road in a shattered country that had sucked the life out of her.
“Kaylan?”
Kaylan’s family parted to reveal Mrs. Tucker, Sarah Beth’s mom. “We’d like you and your family to sit with us. Y’all were a second family to Sarah Beth, and it seems only appropriate.”
Kaylan hobbled forward, Nick and Micah at each arm, to slide into the row behind Sarah Beth’s parents and brother. Mrs. Tucker reached over the pew and clasped Kaylan’s hand, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“I’m so glad you are safe, hon. Sarah Beth . . . she would have hated if something had happened to you.”
Kaylan tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it refused to leave, much like the numbness in her heart.
Music continued to play in the background, and the occasional sniff broke the rhythm. Sarah Beth had loved loud music. No matter the song, she cranked it up on her radio or music player and sang off-key at the top of her lungs. When people stopped to stare, she sang louder. This music didn’t fit her. Nothing about this proper, somber event suited her. Sarah Beth had been like sunshine and neon-colored popsicles on an Alabama summer day. Seth had worn his purple button-down and hot pink tie in honor of her, and Kaylan appreciated it more than she could say. He reminded her of Sarah Beth, of laughter and sunshine.
Scuffling and whispering voices added a different cadence. Kaylan welcomed the distraction as the class Sarah Beth had taught slipped in the back, each child with a wrapped item in hand. The teacher led them down the aisle to place their presents on the steps leading to the stage: clothes, toys, candy, bottled water, canned goods.
Mrs. Tucker whispered to her, “The kids want to help with Haiti relief in honor of Sarah Beth.”
The students reminded Kaylan of her little Sophia, quiet yet happy. What would become of her now? Sarah Beth had loved playing with her, braiding her hair, teaching her. And Reuben? He was all legs and smiles, the boy who would bring joy to his country by representing his people as a professional soccer player. Sarah Beth had cheered him on. And now? Now he was buried in a mass grave, his dream snuffed out in the quake that shook more than the earth.
She looked to Nick again, her insides twisting like knotted thread. She desperately needed to deliver a speech that would honor her best friend, but everything appeared dull, lifeless without her. Above all, she couldn’t talk about Sarah Beth’s last moments. She couldn’t talk about Haiti. The one person who would have understood remained there, her grave a bed for the spring grass.
“I can’t do this.” She searched his eyes.
His lips skimmed her cheek. “You’re gonna do great.”
She shook her head, panic returning with a vengeance. “I can’t do this.”
He pulled her close and she rested there, absorbing the touch but feeling nothing. Had her nerves been damaged in the quake, or was everything in the world dull now? Would it be this way forever?
Sarah Beth’s brother, Tom, stood and spoke about his sister. Tears flowed, and his voice caught. His parents came to stand at his side, the Tuckers united in the loss of one of their members. Kaylan’s jaw ached and eyes stung where tears should be. More music played, and more people spoke. Sarah Beth had known no stranger, found favor with everyone. Each person who spoke honored her memory as a woman who loved God and loved people. A violinist played “I Surrender All,” Sarah Beth’s favorite hymn. She had surrendered all, and Kaylan knew she would gladly do so again.
“Don’t be mad, Kayles.” Sarah Beth’s voice lingered in her mind, but Kaylan couldn’t accept it, wouldn’t accept it. She didn’t have to surrender everything, but she had. And she’d died broken.
Why, God? Why?
Nick released her. “You’re up.”
The walk to the podium felt like a walk to the hangman’s noose. Ominous music built, and her hands grew slick on the cold crutches. Her heart beat a doleful cadence, building in intensity the closer she drew to the podium. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
She stopped at the steps. Closing her eyes, she imagined the heat of Haiti, the rainbow-colored tap-taps hauling sweaty, boisterous people from one end of the city to the next. She imagined the paintings of brilliant color, the smell of the ocean, the welcome feel of Rhonda’s home, and the laughter of twenty young mothers. In the midst of it all stood Sarah Beth, alive, whole, thriving, because she never felt more in her element than when she helped people.
Opening her eyes, Kaylan took a step and then froze. On the big screen was a picture of the two of them in Haiti, heads thrown back in laughter. She’d uploaded it on Facebook the day before the quake. Spinning around, she searched for a door, an escape. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this. I just can’t,” she whispered to the Tuckers.
Ramming into the side exit, she escaped into the rain. One or all of her brothers wouldn’t be far behind. And Nick. But she needed to be alone. Rounding the corner of the church, she sank down, her dress soaking in a puddle and rain drenching her face, replacing the tears she desperately wished would come. Her crutches clattered to either side. Behind her the voices of Nick and her brothers called her name, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond. For the first time in her life the people she loved most felt distant, unreachable.
The only voice she could hear in the downpour was Eliezer’s. “You should never have come to Haiti. Your fault. This is your fault. Her death is on your hands. Curse you, and curse your God.” She covered her ears, but his voice shouted from within her. It wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t forget.
Kaylan tilted her face to the sky, welcoming the deluge. Maybe it would wash her away. It was her fault. She couldn’t save her best friend in Haiti, and she had just failed to honor and love her in death.
She had failed again. Her fault. All her fault.
Worry consumed Nick. He didn’t recognize this Kaylan: despondent, unable to give to those closest to her, running away from difficult circumstances. He followed her from the church while the pastor stepped up to smooth over her absence.
“Kaylan!” The howling wind and rain diminished his shout and the calls of her brothers, who followed behind. He rounded a corner and found her sitting in a ball, huddled against the side of the church. The picture of a broken woman.
“Kaylan?” She stirred but wouldn’t look at him. He took off his soaked coat and placed it around her shoulders. The icy rain instantly soaked through his button-down. He slipped his arm around her, and she fell limply against his shoulder. A spasm of fear shot through his gut. She hadn’t regained her weight yet, and her willowy body was frail, as if the earthquake had shaken her very being.
Micah stuck his head around the corner and met Nick’s eyes. Seth and David bumped into him, and Micah hustled them back around the corner. Her family was including him, allowing him to operate within their inner workings. He prayed he didn’t let them down.
“Remember the dance studio over Christmas break?”
He nodded against her hair, relieved that she was finally talking. Lord, help me know how to respond.
“I didn’t realize that would be the last time we danced together. If I’d known, I would’ve appreciated it more, made it less about getting over Pap’s stroke and more about being with her. She was strong, you know? I needed her, but I think in a lot of ways, she didn’t need me.”
“What do you mean? You were her best friend. You two were like peanut butter and jelly. She loved you.”
Kaylan went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “We were supposed to be in each other’s weddings. We had it all planned, although I fought her on wearing a hot-pink maid-of-honor dress.” He couldn’t hide his chuckle. “We were going to have kids at the same time, a boy and a girl, so they could grow up, get married, and we could be mothers-in-law together. We were going to be those old women on the Southern porch watching the sunrise, gossiping into the evening hours, and sipping sweet tea with lemon. We were going to save the world. We were superheroes when we were young.”
“Let me guess: Sarah Beth always wore pink.”
“Always.”
It occurred to him that she hadn’t cried at all, not since he’d found her in Haiti or brought her home. Nothing.
“And what color did you wear?” The rain had let up a bit.
She turned her head and met his eyes, her own radiating pain. “I’ve always had a thing for blue.”
“Have you?” He smiled and ran a finger down her face, resisting the urge to kiss her. It wasn’t the time. Right now it would be an overflow of his heartache, his attempt to heal her.
“Kayles?” He needed to get her out of the rain, but he needed her to talk to him more.
“Hmm?”
“What happened in the earthquake?”
Her body went stiff as a wooden board, and she pulled away from him, allowing the wall to take her weight. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I think you need to.” He kept his voice gentle, low, hoping she would trust him enough to let him into her pain.
“I can’t, and I won’t.”
“I understand losing someone, Kaylan.”
“Not this you don’t. You couldn’t. You weren’t there, Nick. Only Sarah Beth would understand. And she’s . . . she’s not here anymore.” Her green eyes darkened a shade.
“Kaylan, let me help you.” He reached for her hand, but she jerked away.
“You can’t help me.”
“Kaylan.”
“You don’t get it. It’s my fault! She would be here if it wasn’t for me.”
Her fault? She had mumbled that as they’d worked on her leg right after they’d found her, but he had figured she was tired and hallucinating. None of this could possibly be her fault. How could she think that?
He cupped her face, waiting for her to relax and meet his eyes. Hers reflected the storm, building and blowing, angry, confused.
“Listen to me. None of this is your fault.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head, giving up her fight against him and resting her head on his chest. “You don’t understand. Sarah Beth.” Her voice held a hopeless cry. “It’s my fault.”
The thunder rolled, and Nick knew the storm was far from over. The quake had ended, but the aftershocks lingered, shaking the foundations of everything Kaylan knew or thought familiar. He wondered when she would move past it, if she ever would.
Where are You, Lord? I don’t know how to help her. Help me be the man she can lean on. Help her to talk to me. Heal this.
The rain came again with a fury, sheets soaking them to the bone. He held her, shielding her with his body, powerless to stop the deluge.