Lizzie stood in the large fellowship room of the church. Nodding at people. Accepting their condolences since everyone in town knew Rachel was her best friend. Her mind flashed back to that day she’d saved Rachel’s life. Saved her from drowning. Now her friend was drowning again, and she wasn’t sure how to save her this time. Or if she even could.
She looked around the room, searching for Rachel, wanting to make sure she was doing okay. Or at least surviving the day. Her eyes flew open wide as her gaze reached the entrance. Eric stood in the doorway dressed in slacks and a nice dress shirt, peering into the room. He looked ever so handsome. And older in some way. His hair was a bit longer than usual. His shirt was a light blue, the color that brought out the blue flecks in his eyes. She waved to him as he looked her direction, and he nodded, then threaded his way through the crowd.
She reached out her arms and pulled him into a hug, letting the assurance that her son was safe and right here wash over her. He felt so good in her arms. It had been so long since she’d seen him, hugged him. “Oh, Eric. I’m so glad you came.”
“Yeah, well, I was talking to Dad and then Kiera got on the phone. She said she thought I should come. You know, since… Rachel and Ronnie are… were… well, you know…”
So he was listening to his stepmother more than his own mother these days? She shoved the jealousy away. At least he’d come. That’s what was important.
“I saw Rachel out in the foyer. She looks horrible. Shaky. Pale.” Eric’s brow furrowed.
“It’s been a big shock to her.”
“Yeah, I bet. Ronnie was pretty cool.”
“He was,” she agreed.
“I’ve never been to a funeral. It was… strange.”
“You should have come sit by me.”
“Nah, you were up front with Rachel. I just ducked into a seat in the back.”
“I’m glad you came. I’m sure it means a lot to Rachel and Sara Jane.” It meant a lot to her.
Eric loosened the tie at his neck and shifted from foot to foot, looking every bit like he was going to launch his escape. She wasn’t ready for him to leave. Who knew when she’d see him again?
“Would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight?” She ached to see him for more time. This whole thing with Ronnie made it crystal clear how fragile life was. Maybe if she and Eric went to dinner they’d have a chance to talk. She stared at his face, memorizing every detail, every change. A hint of a beard like he hadn’t shaved this morning. The curl of his hair near his temple.
Eric shook his head. “Nah, I have to get back to school. Going to head out now, actually. Change clothes and go back. Gotta study.”
“Okay.” Disappointment surged through her.
Suddenly there was a glimpse of the old Eric. A look in his eyes. A look of compassion. A glimpse of the old Eric who cared about her feelings. “But maybe I could stay. Just for tonight. I could head back early morning.”
“That would be wonderful.” Gratitude swept away the disappointment. More time with her son. A chance to work things out.
“So, I’ll meet you at Seaside Cafe at six? I’m going to go home and change,” he said while glancing at the door, ready to make his escape.
She ignored the fact that David’s house was now home to Eric. “Yes, I’ll see you there.”
She watched him disappear into the crowd. At least she’d have dinner with him tonight. She clung to that thought like a lifeboat as she looked around the room filled with people and their condolences and their looks of pity tinged with relief that it wasn’t one of them holding the funeral for one of their loved ones.
Funerals were such strange, awkward events. She was ready for this one to be over. She swept her gaze around the room and saw Sara Jane talking to some ladies from the church, but no sign of Rachel. She’d better go find her.
Rachel had to get away from the crowd. If one more person told her how sorry they were. One more person hugged her. One more person told her how fabulous her husband had been… well, she was going to scream. Her jaw ached from clenching it and her fingernails had made red indentations on her palm from her tightly balled fist.
She knew how fabulous Ronnie was. Was, not is. She did. And every single fiber of her being was aching to have him back. To be in his arms. To see his smile. Just one more time.
No, that was a lie. One more time would never be enough.
She walked past a table of photos of Ronnie. One of him as a young boy with an impish grin. One standing beside his first car. A wedding picture where they’d been cutting the cake. And her favorite photo of them taken on the beach on their honeymoon. Her mother or Lizzie must have put this together because she, herself, had had no part in planning the funeral. She wanted no part in planning this final goodbye to her husband. As if it were even possible to say goodbye.
She stared at the photos as if they were someone else’s life. They were someone else’s life… because they’d never be her life anymore. Not without Ronnie.
She fought back the tears because she knew if the first tear fell, she’d never be able to stop crying again. Ever. The sobs would wrack through her, tearing her apart. And there was so little of her left now as it was. She felt like a ghost walking through a room, not really existing.
Would she ever truly exist again?
A faint nausea crept through her but she ignored it, just like she kept ignoring the fact she was pregnant, although her mother and Lizzie weren’t making that easy. Anyway, she thought women were supposed to get morning sickness in the mornings, not late afternoon.
She looked wildly around the room fighting for breath, whirled around, and ran blindly out the nearest door, bending over as she reached the sunshine, struggling to catch a breath in the never-ending hot, humid air.
Lizzie appeared at her side, touching her back, patting her. When she could finally breathe—at least a little bit—she stood back up and looked at Lizzie.
Lizzie’s eyes were full of sympathy, brimming just on the edge of tears. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t see Lizzie cry. She’d lose her tenuous grasp on any semblance of control.
Lizzie’s hand was at her elbow, warm, comforting. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
She nodded gratefully, unable to talk. It was just like Lizzie to know when she needed her. Know that she needed to escape. She grasped Lizzie’s arm and let her lead her away from the nightmare that was her husband’s funeral.
“I’ll text Sara Jane and let her know we’re leaving. I’m sure she can catch a ride with someone.”
“Will you stay with me?” Rachel whispered the words, afraid to be alone, a change from her leave-me-alone stance of the last week.
“Of course I will.”
“You can stay and have some supper with me. I promise I’ll eat if you stay.” Suddenly she was desperate to have Lizzie with her. Maybe they could talk and pretend all this didn’t happen. Pretend there was really life left to live.
Lizzie’s eyes held a strange reluctance, but she nodded in agreement. “Of course. Whatever you need.”