| |
March 11. One year since Quinn’s life with Brendan ended. There was no sleeping. She gave up around five-thirty, went to the couch, and drawing her legs underneath her on the soft cushions and pulling the crocheted blanket around her, stared out the window into the dark. She drifted in and out of consciousness, but started awake when the coffeepot’s autostart clicked on at six-thirty. The trickle of water streaming into the pot and the smell of the fresh brew woke her senses.
After pouring a cup, she returned to the couch and snuggled into her accent pillows to watch the sunrise. She caught herself smiling and thinking about the brushstrokes involved in painting the scene, what colors she would mix—the brushes she’d have to replace to do so.
The sunset over their bench at the river hadn’t been easy to paint. She’d thrown away several attempts trying to remaster the process. The end result made her feel good. Giving the painting to Nick made her heart soar.
After that night, she’d been uneasy around him. Her conversation with Mrs. LaRue hadn’t been easy to suppress. The memory of her lips on his stubbly beard was hard to suppress as well. Had she done that? He never seemed to mind, but things like kisses could get friends off track.
Especially the long kiss she’d given him.
Another tick marked on their chart of awkward moments, and they’d moved on.
But that chart was getting full—and hard to ignore.
Mom showed up first. Dad dropped her off, her hands full with a warm breakfast casserole. Claire pulled in behind them with a bowl of grapes and strawberries. Quinn opened the door, and they filed in.
“Quinn, get plates. Claire, get forks. Let’s eat this while it’s hot.” Mom set the dish on the island and peeled back the lid. The smell of eggs and sausage permeated the kitchen.
“Oh, hold me back.” Claire bent over the cheesy concoction and, with eyes closed, inhaled deep. “I might eat the whole thing. On second thought, don’t hold me back. This baby is starving.”
Claire was growing—her belly pooching out with her baby girl. The thought of being an aunt was growing on Quinn, but today, sadness overshadowed her excitement.
Mom gave Claire a side hug. “I made it extra cheesy just for you.”
“You’re a saint.”
Extra cheesy? Quinn tried not to gag. Her nervous stomach did not need food, especially not greasy cheese. But she served it up, cutting a small piece for herself, and ate to be polite.
They stood around the kitchen island reminiscing over old times. Mom, daughter, and Claire—the second daughter Mom had never had, the sister Quinn always wanted. But something was missing.
Their plates empty, the fruit nearly gone, a silence grew between them. There was nowhere else to go but forward, but no one seemed to want to move first.
Claire twirled the end of her ponytail. “Wow, the elephant in the room is huge.”
Mom hugged Quinn. “We’re here for you, baby.”
The first tear lined her eye. Not for the dread of the day, but for the love from these two beautiful women. They’d both walked this dark pit with her, led her to a way out. They’d held her hand, pushed, and supported her. She extended an arm to Claire and brought her in for a group hug. “Thank you, for everything.”
Mom sniffed. “If at any point you want to stop—”
“We’ll keep you going.” Claire was not going to let her quit.
“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”
“It’s what we need to do.”
Quinn squeezed their shoulders to stop them. “This happens today. It’s time. It’s past time.” And so, she eased forward with the final steps she had to take to move on. This step would be the hardest. It would involve the most tears and more sleepless nights. She prayed the day’s task wouldn’t cause the nightmares to resume. “There’s a box on my bed for pictures to be sent to Brendan’s family. We’ll start in the closet.”
Brendan’s business clothes weren’t the hard things to get rid of.
“What about this?” Claire held up the red Hawaiian shirt with yellow suns and palm tree silhouettes Brendan had insisted on wearing on their honeymoon. Without a word, Quinn eased it from Claire’s hands, blinked through a few tears, folded it, and laid it in the donation bag.
His box of keepsakes would be sent to his parents. She couldn’t bring herself to throw them away. They were his memories and memories of him.
By noon, they had seven bags of clothes and shoes ready to go. Dad came with sub sandwiches and his truck to take the donations to Goodwill. In an hour, he was back to drive Mom home, leaving Quinn and Claire to remove the pictures from the wall.
When Quinn reached for the last picture in the hall and glanced toward the open door of Hope’s room, Claire laid a hand on her arm. “That room’s fine. You don’t have to let go of Hope.”
Quinn stared into the room aglow in the natural light from the windows. Then, with tremendous peace, she turned to Claire. “When your nursery is ready... I want you to have it all.”
“Oh, Quinn.” Her hands traveled down Quinn’s arms to grasp her hands. Her look, one Quinn had seen after every breakup or disappointment Claire had coached her through. One she’d hoped—no matter how much she loved Claire—never to see again. “You don’t have to do that. The memories would be too hard.”
“It’s just stuff. And none of it, no matter how long I keep it, will bring either of them back. And this baby girl...” Quinn touched Claire’s belly. “She’s going to love the pink shag.”
Claire hugged her, and they giggled together, but not like old times. This was like new times.
“Hold that thought.” Claire disappeared into the living room and came back with a five-by-seven black frame. She removed the picture and handed it to Quinn. “This is for Brendan’s family.” Then she led Quinn to Hope’s room. From the crib, Claire took the family photo and slipped it under the glass. “And this is for you.”
They stood on the pink shag rug looking at the family whose happiness only lasted a day.
“It belongs in the living room, Quinn.”
“I believe you’re right.”
Quinn set the picture on the mantel over the fireplace. Her beautiful baby girl was still hers, if only in memory, and deserved a place in her life. “It should’ve been here all along.” Her eyes misted over as she touched a finger to the glass. “I’m sorry, Hope. I didn’t mean to hide you away. I just didn’t have the strength to deal with everything. But Mommy’s stronger now, much stronger.”
Claire, with tears on her cheeks, slid her arm around her shoulders and laid her head against Quinn’s.
Never again would she shut Hope away.
They tucked the last pictures into the box to load in Claire’s car. If left to Quinn to mail them off, she’d find a reason not to, so she addressed the package, added a note, and entrusted the treasure to her dear friend.
Claire paused at her car door. “You want to come over for dinner?”
“I’ll just scrounge for leftovers and turn in early.”
Claire blew a kiss over her red Escape. “Call Nick. He’ll be wondering.”
He would be. And, of course, Claire couldn’t let the day go without mentioning it. But Quinn didn’t mind anymore. Didn’t even mind the heart flutter at the sound of his name.
She wanted to call him, needed him to be there.
The sun was falling toward the horizon, casting an orange glow over the neighborhood as Claire drove away. Quinn glanced over her shoulder at her house. Her empty house now far emptier.
She stepped inside and paused, still holding the door handle, unable to enter the quiet house. The hall loomed before her, an enormous cave. If she yelled, it might echo. Swinging the door closed, she entered the maw and rubbed shivers from her arms, then moved to the living room, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floors. Claire had reorganized the decor to fill the blank spots, but her family picture looked lonely on the dark-wood mantel.
Brendan had been wiped away from everything except her heart. It would be his only place in her life except beside her as Hope’s father in the one photo she’d keep.
She walked through the bedroom—Mom had even purchased new bedding—to the closet. Claire had tried to spread her things throughout the huge room, but empty hangers failed to fill the space.
Maybe it was time to go shopping. Or maybe it was time for a smaller space. Without Brendan here, this house they built was just sticks and stones anyway. She’d put off thinking about it before, unable to accept reality.
But now, with Brendan’s things gone, it wasn’t their home anymore. She’d have to make it on her own, and she couldn’t allow the past to hold her down. She couldn’t let it drag her back into the pit. But the pit fell further behind her every day. Even the guilt of carrying on alone receded.
Yet, somehow, the emptiness remained.
Her body ached. She stepped to the other side of the built-in dresser, sank onto the cream carpet, and leaned against the drawers. When she was a girl, she hid in her closet all the time. It was where she kept her sketch pad and pencils, the perfect oasis.
Today, her closet wasn’t an oasis, just a hiding place. With depression fomenting a thick cloud over her heart, she didn’t want to move, just wanted to stare off into the nothing where memories lurked.
In the back of her mind, that nagging feeling of something missing annoyed. She rolled her head against the dresser, her hair catching on a crystal drawer pull. “Of course something’s missing. A whole life is missing.”
But it wasn’t the life she expected. Nick was missing. Her beautiful friend she wouldn’t have made it this far without wasn’t there to make sure she was okay.
She slid her phone out of her back pocket, her thumb hovering over speed dial five before she remembered Brendan was speed dial one... still. If she was going to move on, she’d have to be all in. It took her a minute and a pain rending through her heart, but with the simple press of a button, Brendan’s contact file was gone. A deep breath, and she migrated to Nick’s file, making him speed dial one.
Press and hold. His phone was ringing.
“Hey.” His voice—a comforting, uplifting spring breeze—whisked the dark clouds away. “You okay?”
“Uh, yeah, okay. You sound like you’re in the truck.”
“I’m meeting a friend.”
“Oh. Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to...” To hear your voice. “To say hi. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I’ll talk to you soon.”
Quinn held the line not wanting to hang up.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re the friend.”
“I’m what? Oh.” Relief brought on a silly laugh.
He chuckled. “I’m pulling into your driveway. Claire let me know when she left.”
Of course she had. “The door’s unlocked.”
They hung up as Nick walked in. His shoes squeaked on the wood floors, his footfall different from Brendan’s, unique to Nick. “Quinn?”
“Back here.”
He was coming through the bathroom, his steps hesitant. Thankfully, she’d cleaned. “Quinn?”
Lifting her hand, she waved her fingers just above the top of the dresser.
He came around the side, one hand on the dresser top and the other on his hip. “So, come here often?”
“Only when I need to get away. But the bar service sucks.”
One side of his mouth quirked. “Rough day.”
“You would know.”
He slunk down beside her. Elbows resting on his knees, he surveyed the half-empty closet. “Yeah, I would.”
“Are you okay?”
His brow shot up. “Me?”
“You had to go through all this too. Are you doing okay?”
“I’m doing well. Thank you for asking.” He nudged her with his elbow. “But today’s your day. How are you?”
“It’s always my day. It’s your turn.”
“Careful, when we take turns, you end up with the raspberry chocolate.”
Always amusing. The confines of the closet muted their laughter. She let her head fall against his shoulder, but she resisted taking hold of his arm. “Half of me is exhausted. And the other half feels like a huge weight has been lifted off. Is that the way it was for you?”
He rested his head against the dresser. “Lauren had only been gone for three months when I sold our house. I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but looking back, it was a good thing.”
“Did you feel bad?”
“Like I was running away from the one thing I needed most in my life. Except she wasn’t there to run from. I was confused, angry, lost. Dad tried to talk me out of it, but I couldn’t stay.”
“Lost.” She sat up. “That’s a good word for it.”
“Do you feel lost?”
“Not lost, but not exactly found.” She listed her head to look at him. “Are you still lost?”
His brow furrowed as he thought. “Wandering maybe, but not lost.”
He stared at his hands, flexing them as if he wanted to crack his knuckles. In an instant, that something missing wasn’t missing anymore.
And with him there, she found the courage to take the next step.
“I’m putting the house on the market Monday.”
His head snapped up, his legs extended as much as they could in the little space. Surprise? Maybe panic. “It’ll sell fast. Could you live with your mom and dad for a while?”
She raised her hands. “Let’s not go there. I love my parents, and I’d like to keep loving them.”
“What about Claire?”
“She’s about to have a baby. I’d never ask.”
His brows went high. “Well, don’t look at me. Mrs. LaRue would have a heyday with that one.”
“She so would.” That thought made all kinds of things flutter within her. “Actually, my parents have a rent house that’s been vacant for months. I think they were anticipating my need for it. I’ll stay there until I can figure things out.”
“Good.”
“Which leaves only one thing left to do.” The gold band of her two-carat diamond ring wiggled beneath her fingers in its place of honor. When she held her hand out, the stone sparkled in the incandescents. Breaking the direct link to her heart, she removed it and handed it to Nick. “There’s a box on the dresser. Will you please?”
His look said he was unsure whether he should be a part of this step, but he took the ring and stood to find the box. “This is a lot for one day.” With it closed away, he reached out his hand. “Come on. It’s time to get you out of the closet.”
She put her hand in his, and the day melted away as he raised her from the floor.
