Eva glanced at the clock. It read 2:37 a.m.—a new year.
Another year without Brent. Without a purpose beyond this race.
The whole house echoed the silence. Everything had been quiet for hours once they’d returned home from the botched zip-line attempt. They’d skipped the New Year’s Eve party in Queenstown and had driven straight home, retreating to their rooms after a quick dinner. Apparently no one cared about ringing in the New Year together anymore.
Well, that wasn’t true. Marc had offered a walk, but she’d refused, claiming she wouldn’t be very good company. It’s not like he hadn’t seen her vulnerable many times before, so why was this different?
Eva slid from beneath her comforter. Her feet padded along the wooden floors of the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. The moonlight streaked in through the windows, leaving patterns on the countertops and floors. She pulled a glass from the cabinet and poured herself a cup of coconut milk. Then she rummaged in a ceramic jar for one of Sherry’s cherry chip cookies.
She dunked the cookie into the milk and took a bite. The tart cherry flavor danced on the tip of her tongue. Amazing. The best part about all of this training? She’d burn this cookie off tomorrow when she went running with Marc and Angela. After over a week of training with all three of them, they’d started to find a rhythm. The upcoming marathon would give them some sort of measure for how they’d do in a competitive race environment.
Maybe it would even help Angela figure out why she was really there. Because Eva couldn’t figure it out for the life of her. If nothing else, the events of this afternoon proved that they were not necessarily here for the same reasons.
She polished off the cookie and drained the last of the milk. As she headed back toward the stairs, something on the deck outside caught her eye. Someone was sitting in one of the chairs. A short someone, so it wasn’t Marc. Eva slid open the back door, cinching her robe tighter around her at the sudden chill. She stepped out to find Sherry gazing across the lake, which was dotted with lights that appeared to pirouette across the undulating water. The sky was a blank artist’s canvas if she ever saw one, speckled with brilliant gold and white paint. And though the mountains were barely visible in the dark, Eva sensed them rising around them, strong and steady. Ever present.
Sinking into the seat next to her mother-in-law, she laid her head on Sherry’s shoulder.
Sherry didn’t say a word, but her arm slid up and under Eva’s chin, patting her cheek.
“Couldn’t sleep again?” Now that Brent wasn’t here to take care of his mother, it fell to her and Angela. But Sherry could never be a burden—she was the only part of Brent that Eva had left. Besides that, her mother-in-law was so consumed with serving everyone that she tended to let her own health fall last on the priority list.
“Something like that. I was getting a glass of water in the kitchen and couldn’t pass up this opportunity.”
“Opportunity?” Eva snuggled closer to Sherry, who smelled of flour and sugar.
“To worship. The Creator has done beautiful work here, hasn’t he?”
A chorus of cicadas seemed to sing in agreement, growing louder, then softer again.
Nature had always been a draw to an artist like Eva, but though she’d grown up going to church with her family and believed in God, she’d not thought much lately about his creative heart. The concept put a small smile on her face. “He sure has.”
If only she could create something so beautiful—even half as much. A quarter. But she feared her days of creating were gone forever.
“What’s on your mind, sweet girl?” Sherry’s hand squeezed Eva’s knee. “Are you thinking about today? I hope you don’t blame yourself. Your intentions were good. Angela will see that in time.”
“I do feel like I keep messing things up without meaning to. Even begging her to come to New Zealand. Maybe that was a mistake.”
“Personally, I don’t think it was. It is good for Angela to finally slow down enough to confront her grief. It’s been looking for her for a long while now, and she’s been running. Be patient with her. Love her anyway. I know you will. You have a kind spirit, Eva.”
A tear trailed down Eva’s nose, hanging on to the edge for a moment and then falling onto her mouth, salt tingeing her lips. “Thank you for saying that, Sherry.” She sighed. “But good intentions or not, I just don’t know what to do next. Brent always knew what to do.”
A bird cawed in the distance, and it sounded like a mixture between a small dog yipping and a cat meowing. The wildlife was so different in New Zealand.
Sherry remained quiet for a time. “I understand feeling lost when the love of your life is gone. I certainly was.”
“It’s more than that, though.” How could Eva put the utter devastation, the hole in her life, the loss of herself into words? Eva sat up, pulled her legs onto the chair, and hugged her knees. “Did I ever tell you that I knew he was the one for me the first day we met?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and it wasn’t just the fact my breath hitched when his gaze first caught mine or how handsome he was. I could just sense a zest for life pulsing from his being. It was like he knew a secret the world didn’t, and he wanted to share it with whoever would listen.”
Eva closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the memory. She’d headed into her yoga class, and when she’d emerged sweaty and invigorated, she’d bumped into Brent. He’d steadied her—his hands clutching her upper arms—and stared deep into Eva’s eyes. She couldn’t even remember if he said anything out loud or if his soul simply spoke to hers.
All she knew was that evening she rushed home and in a daze threw together the most brilliant wedding bouquets she’d ever created.
Her eyes opened again. “He changed everything for me, Sherry. Once I met him, life burst with more color, more energy, more . . . everything.” Dare she say the rest? “Now I can see the rest of my life yawning before me. And it’s not good, not like it was. I . . . I’m afraid I’ll never be truly happy again.”
Sherry twisted in her chair to face Eva. Even in the dark, Eva could glimpse the depth of her mother-in-law’s compassion. “I am so glad my boy knew so much love from you. But happiness is fleeting.” She patted Eva’s knee. “It’s a feeling, an emotion, and when we have it, things are good. But it can go away just like that. Don’t aim for happiness. You’ll only be disappointed by life and people if you do.”
A sob bubbled in Eva’s throat. “So what do I aim for instead?”
“Joy, my dear girl. Aim for joy.”
What was the difference? “I don’t understand.”
“Joy isn’t based on emotion. It’s there no matter what’s going on in your life. You can have joy even when the world is falling apart.”
“How?” Something deep and desperate inside of her reached for the answer. “How can I have joy when my soul mate is dead? When I have nothing but his memory left?”
“Because joy isn’t dependent on you or even the good things in life, like a wonderful husband. It’s dependent on God, and on you being reconciled with him. It’s rooted in a deep knowing that no matter what happens in this life, you have someone you can hold on to even when you’re drowning.”
Sherry had often talked about her faith, and she’d clung to it in the hard times. It was a nice thought, that God might care, but he wasn’t here to speak words of love to her. He’d never held her in the late-morning hours and stroked her hair when she was sad. He’d never sat back and clapped, whistling in admiration when she’d stayed up all night creating the perfect bouquet.
That had all been Brent. A physical person she could grasp and hold and kiss and love.
She missed that. Needed that. Needed him.
A deep sigh expelled from her chest, and she imagined it pushing out across the water, disappearing and lingering all at the same time.