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Three weeks earlier, November 23rd
Sarah watched as a white butterfly landed on her husband’s casket as it was lowered into the ground. She couldn’t believe it. Adam was dead. His heart had failed him in his sleep and he never woke up.
The butterfly idly flapped its wings—one, two, three—before slowly taking flight. Sarah sat up straight and rubbed her left wrist with her hand. She felt for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when she’d found it.
Sarah could still remember the feel of Adam’s skin when she rolled over for a cuddle. The morning alarm was yet to go off and she’d woken from the sun’s rays pushing through the curtain. His skin was cold—like ice. Only it didn’t melt like ice.
Just the year before, Adam had insisted on planning their funerals. The idea came after their youngest child was born. He thought it the prudent thing to do. “We don’t want to burden the kids with having to make decisions about our funerals,” he’d said. It was what Adam had to do when his own parents died ten years ago. It was a car accident that took them; sudden and unexpected. He didn’t want Liam, Noah, or Zoe to go through that. So the Gardners met with their insurance company, updated their wills to include funeral arrangements, and even went as far as choosing their caskets. Well—Adam did. Not Sarah. It felt macabre and unnatural to her.
It came as a surprise to Sarah how easily one could buy a casket. She ordered Adam’s online from Costco. During the planning phase, Adam had scoured the internet to find affordable, but ‘stylish’, caskets and showed Sarah the impressive range that Costco had online. “See?” he had boasted. “Take a look at this one, Sarah. It’s perfect. I told you! People waste money when there’s just no need to. We all still end up six feet under—fancy casket and all. Those funeral guys are all crooks!”
Adam meticulously jotted all the details down in the Moleskine notebook she’d bought him for Valentine’s Day earlier that year. If Sarah had known he was going to use it for that specific purpose, she’d have just given him a stack of cheap composition notebooks.
He’d kept the notebook in the top right-hand drawer of his desk. “If anything ever happens to me,” Adam said, “open this drawer and you will find everything you need.” So when the time came to plan his funeral, Sarah opened the top drawer. There it was—just as he said it would be. Adam was always so organized. So much more than she ever was.
Sarah flicked through the pages and ran her fingers over the ridges of Adam’s heavy handwriting. Item 1345273 - The Hampton Casket by Prime - Costco.
She turned the computer on and went on the Costco website. On the search bar, Sarah typed in the item number and hit enter. Sarah’s eyes stung as she read through the product description. For the price of $999.00, Adam would be buried in a casket made of Poplar wood finished with a mahogany gloss. Tears streamed down her face as Sarah continued to read. The casket had a light cream velvet interior.
It had started with a small chuckle. Sarah wiped her tears and smiled. Trust Adam to find a casket that had an adjustable eternal rest bed (both head and foot) and included a matching pillow and throw. Her chuckle turned into a laugh. Hours later, she was still laughing. And when the babysitter returned home with the children, she’d found Sarah laughing hysterically in the study—on the floor. The poor girl called her mother, who then called 911.
The event must have been traumatizing for the babysitter, because after the funeral, she resigned. Immediately after. “There’s no good time to tell you,” she’d said. “So I’ll just go ahead and say it.” And so she did. She’d said it and ended with, “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Gardner.”
That night, Sarah found herself without both a husband and babysitter. One might joke that they’d ran off with each other; sadly, that wasn’t the case. It was funny, but not funny. No.
Despite her mini-breakdown, however, Sarah had to give it to Adam. His forward planning had helped her get through the toughest challenge of her life to date. The funeral had been well-attended and if Adam could see how many people were at his own funeral, he’d have been pleased and would have given a toast. Thank you all for coming.
Back at the house, everything was perfect—as far as funeral receptions went. From where she sat, Sarah looked around for her children. She had no idea where they were. But she could hear them and took comfort in knowing there were, at the very least, safe at home.
Charlotte, Adam’s cousin and their closest family member in the county, had catered the event. She was the owner of a small cafe in Willow Oaks, which was the next town up from Carlton Bay. If it wasn’t for Charlotte, Sarah would not have known how to cater for a funeral reception. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Charlotte had said when Sarah told her that Adam had specifically wanted her to cater at his funeral. Sarah had even asked if she wanted to read his notebook. Charlotte—bless her sweet heart—had declined.
With everything being managed by Charlotte and her staff, there wasn’t much that Sarah had to do. She performed her widow duties as best as she could by sitting, listening, and nodding when people offered their condolences even if they all said the same things. “He will be missed. Adam was a great guy. Everyone loved him.” Unfortunately, to Sarah, none of what they said mattered. Adam was gone. He didn’t run away with the babysitter. He died and left them for good.
* * *
KATE’S HUSBAND, EVAN, supplied all of Adam Gardner’s needs when it came to eggs and milk. Adam was the deceased. Adam didn’t buy a lot, mind you; but that was one of the things that the locals of Carlton Bay liked about Evan. He was happy to cater to the needs of anyone, whether they were a big business or a small household.
Adam liked to support the local businesses and farmers alike, and those were the people who’d turned up to his funeral. Kate imagined that they were all thinking the same thing, wondering if they had lost another client—or if the bereaved wife would continue the business relationship.
Being new to the town—and the United States—Kate didn’t really know anyone at the funeral reception. For better or worse, she had gotten used to standing around and being ignored at these small events that her husband, Evan, took her to.
Kate turned around at the sound of her name being called—or shouted. Shouted was the more accurate term.
It was Evan who was calling her, of course. In fact, she’d become rather sick of hearing him butcher her name. Besides, no one else knew her enough to yell out across the room for her. She spotted him and made her way to where he stood among, she guessed, a group of other farmers.
“Have y’all met my beautiful wife?” Evan pulled her close to his side. “This is Kate. She’s from the Philippines” he said proudly of his imported goods.
When Kate agreed to marry the charming man holidaying in her home country, she hadn’t anticipated that her whole life would be placed on hold and that she would be someone’s—for lack of a better term—trophy wife.
“It’s nice to meet you, honey,” one of the guys said.
“Oh, she’s a beauty, isn’t she?” another said, as one might say of their prized cattle.
“Do you have a sister that looks like you?” joked another.
“My uncle has a Filipino girlfriend,” said the tall one. “You might know her, she’s from the Philippines too.”
“Do—you—speak—English?” someone asked slowly, several decibels higher than normal.
Yes, Kate spoke English. She had also graduated with a degree in Hotel and Restaurant Management and worked at one of the top hotels in Manila. However, to the tall one’s dismay, she didn’t know every single one of the 110 million Filipinos in the world. But she didn’t say all that. Gosh, no. She wouldn’t have dared. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, people made it perfectly clear that they didn’t understand (or appreciate) her thick, foreign accent. So she had learned to keep things short and simply answered with a yes or no.
She felt Evan kiss the side of her head, leaving a trail of goose pimples down the back of her neck. Daily threats of divorce and calls to immigration had left her less than enamored with her older husband. But she smiled at him—smiled at them. She had learned to. In just six months, Kate had been trained to sit, stand, and do, like a good ol’ American farm dog.
Never in her life had she felt so alone.
“Don’t do it,” her mother had warned in Filipino. Kate could still remember the disapproval in her face. “What could you possibly have in common with a man twenty years your senior? You haven’t known him long. People change when the vacation is over! I forbid it!” She ended her sermon with a mighty “tsk!”
But, always the believer in love, fate, and happily ever-afters, Kate brushed off her mother’s caution and followed the man of her dreams. Everyone knew that when life beckoned you as a twenty-five-year-old, you answered. “I’m an adult, Ma!” she had argued. “I’m doing it and you can’t stop me.”
It disappointed her to the innermost depths of her broken heart to learn that her mother had been right. Evan turned out to be, not the man of her dreams, but of her nightmares.
“I’ll just go and help Sarah with the children,” Kate said when she noticed the three butter-blonde Gardner kids running around in the backyard. It was the perfect excuse to get away from the awkward conversation she’d found herself in with Evan and his farmer friends. And when the guests had started leaving, Kate told her husband that she had offered to stay the night to help Sarah with the kids.
“Good idea, darling,” Evan said, his voice deep. “You make sure you keep her happy. We don’t want to lose her as a customer.”
Kate nodded.
That night, when the sun fell and only darkness filled the sky, Sarah approached her. Kate was on her hands and knees picking up the children’s toys, which had been scattered everywhere. “Thank you,” Sarah began, “for your help.” She looked drained.
“You don’t need to thank me. I’m happy to help.” Kate knew that Sarah had no idea who she was. The truth was, she hadn’t properly met Sarah. But it was an excuse to take a much-needed break from her controlling husband, so she jumped at it, thinking she would deal with the consequences later. “Why don’t you get some rest,” she said. “I’ll put the children to bed.”
“Oh, I couldn’t let you do that.” Sarah’s eyes spoke of sadness.
Kate stood up and offered a hand to Sarah. “I’m Kate,” she said. “Evan Morgan’s wife. He’s the one that delivers your milk and eggs.”
Once a connection had been established, Sarah’s face relaxed.
“You go and have a nice bath and I’ll put the children to bed.” Kate placed a hand on Sarah’s arm. “When you finish, I’ll have something ready for you to eat.”
Sarah stood motionless for a second before a tear escaped from her eye. “My babysitter quit.”
“I know,” Kate said, though she hadn’t, really. She had been to many funerals in the Philippines before. It was always a weird, but nice, family gathering of sorts. Wakes were held for nine consecutive days before the funeral. Friends and relatives stayed and surrounded the grieving family. They sat and kept watch over the dead, never leaving the bereaved alone with their grief, offering to do everything for them, come hell or high water. “I’ll stay with you. You’re not alone.”
Sarah bit her lips. She was fragile and weak.
“I’ve got you.” Kate meant what she said. She would be there for this woman whose heart, like hers, had been broken into a million pieces.
* * *
THE DAY AFTER ADAM Gardner’s funeral, Louise got up early. She’d decided the night before, that she would go over to check on the wife, Sarah.
The funeral reception was held at the Gardner’s house and while Louise had been sitting admiring the French country style sofa, she’d heard two women talking. She hadn’t turned around, but from the conversation itself, she surmised it was the babysitter. From where she sat, Louise could feel the pain of both women—pain that emanated from the one doing the breaking up and pain that came from the one broken up with. The dumper and dumped.
She knew exactly what poor Adam’s wife was feeling. It had been three years since her own husband died, but not a day went by that Louise didn’t think about Warren. With three children under five-years-old, she had no doubt that the young widow had her hands full.
Louise didn’t know her very well, but she lived two houses down from the Gardners. It made sense to her that she should go and see what she could do to help.
Louise knocked on the bright red door of 603 Mulberry Lane and held her surprise when an Asian woman answered the door. “Good morning. I’m Louise Delaney,” she’d said, a hand to her chest. “I live in number 607. I thought I’d come and see if Sarah needed a hand with anything today.”
“Come in, come in” the woman said. “I’m Kate. I’m just helping Sarah out too.” Her accent was not from this part of town, Louise could tell. She’d lived in Carlton Bay for a very long time, and she thought she knew everyone in the small seaside town.
“Thank you.” Louise stepped into the house. “How’s Sarah?” Louise followed Kate through to the living room where Louise could see she had been vacuuming.
“She’s still asleep, and so are the children. I thought I would get a start on tidying up after last night’s reception. Were you there?”
“Yes, I came by, but I didn’t stay for very long.” Louise took her jacket off and hung it on the coat rack on the corner. “Should I get some breakfast going for when they wake up?” It was 8:30am and it wouldn’t be too long before Sarah or at least one of the children woke up.
“Okay, sure,” Kate said as she turned the vacuum back on. She was obviously not one for conversation.
Louise went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge to see what she could cook. From her own experience, food was the last thing she thought about. The morning after Warren died, Louise couldn’t bring herself to eat anything. The smell of food made her retch, and she recalled how their daughter, Madison, made sure that she ate something—anything—to get some kind of nutrition inside her. But Madison was thirty-years-old when Warren died. The Gardner kids were all still so little.
She looked in the pantry to see what she could prepare. Oatmeal was something that both Sarah and the kids could eat. She pulled some bread out in case they preferred something like peanut butter or jam on toast. Or both.
Louise considered herself a very lucky woman. She had married Warren when she was just nineteen, and they remained married and perfectly happy for thirty-seven years. The ‘perfectly’ part of their marriage came with hindsight though, she admitted. It wasn’t unusual to appreciate something until you’ve lost it. But they had Madison. And Madison was the love of her life.
It was through Madison that Louise learned about unconditional love. Before Madison was born, Louise only knew love as that between a man and woman. Or love for family. Friends. That kind of love. With Madison though, she bore for her child an immortal kind of love. A love that would never die. A love that would never hurt and never falter. Not when Madison first told Louise she’d hated her—Madison was ten-years-old at the time. Or that time when she’d said Louise embarrassed her, and blurted, “why can’t you be like other mothers?” Not even when Madison had her first boyfriend and was never home. And most certainly not when Madison decided to get married and fly across the world to live in New Zealand. No. Louise’s love—a mother’s love—withstood all kinds of hurt, disappointment, and pain.
After Madison left for New Zealand, Louise made a conscious decision to look after herself. She wasn’t dead. No. In fact, she had plenty of life in her yet.
It all happened one day. She’d gone to church, just like every Sunday—only that time, it was a Wednesday—and she prayed. She’d asked God for a sign; something that would tell her what she should do.
Her fervent prayers had been answered when one afternoon, as she strolled the dockside along Lighthouse Road, she entered the Carlton Bay Bookstore—which unsurprisingly was the only bookstore in Carlton Bay. As usual, it was empty, bar maybe one or two customers. She browsed the shelves and talked to Edna, who owned the shop, asking her about any new releases that may have come in.
What she’d learned instead was that Edna wanted a change. “I’m too old for this,” she’d said. “And I’m thinking of closing up at the end of next month. It’s time that I retired.”
Four weeks later, Louise signed the dotted line and found herself the owner of the only bookstore in Carlton Bay. She had renamed the store, Chapter Five.
Chapter one represented her youth.
Chapter two was for the next phase of her life as a married woman.
Becoming a mother took Chapter three.
Chapter four marked the death of her husband and the beginning of her life as a widow.
And chapter five was—well...it was her chapter. The chapter that revolved around no one else, but herself.
“Louise?”
Louise looked up from the pot of oatmeal she’d been stirring. “Sarah,” she sighed the name with a smile. Louise turned the pot off and walked across the kitchen, arms extended, to where she stood. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but no words followed.
“I know, darling, I know...” Louise comforted. She took Sarah by the shoulders and led her to the breakfast nook, where she pulled a chair out for her. “Have a seat and I’ll pour you a coffee.”
Sarah didn’t fight her. She had let herself be led and sat down. “You don’t have to do all this,” she said softly.
“I want to.” Louise smiled warmly. She knew what it was like to lose a husband.