Chapter Twenty

Sam

 

I’d never seen Kate with a blank, composed expression before. In all the years since we met, I’d seen her happy, laughing, disappointed, mad…but never shut down.

It spoke to her deep pain.

Strange how my gut could be in a knot when I hadn’t seen her in two years. Really thought I’d moved on. Even had a casual college girlfriend freshman year before I no longer had time around my studies. But here I am, seeing Kate at the worst moment in her life, exchanging a few words, and all I can think is I miss you.

I expected the reunion to potentially be awkward. I didn’t expect so much distance. Maybe I’d hurt her when I let our friendship fade. Honestly, I thought since her communications came less and less frequently and were less and less personal that she’d naturally moved on, too.

Now, I suspected I was wrong—or the truth lay somewhere in the middle.

Would an apology matter two years later?

She flitted around the room wearing a mask of politeness, nodding along to any condolences shared with her by a seemingly endless line of visitors. Her face only softened when she dealt with a classmate of her sister or brother. The kids just wanted to say what they liked best about her sibling—or in Peter’s case, bring a get-well card and ask when they could visit.

We could be proud of our hometown for their display of kindness if nothing else.

Sitting in the Carson living room…man, how many hours had we spent at each other’s houses? I knew what I’d see in her fridge as well as Mom’s. Knew the snacks I’d find in the pantry and the quick stuff we’d throw in the microwave.

That even when we were grown, we’d still happily eaten a meal of Kraft Mac ‘n’ Cheese and Oscar Meyer hotdogs when her dad made it.

We studied at kitchen tables because of course we weren’t allowed in each other’s bedrooms with closed doors, though to be left alone, that was usually at my house. Peter was a quiet kid, but Kristi was a chatterbox with no compunction about interrupting us. When she got to a certain age, she’d pop in between us and ask when we were going to date already.

Because boys and girls can’t only be friends, duh.

And Kate would blush and beg her dad to keep Kristi occupied.

I chuckled at the memory.

Kate’s gaze shot to me. I shook my head. Sorry.

But the atmosphere in the house wasn’t solemn and grim, so I think I didn’t offend.

Truthfully, people seemed to be—respectfully—celebrating the lives of the lost. That’s probably what should happen. Remember the good times. I’d heard about cultures that made funerals or memorials a party, even. Might be a bit much for me, but I understood it.

As a lifelong athlete, pain was a teacher. Had a coach that always said are you hurt or are you injured? Hurt was something you played through, making you better.

So…grief existed to make you a more layered human.

Ugh, I was rambling in my own head.

Dad sat next to me. “You’re quiet over here. Bored?”

“No. I just don’t know the best way to help.”

“Some problems can’t be solved, son.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Being here helps.”

I nodded. It was difficult for me to not have a plan of action. “Where’s Mom?”

“Doing her thing.” He smiled. “Keeping order.”

She didn’t stop being a teacher outside the school.

The stream of mourners had finally dwindled to a trickle.

I watched Mom go to Kate and say something quietly. Kate nodded and looked at her watch. Were we close to this reception ending? I checked the time. About half an hour.

The program had included specific hours for dropping by the house, and I was glad. This had to be exhausting for her to put on a brave face for hours. Plus, she might want to see Pete tonight before visitors weren’t allowed at the hospital until tomorrow.

I knew Mom would play the “bad guy” without asking what the plan was. She’d politely, yet firmly, get the guests out the door so Kate wouldn’t have to. Though, since she’d started cleaning up the paper cups and plates, people were starting to take the hint. I stood to help and walked to the coffee urn to check how much was left. Merely enough to fill the carafe from the coffeemaker. I emptied the remnants while Kate chatted with the stragglers.

Can’t you people see she wants this to end?

But it wasn’t my place to intercede anymore.

When she finally showed the last one out, her body sagged against the front door. She sighed, eyes closed, then pushed off and straightened.

We pretended we weren’t watching.

At least, I did.

“Why don’t you take a rest?” Mom said. “We’ll finish cleaning up.”

“I’m fine.”

“Then how about you go through the box of cards while we finish up.” Mom’s voice held that teacher edge that said she wasn’t asking for disagreement.

“We can spare you for a few minutes, Kate,” Mr. Scott added with an encouraging smile.

She rolled her eyes, muttered, and trudged upstairs.