Worth the Fall(102)

The vivid memory of the dream brought more tears to her eyes. They multiplied and slid into her hair as she lay, staring at the ceiling. Only a dream, but terrifying just the same. And the feelings lingered like a stain, covering the hope she’d been holding on to until she couldn’t see it anymore.

Twelve days. He’s been gone twelve days instead of two.

She glanced at the clock next to her bed: 6:19 a.m. and dark as night. She rubbed her fingers against her eyelids, attempting to erase the ugly scene. She slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. Flipping on the light, she took in her reflection. Not pretty. The combination of splotchy, crying eyes underlined by dark shadows. She hadn’t been sleeping, had barely been eating. Even the thought of coffee turned her stomach.

And her bridal shower was scheduled for today. She had no idea how she would get through it. Even though she wouldn’t open gifts, she couldn’t, Marge was expecting her and the kids for lunch. She’d offered to hem the flower girl dresses for a wedding that was a week from today, or it was supposed to be. The knots in her stomach clenched.

She needed to take a shower before Mary woke up, but her body made no move toward the goal. Her chin dropped to her chest and she searched each and every recess of her being for a bit of strength. Matt’s absence hurt, like a wound. It was exactly as she’d feared. That once she opened herself to the possibility, she would be weaker without him than she’d been before.

She pushed away from the counter and turned on the hot water, leaving it up to the heat and steam to revive her.

Abby pulled up to Matt’s parents’ house at 11:35. The driveway was already filled with familiar minivans and SUVs, so she parked on the street. She loved Matt’s family and the support that came with them, but was there really any point in hemming dresses for a wedding that wasn’t going to happen? Any point in this gathering?

But she went through the motions, as she always had, painting on a smile any clown would be proud of. She made small talk with the sisters while avoiding the eyes of Matt’s brothers. Because they knew. The too loud exclamations that he was tough enough to survive anything. The hushed voices and quickly wiped eyes whenever she approached.

She wasn’t the only one losing hope. One of Matt’s teammates, Dan Parker, who’d stayed behind had finally talked to her. And he hadn’t been encouraging, admitting that something had gone terribly wrong. Two helicopters had gone in; only one had come out. That’s all he would say. It was enough.

Face the facts, little girl. People leave, always have. And they don’t come back.

Every muscle ached, tense and tired from holding her body so tightly for so long just to keep from flying into pieces. But she smiled and filled her plate with food her stomach was too tied up to accept. After lunch, Marge continued the charade, marking and pinning the girls’ dresses. All she wanted was to go into a dark closet and hide. Scream. She didn’t want to be around people at all. The fact that it was supposed to have been a celebration leading up to the big day made it all the more unbearable.

Her polite words to excuse herself and the kids were cut off by Gracie’s bloodcurdling scream from the backyard.

Abby rushed outside, expecting blood, and found Annie holding one piece of a white wicker basket and Jack holding the other. Gracie, still wailing, stood to the side with a robin’s egg blue ribbon clenched in her tight fist and blowing in the wind.

“She doesn’t need it!” Annie screamed.

“Does too!” Jack screamed right back.

“No, she doesn’t! You don’t need a flower girl or petals or any stupid basket when there’s no wedding!”

Gracie’s cries of outrage changed to pure heartbreak as she dropped to her knees and crawled across the dead winter grass, gathering each pansy petal and clutching them to her heart one by one.

Beth was there, kneeling beside Gracie, when Abby reached the yard.

“I—need them— Aunt…Beth. I do and Annie says I d…don’t.” Gracie hiccupped every word to the woman who would never really be her aunt.

“Of course you do, sweetheart. Here, put them in my hand and we’ll find you a new basket.”

Tony went to Jack. “Come on, Jack Attack. Let’s go see if we can find some more of Grandma’s peanut butter cookies.”

“No! I’m going to look for him.” Jack stood at the edge of the woods. “He’s lost and I don’t care if you help me. I’m gonna find him.”

Annie stood alone, breathing hard, silent tears tracking down her cheeks.

It was time to go. She couldn’t do this anymore.

Taking the destroyed basket from Annie’s grasp, Abby laid it on the railing of the deck. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” she said, meeting Marge’s watery eyes.