Matt’s mother grabbed her into a hug. “Don’t lose hope,” she whispered. “I’ll drive you home. Tony can follow with your car.”
“No. Thank you.”
“Sweetheart. You shouldn’t be alone.”
Abby knew what Marge was seeing. A person shutting down. Closing up and turning off. Because that’s what you did when you thought everything was perfect and then you were blindsided again with No, it’s not. “We’ll be fine. The kids are tired. We’ll all nap and regroup.”
“Okay, honey. If you’re sure.” Marge hugged her again.
She’d come so close to having a mother.
Tony followed her to the car and helped her get the kids buckled in. He straightened and faced her before she could get away, studying her for a moment. “What are you thinking?”
“What?”
“You don’t think he’s coming back. You’re strong. You’re stoic. What are you thinking?”
Abby thought a second, but she really had no reason to lie. “That it might be better for us if we moved back to Raleigh.”
“What? No!” Jack screamed from the backseat. “If we move he’ll never find us!”
“It’s okay, Jack,” Tony said, placating and reassuring him enough to settle down. “You’re not moving. Sit back in your seat.”
Abby started to protest, but Tony interrupted, his voice only loud enough for her ears. “You’re Matt’s, Abby, you and the kids. That means you’re ours. No matter what happens.”
Really? A lovely sentiment if it were true, but she didn’t think she could stand being here without him. She nodded and slid behind the wheel, not feeling at all strong or stoic. More like barely hanging on and aching from the effort.
“He loves you,” Tony said. “You know that.”
Her throat closed up to strangle her but she nodded.
“You can’t give up hope.”
Yes, you can, she thought. And sometimes, in order to survive, you have to.
—
A steady, icy drizzle fell, matching her mood. Not rain, not snow, just an in-between weariness from the sky. How many nights had she stood here looking out this window, watching for him to pull into the driveway? Don’t watch for them. Don’t wait for them. Those had always been her childhood rules. But she hadn’t followed them, not for the past fourteen days.
She stared until the frozen mess falling in front of the streetlight blurred and nothing was clear. But inside everything was clear.
He wasn’t coming back.
She tried to tell herself not to worry. He’s a U.S. Navy SEAL, practically unkillable. But no one was immortal, not even Matt.
Even with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she shivered against a bone-deep cold. She’d told everyone she had the flu so she could be alone, but now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she was really sick. Or maybe this was what a broken heart felt like.
Mary made a sound from the cradle but quickly settled. Marge and Anthony had taken Charlie for the night. Annie, Gracie, and Jack had gone with Tony and Beth. Thank God for Matt’s family. She needed a break from the questions that were killing her. From her precious Gracie constantly reaching out for reassurance.
Mommy, where’s Matt? When is he coming back? Does he miss us?
Abby had answered each time with an encouraging hug, even as she broke apart inside. Of course he’s coming back. Of course he misses you.
If he got kilt by the bad guys, will we have a funewal like we did for Daddy? Will he still be our new daddy? Will we have two daddies in heaven? Will they be fwiends?
She had no answers to these questions. And then last night, through heavy tears, the one that had broken her.
Why doesn’t God want me to have a daddy?
She’d gathered Gracie into her lap while they’d cried together.
But Annie asked no questions. She was more closed-up than ever, barely acknowledging his absence. Jack was deep in denial.
Maybe they should move somewhere new instead of going back to Raleigh, somewhere Matt had never been. Somewhere there were no memories.
Distance yourself. Don’t care.
She glanced down at the floor, where she’d pulled the quilt from the bed, not wanting to sleep where Matt had held her, knowing he never would again. Not wanting to sleep next to the empty space. She pulled the neck of her T-shirt, Matt’s shirt, up to her nose and breathed in his scent. It was all she had left and it was fading.
She strained to remember how her mother had been before, but all she remembered were nights of crying and then…that last night.
It’s not enough. What had her mother meant? Her daughter wasn’t enough? Or the world? Or life? Had her mother wished to fall into a dark hole and never come out?