About Time (Broken Vows #4)

Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Hattie Present- Age 43

My hands are shaking. I know Charlie wants me to go back and sit with him, but I can’t. Not with all of this poison creeping back into my head. I know all of this is in the past, but it’s hard for me not to let those feelings back in with the memories.

I can see Wren is bracing herself for this part of my story. Her green eyes are glassy with unshed tears. By the time I’m done with this, I don’t think I’ll be the only one who has cried tonight.

“I can stop,” I tell her.

When she doesn’t say anything I continue. “Donovan thinks that you need to hear this. That you need to know why I took off when you needed me the most.”

“I was fine. Really, I—” she starts, but I make a wiping motion with my hand halting her mid-sentence.

“You weren’t fine. What I did isn’t fine. I’ve apologized, but now I see that without the context you probably felt even more alone. I should have just brought you back to Florida with me.”

I look over at Liam. I didn’t have much of an opinion of him at the time, but now my feelings will always be colored by the state she showed up to my door in over a decade ago after he cheated on her. Yes, she ran to me because things had gotten rocky with Griffin, but Liam was the reason for that too.

I know that Wren and Griffin fought hard to forgive him, but it’s harder to forgive someone for what they’ve done to someone you love than what they have done to you. The best I can claim is that I tolerate him. We’re not close, and I don’t think we ever will be.

Griffin’s arms wrap around Wren tighter, as if past me could come and snatch her away from him. I roll my eyes. “Relax caveman. I clearly didn’t take her.”

He grunts an acknowledgement of what I said, hence my nickname for him.

Like usual, he focuses all of his attention on Wren. His hand cups the side of her face. “I love you, baby bird. If this gets to be too much, just say the word and we’ll go home and I’ll take your mind off everything.”

The bond between them seems to grow stronger every day. There was a time during the first year they were married that I had my doubts, but they have only grown stronger since then. I’m actually jealous.

I’ve loved almost every day being married to Charlie, this second time at least. I won’t say every single day, because that man can frustrate the living hell out of me, but for some reason together we make sense. Lately though, I can feel something pulling him away. Or rather, I can feel him pulling inside of himself. Maybe it’s just that I’ve never completely let go of our past.

Perhaps Wren isn’t the only one who needs to hear this story.

Sitting around a large table at O’Sullivans Pub, I realize that I actually do have a pretty good life here in Florida. I wouldn’t call it great, yet, but I can change that. I will change that. These people are better friends than I deserve. I would still trade any of them to have Donovan back, but I stupidly turned my back on him when I decided to cut as much of Harriston out of my life as I could. Too much time has gone by to fix that now.

I try to keep up with them, not with how many drinks I have, but just staying out. Considering my body wanted to hibernate before coming out tonight, I feel like making it two hours should get me some kind of award. That is when I turn into a pumpkin though, and even Clark’s desire to keep me out can’t make him overlook my yawning. I’m fighting it, but rapidly losing the battle to stay awake.

He pushes back from the table and helps me scoot my own chair away. He does that cool guy head tip toward the door. The corner of his mouth quirks up when he realizes I’m studying him.

It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s attractive. I know he likes me. Maybe even more than likes, but I’ve always rigidly maintained that boundary between us. I’m less sure why right now, but it’s not a decision I’ll make after a couple of beers and sleep induced giddiness.

“Let me walk you home,” he offers.

I’m not going to turn him down. This isn’t Harriston. It’s not fair that women can’t walk by themselves at night, but it is a reality. He holds out his hand, and I take it without thinking. It seems, maybe, I haven’t been as rigid in those boundaries after all.

It’s a lovely night. The air feels thick with humidity, but there’s a cooler breeze blowing in from the Gulf making it comfortable. I turn my face up to the sky and feel the need to catalog the beauty and peace of this moment. I can’t say why it feels so vital, but instinctually I feel like I’m going to need it as much as oxygen.

When my apartment building is in sight, I see a police cruiser parked in front of my building. My neighbors are all pretty quiet, so I can’t imagine who they’d be here for.

I’ve barely stuck my key in the door when I hear car doors open and close. “Ms. Parker?”

I turn around and see the uniformed police officers looking at me with sadness and pity. Before they even say a word I’m already shaking my head. That is a look I’m very familiar with. It’s the look my mom wore when she told me my dad left us, and it’s the look the doctor had when he came out to tell Elisa and I our mom passed away.

There’s an emotional awareness that precedes logic. I can feel the knowledge swelling inside of me, no matter how hard I try and squash it. My knees buckle, but Clark is there to keep me from falling. He finishes unlocking the door while I remain frozen in this in between zone. I know logically whatever they are going to tell me is going to change my life forever, but I’ve entered that phase of shock where my mind refuses to accept reality.

Denial doesn’t work long-term, but for this one second, my entire being wants nothing more than for them never to speak the words they’ve come here to say. I can feel the first tear break free. I’m fighting it so hard that my eyes actually burn with the effort. My sinuses are growing thick, and a headache is blossoming. All of this before one word is spoken beyond my name.

They don’t have to say anything. I already know. Logic is a bitch. Without it I might be able to pretend for a few more minutes that there’s some distant relative they came here to inform me passed away.

“Dead or in the hospital?” I croak.

Don’t say the name, don’t say it. I’m looking up at the ceiling like I was staring at the stars moments before. It’s harder to distract myself with the bumps on my popcorn ceiling.

“Hattie, why don’t you have a seat?” Clark asks. The cops haven’t said anything yet, but he knows like I do that whatever brought them here isn’t good.

He guides me to my couch and the cops take two decorative chairs I have across from it. Thankfully, he joins me and lets me squeeze his hand while I wait for the bottom to fall out.

The truth is already staring me in the face. If it were Martin, Elisa would have called me freaking out already, and vice versa. If it were Wren, Elisa would be on the phone, which can only mean one thing. They are here to tell me about Martin and Elisa.

“Dead or in the hospital?” I repeat.

The younger one drops his head, he looks like he’s probably fresh out of the academy, maybe twenty-one. He looks like such a kid to me, and I’m maybe five years older than him. I have to fight the hysterical urge to laugh. Why I’m thinking about Charlie at this moment is the epitome of being fucked up. I can’t help it though. What a fool I was thinking he ever saw a future with nineteen-year-old me.

The older officer, probably someone they sent because he has a fatherly presence, doesn’t look away, even knowing the next words out of his mouth are going to destroy me. “I’m sorry to have to come and tell you that earlier this evening your brother Martin and his wife Elisa were in a car accident.”

“What? You mean they were hit or something, right?” I ask to clarify.

His face falls. “No. I’ve been told by the Harriston Police Department that it had started raining really hard while they were out tonight. On their way back to Harriston from Centralia it started raining harder, and it appears they lost traction and hit a tree. I’m told that they died on impact. I know it doesn’t mean much right now, but they did not suffer.”

This doesn’t make sense. My sister can’t be gone just because it rained. That’s not the way someone like Elisa leaves this world.

I don’t even have it in me to correct him that Elisa is my sister. Was. Elisa was my sister. Fuck, I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with this. The fact that the courts basically let my sister adopt me and change my last name doesn’t mean fuck all right at this moment.

Then it occurs to me, they didn’t say anything about Wren. I know that Lis and Martin were out for date night, but sometimes they came back and did something as a family after they got home. Maybe it’s selfish to hope my niece was just made an orphan, but Wren is all the family I have left.

I look back at the ceiling and do something I rarely do anymore, pray. “Was there anyone else with them?” I finally manage to ask after several moments.

The older officer looks through his notes before he shakes his head.

I clear my throat. Then clear it again, because it feels so thick I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to speak. “Has anyone informed my niece that her parents are dead?”

The lines on his face have deepened in the time he’s been here with me. I can’t imagine what kind of toll it must take to tell people they’ll never see their loved ones again. He’s obviously done it more than his partner since he isn’t backing away from my distress.

He’s nodding his head slightly when he says, “The Harriston officer that asked for Clearwater Police Department was on his way to speak to her when I got the call from my Sergeant.”

The officer turns to Clark. “Will you be able to stay with her for a while?”

In other circumstances, I might have argued with him about being able to care for myself, but I don’t want to. Right now I’m so grateful for Clark. I don’t know what kind of state I’d be in right now without him.

He shows the police to the door, and I break. There are so many things to deal with right now, but I can’t see. All the moisture in my body is working its way out through my eyes, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.

“What do I do now? She was my rock. How do I figure out life without her there to help me? They are so young.”

A shuddering breath escapes me. “Were young. Fuck. I don’t want them to be a were or a was.”

He wraps his arms around me and lets me soak his shirt. Damn me for wishing different arms were holding me now. And fuck him for never being what I needed.

“Why don’t you go change into comfortable clothes? I’ll get you a plane ticket home. I can come with you if you want me to. I have PTO I can take,” Clark offers.

For a moment I almost take him up on it. Then I realize I’m not ready to let him in that deep yet. As much as I’d like his support, until I am ready to take what he’s been offering me, I can’t bring him home.

Not that it will feel much like home without Elisa. I’m older than she was when she and Martin took me in, but I am not like them. How am I going to take care of Wren when I’m such a mess?

The light for my messages is flashing on my phone, and I grab it without thinking. Without thinking I pull up my messages.

“Hey sis! Oh my God, that was the best show I’ve ever seen. Martin is so getting lucky tonight. We’re skipping dinner to go home because it’s starting to rain really hard. Wren is supposed to be out with her boyfriend, so maybe we can even get some alone time before she comes home. Love you, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Except I won’t. I’ll never get to speak to her again. I missed my chance. I don’t know that talking to her would have changed their fate, but I think I’ll always wonder. Maybe they would have seen how hard it started raining and gotten a hotel room instead, or even just went ahead and got dinner while waiting.

The phone drops out of my hand and skips across the floor. I fall to my knees, pick it up, and cradle it against my chest. This is my last connection to her. If only I’d heard my phone I could have talked to her for a few minutes. It may have done nothing to save them, but at least the last time I heard her voice wouldn’t have been over a voicemail.

Images race into my mind. I see myself following her around when she was in high school, standing next to her peering into Wren’s bassinet, and holding on to her when our mother died. She’s been my safe harbor for every rough patch I have experienced, and now I feel adrift. It’s all just too much.

I scramble to the bathroom and throw up everything inside of me. Once my stomach is empty I let go of the dreams I had of her standing next to me looking at my own kids. I give up the visions I had of her helping me get ready for my wedding the way my mom and I helped her the day she married Martin. I let everything slip out with the tears I can’t stop shedding.

When I feel like nothing more than an empty husk, I lay down on the cool tile and give in to the blessed reprieve of numbness. I know from experience that it won’t last. Sooner than I’ll be ready their loss will slam into me all over again. That’s the thing about grief, it comes in waves, and you’ve got to fight to keep your head above the crests or you’ll drown.

I turn on the message again, and hear her say she loved me over and over. She’ll never be able to say it to me again. That knowledge is like a burning pit in my stomach, and I know at least for a little while I’m going to drown.

We were supposed to have a lifetime sharing our lives, but that’s the thing about time, sometimes it runs out before you’re ready.