About Time (Broken Vows #4)

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hattie Past- Age 26

Wren squeezes my hand as the two of us stand side by side at the entrance of the nondenominational church I personally can’t remember ever stepping foot in before. Putting together a funeral for two of the most beloved members of our community in a very short period of time led us to do a few things we hadn’t expected.

Like, meet with a pastor to plan a service for a couple that married in a courthouse and never baptized their only child. It turns out there aren't a whole lot of places to have a funeral. A lot of the places they both enjoyed together don't particularly want dead bodies on the property.

Then there were all of the people demanding that we should have a “celebration of life.” This rubbed Wren and I both the wrong way, because we couldn't figure out what there was to celebrate about two people in their thirties no longer being here with us. It's surprising that we are able to speak, considering how often we've had to bite our tongues the last three days.

Everywhere we went somebody had an opinion. Wren received pushback when she was looking at flowers because the florist insisted that all of the arrangements contain lilies and turned her nose up at yellow roses. Of course, Wren put her foot down, but it was a battle. It's not like she asked for sunflowers and daisies, and even if she did so what?

When I went to purchase the cemetery plots and headstone old man Morris wouldn't even talk to me. He is older than dirt and would only speak to a man. I ended up having to get Charlie to help me with that. Needless to say, the last three days have been frustrating, but they have been distracting.

I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. Other than the day I got here there hasn't been a lot of time to grieve and let it sink in that I will never see Elisa again. Wren’s mood goes back and forth. One minute she seems like a zombie and the next she's sobbing until she hyperventilates. I keep trying to think how I managed this when my mom died, but the answer keeps being Elisa and Martin were there for me. Wren was too young to remember her grandmother, so to her, this feels like the first major loss of her life.

“Are you ready for this?” I ask Wren.

She shrugs her shoulders. “Is anyone ever ready to bury their parents right before the start of their senior year?”

She makes a good point. That was a particularly stupid question, but I'm struggling to reach her. We've seen each other regularly, but it hasn't been like it was when I still lived here. She feels like a stranger to me now and I imagine I seem the same to her. Instead of clinging to me, like I had to my sister when my mom died, she has latched onto Liam.

He seems like a nice enough kid, but I'm not sure I like how happy he is with her needing him this much. I'm trying not to judge because he is there for her, but they are both so young. I worry this will push them closer together than they would've otherwise been.

Not that I'm one to talk. I was only a couple of years older than her when I married Charlie. The only reason I have escaped the sideways glances from our neighbors is because we did a really good job not letting anyone find out. If they did, that would definitely be the talk of the only pharmacy in town. I swear Mr. Palmer, the pharmacist, is the biggest gossip in Harriston. I think he sees himself as the unofficial town crier. We don't even have a local newspaper because all you need to do is stop in to the pharmacy and you'll be caught up with all of the town news by the time you check out.

The first car pulls up in front of the church. It's an old Lincoln from the eighties, long and boxy and a brownish champagne color. I am sure it was the height of luxury when it was new. Dolores Howell steps out of the passenger side and I exhale because she's one of the few people I am actually looking forward to speaking to.

She's in her mid-seventies, but sharper than a lot of people twenty years younger. She helped me a lot when my mom first was diagnosed with cancer. She even watched Wren several times so Elisa could go see our mom in the hospital.

Dolores takes my hands in hers. The warmth and strength in her grasp threaten to unravel the very fragile hold I have over myself. She gives me a reassuring squeeze and then lets my hands go.

“Don't be afraid to cry if you need to. Nobody would think less of you. There's no sense in trying to put a shine on something so horrible. You go on and rage and cuss and throw a fit if you need to, especially to anyone who tells you that they're in a better place or they're looking down on you. While I believe that’s true, I don't think it necessarily helps much to make the living feel better. You let me know if you need anything at all.” She gives my arm a final pat before entering the church to find a seat.

Despite Dolores’ advice, Wren and I still plaster fake smiles on our faces and greet people as they enter. “I think the entire town is here,” Wren whispers.

Once everyone is inside Wren and I turn to face the church. I can feel her shaking where I’m holding her hand. “I don’t want to do this,” she whispers.

I blow out a breath. “Me either.”

Wren stares at the door without taking a step to go toward it. “It’s just that when this is over they’re really gone.”

“They’re already gone, whether we go in there or not. The only thing going in there does is give us both a chance to say goodbye to them,” I tell her.

Her lips twist, and she looks up to keep the tears locked in for a little while longer. “I don’t want to say goodbye to them.”

She hiccups out a sob. “I keep hoping I’ll wake up, and then it just keeps going. I feel like my chest has been ripped open, and I will have to live the rest of my life with a gaping wound.”

I nod. That’s pretty accurate, but maybe there’s something I can help her with. “The next steps we take are what is going to make you feel a little less hollow. This is for us because someday we’re going to look back at today and know we sent them off with love.”

She tries to sneak and wipe a tear away, then she blows out a breath. “Okay, let’s do this then.”

The ornate wood doors are easily ten feet tall and even wider. The handles are made from thick twisted iron. We both have to pull hard to open the heavy door. It makes a whooshing sound as it moves, and a loud thud when it closes behind us. As if there wasn’t enough attention on us, all heads turn our way the moment we step into the hall.

We try to keep our heads up as we head down the aisle toward the first row of seats. It’s hard though, because I can feel their gaze slide over my skin. When I dare look anywhere except straight ahead I see that everyone is, in fact, watching us. I’m sure they are storing away details to examine later when they are in line at the grocery store, or more than likely the pharmacy. Later they’ll talk about the two poor orphan girls and how our family is cursed. Nothing they didn’t say over a decade ago when I lost my mom.

It’s times like this when I’m glad that I did get out of this town. Not that I’d say as much to Charlie. I’m sure he thinks he did me a favor by putting his boot in my ass to send me packing. Life is more than what job you work and how much money is in the bank. These are truths I learned from watching my big sister.

A job is supposed to fund your life, not become your life. That’s something I’ve gotten wrong since I left here. The only thing I have in Florida is my job. It’s the thing that gets me out of bed and usually the last thing I do in my day before falling back into it. If my friends didn’t drag me out every once in a while I wouldn’t see anyone outside of the hospital.

My eyes find him in the crowd, two rows from the front, behind the one reserved for family. I’m not sure where we stand right now, but I appreciate for a moment he’s standing in my corner. I don’t know how long this will last, but I’m constantly telling myself not to trust this. I might not have believed this the first time, but there is an end date on whatever it is that is sparking between us. And there are sparks. I wish like hell there weren’t but that is the one thing that will probably never change for us. He will always be the match to my gasoline.

The speakers kick to life and the opening chords of Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton start playing. I peek at Wren from the corner of my eye and see her twisting the program in her hands. She’s fighting to hold it together. We don’t have a long service planned, so she is up to speak first. I pray we can both hang on long enough to get through this.

At the end of the aisle, we part ways. She continues on to the pulpit, and I take my seat in the empty row. I put my hands on either side of me on the bench and close my eyes. I breathe in and hold it. In that fleeting moment, I can feel hands on both of mine, sliding their fingers through and squeezing reassuringly. When I exhale the feeling is gone.

I realize how crazy it sounds, but I know that was them telling me they’re okay. I’d love to say I commit to memory everything Wren is saying, but I’m barely hanging on. If I let her pain in to mingle with mine I’m not sure I’ll make it through this. The hall fills with the occasional sniffle as Wren’s words of love reach their ears.

When it’s my turn, I take her place at the lectern. I prepared a whole speech last night, but the words swim on the page in front of me. My breath shudders in and out while I try to center myself enough to make it through the next few minutes.

“Grief is a sign that there was once someone to love. In front of me lie two people who inspired a lot of love. Don’t be sorry for them though. They are moving along to their next adventure the way they did everything for the last twenty-two-years, together. It’s the rest of us who deserve pity. We’re the ones who were living in a world of color and woke up to black and white.

“The only thing we can do is to follow their example. We must wake up each day and fill it with the magnitude of our personality the way Martin always did. We need to set our sights on the important things. Family, friends, and the one we love is to be cherished above a promotion or profits.”

I take a second to look at Charlie. He needs to hear these words, and I don’t think I’ll ever have the strength to say them again without feeling like my sister is still here with me. “We can search the world for the path we think will bring the most glory. We can chase after success and what we think we should want, but don’t wander so far you get lost. Know that it’s okay to choose the simple life and make it big with love.”

“Elisa knew what she wanted, and she never felt any shame for it. She loved Martin with every molecule of her soul. It’s that love that built Wren. Their love was infectious. It made everyone feel like they could do more, be more, and reach for it. Not for a moment did she regret not going to college, or pursuing a career. She knew it wasn’t the path for everyone, but it was for her.”

I have to blink away the tears that are trying to spill. Not now. I can’t lose it right here. This part of my grief is private and I don’t want to cheapen it by sharing it here. Not for them to dissect at a later date.

“My God, Martin loved my sister. I’ve heard the talk about the cursed Reynold girls. I guess now it’s the cursed Parker girls since I took Martin’s name when they took me in after my mom died. Life is really unfair, you’re all right about the fact that we know that better than anyone. I’ve got one person left in this world.”

Wren catches my eyes and we silently send each other strength. I nod when I’m ready to dive back into my speech. I look down at the closed caskets of the two people who have always been my shelter in the storm of life.

“If you need any further proof that life isn’t fair all you have to do is look at the closed caskets in front of us. The two people who had the most to give, and their time was cut too short to give it. There’s not a person in this town that hasn’t been impacted by them. We are the ones who are both better and worse off for having known them. We will always be better people as long as we follow their examples, but we’re worse off because now we know what life was like with them in it and we have to keep going now that they’re gone. Be sorry for the living, because the hole left behind is wide and deep. Grief is for the living because it is us who will suffer their loss. Don’t be sorry for Elisa and Martin. They lived big and left without regrets. They did everything right the first time.”

Directing my next statement to Elisa and Martin I say, “I promise you both that from this moment forward I will chase the right things. I’ll remember to live a big life, and not confuse that with having to impress people. I might not get to see you for a while, but I’ll carry you with me. So I’m not saying goodbye to you, big sis. Let’s just say until later, and in the meantime, make sure to check your messages.”

Wren chokes out a laugh. Both of us have been on the receiving end of Elisa texting us to check our messages like we didn’t get an alert for a voicemail. I know it won’t be the same, but I talk to my sister every day, and that won’t stop just because I have to wait to check the messages she leaves for me.

On my way back to join Wren I put my hands on their caskets, and bow my head. I know that they aren’t in there anymore. The only thing left is the part that tethers us to this world, but having faith is hard when life keeps testing it. But for Elisa, I’ll keep believing. The alternative is that she’s just gone, and I can’t accept that.