Carrie Weaver - Baby, I'm Yours

The urge to throw casserole dishes and rented glassware against the wall was almost overwhelming, as if the shards raining down on the tile floor could convey how brittle and broken she felt.

But Becca held it together long enough to nod. Somehow, she would make it through the wake.

“Have you eaten today?”

“I—I think so.” It was a lie. But she knew Rick would never understand that her throat constricted every time she took a bite.

He touched her arm. “How about if I fix you a plate? You look like you’re ready to drop.”

“That would be…nice.” She understood his need to make things better for her, knew that her grief reminded him of his own loss—the two men had been as close as brothers. And she wished with her whole heart that food was the answer. But it wasn’t.

When Rick handed her a heaping plate a couple of minutes later, Becca fought a wave of nausea. But she obediently pushed the food around with her fork.

“You’ve got to eat something. For them.” Rick nodded toward her three children: sixteen-year-old Maya, ten-year-old Aaron and their brother, David, now twenty. The three stood huddled together on one side of the living room.

It was as if they realized how vulnerable they were without their strong father standing between them and the world. Or maybe they suspected their normally patient mother was one scream away from losing it in front of all these well-meaning people.

“How much longer?” she asked.

“How much longer for what?”

“Until they leave.” Until she could be alone with her grief and not pretend to be in control. Until she could surrender to the hopelessness threatening to incapacitate her.

“Pretty soon. Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down. I can let Gabe’s folks know. And I’m sure Royce and Katy wouldn’t mind taking over host duties.”

“No, I need to do it. For Gabe.”

Emotion flashed in his eyes, then was gone. “Okay.”

Becca was barely aware when he moved away from her. Or when he spoke quietly to her brother, Royce, and they worked the room in tandem.

All she knew was that people streamed over to say a quick goodbye at precise intervals.

Becca hoped she would remember to thank Rick for his kindness. But the task of staying focused on her hostess duties was almost more than she could handle.

When the last guest left, she closed the door, leaning her forehead against it.

Then was pulled into a strong embrace.

Gabe.

But it wasn’t his scent. It was her brother’s.

Becca stiffened, wondering how she could have confused a brotherly embrace with that of her soul mate. Then she forgave herself for the silly slip, stepping into his arms and hiding as if she were a girl of five again.

“I’m so sorry. I should have seen you weren’t holding up as well as you wanted us to believe,” Royce said.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He drew back and held her gaze. Touching her cheek, he asked, “Have you cried?”

“No. I can’t. My husband is…dead…and I can’t seem to cry. I’m just so darn angry.”

“Maybe you could use some time alone. Katy and I are going to take Dad and Evelyn to the airport in a few minutes. How about if David, Maya and Aaron come with us to see them off? Then on our way home, we’ll take the kids to the movies—give everyone a little reprieve.”

“I don’t suppose Jim and Irene would want to go?” Becca felt guilty even as she asked the question, putting her need to be alone above her in-laws’ grief.

“We asked Gabe’s folks to come, but they said they want some quiet time alone at the cemetery to say goodbye to Gabe.”

“Thank you.” She hoped those two words adequately expressed her gratitude for what amounted to a lifeline.

Her feelings must have shown, because Royce said, “That way you can have some alone time yourself and let go. Quit being brave.”

“I’m not brave. I’m…sad and confused and so totally p.o.’d, I can barely see straight.”

“That’s understandable.”

Her sister-in-law, Katy, approached. “Everyone’s on board for the airport, then the movies.” She turned to Becca and gave her a quick hug. “We’ll clean up when we get home. You don’t do a thing, except maybe take a long, hot bath and crawl into bed.”

“Thank you.” If the circumstances had been different, Becca would have loved to join them. But as it was, she was just too damn grateful for a few moments of solitude.

Rick came up beside her and touched her arm. “You need anything, anything, call me.”

“Thank you.”

She hugged her kids, her in-laws and her parents and finally they all left.

For possibly the first time in twenty-three years, Becca was totally alone.

She started up the stairs to take a bath, but stopped halfway. She simply couldn’t face the master bedroom and bath, where every corner, every cubic inch of air, reflected her life with Gabe. Her first love. Her only love.

Instead, she retraced her steps to the great room, automatically picking up plates and glassware. By rote, she cleared the room, twining her fingers through several glasses.

One was slick and she started to lose her grip as she walked into the kitchen.

Though she tried to save it, the glass fell to the tiled floor and shattered.

Just as Becca’s life had slipped out of control and broken to bits.

Powerful emotions bubbled within her, emotions foreign yet somehow right. Red-hot rage. Rage at Gabe for promising her forever and staying only twenty-three years. And anger at a God who had taken him away.

The sound of glass shattering was the perfect accompaniment to her anger. She grabbed glass after rented glass and dashed it to the floor, glorying in the power of defiance.

Becca had always played by the rules. She’d been a loving wife, a good mother. She’d treated her in-laws with kindness. Worked hard, volunteered her time, attended church. She had done everything she was supposed to do and her family should have been protected from bad things.

But fate hadn’t played by the rules. It had delivered a massive heart attack to an otherwise healthy husband and father.

RICK LEANED his forehead against the cold steering wheel, his breath condensing as he exhaled. He should go home, get out of the Smith driveway. But he couldn’t seem to turn the key in the ignition. Because once he did, Gabe’s life would be past tense. The funeral was over, the wake was over, and now life was supposed to go on as usual.

But life as usual was no longer possible. Because Gabe wouldn’t be in the office to help build up their rental-car business, playing off Rick’s strengths and weaknesses. There wouldn’t be anybody to clap him on the shoulder after a hard day and suggest stopping for a beer. And there sure wouldn’t be anyone close enough to know what he’d gone through during his divorce, except maybe Becca.

Rick suspected he would never be the same again. He couldn’t just sail through life, taking for granted that he had decades of good health ahead of him. Not only had he suddenly lost his best friend, he’d also come face-to-face with his own mortality. And he didn’t much like it. If a guy as vital as Gabe could be struck down by a heart attack, then it could happen to anyone.

He straightened, staring at the house as if to find answers. Maybe even hoping Gabe would come strolling out the door saying it was all a huge joke. Rick would give everything he had to make that happen. But he couldn’t.

Glancing at the passenger seat, he eyed the files Becca had requested. He should leave them for another day, but she had been insistent. Becca was a hairdresser, but also worked for Reliable Car Rental as their part-time accounts-receivable clerk. She knew as well as he did that the business needed to keep the cash flowing.