Whispered Prayers of a Girl

by Alex Grayson

  I nod and hold my place.

  “I better get going. I still need to stop by the pharmacy and grab Mom’s meds.” With a wave, he turns and gets in his Blazer.

  I stand and watch as he drives away, beyond blessed to have two such wonderful people in our lives. Actually, we have quite a few people I consider very close friends. When we first moved to Cat’s Valley, I was so worried it was a mistake to uproot the kids from where they began their lives and where the memories of Will were, but it didn’t take long to realize it was the best decision I could have ever made for us. We’ve gained a family since moving here.

  I go back in the house and find Daniel exactly where I thought I would, stuck in front of the television with a game controller in hand.

  “Hey, kid,” I call.

  He swings his head around to me for a split second before going back to the TV. “Yeah, Mom?”

  “An hour, then I want you off to do your chores.”

  “Okay.”

  Leaving him in the living room, I walk down the hallway to Kelsey’s room. I tap lightly on the partially closed door before pushing it open. I find her on her bed with the notebook Alexander gave her on her lap.

  She looks up when I sit beside her on the bed. I lean back against the headboard, mirroring her position. Although she has a ton of store-bought crossword puzzle books, she’s chosen to do this particular one since we’ve been back. The whole notebook isn’t filled, but the majority is.

  “Are they difficult?” I ask.

  After a moment, she gives me a single head shake.

  I look down at the one she’s working on and see she’s about halfway through it. I’m curious to know what she’ll do when she finishes them all. She goes through them so fast, it’s only a matter of time before she’ll be done. I still can’t believe Alexander took the time to do this for her, knowing her obsession with them and not wanting her to go without. It was one of the sweetest gestures anyone has made for us.

  “Do you miss him?” I ask, and look back at her. There’s no need to elaborate who I’m referring to. She already knows.

  For a brief second, pain flashes in her eyes. She looks away from me and pins her gaze across the room. I’d bet anything she’s not looking at anything in particular. She just doesn’t want me to know how she feels.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, and drape my arm over her shoulders. “I miss him too.”

  Surprising me, she leans her head against my chest. Tears prick my eyes, but I force them away.

  We stay this way for several minutes before she pulls back from me. Her eyes are guarded once again, and I know I’ll get no more out of her.

  I kiss the top of her head, then murmur, “An hour and then it’s chore time, okay?”

  When I look in her eyes, they tell me she heard and understood. I slide from the bed and walk to the door. I look back and see Kelsey’s nose stuck back in the notebook. I quietly pull the door halfway closed before walking away.

  Later that evening, I look down at the phone in my hand. Alexander’s name is pulled up. I want to push the button to call him so badly, to hear his voice, but I’m chicken. What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if he’s already forgotten about us? What if he was relieved when we left?

  I toss my head back against the back of the couch and roll my eyes up to the ceiling. The kids are in bed and the house is quiet. For some reason, I feel antsy and restless, and the need to hear Alexander’s voice is getting stronger by the day. I feel like a schoolgirl missing her crush. I don’t know what it is exactly I feel for him, but whatever it is has grown quickly. Way too quickly to be considered rational. Feelings this strong for someone I really don’t know aren’t normal.

  I run my fingers over the blank screen of my phone, and bite my lip. What if I just text him? It won’t be the same as talking to him, but maybe it’ll appease this need I feel. At least this way I can at least gauge his feelings toward me contacting him. He did put his number in my phone, after all. Of course, he told me to call him if the kids or I needed him, not just for random stuff or because I simply wanted to hear his voice. But then again, I do need him. Just not in the capacity he was referring to. I don’t even know in what capacity I need him. I just know it’s a need that keeps growing.

  Blowing out a breath, I bring my phone to life. His name pops up on my screen.

  Just do it, Gwen, my inner self demands.

  With nervous fingers, I bring up a new text thread, hoping I’m not making a mistake.

  Me: Hey. It’s Gwen.

  I drop the phone in my lap, refusing to watch the screen to see if he saw it. My knees bounce, and I tap my fingers against the arm of the couch. Spotting my water on the coffee table, I reach for it. Just as I’m pulling the bottle away from my mouth, my phone vibrates. I jump and a stream of water wets my shirt.

  “Crap,” I mutter, then cap the bottle and put it on the cushion beside me.

  Ignoring the wet spot on my shirt, I grab for my phone.

  Alexander: Gwen, is everything okay?

  Of course, he automatically thinks something is wrong. After all, why else would I be messaging him? A small part of me, a part that I ignore, hurts that he apparently wasn’t glad to hear from me.

  Feeling like an idiot for taking advantage of his offer to contact him if I needed anything, I shoot off a quick reply.

  Me: No, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to say hi.

  I hit Send, then regret it when I realize the message makes me sound like a weirdo. Seriously, who messages someone just to say hi? Even though he’s not here to witness it, I still feel my face burn.

  My phone vibrates again, and I glance down.

  Alexander: How are you doing?

  Okay, so maybe he’s not as appalled to hear from me as I thought. If he was, he wouldn’t encourage conversation, right? Or is it simply out of courtesy? I hate being so unsure.

  Me: I’m doing good.

  Alexander: And the kids?

  I smile, touched that he asked after them.

  Me: They are both good too.

  I set my phone down, then pick it back up.

  Me: How have you been?

  A minute later, my phone vibrates.

  Alexander: Been busy with catching up on things around the house.

  I look at the screen, wondering what I should say next. I don’t want our silent communication to be over yet. Oddly, it’s soothing knowing he’s on the other side of the signal thinking about me. It makes me feel not quite so alone in my feelings for him. Which is stupid; just because he’s messaging me doesn’t mean he’s thinking about me like I’m thinking about him.

  Me: Kelsey loves the book you made her. It’s the only one she works on now. And Daniel carries the wooden horse everywhere with him.

  No matter what Daniel is doing, you can see a lump in his pocket from the horse. At night, when he’s sleeping, he puts it on his nightstand, only to put it in his pocket the next day.

  Alexander: I’m glad they’re happy with them. I’ll have to make Kelsey another crossword book for when she finishes this one and let Daniel see my grandfather’s wood carving collection.

  My heart warms. His words imply we’ll see him again. I try not to let his message get to me, but I can’t help the butterflies swarming around in my stomach. I wish we were seeing him tomorrow.

  Me: They’d both love that.

  It turns quiet after that, and I can’t think of anything else to say without sounding like a complete fool.

  Knowing my time is up for the night, I send one more quick message.

  Me: I’ll let you go. Have a good night, Alexander. Take care.

  A minute later, he messages back.

  Alexander: You too, Gwen. Sleep well.

  I can’t help the smile that forms on my face. It’s definitely not the same as talking to him on the phone, but I’ll take any form of communication I can get.

  That night I do sleep well. I sleep with images of a broken man with beautiful scar
s.

  Chapter 10

  Alexander

  I sit in the canvas chair with my arms crossed over my chest and my legs stretched out in front of me. I’m positioned in the middle of my front yard. It’s freezing out, but I don’t feel the blistering cold. My attention is completely consumed by the half-built house in front of me.

  I’ve been out here hours, just staring at it, contemplating how and when I want to tear the structure down. Half of the reason I’ve kept it was because it was a link to Clara and Rayne. A link I wasn’t ready to destroy yet. While I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to let them go, I know I need to stop standing in place and try to start moving forward.

  The building’s walls are discolored, swelling, and becoming dilapidated from lack of protection from the weather. It’s become an eyesore. I always knew I would eventually tear it down, it was just finding the motivation and courage to do it.

  I look down at the picture in my lap. The edges are slightly wrinkled and there are several creases. One of the nurses took it right after Rayne was born. I’m sitting on the side of the bed with my arm on the pillow behind Clara’s head. Baby Rayne is snuggled up in a blanket, lying in Clara’s arms. We’re both looking down at her, and our smiles are so big it’s a wonder our faces didn’t split in two. The nurse that snapped the picture was a good friend of ours, so she took it upon herself to use my phone to capture the scene without us knowing. It’s one of my favorites of the three of us together.

  Immediately after that photo, the nurses rushed Rayne away to the neonatal intensive care unit. She was eight weeks early, weighing only three pounds two ounces, and needed more time to develop her lungs and continue to grow. Clara was in the hospital for five days after that. Technically, she could have left earlier, but with Rayne still there, she stayed as long as they allowed her. Once she was released, both Clara and I stayed in a nearby hotel, since the drive from home to the hospital was a good forty-five minutes. We wanted to be as close to Rayne as possible. For the first two weeks, we visited every day and stayed from morning until night. Logan, a friend of ours, came out to the cabin every day and fed and watered the horses for us, but eventually I had to start making trips out myself. Every single day though, I was at the hospital with my wife, talking to our daughter, watching her slowly get stronger. Those days were scary, but were also the best of my life. I wore a permanent smile for seven weeks.

  The crunch of tires pulls me from my memories. I turn my head and watch as a black Dodge truck comes down my driveway. I stand and put the picture in my jacket pocket. It’ll go in my bedside drawer when I go back inside, along with the other two I have in there. The first year after they died, the picture was in a frame that sat on my nightstand. It was a constant reminder of what I had and then lost. A reminder of how I failed the two most important people in my life.

  The truck stops and a man I haven’t seen in weeks steps out. I turn back and face the half-built house, knowing he’ll approach without my prompt.

  James and I have been friends since grade school. After Clara and Rayne died, I pulled away from everyone, including him. He gave me my space to grieve for a while, but then started forcing his way back in, no matter how much I tried pushing him away. Besides my family and clients, he’s one of only two people that ever come out here. Travis, another friend, who moved to Cat’s Valley his senior year of high school, is the other.

  He stops beside me and we both look at once was supposed to be Clara’s dream home.

  “How was your trip?” I ask after several minutes of silence.

  He blows out a breath, then grumbles, “Stressful as hell. I’m damn glad to be back and away from my crazy-ass sister. God love her, but fuck, I can only take so much.”

  I grunt. “How was your mother?”

  “Cool as a fucking cucumber. If not for her I probably would have bashed Lena’s head with one of the vases used for the centerpieces. She had a bitch fit over the fuckers because they didn’t match the flowers she picked for them. She picked the damn things out herself and knew from the get-go what flowers she was using.”

  James has been out of town for the last week for his sister, Lena’s, wedding. His sister lives only two hours away, but she wanted the whole family down for the entire week. The thing with Lena is, she’s a spoiled brat. She’s the baby of James’s five siblings and believes the entire world revolves around her. She’s the only one of the bunch to turn out like that. James and I used to joke that she was switched at birth, that his sweet baby sister was out there somewhere probably with stick-up-their-ass parents.

  “God help the poor bastard that married her,” I comment, only half joking.

  Being the oldest of his siblings, there’s a seven-year gap between James and Lena. That still didn’t stop her from following us and their other siblings around and trying to boss us all into doing what she wanted. We all put up with her because Cassandra, James’s mom, would have had our hides if we didn’t.

  “Believe it or not, she doesn’t treat him that way. To her, he’s her holy grail and she seems to worship the ground he walks on. They both do. He still sees her bitchy side because everyone else around her gets the you’re-beneath-me treatment. I don’t know.” He shrugs. “It’s interesting to watch a softer side of Lena.”

  A soft Lena. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible.

  “You still planning to tear it down?” he asks after several quiet moments.

  I look over and find him watching me curiously, arms crossed over his massive chest. I turn back.

  “Yeah. Wood’s rotten, so it’s only a matter of time before it starts falling apart anyway.”

  “Let me know if you want help when you do,” he offers.

  “Thanks, but I think this is something I need to do on my own.”

  He slaps my back. “Gotcha.”

  “You want a beer?” I ask, ready to get out of the cold and away from the unstable structure before me. Every time I look at it, memories I’ve tried to forget resurface. That’s why I normally avoid looking at it like the plague. I don’t need any reminders. I’m reminded of it every time I look in the mirror or close my eyes. But with Christmas coming up and the anniversary of their deaths, I was drawn to it. I failed them by not saving them, and this is my punishment.

  “Sure,” James says, knocking me out of my thoughts.

  I turn and lead us to the house. Gigi meets us at the door, tail wagging when she sees James is with me. She’s been in a slump the last several days, and I know it has to do with a certain little boy not being here. I clench my jaw and push away the unwanted emotions over not having Gwen and her kids here anymore. The house has felt too damn empty, and I wonder if it’ll ever feel normal again. Empty isn’t anything new to me, but now that I remember what it feels like to be filled with more than empty blackness, I don’t think I want to go back to it.

  I pull two beers from the fridge and hand one to James. I don’t drink often, but I always keep a few in the fridge just in case I feel the need for one. I pop the top, flick the cap in the trash, and take a couple pulls.

  James does the same, then sets his bottle down on the bar. Tapping his thigh, he calls, “Up, Gigi.” She jumps and places her front paws on his lower stomach. “How’re the babies doing, girl?” She gives her answer by licking his hand.

  “How’s Bandit?” he asks once Gigi drops back to four legs.

  “Still a stubborn bastard,” I rumble.

  He chuckles. “So, he’s still kicking your ass, you mean?”

  I grit my teeth, beyond frustrated with the animal. “He damn near bit my hand off yesterday when I tried to feed him an apple. Then almost busted through the wood on the side wall of his stall. I had to move Bella to another stall because she was becoming agitated.”

  He takes another pull from his beer, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t know, man. It might be a lost cause with that one.”

  I grunt at the suggestion. “No horse is untrainable. He just
needs to learn that I’m the bigger male. Mutual respect for each other is paramount when training horses. He hasn’t learned to respect me yet, but he will.”

  I turn and open the fridge, grabbing out lunch meat, lettuce, tomato, and mayo. Dropping it on the counter, I ask, “You want?”

  “I’m good.” He finishes off his beer and tosses the bottle in the trash. “I just wanted to stop by and catch up. I gotta get back to town before poor Miss Mable has a fit because I haven’t come by to see her.”

  Miss Mable is his seventy-year-old neighbor and has appointed herself his honorary second mother. His father left when he was eight years old, so his mom had to take on the role of mother and father. She worked two full-time jobs to support her five kids, meaning she wasn’t around much. When we were kids, Miss Mable would have us both over for homemade cookies several times a week. Being kids, we loved cookies, so we never complained. Over the years, she still insisted James come over at least twice a week to sit with her and enjoy her delicious snack. He complains now, but I know he secretly loves the old woman. She was there for him when his mom couldn’t be, and has earned a permanent place in his life.

  I chuckle. “Next time you come out, bring me some of her snickerdoodles.”

  “Will do.” He laughs.

  Any other friend would have insisted I go get them myself, trying to force me back into society. One of the many reason James and I have stayed in contact since Clara and Rayne died is because he doesn’t tiptoe around me and doesn’t try to force me to get over losing them. He respects that I’m a grown-ass man and can make my own damn decisions.

  He also doesn’t look at me any different than before the accident. My scars mean absolutely nothing to him.

  “Since when do you wear earrings?” James asks, tipping his chin toward the bar.

  I don’t need to look to see the small hoop earrings lying on the counter. I found them on my bedside table the day Gwen left and they’ve been sitting on the bar ever since.

  I give him a look that has his eyebrows raising.