by Leah Atwood
Janie didn’t see anyone she knew well enough to make comfortable conversation with, except Evan and Jared. Over the last several days, she’d met a large portion of these people, but few that she could name beyond Wyatt’s immediate family. Then there were the well-wishers who knew her backstory and felt the need to comment on the crash and Mike’s death.
She forced herself to be gracious, while wishing they wouldn’t say anything. She knew they had the best of intentions. But she, Jared, and Evan were here for Wyatt’s wedding and to celebrate his big day. For these few days, she wanted her identity to be Janie, Wyatt’s friend—not Janie, Mike’s widow.
Evan must have sensed her apprehension of being approached again. His hand still cradled her elbow and offered himself as a shield to the unknown wave of guests. “Ready to sit?”
“Yes. Please.”
They found their names at the first table they checked—it was an easy guess since Wyatt had told them they’d be near him—and relief breathed through her when she saw they’d sit with Wyatt’s siblings and parents. She hadn’t spotted them in the ballroom yet, but wasn’t nervous about sharing the evening with them. When Wyatt had first returned from that deployment, his parents had come to Jacksonville, and she’d gotten to know and like them. They also understood the need to not mention the past at every turn, for which she was extremely grateful.
She sipped on the pre-poured glass of water at her seat. Memories inundated her. “Of all my memories, I’ll never forget the moment Mike and I walked into the hall, and we were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Stroud for the first time. That was the moment it finally hit me that we were married.”
“Not when the Pastor pronounced you man and wife?” Evan sat with one arm casually draped over the chair.
“You would think, but no.” She broke out in a smile. “Standing in front of the church, I was so nervous. I couldn’t even tell you much about the ceremony itself, but by the time we took pictures afterward and made it into the reception, my brain slowed down enough to process it all.”
The room went silent, and people stopped where they were.
“Here they come.” Evan tipped his head to the wide doorway.
First to walk in were Kelly and Kyle, followed by Wyatt and Meg. After each couple was introduced, the reception officially began. Among a multitude of toasts, including one each from Jared and Evan, and a four-course meal, Janie relaxed. Truly relaxed. For the first time she could remember since Mike died.
Watching the love flow between Wyatt and Meg as they shared the first dance to “God Bless the Broken Road,” made it impossible for her to maintain any emotion but happiness. Theirs was a beautiful love story, years in the making. The song aptly described the relationship, and anyone who knew Wyatt and Meg had no doubt of God’s blessing on their marriage.
The dance floor opened to everyone after Kelly and Kyle danced to Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable.”
Corie, Wyatt’s eighteen-year-old sister, approached Jared. Her growing crush on him over the last several days couldn’t be denied. She was a sweet girl, but too young for Jared even if he’d been searching for a girlfriend.
He darted a discreet cry for help to Janie with his eyes.
She could have helped him, but watching him wiggle out of the situation held too much entertainment value, and it had been entirely too long since she’d felt mischievous. She mouthed, “You’re on your own.”
The scowl he shot back warned her of impending payback.
She’d do well to check her room for rubber snakes or mice later. You can turn a boy into a man, but you can’t take the boy out of the man. Oh well, she could hold her own—she’d been friends with them long enough to anticipate their antics, immature as their pranks could be at times.
Having no polite alternative, Jared awkwardly accepted a dance with Corie. They moved to the dance floor and disappeared into the crowd.
Noah also left the table to talk with a group of cousins. According to him, there’d be no dances for him that night since his girlfriend wasn’t present, a vow which had endeared him to all the single ladies present.
“I’m sorry about Corie.” Mrs. Deluca, Wyatt’s mother, offered an embarrassed smile from across the table. “She broke up with her boyfriend last month, and I think she latched onto Jared because she knows it’s an impossible match.”
Evan scrunched his face in confusion. “That doesn’t make sense. Seems it sets her up for heartache.”
“It’s a girl thing.” Janie nudged his arm. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Mr. Deluca laughed and winked at Evan. “Don’t try to figure it out, or you’ll give yourself a headache.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Evan made a show of rubbing his temples. “I have enough headaches as it is.”
Another song played, a slow ballad, and Mr. Deluca reached for his wife’s hand. “May I have this dance?”
Taking his hand, Mrs. Deluca blushed. “Yes, you may.”
Janie turned to Evan after the older couple left. “They’re so cute. I bet they still hold hands walking in the store.”
“I’m sure they do.” Evan’s gaze didn’t meet hers, and he searched the crowd. “Think Jared escaped? I don’t see him anywhere.”
“Knowing him, he made the best of it, then found a woman closer to his age to cast his charms on for the night.”
Following Evan’s shifted line of vision, Janie saw Jared dancing with a redhead. “And…you called it. We won’t see him again until it’s time to leave.”
Evan smirked. “Should we warn the girl she’s a pawn of his escape route?”
She shrugged. “Why ruin the moment? She’ll figure it out soon enough.”
Starkly aware they sat alone at the table, a pregnant silence fell between them.
Her half-eaten slice of cake with amaretto icing begged to be eaten despite her full stomach. She picked up her fork, dragged it over the plate and broke off a small piece. Once she brought it to her mouth, she couldn’t bring herself to take the bite. So much for that distraction.
Beside her, Evan spun his glass with his fingers, creating a whirlpool in the water. He stopped and looked up at her. “You know, we could join the others on the dance floor.”
“I…I don’t know.” She’d never danced with anyone but Mike, but why shouldn’t she dance with a friend?
“It was just an idea. We don’t have to.” He popped a mint in his mouth, unaffected by her refusal.
His laid-back attitude gave her the strength needed to answer with a yes. This was Evan, one of her best friends. Dancing with him would hold no expectations. “How’s your leg?”
“Fine, since the other night.”
Her lips curved up. “Then why aren’t we out there on the dance floor?”
“So that’s how you’re going to play it, huh?” He stood with a wide grin. Gave an exaggerated bow and offered his hand. “Ahem. May I have this dance?”
She accepted his hand and allowed him to guide her to the floor. His hand pressed gently against the small of her back until they found a clearing among the people. Their arms bumped and tangled, producing hearty laughter from them both.
“It’s been a while since I’ve danced with anyone.” She smiled sheepishly.
“I was coerced into dancing at Kate’s wedding in August.” His hands found a resting place in the curve of her hips.
“Coerced?” She arched a brow. “I’ve never known you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”
“Kate insisted on a brother/sister dance.”
She slid her arms around his waist and locked her hands at his back. Wrapping them around his neck would be too close… too intimate. “Then, of course, you had to acquiesce.”
“What Kate wants, Kate gets.” His eyes twinkled.
“Like you would ever dream of telling her no,” she teased.
Evan and his sister shared an impenetrable bond, which Janie assumed came from being neglected as children and having to rely on each othe
r before being adopted.
The banter continued, and she didn’t realize a slow song had come on. All around them couples swayed to the music, gazing into each other’s eyes.
And here she was laughing.
“Should we actually dance now?” Evan looked at her with the same merriment she felt.
“Probably. I’m sure our laughter is ruining the romance for others nearby.”
He pulled her closer, whispered in her ear. “If that means seeing you happy, so be it.”
Her stomach flopped in an unfamiliar sensation that she wasn’t inclined to dissect with thought. She leaned her head against his chest. “I am happy tonight.”
“That’s all that matters.” His breath caressed her cheek.
The lyrics to “To Make You Feel My Love” trickled to her ears. All the things a man would do to make a woman feel his love. The woman in the song could be her, minus the falling in love part. But why couldn’t it apply to friendships as well?
A warm embrace covered a multitude of hurts. It was the miracle of a human touch that told her she wasn’t alone, that someone cared. Right here, right now, standing in Evan’s arms, she experienced a wholeness which had long avoided her. Humans were made to connect through touching, and since Mike died, she’d eschewed any physical contact, even embraces from her parents meant for comfort.
But allowing herself to be held, to feel the love of one friend to another, a healing process began in the darkest recesses of her heart.
Chapter Four
Evan sat at the kitchen table in his apartment, reviewing his budget. He had no debt, only the basic bills, and his medical retirement check covered those. Still, he needed more—and not financially speaking.
The VA has sent him several letters to make an appointment, but he’d tossed them aside. Medical retirement from the Marine Corps deemed him unfit for military service. A disability rating from the VA said he was unable to work in the civilian world as well. He couldn’t bring himself to accept that. Working and earning a living was an integral part of life.
His leg would never be the same, but there had to be jobs out there he could still enjoy. It was only a matter of finding one that didn’t require heavy physical exertion or for him to be on his feet for long periods of time. Maybe he’d use his G.I. Bill and go back to school. What would he go for? He didn’t know what he wanted to do, but he’d have to figure it out before too long. The days of sitting home and not working dragged on.
He longed to go for a run until his muscles burned, but those days were over. Before he slid into a woe-is-me attitude, he reminded himself how fortunate he’d been. Too many times, he had to repeat his blessings to ward off the negative thoughts. He had his life, all his limbs, and he hadn’t had to use a cane since those first months. Not in public, at least. Some days when the pain was worse, and no one was around to see, he’d use it in the privacy of his apartment.
Closing his laptop, he decided to go for a swim. When he’d had to move off base, he’d chosen this apartment complex for its indoor pool. Swimming was the one physical activity that didn’t scream his limitations to the world, and it provided the release of energy he craved.
After changing into a pair of swimming trunks and a t-shirt, he grabbed a towel from the linen closet and walked to the pool area from his first-floor apartment. He typed in the security code, and once he heard the lock release, he pushed open the door.
To his delight, no one else was there—one advantage of being home in the middle of the day. He shed his shirt and flip flops, dropped the towel on a chair. Jumping in at the deep end, he let the warm water envelop him, and he relished the weightlessness.
Arms parted the water, legs kicked, propelled him forward. Lap after lap he swam, expending his energy, freeing his mind of plaguing thoughts. This…this was the sweet freedom of moving without inhibition.
He didn’t stop until his breaths came short. Even then, he pushed for another two laps. He climbed the steps of the deep end then ran a hand through his hair, squeezing out the excess water. Inhaling until his lungs filled with air, he savored the tingling of his muscles brought on by a solid workout.
Two people entered the pool room, whom he recognized from passing in the halls of the complex. They gave short waves and greeted him, and he responded before grabbing his towel and drying off. He slipped his shirt over his head and slid his feet into the flip flops.
Back in his apartment, he checked his phone and saw a missed call from Janie. She didn’t leave a voicemail but had sent a message to call ASAP.
His stomach tightened, and he prayed nothing bad had happened. She’d had enough trouble to last a lifetime. He thumbed back to the call log and tapped on her number.
“Thank goodness you called,” Janie answered before he could say a word. “I need your help. Can you come over?”
He gauged her voice, but couldn’t pinpoint the emotion behind it. “Now?”
“If you’re able?” She squeaked the last word out as though she didn’t want to pressure him but desperately wanted him to get there immediately.
“Sure. I’ll be there in a half hour.” He paused before hanging up. “Everything okay?”
“It will be. See you soon.” She ended the call without another word.
He stared at the phone, trying to figure out what just happened, then decided it was no use. She wasn’t crying, so it couldn’t be anything too bad. The smell of chlorine drifted to his nostrils. He needed a shower before going to ditch the pool-chemical scent.
After a quick hop in the shower, he dressed in jeans and a fresh t-shirt, then pulled on a USMC hoodie. He combed his short brown hair with his fingers and put on a pair of sneakers, bent over to tie them. His leg only hurt a bit, a good day for sure.
On the way to Janie’s, he opened the sunroof and let the cool air into his car. He loved North Carolina falls. Unlike home in Louisiana, the Carolina coast had a fall season, even if mild by New England standards. There was a brief time in November when the leaves changed colors, and the road to Janie’s house boasted traces of gold and vermillion woven among the evergreens.
When he pulled into River Mills, Janie’s subdivision, he half-expected to see an ambulance or police car, or some other sign of why she needed him immediately. Nothing stood out. The neighborhood appeared its usual serene self.
A mom played with her toddlers at the playground up front. Mr. Ford, a retired Marine from the days of Vietnam waved to Evan as he drove by. He pulled into Janie’s cul-de-sac and saw her car in the driveway where she always parked despite having a garage.
He parked behind her, opened the door, and swung his legs out. She’d added dried cornstalks and pumpkins to the porch since he’d been there two weeks ago. Pressing the doorbell, he heard the ring inside.
Janie opened the door dressed in a pair of raggedy sweatpants and a shirt she’d probably owned since junior high. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Eyeing her ensemble, complete with a cheerio in her unbrushed hair, he worried about her mental state. She’d come so far in recent weeks—had it all been an act? “What’s going on?”
“Come in and I’ll show you.” Moving aside, she motioned him to the dining room.
Magazines, cookbooks, and printed recipes covered the table.
He cocked his head, not understanding. “What is all this?”
“I told my parents this morning that I’d decided not to go home for Christmas.”
“Glad you made a decision. I know you didn’t make it lightly.” He thumbed through several pages of the closest cookbook.
“It wasn’t easy. I love my family, but I’ve made a lot of progress in grief healing lately, and I’m worried a trip home, with memories everywhere of Mike, might cause a setback.” She sighed. “I told Mom I’d try to come home for Easter. I think I’ll be ready by then.”
“Good.” He waved a hand over the table. “But I still can’t figure out why you urgently called me over.”
“That call and te
xt might have been made in a moment of desperation.” Pink spread over her cheeks and down her neck. “After I told Mom I wasn’t going there for Christmas, she called back ten minutes later and announced that the whole family will come here for Thanksgiving.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Not quite.” She sank into the closest chair. “I’m glad they’ll all be here, but I did something dumb. I insisted I would make Thanksgiving dinner for the crew.”
His mouth formed an O. “There are restaurants in town which cater.”
“But I don’t want to have the meal catered.” She absently flipped through a pile of papers before making eye contact again. “My family has done so much for me, I want to do this one small thing for them.”
He scratched his forehead, thinking how to word it delicately. “You know I love you like a sister, right?”
“Yes.”
“And I can tell you anything, right?”
“Of course.”
He pulled out a chair and sat near her. “You have many fantastic qualities and talents, but cooking isn’t one of them.”
“I know.” Her bottom quivered. “It was stupid to insist. Mom even questioned me, and I told her I’ve been taking lessons.”
“Have you?”
“No.” Sobs erupted from her chest. “I’ll just call her back and tell her she’s in charge of dinner.”
Her tears did him in. He shouldn’t have said anything about her lack of cooking skills. It had been a running joke for years, but this hadn’t been the time to resurrect it. Cooking Thanksgiving dinner for her family obviously meant a great deal to her. He slid an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, if it’s important, we’ll figure it out.”
“You’ll help me?”
“Do I get an invitation to the meal?” He wiggled his brows and grinned. “Of course, I’ll help.”
“You’re the best. And, of course you’re invited.” She dabbed at her eyes with her knuckles.
He reached behind him and grabbed the box of tissues from the counter, tossed them to her. “Where do we start?”