“It boils down to don’t leave me, I need you.” The grief surges with every exhale. “I’ll miss those crystal blue eyes, your wholesome laughter, and your beautiful heart.”
The emptiness inside my heart expands. Nothingness threatening to take my soul, leaving me lifeless. “Make the pain disappear,” I sob.
“Aspen.” Dad touches my shoulder. Wrapping an arm around me, he pulls me toward him. Gently rubbing my back, he whispers, “It’s time for the service. Come with me. This will pass.”
Those words unhinge me. Tears burst out, and my chin trembles. Pain forms in the pit of my stomach, coming out like an uproar from my throat.
“When will it stop hurting?” I kiss the coffin caressing it one last time.
“In time, sweetie,” Dad responds hugging me tightly. “Time will heal your heart. I’m so sorry you lost him. He was a good man.”
He was the best. The loss is more than my heart can take. I don’t think I’ll survive. Glancing at the coffin, I send a silent prayer. Numb me. Freeze my heart. I don’t want to feel again.
Found
Scott
“What are the three words that best describe you?” the reporter on the other side of the line asks after I disclose the projected revenues for the next quarter.
I stare at my phone and pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking. There are more than three. Committed, resilient, stubborn, impatient, quiet, reserved … I drum my fingers on top of my desk searching for the best words to use in this case.
As a businessman, I’m … “Persistent, fearless and adaptable,” I respond promptly, checking the time. This interview is taking longer than I anticipated.
My brothers would say I’m logical, disciplined, and heartless. They have given me a few nicknames like The Tinman and Ironman.
“Adaptable?” The reporter’s voice carries a hint of curiosity. “I like that word. Would you mind expanding, Mr. Everhart?”
“Well, it’s my policy that our company adapts to the economic, social, and political changes our world experiences, just like we all try to.”
“Would you say that your philosophy is to adapt or die?”
“Isn’t it everyone’s?” I ask, not caring how she responds, only how long she takes.
I frown. Adaptation is a verb I use often when asked what's the key to my success. The truth is that I have continued the legacy that my father left behind. But I never say that out loud. I avoid mentioning my parents, hating the intrusive questions about their deaths. They are officially off limits. I still remember the pity looks and sad, morbid stories printed about the orphan raising his younger siblings.
Everyone remembers September 11th. But the date holds a different significance for me, because that morning I lost my parents. I press a fist against my chest, pushing away the sad memories. Their voices, their directives, continuously play in my head. Their last words, their requests and the need to remind me that no matter where they are, they were still right next to me.
The call came through in the middle of class. Although I barely used my cell phone, I answered it when it rang. My parents only called me when there was an emergency.
“Scott, I need you to come back home.” Mom used the calmest voice she could fathom, but I sensed the edgy tone of desperation.
Something was wrong. My stomach dropped, but I didn’t ask any questions. I rose from my seat grabbing my things and left the classroom.
“Talk to me, Mom. What’s going on?” I asked, rushing toward the dorm.
“Harrison will explain everything,” she said, her voice breaking.
My limbs tingled as the anxiety in her voice spiked.
“I want you to remember that we love you,” she sobbed. “I love you so much, Scotty. You're my strong, sensitive boy. Please remember everything I taught you. I’ll be watching you from the moon and I’ll love you forever.”
I froze. Shocked by the finality of her words. My pulse slowed down as she repeated the words she said when she tucked us in when we were younger. A phrase that she made up from two of the books she used to read us when we were little.
“Mom, wait.” I felt sick to my stomach. “What do you mean?”
My limbs tingled. Fear rushed through me as I waited for an answer. For some reassurance that they’re going on a long trip, but I’d see them soon. Panic buzzed in my ears, every second that passed felt like a year.
“I need you to be the glue of our family, keep everyone together.” I heard her cry, and my father murmuring in the background.
“I can’t, Chris,” she wailed, calling Dad.
“Mom?”
My father answered. “It’s time for us to leave, Scott. I’ll take care of her. You help Harrison take care of your brothers.” I could still hear Mom in the background, crying.
His voice was dry, sad… desperate. He didn’t break as he reminded me of their will. The lawyers, the safe, all the essential details.
I remained mute, trembling.
Still.
Unable to understand what’s happening.
“I love you, son,” he said. “Be the bridge. Stay strong.”
My parents used to say that I was the link between my brothers. I was the one who kept the peace—or started the biggest fights.
“I love you both,” I mumbled as the line went dead.
My oldest brother, Harrison, called me almost immediately. “I have no idea what’s going on, Scott. Two planes crashed into the towers. There’s a rumor that we’re under attack. Maybe this is war.”
I huffed, pushing away the sadness. Keeping my shit together while we spoke. “Not another one of your conspiracy theories, Harrison. You need to stop making up shit.”
“This isn’t a joke. The World Trade Center is burning down.” He stopped, exhaling several times. “Raging fire is consuming the steel and glass along with all the people who are trapped. Mom and Dad included. We need you back.”
I reached my room, opening the door I began searching for my duffle bag.
“Dad mentioned it; I’m already packing.” I used my cool voice. If I wanted him to treat me as his equal, I had to show him that I was strong.
“Good. Jensen is locating a car service for you. From this point forward, we are in charge. You can’t lose your shit. I’m picking up Hunter from school.”
Harrison was planning, making decisions and pushing away all his feelings. I had to do the same and be ready for what would happen next. For a couple of hours, I allowed myself to cry. I cried until my eyes dried. Until I felt strong enough to help Harrison and care for Hunter and Fitz.
I adjusted, as everyone expected. Harry’s rage was so intense that he chose to enlist in the army. Leaving the company to me. I didn't mind taking over, even when he had the experience. Everything I do in regard to Everhart Industries is with my brothers in mind.
“They warned me that you’d be cryptic.”
I arch an eyebrow toward the phone. Who is she talking about? I’m curious, but I resist asking. I want this interview to be over soon. I text my brother, Fitz while I wait for her next question.
Scott: Fitz do you have the contracts ready?
“I think I got most of my answers,” she sighs on the other line. “For my last question, I’ll be quick.”
“What fulfills you?” she asks. “I’m sure there’s more underneath. CEO suits you, but what makes you…you. What makes you want to be a better Scott Everhart?”
I turn to my computer screen, holding the phone with one hand and clicking the mouse with the free one until it wakes. The home screen is the snapshot of the one person who fulfills my dreams, my fantasies, and my life. She’s the one who makes me want to be a better person.
Hazel Beesley
Her long brown locks draped over her bare shoulders. Those mesmerizing hazel eyes stare at the camera, and her smile is wide and bright. Of all the unforeseeable curveballs thrown my way, she’s the biggest, brightest and best I’ve had to confront in my entire life. She’s the most terrif
ying challenge, and the most amazing reward. My heart aches with her absence, just like my skin withers without her touch. She makes me want to be a better Scott Everhart.
“My family,” I don't elaborate any further. “If that’s everything, Miss Krauss, I have a plane to catch.”
“Your relationship status is on the do-not-ask list, but is it true that you’ll be merging your company with Beesley Enterprises?”
My pulse accelerates as she’s about to ask about Hazel. She’s not up for discussion. I dislike when people try to pry into my personal life, but I hate more when they drag her along.
“Is there some insider information you’d like to share, Miss Krauss?” I counter. “The last time I checked, Grant Beesley isn’t planning on retiring.”
“Well, no, I assumed since Miss Beesley, his granddaughter, and you—”
“I think you have all you needed, Ms. Krauss,” I grind my teeth, keeping my temper under control. I exhale, trying to relax my shoulders as I massage my temple, calming my tone. “Turn the draft into my public relations department for review, have a nice day.”
I punch the speaker button ending the call before she has a chance to respond and dial my younger brother’s number.
“You’ve reached Fitzhenry Everhart, you know what to do…beep,” his voicemail picks up on the fourth ring.
Fuck!
I grab my cellphone and try a couple more times. Each call does nothing but add to my anger.
“I swear … Scott,” Fitz yawns. “What do you want?”
“The contracts for the acquisition,” I say, refreshing my inbox. “You haven’t sent anything yet.”
“It’s three in the freaking morning.”
“In California,” I protest, checking my watch. I have a flight to catch in less than two hours. “I have to review them and signed them before noon.”
“I have plenty of time—”
“The contracts, Fitzhenry.”
“You can’t expect me to have everything ready every time you snap your fingers.”
I exhale, rubbing my face. He’s got to be fucking kidding me. He’s not just my brother, he’s my lawyer. I should’ve sent them to Hunter.
My fingers are already typing the message before Fitz has a chance to respond.
Scott: Can you check your email, I sent you a couple of contracts. They need to be signed today. I need you to read my notes and amend them.
Hunter: As I told you the last time, we restructured the law firm. Fitz oversees the business, entertainment, and International cases. Not me.
Scott: But you are a lawyer, Everhart Industries is also yours, and I need them today.
Hunter: Do you ever sleep?
“Why the fuck are you sending them to Hunter?”
“Because the acquisition of Byrne and Murray Consultants closes tomorrow. They need the contract today—by noon. You should’ve sent them over to me before you left for San Francisco,” I reprimand him.
“I was busy helping Hazel get her shit together. Do you remember Hazel?” He uses a sarcastic tone. “Not that you’ve paid much attention to her, but she moved out of New York.”
Of course, I remember her. I remember everything about her. I remember the first day I met her the summer she came to live with her grandfather, Grant Beesley. He has been my mentor and a huge supporter since my parents died.
“Your point?” I feign disinterest, he doesn’t have to know that the distance between Hazel and me is killing me. Being without her causes pains in my chest so deep I didn’t know I could feel. She’s not mine anymore.
“You’re an insensitive asshole,” he declares.
“Look, I have a company to run, a plane to catch, and you haven’t finished the one thing I asked you to do days ago.”
The sound of tussling of sheets and movement comes from the other side of the line. “Fine, I’ll get them ready. Give me an hour. Anything else?”
“Yes, I’ll send you a list.”
After hanging up, I email him the list of what I needed to be done ASAP. Then send another to Hunter.
Scott: The company isn’t just mine, you have to put a little more work into it, Hunter.
Turning off my laptop, I stuff it in my backpack and make sure I don’t forget anything before heading to my room. Once I check my bag, I close it and roll it into the living room. The grandfather clock next to the glass doors indicates it is fifteen minutes past six. I have a couple more minutes before the service car arrives to take me to the airport.
Fitz: I sent you the first one, email me any changes or the signed copy.
I move toward the terrace, where my mother used to spend most mornings. The sky is dark gray, and the ground has a thin layer of snow from last night’s flurries. The place looks dead during the winter. I don’t know if Mom would approve of it if she were alive. The child in me believes that my parents’ spirits are around the house—watching me, protecting me.
“Would you be okay with what I’m about to do?” I glance around the house, asking no one—yet waiting for their approval. I believe they would. My parents always told me to fight for what I loved, to never give up unless someone is getting hurt by my actions.
I regret not being open to the possibilities of more when we were together. I let Hazel slip away from me. Now, I’m missing the best part of myself and wondering how I’ll manage to regain her trust. Worst of all, I pushed her closer to the one person who can take her away from me.
“I’m going to fight for her. Wish me luck,” I whisper before heading out the door.
Knight of Wands
Ten years ago
Ollie,
I’m praying for your safety. Let me know if you need anything else.
Love,
Kaitlynn
P.S. Share the goodies with your friends.
Kit Kat,
Thank you for taking the time to mail me so many wonderful things. I put most of them to good use and shared them as well. Receiving it made my day. It reminded me of home. Thank you for your prayers.
God bless,
Oliver
Ollie,
Next time, let me know what you’d like from home. After everything that you’re doing for our country, the least I should do is keep you happy—or at least try. Sorry if I sound selfish or insensitive. I’m trying not to be either. Writing you is kind of hard because I have no idea what you’re going through.
Every time I watch the news with that, I’m terrified about our troops—and you. It makes me want to fly to Afghanistan and bring you home. Love to hear more about you, how things are going—within reason.
Let me catch you up with my life. I’m off to Los Angeles, UCLA accepted me. Can you believe it? I’m going to be pursuing a media and television degree. My parents aren’t happy about it, since my sister moved to New York. (I heard that you guys broke up, sorry. What a selfish bitch...I hope we can still be friends.) The ‘rents are unhappy because they don’t have anyone to boss around at the restaurant without pay. But it is what it is, you know? My dreams don’t include staying in Savannah, tending to the family restaurant.
Please, don’t get me wrong, I love Blythe’s and my parents. Well...love the parents and like Blythe’s. But if I want to host my own cooking show, I have to find my own way. Just the way you did. I admire and respect the way you took charge of your life, and knew all along what you wanted to do with your life.
Be safe.
Love,
Kaitlynn
Kit Kat,
Your package and letter not only brightened my day, but I’m relieved to know that I’m not losing my best friend after what happened with Kelsey. Actually, I have no idea what happened with your sister. Do you? Her last email me that we were over, and that was the end of it. I can’t wrap my head around it.
Things around here are fucking insane. We have to watch our backs every second of the day. Your packages and letters are the highlight of my day when they arrive. Please keep sending them. Things are too dark here
, receiving a little sunshine from you makes it bearable.
Good luck in LA.
OT
Five years ago
Ollie,
How are you soldier? I hope the cookies made it in one piece, along with everything else. Let me know what you think about them. If everything goes as planned, I might start marketing them. There’s so much I have to tell you, but the SparkNotes are as follows:
1) Kelsey is a teacher –who knew she’d want to shape young minds.
2) I got a job in Atlanta –the Food Network hired me!
3) I moved out of LA ☹
4) I broke up with Esteban –my first long term relationship *insert a broken heart*
Now you’re caught up with my life, there’s more. But let’s save the drama for later. When you come back home and we can share a meal. When are you coming back?
Love,
Kaitlynn
Kaitlynn,
I was beginning to wonder about your whereabouts. It’s been months since I’ve heard from you. The cookies were incredible. Send as many as you want, I’ll be happy to taste test them for you. The next time I’m in the US, I promise to contact you. Your SparkNotes are too condensed to understand what’s really going on with your life.
What happened to those long letters that you sent while in college?
I miss them, along with the little drawings you make next to your notes. In any case, let me comment about your current life.
1) I’d rather not comment on your sister.
2) Congratulations on the new job, and I wish I was home to help you move.
3) Sorry about LA. I know you loved living there.
4) I never liked Esteban. Who changes his name from Steve to Esteban to make it big in the comedy world?
OT
Ollie,
I remember having more time to write to you back in college than I have now. Adulting isn’t easy. You can’t judge Esteban, you never met the man. I have to confess that I liked him better when he was just Steve. Good riddance to him. When you say the next time I visit the US, you imply as if you’ve been here and never notified me. I confess that I’m a little hurt. Let me know how the cookies taste.
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