by Leah Atwood
When his throat had constricted to the extent that he couldn’t swallow, he’d left the room and fled to the bathroom where he’d been for the last fifteen minutes. He ran a finger between his collar and throat, grateful that he wasn’t wearing a tie. Thank goodness for small blessings, because if so, surely he’d have suffocated by now.
“Breathe in. Breathe out.” He turned the faucet on and splashed water on his face. Staring in the mirror, he counted to ten. Still summoning the courage to go back, he looked upward. “Lord, I’m still struggling here. Help me to be there for my friends and make it through this.” The complete peace he’d hoped for didn’t come, but he did find the strength to put one foot in front of the other until he returned to the crowded room.
Without prompting, his eyes searched out Dani. He’d watched her too often and came to the conclusion that she wasn’t doing as well as she wanted people to believe. Where was her boyfriend? Morbid curiosity had made him ask Bryce about the guy last night. A banker’s son, worked long hours, but overall a decent man. If he’s such a decent man, why isn’t he here? If Dani were Rob’s girlfriend, he’d have rearranged anything to be with her today. It was a funeral, not an optional party among friends.
She was deep in conversation with her cousin Gina, one of her few family members to whom he could place a name with the face. His observation was disrupted when Gram approached him.
Taking his hand, she held it between her own, and looked at a picture display behind him that showed Gramps through the years. “Gene and I had over fifty wonderful years together.”
“That’s an inspiring achievement.” He smiled at her, a foreign part of him wondering what it would be like to have that many years with someone.
“There were times he drove me crazy, but we had a good life together. Losing him is the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through and the first time he’s not here to help me through a trial.” She stared at Rob and gave his hand a decisive squeeze. “But there is nothing that would make me erase the years with him to save myself this pain.”
A chill traveled from his shoulders, down his spine and landed at his toes. Gram was a wise woman. Her musings weren’t just that of a grieving widow. They were an intentional message to him. When he looked into her wrinkle-lined eyes, he knew she was aware of his loss. He doubted Bryce had told anyone other than Sophie, but somehow Gram knew. He didn’t know what to say.
She stood on her tiptoes and gave his cheek a kiss. “I’m glad you’re here.” She walked away before he could get a word out.
From the corner of an eye, he saw Dani leave. She looked to be in a hurry. At first he didn’t give it much thought since there could be any number of reasons why she left, but when she hadn’t returned after fifteen minutes, he went to look for her. He ducked his head into a room where several platters of finger foods were spread out, along with several carafes of coffee and a pitcher of water. There was no one in there. Several other rooms were also vacant.
Certain she wasn’t in the building, he went outside. The parking lot was packed, cars were parked in the grassy spot to the side of the funeral home, and even that was almost full. He scanned the front perimeter but still didn’t see her. Continuing on, he walked around the building. He spotted her on a bench, hunched over, with her head resting on her palms.
He went to her and tapped her shoulder. “Need a friend?”
A muffled cry came from her before she looked up. When she did, she looked at him through watery eyes. She didn’t say anything but nodded and scooted over, making room for him. The bench creaked when he sat down.
The only sounds surrounding them were an occasional car door opening and vehicles passing by on the road. A light blue sky without a single visible cloud was a contradiction to the grieving that surrounded him.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped at her eyes. “I’m not usually like this.”
“You don’t usually have a loved one pass away, either.”
“I should go back inside.” A strand of hair fell onto her face and she pushed it aside, not moving from her spot.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“You’ve been here all day, right? My guess is, hours before the visitors began to arrive.” At Carrie’s viewing, he’d been so early, the funeral home’s doors were still locked when he’d arrived.
“Yes.”
“Then trust me.” Taking a deep breath, he met her gaze. “I know from experience that sometimes you just need a little breathing room.”
He saw the indecision dueling in her eyes. “Okay.”
“Where are your keys?” He’d ridden with Bryce and didn’t have access to a vehicle of his own.
“In my purse.” She frowned. “Which is inside.”
“Where at? I’ll grab it.” If she went back in right now, she’d continue to be overwhelmed, an experience he knew all too well.
“There’s a little room in the back hallway, to the right.” Her voice hitched. “It should be on a corner chair. It’s a yellow fabric purse with a scroll design.”
That shouldn’t be too hard to find. “I’ll be right back.”
He went inside, found the room and grabbed Dani’s purse. As he was leaving, Dani’s father, Gil, walked in.
“Have you seen Dani?” Gil asked.
“She’s outside.” He held his breath, spreading his hand to cover as much of the purse as he could. In his heart, he knew he was doing the right thing, getting Dani away from this for a little while, but didn’t know that her father would agree.
Eyeing the purse, Gil’s brows arched. “Is there something I should know?”
“She’s upset, and I suggested going for a drive.”
To Rob’s surprise, Gil slowly nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. She’s taking Gramps’ death even harder than the rest of us.”
“I’ll bring her back soon.”
Gil smiled and actually chuckled. “Dani’s my little girl, but she’s also an adult—she doesn’t have to answer to me.”
Rob expelled a relieved breath.
“Besides,” Gil winked, “Bryce speaks highly of you. I know she’ll be in good hands until she returns.”
That must have been a very recent conversation. Rob kept the wry thought to himself and returned to Dani.
He handed her the purse. “Where are you parked?”
She dug out her keys and handed them to him. “Over there.”
Taking the keys, he refused to think how right, how normal, it felt for her to hand over her keys for him to drive her vehicle without question. This wasn’t anything more than being a friend. He walked in the direction she’d pointed to, found her Explorer, and opened the door for her.
He circled to the driver’s side and got in. While buckling, he looked at her. “Where do you want to go?”
“Will you take me to Gram’s?” Her voice had steadied from moments ago.
Nodding, he ran the route through his mind, sure he could get there on his own, without directions. The drive was quiet and Dani stared out the window for the short length of time. They came to the property line, and he pulled into the pecan-tree-lined driveway. He parked near the house and sat, waiting for Dani’s lead.
She got out of the vehicle and held on to the door for several seconds before she walked to the porch and sat on the steps. He followed and sat beside her.
“Your grandparents have a beautiful home.” The first time he’d visited Oden Bridge and stayed at this house, its welcoming air had infused him with feelings of contentment.
“So many memories of my childhood and life happened here.” Her bottom lip quivered again. “It won’t be the same without Gramps.”
“Gramps may be gone, but no one can take your memories of him.” A piece of his heart broke with every tear she shed.
“I was a selfish granddaughter.” She broke down in sobs.
Instinctively, he put an arm around her shoulders and held her until she calmed. “I highly doubt tha
t.”
Her head rested against him. “No, it’s true. For the last few years I’ve been so focused on work, I pushed family aside. The day before he died, he and Gram wanted me to come for lunch, but I canceled to finish some paperwork.”
He offered his sleeve as a tissue, thinking too late he should have grabbed some before leaving the funeral home. “You had no way of knowing what would happen.”
“No, but it doesn’t excuse my behavior, and I’ll have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.”
A moment of clarity hit him with such force, he couldn’t breathe. Taking his arm from around her, he put his hands on her shoulder and made her face him. “Dani, I can tell you unequivocally that Gramps would not want you to carry that guilt.”
“Why do you say that?” She blinked rapidly, but it didn’t stop more tears from falling.
“First, if you look beyond your grief, you know Gramps was a man who saw past a person’s mistakes.” He paused with the knowledge that what he was about to say would change everything. “Secondly, I say that because Gramps told me if I wanted to live with guilt, then so be it, but I’d die a lonely, miserable man. He likened it to an illness, with the difference being that we have the power to stop guilt.”
“Gramps told you all that?” Her knotted shoulders hunched forward, begging for the information.
His head moved up then down. “Remember how I told you he was responsible for me praying?”
“Yes.” She looked at him, expectation written on her face. “You told me you’d share the story someday.”
“I think that day’s here.” He removed his hands from her and crossed them over his lap. Swallowing, he looked at the ground and willed himself to get through his story without breaking down. “I grew up in church, became a Christian when I was eight.” Daring a glance at her, he saw her eyes widen with surprise. “Looking back, I couldn’t have asked for a more idyllic childhood. Life was pretty much perfect.”
“What changed?”
“Let’s walk.” Standing up, he held out a hand to help her up. Something about sitting still made telling his story more difficult. Wishing he didn’t have to, he let go of her hand. Side by side, they walked around the house, into the backyard, before he spoke again. “I was working at a music store after high school, no real ambition to go to college, and worked my way up to a management position. My goal was to save some money, move to Nashville, write more songs and sell them.”
Dani looked at him. “Not playing guitar?”
“No. I enjoy it, but my heart was in creating.”
“That makes sense now,” she said softly.
“What makes sense?” He stopped walking, curious what pieces of his life she’d put together.
“When you told me I was lucky to be living my dream because not everyone does.”
Now that the conversation played fresh in his memory, he remembered it clearly because he’d been surprised he’d shared that much. “It’s true, you know. You are lucky, in many ways.” He rubbed his bent fingers against his palms. “When I was twenty, I met Carrie. She came into the store one day, and we hit it off. We were so much alike it was eerie. We started to date and a year later we were engaged, with plans to move to Nashville after the wedding.”
Still stationary, he braved another look at Dani. She was listening intently, but didn’t reply. From his guess, it seemed she was trying to absorb the fact that he had been engaged.
Forcing his feet to move, he walked and continued his story. “Our dreams were shattered two weeks before our wedding. The band we’d hired for the reception had cancelled at short notice, and we were headed to Bakersfield to audition their replacements. We were on a back road in the middle of nowhere, very few other vehicles were around.” His chest heaved, his breath came more ragged. “Carrie told me to look at something behind us, so I looked in the rearview mirror. I never saw the eighteen-wheeler come from a cross street, but I can still hear his brakes screeching. He ran his stop sign, plowing into Carrie’s side.”
Legs weak, he found a tree to lean against. Dani placed a hand on his forearm.
“Carrie was in bad shape. My leg was broken, but I managed to crawl out. The driver of the truck jumped out and called nine-one-one. We could smell gas leaking and knew we had to get Carrie out of the vehicle even though we knew under other circumstances we shouldn’t move her. I wasn’t much help with my leg, but the other driver got her out.” He raked his hair, gripping the strands. Reliving the worst moment of his life was torture. “She was unconscious. While the driver carried her to the sandy field, I crawled along until we were safely away from the vehicles. A minute later, there was an explosion, and the car caught fire. We saved her from that, but even still, the ambulance was too late. Carrie died in my arms.”
“I’m sorry.” Fresh tears trickled down her face.
He hated causing her tears, but he wanted her to hear his story. “For a long time, I was angry, at myself, at God, at the truck driver. I blamed the driver at first for not seeing the stop sign in time, but an investigation cleared him of any wrongdoing, finding that his brakes failed, despite passing a recent safety inspection. It was a freak accident.”
Silence fell. Telling the story never got any easier, and he needed a minute. He rubbed his jaw absently, then continued. “After the driver was cleared, I blamed God because He’s God—to my thinking, He had the power to prevent the accident from happening, but still allowed it. But mostly, I blamed myself. If I had kept my eyes on the road, I could have seen the truck coming and done something. My responsibility was to protect her, and I failed.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Rob.”
“I needed to blame someone.” He leaned his head against the tree bark and gave a mocking snort. “I never even knew what it was she wanted me to see.”
“I had no idea,” Dani whispered.
They were silent again for a while.
“How does Gramps come into this?” Hope played in her eyes.
He smiled. He was almost to the happy ending of his story. “As soon as my leg healed enough to drive cross country, I left Sand River.”
“Sand River?” Her hand that had been on his arm fell to her side.
“My hometown in California. It’s a sleepy little place in the middle of the Mojave desert.”
“Hmm.” Her lips twisted, and she stared at him, intrigue written on her face. “I didn’t have you pegged as a California guy. I would have said Wisconsin maybe, or Minnesota.”
Her smile and guess made him chuckle. “For real?”
“Yes, but don’t ask why because I couldn’t give you an answer.”
“For the record, I’ve never been to either of those states, not even on tour.” He shook his head, still amused by her guess. He’d grown up in one of the hottest parts of the country, and she’d placed him in the coldest. He shivered just thinking about it. “Too cold for my blood.”
“Are you going to finish your story or not?” She playfully punched him, but her tone still held eagerness.
The light banter was a pleasant intermission. “I moved to Nashville, and while I still wrote songs, I couldn’t bring myself to market any of them. There was a song I had been writing for Carrie, that was to be a wedding present for her, but after her death, I couldn’t bring myself to finish it. The right words never came.”
“So you played instead of creating?” She crossed her arms loosely over her chest.
“Yes. I’d been in Nashville a few years doing little gigs here and there when I met Adam and Jay. They were new to the scene and needed a guitarist. Our styles mixed well as did our personalities.” The memories made him smile again. “We’d been playing as a group for a few months when we met Bryce, who was dating Caroline at the time. Everything fell into place at a last minute gig, and the rest, as they say, is history, at least in terms of how we all came together.”
“Did they know about Carrie?”
“No. No one in Nashville knew, which was how I wante
d it.” His voice tightened. “I wanted to forget Sand River and Carrie. I’ve never gone back.”
She gasped. “Not even to see your family?”
“No.” The familiar guilt hit him. Soon. Soon, he would be able to. “I talk to my mom on a weekly basis and usually my dad. My sister and I talk often. We keep in touch through Facebook and such.”
Her lips pinched in a clear display of disapproval. “I can’t imagine leaving my family.”
He sucked in a breath, her words cutting the still-healing wounds. “Guilt will do that to you, Dani. That’s why I want you to understand that Gramps wouldn’t have wanted you to hold on to it.”
Their conversation had come full circle.
Dani sighed. “I know you’re right, but I can’t shake it. I know it sounds small compared to what you went through, but I feel so guilty for putting work first all those times, especially this last one.”
“You have to shake it, or it will eat you alive. It did to me for a decade, and probably would have continued on if not for Bryce and Gramps.” Determined that she understand, he pinned her with his gaze.
“How did you finally let go of it?” When she asked her question, looking at him with doe-like eyes, his heart constricted.
“Bryce and I got into a huge argument at the end of the Redemption tour. We both said things we regretted, but then we started talking.”
“I can’t imagine what would cause you and Bryce to fight. Neither of you are the confrontational type.”
“Why we were arguing doesn’t matter.” But it did. “I broke down and told him about Carrie, though, admittedly, it was done in a manner to make him feel guilty for what he’d said to me. The funny thing is, it opened doors, and our friendship is stronger because of the fight.”
“You’ve both been through tragic events.”
He nodded. “Yes, and he understood where I was coming from, because he’d been there. Different situations, but similar self-destructive reactions.”