Brett’s mother slipped her arm around Brett. “Ali’s family is here. Are you ready?”
Brett nodded and took a deep breath hoping he’d be able to stay calm in front of Mrs. Greer and Mark. Seeing them without Ali nearby would feel surreal. He coughed to clear the lump in his throat.
#
Two hours later, after most of the visitors were gone, Brett snuck out of Ali’s parlor, confident Quinn was okay. She’d taken Ali’s death better than he thought she would. When friends and family paid their last respects, they’d hugged Quinn and cried. A dry-eyed Quinn told them she’d see her mother in heaven someday. It was as if she was trying to stay strong for other people.
Brett headed to Dean’s viewing area at the end of the building. He stood in the doorway watching Sarah say good-bye to the last of her friends who were paying their respects. There were only about a dozen flower arrangements adorning the room. Brett doubted Dean had had many friends.
He watched Sarah without her knowing. She tucked her long hair behind one ear, exposing her slender face. A high heel dangled from her foot as she shifted from one leg to the other. Standing all day took its toll; his feet ached too. The dark circles under her eyes made him want to scoop her up in his arms and take the pain away. When she turned to him, his heartbeat quickened and his lips went dry. He wished he could take away the sadness in her eyes—the same sorrowful gaze he’d seen in the painting of her mother.
Sometimes life wasn’t fair. Obviously her father must have been a demon for Dean to do what he’d done. How could Brett have been so stubborn with his own father, a man who’d never hit him or abused him but had only wanted the best for him?
He wanted to believe that the tragedy would bring him closer to Sarah. Maybe in time it would. They’d suffered a tragedy together. No one could ever take away that connection. He understood what had happened to her better than anyone. And she understood him. He didn’t want to dwell on it, but it comforted him to know that they’d always have a connection.
All her guests had finally gone. She leaned against the casket with her hand on top, dropping her foot out of the heel of her shoe again. He made his way toward her, eager to gaze into her eyes, express his condolences again.
He gulped down the thick knot in his throat and approached her, gently placing his hand on the small of her back. She turned to him, her eyes searching his. “Hi.”
He took her hand and led her toward him, pulling her into his arms. He drank in the softness of her body, her fragrance—subtle, sensual, and clean.
At first, she tensed.
He locked his eyes onto hers, their mouths inches apart. “I’m really sorry for your loss.” He embraced her again and felt her gradually relax until finally she hugged him back, and a sob escaped from somewhere deep inside her.
“Thanks. I’m sorry for yours too.” She released her embrace and gazed at Dean’s shiny ivory casket. “Abuse sucks, you know? People all over the world suffer from the fallout of horrible, stupid parents.” She paused. “Helping women deal with the trauma it causes helps.”
Brett took her into his arms again, and this time held her tighter, feeling her body relax. He looked into her eyes. “Quinn wants to see you.”
She smiled. “She does?”
Brett nodded. “Absolutely.” He smiled. “And your horse too.” He reached up behind her back and played with the hair that tumbled there. “She asked if she and Sadie could come to your farm to ride.”
She chuckled. “Really? Who’s Sadie?”
“The little girl from the foster home. Quinn said her parents died in a fire.”
Sarah furrowed her brows. “How tragic.”
Their faces were inches apart. “Bring the girls. They can both ride Beauty.” She sounded breathless, her voice low and throaty.
He bent his head toward her neck, his arm around her back, pressing her body to his, and feeling the strength and the softness of her small frame. He buried his face into her hair, smelling the coconut fragrance and wishing he could hold her for hours. She felt right in his arms, like she belonged there. Why was it when people were totally broken they seemed to be able to hold each other with so much more passion?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sarah trembled as she turned the corner downtown in front of Hursey Lake’s courthouse. Was she ready to see Brett again? No, but she’d promised to attend the hearing, and she wanted to, but her nerves were raw. Ever since the kiss she hadn’t been able to get Brett out of her mind. It had changed everything. She wanted to pursue a relationship with him, but maybe the kiss hadn’t meant the same to him. Had he only been consoling her, or did he want more?
She spotted him holding Quinn’s hand outside the justice building. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of him in his dark suit. He looked younger and more handsome than in his uniform. He smiled at her and Quinn waved.
Was she late? She glanced at her watch. No, the hearing didn’t start for another ten minutes.
Perspiration lined her brow. She hadn’t wanted to leave her house, still numb from Dean’s death and all that had happened. She didn’t want to show her face around town either, but she wanted to make sure Brett was granted permanent custody of Quinn.
She joined them on the sidewalk. Brett’s blue eyes twinkled. He took a step forward as if to embrace her, but hesitated and said, “Thanks for coming.” His warm breath tickled her ear, and she smelled the scent of his earthy pine cologne. The sound of cars rushing by and people on the sidewalk reminded her that they were standing in public view, so she took a step back even though she wanted to feel him in her arms and tell him how glad she was to be there. But she couldn’t speak. Swallowing, she moistened her dry mouth.
When Quinn took her hand and led her skipping into the building, Sarah relaxed. Kids had a way of seeming to forget so easily. They didn’t belabor over events they couldn’t change.
Quinn looked up at Sarah, her dark curls bouncing in rhythm to her step. “I’m sorry about your brother.”
Sarah’s heart fisted. What a sweet child. She squeezed Quinn’s hand, thankful for her sympathy and lack of inhibition. “Thanks, Quinn. I miss him.” Sarah turned and met Brett’s eyes, realizing he’d watched the exchange, and felt her cheeks grow warm.
Quinn said, “I miss my mom too.”
Sarah squeezed Quinn’s hand. “I’m sorry for your loss too.”
The child pouted. “Thanks. I’ll see her again in heaven someday.”
“You will.”
Mr. and Mrs. Reed greeted them inside. Brett introduced her as Dr. Sarah Grinwald, as they’d never officially met. He didn’t mention that she’d been the counselor working with CPS on his custody case. But she was certain they knew—they probably remembered her from the press release.
Brett’s parents shook Sarah’s hand. His mother smiled at her. “Wow, you’re a doctor? You seem so young. You must be an intelligent woman.” She winked. “I’m happy to meet you.”
Sarah smiled. “Happy to meet you too.” She was sure his parents knew about Dean. It had been all over the news, but neither mentioned him or what had happened. For that she was grateful.
Mr. Reed turned toward Brett and explained what would happen once they were inside the courtroom. They waited in a gathering space until Brett’s case was called.
In the courtroom, Sarah sat between Mrs. Reed and Quinn in the first row directly behind Brett and his father, resting her hands in her lap, holding them together to keep them from shaking. The circular room seemed large with just the five of them there. The judge’s seat was positioned in front to the left of the room, elevated two steps from where the rest of them sat. Rows and rows of seats behind Sarah were empty.
When Judge Mary Mason entered, everyone stood. She directed a nod toward Brett and the others in the room, and sat. A court recorder sat to her left, her eyes cast down to her keyboard.
Judge Mason narrated the case to the recorder. Sarah heard bits and pieces. “Brett Reed, daughter Quinn, wife dece
ased, anger management classes …” The sound of the judge’s voice droned on. Sarah fell lost in thought.
What would have happened if Dean hadn’t taken his life? Would they be in this courtroom at some point fighting for his freedom? She trembled at the thought. He would have had to do time in prison or in an institution. She was certain he wouldn’t have lived through either. He’d probably known it too, which was probably why he’d chosen to end his life.
She didn’t want to think about Dean and what might have happened. She heard the judge mention her name, Peggy’s, CPS, their assessment of Brett as a parent, and their petition to grant him as Quinn’s permanent custodial parent.
Judge Mason asked Brett several questions about the size of his home. Brett explained that he’d moved into Ali’s house since the rental contract was in his name, and Quinn had been staying with his parents until the custody hearing was over. If he was granted custody, Quinn would move back to her original house and have her own bedroom. The home was larger than his apartment. The judge inquired about the anger management classes, and Brett assured her that he’d finish them. Finally, the judge expressed condolences in the death of Brett’s ex-wife. She read the statement of Brett’s rights and finally granted him custody.
When the judge pounded her gavel, Sarah snapped back to the present, leaving her memories of Dean behind.
Quinn squealed and squeezed Sarah’s hand. The child bolted from her chair and sprang into her father’s arms. He lifted her and kissed the top of her head. “You’re all mine, baby.” He closed his eyes and opened them, settling them on Sarah. He mouthed, “Thank you.”
Chapter Thirty
A week later, Brett was standing at his apartment door holding several moving boxes, trying to find his key. He’d come to load up his things. He hadn’t been to his apartment since the day Ali was there, before her accident, the day after CPS had done their assessment.
His landlady, Mrs. Rozella, walked toward him, carrying a mop and a bucket, the smell of bleach permeating the air. She set her bucket down. “I haven’t seen you for a while, Officer Reed. A few weeks ago a woman was here looking for you. She said she was your wife.”
“My wife?” He cocked his head.
She nodded. “She had an envelope in her hand and asked me if I could let her in. She said she’d forgotten to give something to you.” Mrs. Rozella’s bifocals slipped down to the bottom of her nose. She pushed them up. “I couldn’t let her in your apartment on account of the law, and I didn’t want to be responsible for no letter—or whatever she had in that envelope. I told her to slide it under the door, so she did. I waited until she drove off, making sure there was no monkey business going on—like her breaking into your place or something. We don’t want no trouble here.”
“Thanks.” His voice quivered. Why had Ali come here?
Mrs. Rozella nodded, picked up her bucket, and continued to the apartment next door.
Brett turned his key in the lock and let himself in, searching the ground for the envelope. Sure enough, it lay inside the threshold of the door, his name scribbled in Ali’s handwriting on the top. He leaned the boxes against the wall, retrieved the letter, and shut the door.
He sat on the edge of his bed, the envelope in his hand. The moment felt surreal. Ali was no longer living, yet he held a piece of her in his hands. His heart plummeted. Why hadn’t she given him the envelope the day she came to see him? He tore it open and read.
Dear Brett,
At first, I packed to leave. I thought I’d take Quinn with me too. Run away. Start over. But where would I go? I can’t escape myself. Who am I kidding?
Instead, I dropped my clothes off at the shelter for abused women. I left Quinn’s at my mother’s.
There’s only one out for me. I know what I must do.
I always wanted to be a good mother and live with a man who would be a father to my child. Something I never had. I thought if I had your love my life would be complete. I’d no longer feel the pain.
I was wrong.
I had everything I ever wanted with you and look at me. I’m a mess. I don’t understand why God made me this way—why I can’t focus on anything, why I’m sad all the time, why booze or drugs are the only things that can take away the pain. I want silence, no more noise, no more voices in my head.
I’m a failure.
You were right. What kind of mother neglects her child? A bad one. I can’t believe I locked Quinn in her room and didn’t remember. There’s something wrong with me. Everything stresses me out. Other women aren’t like me.
I’m freeing you, Brett, so you don’t feel trapped anymore. You never deserved me. Do what you’ve always wanted to do. Go to law school. You’d make a great attorney.
People don’t understand what I feel because they can’t see the pain on my face. But inside, sometimes in my head, sometimes in my body, it hurts and it doesn’t go away. It follows me. I can’t escape it. That’s why I don’t want to wake up some days. The pain is unbearable.
I hope you understand why I’m doing this. Don’t blame yourself. You aren’t causing me to do this. You have given me so much. Thank you.
Quinn will be better without me too. Maybe you’ll fall in love with someone who will be a better mother. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t have the energy. Take care of Quinn. I know you will. You’re a good father.
Please don’t grieve for me. I hope you forgive me.
Love, Ali
So the accident had been premeditated? Ali had wanted to die? Brett rubbed his face. What did this change? Nothing. Did it change the way he felt? No.
Maybe he could have talked her out of taking the drugs and crashing the car, but he’d never know. What he did know was that he could never have changed her. He’d tried.
He shook his head, but didn’t cry. He had no more tears.
#
Six months later
Beauty, Sarah’s horse, trotted in the sandy arena, bucking and prancing for her audience. Quinn and Sadie giggled at the gate, stepping on the first rung of the post and leaning into the corral, wearing hats and scarves. The fresh air of a late winter’s day surrounded Sarah’s farm, leftover snow melting in the dirt. The grass showed its face, reminding Brett of life and how things thaw, grow, and change.
Sarah smiled at the girls from inside the arena, where she lunged Beauty in circles. “She’s almost got the wiggles out of her, girls. Do you want to paint your handprints on her sides today?”
The girls squealed in unison. “Yes!”
Brett, with his elbows on the fence, watched Sarah. The sun winked at them, half hidden behind the clouds, reminding him that somehow, even after the grayest days of winter, or tragedy, the sun rises.
Sarah’s farm no longer caused him anxiety over what they’d been through. Since Quinn’s custody case, he and Sarah had shared new, happy memories on the farm. They never forgot what had happened, but every day that passed made it easier.
He scanned the farm’s golden pastures and knew that in a few months, when spring came, the pastures would turn green again. It reminded him of how his life had been reborn. Good things had come out of the bad, like Sadie’s life.
He patted her head. “How’s the new baby brother?”
Sadie turned and smiled at him, her jack-o’-lantern smile budding with new teeth. “He cries a lot, but my new mom lets me feed him, and he stops. Mom says he likes me.”
Quinn shot Brett a look. “I wish I had a little brother or sister.” She winked and motioned toward Sarah.
He chuckled. “Uh, Quinn, not-so-subtle Quinn, you don’t know what you’re wishing for.”
Sadie’s eyebrows lifted. “He’s right. You don’t get near as much attention when the baby comes. He takes up a lot of my mom’s time.”
The girls turned to watch Sarah again, their arms wrapped around each other.
Shortly after the custody hearing, Quinn had wanted to see Sadie. Brett asked Sarah to look into her case. When she confirmed that Sadie
’s parents had perished in a fire, Brett set out to find her an adoptive family. Sarah knew a young couple from her church who’d been praying for a child. Through Brett’s father’s connections, they’d made it possible for Sadie to be adopted into their home.
Shortly after the custody hearing, Brett enrolled in training to become a CASA volunteer, a court-appointed person whose sole purpose was to be an advocate for children who didn’t have a voice in the system. As a volunteer, he got to meet everyone involved in a child’s life, including their family members, teachers, doctors, lawyers, and social workers. He gathered information and made recommendations. One of his goals was to help decent fathers get custody of their children, whereas they might not.
It had taken him a long time to see the good in what had happened. Walking through the muck of despair and making it to the other side had taken its toll on him, but now he saw it, because he’d taken the time to look. He took time to reflect and saw the good as plain as seeing the sun. He only had to open his eyes to see God’s brightness, and his heart to feel his warmth and consistency.
Brett saw God’s goodness in the smiles of strangers, the music in a bird’s song, the joy in a baby’s cry, the way Quinn’s smile resembled Ali’s, and the sorrowful glint in Sarah’s eyes.
Sarah winked at him and motioned for the girls to come in the arena. As they played with Beauty and finger-painted her sides, Sarah joined Brett at the fence and locked her hand into his. He smelled the leather from her boots and the mint of her gum as she leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “It’s so nice to have them here.”
“What about me?” he teased.
She chuckled. “It’s nice to have you here too.”
He wrapped his arms around her, and she smiled, showing him the warmth swelling inside her. He squeezed her close. “Not half as nice as having you in my arms.”
THE END
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