CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Miranda’s dead …

Three days ago, those two words stole me from Steele in bright and sunny California and brought me back to Trevor in dark and cloudy New York. Damn you, Miranda! Even from the grave, she’s still punishing me for what I did to her.

Standing dressed in a black suit, dark tie, and crisp white shirt, looking ten years older than when I last saw him, Rick has his head bowed, eyes fastened to the casket where his wife of twenty-nine years lays to rest. He’s breaking my heart. He has now lost everyone he loves. Guilt grabs a fistful of my belly, and my eyes well up. I dab them with a crumpled tissue, glad my parents decided to attend the wake and not the burial. I couldn’t deal with them right now. There are enough watchful eyes on me already. I haven’t been to Yorkshire since the last burial I attended here.

“Oh, my God,” Lucy whispers into my ear. “Look, it’s Natalie Dixon.” My eyes follow Lucy’s to our high school prom queen’s small, perfect face in the crowd. With large blue eyes and long blond hair, she still looks good. “Ohh,” Lucy hisses. “Ever since that bitch told everyone that Trev made out with her under the bleachers right after the two of you started dating, I’ve hated her. Remember? It almost split you guys up.” Lucy grabs my hand. “I swear, Jay, every time she comes into the diner, I make sure she gets the oldest piece of pie. Like Auntie Ruth always said, a little mold never killed anyone.”

“What’s she doing here?” It’s a stupid question. Everyone knows everyone in Yorkshire, population 4000. Still, my faithful childhood friend tries to offer me an excuse.

“She’s dating Trev’s cousin, Christian Brown. He’s Miranda’s sister, Annette Phelps’ son.”

“Oh.” I glance at Rick. His lifeless, flat dark eyes glare back at me, so I quickly look away. The fist in my stomach squeezes tighter. Why’d I come? I should’ve just sent flowers or something, but I couldn’t. I was a part of this family. Miranda was like a mother to me until I took everything from her and Rick. Trying to think of something else, I turn to Lucy. “Didn’t Auntie Ruth die from salmonella?”

“Technically, she died from renal failure, but she didn’t get the infection that took her to the hospital from bad pie. No. She got it from Stan Griffin’s dirty eggs. Uncle Peter couldn’t prove it when Auntie Ruth died, but Stan Griffin got his own. Remember, two years later, his tractor ate him up whole?”

“Oh yeah.” I laugh. It’s not funny, but Lucy has a way of turning sad situations into comical ones. I wish she could’ve been there for me longer after Trevor died, but she’d inherited the diner a few months prior. She had to get back to New York and settle her affairs.

The priest finishes with his prayer, and everyone begins to stir, offering words of condolences and sympathetic hugs. Natalie with her perfect hair and big blue eyes pushes through the crowd. Her round, pregnant stomach bounces into the spotlight like a reminder of what I was never destined to have. The hand gripping my belly reaches up to my heart and latches its greedy, selfish, future-destroying fingers around my empty, loveless organ and squeezes a single tear from my burning eyes. When Lucy spots Natalie and that single tear, her hold tightens on my hand.

“Did you use the birthday gift I sent you yet?”

A loud laugh spurts from me, making a few heads turn. I slap a hand over my mouth and look at Lucy. Lips tight but cheeks high, she looks just like she did the time she tossed a roll of toilet paper in English class on the floor, and it bounced off Mrs. Beam’s three-inch heels.

“About that … I ended up in the emergency room because of it.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I twisted my ankle and had to go to the ER.”

“I’m sorry.” She giggles, snorts, and then giggles again. “I’m just trying to …” She pauses for another giggle-snort. “Imagine how you injured your ankle.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, attempting to keep a straight face.

“So you hated the gift?”

Trying to pay no heed to the heads that turned from our laughter, I take a moment to think about that night. It was the first day I met Steele.

It’s only been three days, but oddly enough, I miss him and feel bad for not telling him why I stood him up. I was ready. I wanted him. I was prepared to get over the past and move forward, but all that got lost when Lucy called about Miranda. I booked a flight, packed, and headed right for the airport. I called work while I was waiting to board the plane, and they were understanding. I thought about calling Steele the morning after I arrived, but there was breakfast with the parents, then dinner and drinks with Lucy, the next day to recoup from dinner and drinks, and before I knew it … Well, here I stand all eyes on me and the forever laughing Lucy. Nothing ever changes.

I turn to my ever so faithful friend with a smile. “I liked the gift.”

“You did!” Her gray eyes flicker with joy. “Good ’cause next year, I thought we’d go to the Figtree Cove resort for a long weekend.”

“Figtree Cove …?” My eyes flash to hers. “Isn’t that a nude resort in Kissimmee, Florida?”

“Yeah, remember when we got boobs, we always said we’d go to one someday to show off our ta-tas.” She shakes her shoulders. “Now, yours might not be more than a handful but these babies …” She glances at her size D’s flowing out of her tight black dress. “They’re ready to be unveiled to the world.”

“You’re crazy.” My laughter gets strangled in my throat, realizing where I am and why I’m here as Rick walks toward us in the perfectly manicured grass.

“Jaylyn.” A small smile tips up his thick, dark mustache. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

And just like that, things aren’t so funny anymore. My arms reach out and wrap around the creator of the man who I loved more than life itself. I get a whiff of his cologne, and an image of Trevor smiling at me while introducing me to his father for the first time pops into my head. I clutch tighter to the embrace. I miss Trevor, Lucy, and my family. I miss them all so much.

Finally finding their escape route, silent tears fall from my eyes. They join all the others that have landed on Rick’s suit coat throughout the day. I don’t want to let go, and Rick, such a kind and patient man, something Trevor inherited from his father, lets me stand there in his arms for as long as I selfishly need. His wife just died, and I’m the one sucking comfort from the man.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur into his shoulder.

“Now, now.” Rick gently pats my back as he pulls away. “There’s no need to be sorry, Jaylyn. It’s just part of life. No one’s fault,” he says with netted brows. He shakes his head as though he’s still trying to convince himself. Then he softly pats my shoulder before finally pulling his hand away. “She would’ve wanted you here. You meant so much to her. She missed you.”

“Oh.” I blink, dashing away a few more tears with the back of my hand. “I would’ve come to visit, but the last time I saw her, she … ah …” I clear my throat, unable to put the painful past into words.

“She was hurt. It was too much for her to take in such a short time. She wanted someone to blame, but in her heart, she always knew you weren’t to blame. Don’t let that be the last memory of her. She loved you, Jaylyn. We both do. We want what Trevor would’ve wanted, and that’s for you to be happy,” he says, smile half-bloomed. “So are you happy?”

Am I happy? I don’t even remember what that feels like. I grip the strap of my purse on my shoulder and gaze into his piercing blue eyes, lashes thick and long like his son’s, and a rush of mixed memories rush through me. Every smile, laugh, touch, sound—all the new sensations I had experienced with Trevor hit me all at once. We were the portrayal of love. True innocence riding blissfully upon the magic carpet of happiness. We thought we were untouchable, love would and could conquer all, and up until it didn’t, it had. By no means was Trevor perfect but his good qualities outshined the bad ones.

“I loved him so much,” I whisper, not realizing the words left my mouth.

Until Rick responds, “I know you did.”

I blink back to the melancholy of my reality, again finding Trevor’s eyes bearing down on me. “I miss him so much.” The truth chokes out of me.

“I know, Jaylyn.”

“I’m sorry.” I shake my hands. What’s wrong with me? “You just lost Miranda, and I’m going on and on about⸻”

“My son.” He smiles. “You can go on and on about my son whenever and wherever you want.” His eyes glisten with that usual pride he saved for his only son.

I laugh. “Trevor didn’t mind being the topic of discussion, did he? But he did have a lot to be proud of.”

“Yes, and the one thing he was most proud of was you. You made my son very happy, and I am so thankful to you, but don’t hide behind that, Jaylyn. If you haven’t already, promise me you’ll find happiness again.”

I lean forward and wrap my arms around Rick for one last hug. “I’m sure Miranda would give the same advice to you, Rick. Take care of yourself.” I pull back, landing a chaste kiss on his cheek just as we’re interrupted by a middle-aged couple waiting to offer their condolences.

I step away, dragging my purse back up my shoulder while looking around the crowd for Lucy. It feels like every face has turned my way, all but the one I’m looking for. They’re staring at me as though they know who took the son from the man who just lost his wife. They know who is to blame.

I glance at Rick. He looks so lost, and poor Miranda, she was only forty-eight. I turn to the silver casket housing her body. It dangles over the deep hole that patiently waits to claim her for eternity. I remember when that deep, dark hole lay open waiting for Trevor three years earlier. God, the drive after the memorial service to this very burial site was so long. I’d counted every breath that I took, all 377 of them, during the ride here. Watching them lower him into that hole was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

My eyes drift to the right from the center of attraction.

The headstone’s too far away, and the beautiful inscriptions illegible from where I stand. I had my time already. It’d been too long. The second my feet hit Yorkshire, I came straight here and said goodbye again. And this time I meant it.

Everyone leaves something behind when they die, and unfortunately, Trevor left me.

Shit! I wipe the tears from my eyes and make my way over the small hill that leads to the road. I’ll wait at Lucy’s car. Perhaps, she’s already there, or maybe, I’ll just walk home. It’s only a few miles away. I clear the hill and descend, heels sinking into the soft ground. I lift my hand to shield my eyes from the blinding sun. A few people crowd around the cars. Oh shit! Is that Daniel, Trevor’s best friend? I don’t want to talk to him right now. He trapped me in a corner last night at the wake, wanting to talk about old times. Not that I wasn’t thankful for the distraction; I always liked Daniel. I’m just not interested in that kind of distraction right now. I need something stronger. Dammit, I think he’s looking at me. I glance to the right to avoid making eye contact and that’s when I spot it—the black car with “something stronger” leaning casually against it. No thought put into in, my feet shift to the left, and I head straight for Steele Kane.