The Best Man Page 27

  “Mr. Carter will kick your butt, though,” I amended. “You better not let him see you up there again.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Andy dropped out of the tree and shoved his stolen fruit into our picnic basket. He grabbed a sandwich with one hand, unwrapped it, and pushed half of it into his mouth while he plopped down to sit beside me.

  “Ew...gross,” I muttered.

  “You love me.” Andy smiled widely and showed the half-masticated sandwich that was shoved into his cheeks.

  “Sometimes I wonder why.” I rolled my eyes, though I smiled at his back when he stood again and loped off to the tree. “Andy Dalton,” I cautioned when I saw what he was doing.

  Andy pulled his pocketknife from his jeans and smiled wickedly over his shoulder before he pressed the small blade into the trunk of the tree in front of him.

  “Ooh...you are asking for trouble.” I shook my head. Andy muttered something under his breath but kept concentrating on his task. I turned my eyes back to my book and tried to read for a while. Soon, the curiosity got the best of me, and I tossed my paperback aside with a sigh. I stood then and walked over to see what project was occupying his attention.

  Andy squatted down in front of the tree. Using his knife, he had carved our initials. A.D. & E.S.

  “Nothing like leaving evidence at the scene of the crime,” I teased. Andy grinned up at me and pushed his glasses up his nose. Then he flipped his knife closed and sat back on his rear in the dirt. I kicked aside a few browned apples and sat beside him.

  “Someday, everything will be different,” Andy said quietly. “None of this will look the same. But maybe...maybe even after we’re long gone, someone will come by this tree and see our initials. And they will know that we were here.”

  I contemplated his idea for a moment, smiling at the sentimentality.

  “I thought only boyfriends and girlfriends did stuff like this,” I commented.

  “We’re best friends...” Andy said. “That’s even better.”

  The mysterious voice from the hall came with a familiar face. Miss Clarie from the church smiled kindly at me when my father unlocked my bedroom door from the hallway. I blinked and looked up at him. I wanted to apologize for the worry I saw etched on his forehead, but I knew if I opened my mouth, I wouldn’t be able to stop the sobs that were clenched and locked away in my chest.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Miss Clarie’s gentle hands urged me to sit up in bed, and my father stepped aside when I shuffled beside her to the bathroom. I showered because I knew I should. Then I wrapped myself in the large, soft bathrobe that she had placed on the back of the door for me. When I returned to my room, I sat wearily on the edge of my bed. Dad stood at my window, frowning at the drops of blood that marred the chipped white paint of my windowsill. Miss Clarie pushed a bowl of warm broth in my hands.

  “Eat, Emmy,” she encouraged. So, I swallowed the tasteless liquid. My father moved to sit beside me. He didn’t say a word, but I closed my eyes when I felt him tentatively pulling a brush through my wet hair. My spoon rested heavy in my bowl, and I breathed deeply, trying not to cry over his tender gesture.

  “Enough,” I said through cracked lips. The whispered word held no strength, but both stopped their ministrations.

  “I’ll just take this to the kitchen,” Miss Clarie said while she took the half-empty bowl from my lap. My father stood and placed my brush on the top of my dresser.

  “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything, honey.” I nodded, too weak to summon my voice again. When he moved to shut the door behind him, I sank down to my pillow once more. “I won’t be far...” he added quietly.

  “Florida isn’t that far,” Andy insisted. Despite Dad’s offer to drive me to the airport, he knew I wanted to spend time alone with Andy before I left for school. He and I stood on the yellow-painted line at the curb beside his car. It was supposed to be a place to drop-off airline passengers. He would be ticketed if he didn’t move his car soon. Still, he risked the citation as well as the ire of other drivers when he parked the car illegally and moved to stand beside me.

  “We’ve never been so far apart for so long,” I sniffed. I was being emotional, and I knew it. I couldn’t help myself. Andy and I had only been separated for small periods of time before now, during school breaks when I visited my grandparents. Now I was moving all the way across the country to go to college. “I can change my plans,” I said quickly. “It’s not too late for me to register for classes at the community college.”

  “And you’d be missing out on the adventure of a lifetime.” Andy shook his head with a small smile. “I’d never forgive myself for letting you pass up this opportunity. That art program is perfect for you. And you’ve got a free ride. Come on!”

  “What am I going to do without you?” I moaned and wrapped my arms tightly around my best friend. My cheek pressed against the soft flannel shirt he wore, and his hand brushed through the back of my hair.

  “We’ll talk on the phone...all the time. And we can send email...text messages...”

  “It won’t be the same,” I argued. “You’ll be too far away.”

  “We’ll see each other every school break,” he promised. Andy put his finger under my chin and raised my face to look at him. “We’re best friends...forever.” He smiled. “It doesn’t matter how many miles are between us. No distance is too far. You’re in here, Emmy.” He reached to put my hand over his heart, indicating the space he claimed I occupied. “As long as you remember that, I’ll never be too far away...”

  I stood beneath the large black umbrella that my father held over our heads. Water drops chased each other in a line across the edge of the nylon material before they combined and fell tumbling to the ground by our feet. My low heels sank into the mud on the ground, and my head felt too heavy to lift. I stood there, unable to move...unable to cry...and listened as the pastor from the church said inspirational words while standing in front of two open graves. Lily’s family had graciously agreed to let their daughter be buried beside Andy. Combined guests shared their grief in quiet sobs and broken breaths while we said earthly goodbyes to two people who were stolen, much too early, from the lives of those gathered nearby.

  I raised my head when the pastor became silent. I couldn’t remember the words he spoke, but I was sure they must have been appropriate. I also knew that no matter how long he had known Andy, the words wouldn’t have been enough. I closed my ears to them, and I closed my heart. I stood there, gripping my father’s hand.

  One by one, somber guests moved forward to place single roses on the tops of the closed caskets. My eyes moved up, and I looked upon Andy’s family. Samuel stood strong and tall, holding his mother’s arm. Larry stood at her other side, holding an umbrella over her head. Both men obviously lent her strength while shouldering their own pain. Samuel’s hair was wet, and the rainwater mingled with the tears on his face while he kept his head bowed low. I swallowed hard, sensing the weight of his grief from where I stood. As if he felt my gaze, he looked up.

  Tortured brown eyes met mine. The tenuous grip I had on my emotions wavered. I felt my body begin to shake with the exerted force of my efforts to hold on and not break down. The pain we shared spiraled across the space between us and met and tangled. I gasped, and the peach-colored rose I held in my numb fingers fell to the ground below me. A rivulet of muddy water swirled around the delicate petals and stained their edges.

  “Let’s go.” My father’s hushed whisper caused me to break away from Samuel’s agonized stare. I turned and leaned heavily into my dad’s side as I let him lead me away.

  The blades of the windshield wipers worked noisily to slap away the rain while my father drove us home in his truck. I stared stonily out the window.

  “I called your grandparents,” Dad said after clearing his throat. “I didn’t want them to worry. You...uh...missed your flight. Nan said to take your time. She’s going to have a neighbor look in on the house until you can get
there.”

  “I’ll reschedule,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

  “Listen...Emelia,” Dad said. “I know you are probably in a hurry to leave. Especially now. But I want you to know that...you don’t have to rush off. You always have a place with me. You can stay...as long as you’d like.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” My throat tightened harshly, and I bit my lip. He was right, though. I would leave as soon as I was able to get a return flight scheduled. Besides my father, there was nothing for me here. The weight of that realization slammed into me hard, and I dropped my face into my hands. The swish-swish-swish of the windshield wipers chased away the rain outside while the tears ran unhindered down my cheeks.

  I sat on my front porch steps, crying into my upturned palms. I was the only kid at school who didn’t have a family member at our eighth-grade graduation. Dad had come, with the best of intentions, but he’d had to leave when he’d been called away to an emergency. Luckily, the Daltons had given me a ride home.

  “Why are you crying?” I heard my best friend ask as he walked up my steps.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” I told Andy, wiping at my cheeks.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because your family is perfect!” I sniffed. “You have your mom and your dad. And you have Samuel.”

  “And I have you,” Andy said, nudging my arm with his. “You’re my family too, Emmy.”

  “I know, but...”

  “But nothing. Now, quit crying. I hate it.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Maybe these will help,” Andy said, putting a basket by my feet. He handed me a stuffed frog with the gift.

  “Where’d you get this?”

  “From the claw-machine in Seaside.”

  I thanked him and hugged the toy to my chest. “What’s in the basket?”

  “My mom made you some cookies. She said that chocolate chip cookies are the best thing in the world to cheer someone up and let them know you care. You should eat one. I sneaked one out of the kitchen before she wrapped them up for you. They’re still warm...”

  I sat on my porch and quietly took a cookie from the basket he left. I nibbled the edge and sighed as the still-warm chocolate melted against my lips. He was right. I felt much better already.

  The next two days went by in slow motion. I was, much to the relief of my father, able to get out of bed and at least pretend to function somewhat normally. I ate. I showered. I rescheduled my flight to the East Coast. And while I forced small smiles to comfort my father, each lift of my lips was a lie. My entire body was weighted down, and it seemed things as automatic as breathing took real effort. I walked silently in a void of confusion. Constants no longer matched their definition. Beliefs I once held as true whispered away like vapor through my fingers. I struggled to come to terms with the new reality I had to face—a reality in which my best friend was gone. Through it all, I tried my best not to cry. Andy didn’t like it when I cried.

  I sat on my knees, looking over the back of Dad’s recliner out my front window.

  Cars came and left. People paid their respects to the family next door. I hadn’t gone to them. As horrible as it was, I needed to deal with my own grief first. Yes, I was selfish.

  And yes, I was weak. I hated myself for not being able to go over and offer my comfort. The truth was...I just didn’t have it in me.

  With a sigh, I stood and walked back upstairs to my room. “Move over,” I said as I looked at the tall man lying across my bed. He slid aside with a grin and tucked his hands under his head. I lay beside him and rested my head on his shoulder. Together, we looked at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. The fading light through my window made their muted green surfaces more noticeable against the white paint. “Make a wish,” he whispered.

  “I wish you were still here...”

  It helped to imagine Andy with me.

  A light tapping sound on my door brought me out of my fantasy, and I turned my head to the side when my father entered my bedroom. “Emmy? Can I have a word?”

  “Sure, Dad,” I said tiredly. I sat up, and my father walked over to sit in the chair near the window.

  “You know...the Daltons are getting everyone together. They think that Andy would have...you know...liked family and friends to get together one last time. A memorial of sorts. Down at the beach where you kids used to hang out.” He spoke quietly as though he were afraid that his words might break me. I nodded and bit my lip.

  “They’re right,” I said. “He would like that.”

  “I know you haven’t felt up to being around other people...” Dad began.

  “Can I go with you?”

  A clear wave of relief washed over my father, and he exhaled loudly before offering me a sad smile. “I was hoping you would,” he admitted. I took a deep breath and set my shoulders. Enough was enough. I had imagined Andy by my side enough in the past few days to hear his voice clearly in my head.

  “Get out of this bed before I kick your butt,” he would have said. He always loved going to the beach. It was fitting that everyone would gather there for him.

  My father gave me an encouraging smile before he moved to exit the room. “Can you be ready within the hour?”

  “Sure,” I told him.

  Evening was fast approaching. I pulled a blue cable-knit sweater over my T-shirt. I knew the ocean wind would be chilly. My comfortable jeans and high-top sneakers finished my ensemble. I brushed my hair quickly and tucked the side behind my ear before going down the stairs to meet my father.

  “You ready?” he asked. Dad was dressed in a flannel shirt and his favorite fleece-lined vest. I was glad to see he had dressed informally as well.

  “Yes.” I nodded. I knew it was the truth. I held my palm out to him, and he hesitated only a moment before smiling. My father pulled a piece of candy from his front pocket and put it in my hand. I unwrapped it quickly and tucked the root beer barrel into my cheek. It was a familiar taste and a sweet reminder that some things never changed. It gave me the strength to push my feet toward the door.

  My father parked along the side of the road, behind an already long line of cars. As we walked down to the shadowed beach, pieces of conversation and quiet laughter were carried to us on the ocean breeze. I curled my fingers into the cuffs of my sweater, pulling the sleeves down over my palms, and I folded my arms across my chest while we walked. Dad matched my pace, offering silent support.

  “Emmy!” Larry was the first to see us approach. He stepped forward with a grin too much like Andy’s, and he drew me to his chest in a warm embrace. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Where else would I be?” I asked lightly. Larry held my shoulders while he stepped away, and he looked at my face silently for a moment before nodding in affirmation.

  “Joy?” he called. His wife raised her head from a conversation she was having. When her eyes met mine, she stood, excused herself, and walked over. My heart beat painfully when I looked at the woman who had lost even more than I had. She had aged in a few days...and appeared tired and worn. Yet, there was an unmistakable light of determination behind her blue eyes. Faced with the show of her strength, I had no idea what I would say to her.

  “No.” She shook her head when I opened my mouth, and she heard me begin to stammer. “No tears tonight.” She took a deep breath and smiled at me. “You knew Andy better than anyone. He wouldn’t have wanted us sitting around tonight, crying. We’re going to honor him...the way he would have liked us to.” I nodded and moved to put my arm around her small shoulders. “Thanks for being here,” she whispered near my cheek before she kissed me. I heard the tremor in her voice and understood the real effort she was putting forth.

  “I love you,” I said quietly. In so many ways, Joy had been like a mother to me. She squeezed my hip with her hand, and with our arms thrown around each other, we walked side by side to the bonfire.

  The large fire on the beach provided warmth and plenty of light. I looked around at everyone who
had joined. Family members I knew from holidays and vacations, friends from high school I recognized, and new people I’d yet to meet. No one looked at me with the pity I feared to see. I had been dreading a night of awkward “I’m sorry’s” and polite condolences. Instead, a warm hand passed me a cold beer. I looked up to see Zack Little, tipping his can in my direction in a silent toast. I smiled and popped the top, drinking with him in acknowledgment of his gift.

  People milled around the beach and placed fold-up chairs in the circumference around the fire. My father dutifully sat beside me. He probably knew that my grip on my emotions was sketchy at best. It was exhausting to talk and smile and sit among the living after I had spent the last few days curled up with the dead. But as I took in the far-off look in his eyes while he watched the fire, I was suddenly struck with an uncomfortable truth.

  Dad had been among the first on the scene of the accident.

  He saw, firsthand, the damage that semi had done. I cringed when I considered it. The closed caskets at the funeral home were a pretty good indication that my father had been privy to nightmarish sights I didn’t even want to imagine. He had known Andy since he was a small boy. Yet, he sat stoically sipping his beer and staring into the fire, masking his own emotions to provide strength for others. He shouldered my pain and offered whatever comfort he could to his friends...all while battling the images of an accident that likely would haunt him. I could barely fathom how much he had been hurt. And I had been so blinded by my own pain, I didn’t see it.

  “I love you, Daddy,” I whispered to him. His head turned toward me when he heard the endearment I hadn’t used since I was a child. And then, like that young girl, I stood and sat across his legs, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Dad’s warm arms encircled me. He squeezed me tightly to his chest, and his breath caught a little. “Thank you. For everything,” I told him.

  “I love you, Emmy,” my father said gruffly against my shoulder. I smiled honestly when I pulled away from him, and it was the first time I’d been able to do that in days. He quickly brushed his hand under his eyes to clear away the telltale moisture there. When he had composed himself again, I stood and went back to my chair. “So, where’s Samuel?” Dad asked as he took another drink of his beer. I frowned down at my own can. I hadn’t seen him since we had arrived.