“Harrison, what’s wrong?” I’m clearly not doing a good job of hiding my distress because her eyes widen when she searches my face for answers. She reaches up and tenderly places her hand on my cheek. “Tell me what’s going on, please.”
I can’t get my words out, and my chest is tight. My heart races. Before I even realize she’s doing it, Delaney leads me to a bench that we passed about ten feet back and guides me to sit. She crouches in front of me and puts a hand on each side of my face.
“Look at me, only at me.” I do as she says and focus my gaze on hers. “Okay, good. Now let’s breathe together. Can you do that with me?”
I nod, and she smiles.
“All right, we’re going to breathe in through our noses and count to four, then we’ll let it out of our mouths for another count of four. Follow along with me. Let’s start.”
She guides me through several cycles of the exercise, and eventually, my breathing slows to a normal rate, and my heart no longer races. Yeah, it helped, but it was really focusing on her that settled me. I’m not back to my usual yet—still weak in the legs—but I’m a hell of a lot better than I was several minutes ago.
Delaney rises, brushes the dirt off her knees, and sits next to me.
“We should go back.” There’s a quivering in Delaney’s voice that wasn’t there a few minutes ago. She was cool as a cucumber as she helped me get through the anxiety, but maybe this is her coming down off the adrenaline rush.
“Not yet. I need a few more minutes. My legs still feel shaky.” I grasp her hand and entwine our fingers, then lightly squeeze. I stare into her eyes. “Thanks, Bets,” I whisper. I lean over and plant a soft kiss on her temple.
“H-has that ever happened before? A panic attack?” There’s caution in her voice.
I shake my head. “No, not that bad. I mean, I get anxious worrying about the people I care about, but I can control that. I get the chest tightness then, too?—”
“You have chest tightness? Harrison, I need to take you to the hospital.”
I smile at her concern for me.
“Nah, it’s gone, Bets. Believe me, I’ve had my heart fully checked out, and I’m healthy.”
She watches me warily, and I can practically hear her arguing with herself regarding whether to push me about going to the hospital. I lean toward her and brush a thumb over her lips, and then press a kiss to them.
“I promise, I’m physically fine. I even think I’m ready to head back.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.” Delaney immediately draws her lower lip between her teeth—she’s nervous or stressed.
I nod at her. “Positive.”
We stand, and I pull her into my arms and hold her body against mine. Her arms wrap around my middle. When I look up, I realize I’m facingthepath. We stand like that for a while, and I stare at the trailhead and follow the compacted dirt footpath with my eyes until it disappears into the woods.
Conflicting forces within me battle over whether I should tell Delaneyeverythingabout my dad’s death now or put it off even longer. I think I’ve been holding out, thinking maybe we wouldn’t last, and I only needed to go through with telling her if she was sticking around. Thinking I’ll tell her, I press a kiss tothe top of her head, taking my time to release it, then gently pull away from her. I keep my hands on her shoulders, though.
She looks up at me expectantly, as if she knows I have something to say. Yet, just when I’m about to open my mouth, I clam up.
“I’ve got to tighten my shoelace,” I tell her. That will buy me a few seconds to get my courage up. I drop to one knee and untie the lace on one of my shoes, then retie it. I place my right hand on the antique copper-colored metal bench and really notice it for the first time. It definitely was not here the last time I was on this trail.
The stunning metalwork along the back catches my eye. It depicts a huge American elm tree that makes up nearly the entire posterior of the bench. I’ve never seen a bench with one—the Celtic tree of life, yes, but not an elm.
The elm tree means something in our family. We had an enormous one in our backyard growing up. It’s where Dad built the best treehouse imaginable for the five of us boys. We spent so many days up in that wooden oasis playing, looking at our baseball cards, and we even had a few sleepovers up there. In the summer, Mom would set up picnics under its shade. We’d eat bologna sandwiches and apple slices, then get back to playing in the tree while Mom read books on a blanket below us.
Dad used to tell us how the elm represented strength, resilience, and protection. Mom loved that tree so much that she and Dad renewed their vows on their twentieth wedding anniversary there. That day, Dad presented her with a gorgeous wooden carving of it. It still hangs in the family room at her house.
And that elm still stands in the backyard of my parents’ house.
What’re the chances that this bench randomly ended up here, only feet from the path where my dad died?
It’s as I run my fingers from the top of one branch and trace a trail down to the roots of the tree that I get my answer. I gasp as I read the words engraved in the metal:In loving memory of the world’s best dad and the strongest man we’ll ever know. We love you, H2.
H2. Holden’s nickname growing up. Holden did this?
It’s not until I feel her hand on my back in a show of support that I realize Delaney is kneeling next to me. She’s silent, but when I turn my face to hers, her eyes hold mine and there’s a hint of concern but mostly there’s a softness in them that comforts me a bit. After she leans in and kisses my cheek, her lips are wet. I touch my face, and when I feel moisture, I realize she’s kissed a tear away. I didn’t even know I was crying. It’s a foreign sensation to me; I’ve not shed tears since I was in seventh grade and broke my arm.
