I nod to Linc and he releases me long enough to dash inside and get Deputy Bolton, who has been here since we left my parents’ earlier. I tap the screen for speaker as Linc comes back out, Deputy Bolton following behind him. The three of us head toward his squad car. “Mama, I’m scared.”
“I know, sweetie. We’re on our way. Do you know why Aunt Dani won’t wake up?”
“She said she missed Daddy too much. She took a lot of medicine, Mama.”
Oh God, this can’t be happening.
I haven’t been here since we buried him. Not even when they put his headstone in place. Guilt tries to overtake me as we make our way toward the back, but I stomp it down.
My only concern is Caroline right now.
“We’re here,” I tell her as we pull through the wrought iron gate of the cemetery where I buried my husband. Before the deputy has the car in park, I bolt and barely register Linc calling after me, but I refuse to wait. I’ve kept Caroline on the phone the entire time, trying to talk about anything but the fact that her aunt may or may not have taken her own life, but mostly I just reassured her that Dani would be okay, even though I have a sinking feeling she won’t.
The wail of sirens can be heard off in the distance as I make my way toward his grave. I frantically search for her but my eyes are full of tears, and I can’t remember which way to go.
Then I spot her.
She’s running toward me, tears streaming down her face in rivers of fear.
I fall to my knees the second she reaches me and take her in my arms. “Thank you, God.”
It’s all I can say. Over and over the words fall from my lips in a desperate and gracious prayer. I finally find enough strength to release her. “Are you okay?”
She nods and by all appearances she looks perfectly fine. Not a hair out of place, but I can see the deep sadness buried in her dark brown eyes. She looks over her shoulder as the paramedics run toward Dani as well as several other deputies.
Her tear-filled eyes return to mine. “Is she gonna be okay, Mama?”
“I don’t know, sweetie. They’re gonna do their best to help her.”
“She was so sad,” she whispers, her lip quivering. “I tried to make her feel better. I tried to tell her Daddy was in the sky. That he was in a better place but she wouldn’t listen. She just kept saying how much she missed him. I miss him too, Mama.” Her tiny arms wrap around my neck tightly. “I miss him, too.”
“I know.”
Linc crouches down beside me and cradles her face. “You sure you’re okay, sweet girl?” I’m already on the verge of tears but the emotion in his voice sends them falling down my cheeks.
She wraps her arms around his shoulders as she buries her head in the crook of his neck. The sounds of her cries are all too familiar. They’re the same ones from one year ago.
The sound of a child’s heart breaking in two.
Present
Two months later…
Dani survived. Even though she was barely alive by the time they got her to the hospital. While her only niece helplessly looked on, she’d taken a handful of antidepressants, mainly to rid her mind and heart of the demons that plagued her, but ultimately to ease the pain of her brother’s death.
She was charged with kidnapping and child endangerment. After pleading no contest to the charges due to her mental illness, she was sentenced to three years in Parkhaven, a psychiatric hospital in Savannah. I haven’t been to see her yet but I call to check on her once a week. I’m listed as her closest living relative. Part of me is still angry over what happened. Caroline is still coping with watching her aunt attempt to take her own life and it’s been a difficult road for her. But the other part of me feels sorry for Dani. I’m certain had her parents given a shit about her or Dean, neither one of them would have ended up this way.
Then again, who’s to say?
Mental illness is unpredictable and oftentimes, incurable. And no matter how much a person is loved and cared for, sometimes it’s just not enough. Sometimes there are just things in life they simply cannot overcome. They feel cornered and defeated and see no possible solution other than death.
I often worry if Caroline will suffer from the same disease that plagued her father and aunt. After an extreme amount of research, I’ve discovered that mental illness is hereditary and normally symptoms do not occur until later in adolescence or early adulthood, so it’s hard to tell but I pray it skips a generation. However, I can’t shield her from the trauma that has already been bestowed upon her in her short life.
Which is why we are both back in counseling, something I feel we will need for a while.
It scares the hell out of me but I don’t let her see my fear. I just take it one day at a time and pray that my child can conquer what her father and aunt couldn’t.
Life.
