The boxes beckoned.
Worse, theymocked.
She put her glass down on the nearby shelf and slowly, calmly, approached the nearest stack. She gently peeled the tape off the first box, felt her stomach bunch and knot with that ancient grief as the box popped open to reveal the baby blanket her own mother had quilted for her when she was a baby and then kept for her to pass down, just as Ava had kept Mav’s baby blanket for him.
Except Mav had gotten to use his – and would again.
Sierra lifted it out of the box as if it were some ancient love letter in danger of disintegrating. She sat down on the carpeted floor with her wine, spread the blanket open over her legs to reveal the centre star pattern.
Too exhausted to cry, she simply let her head fall back against the shelf behind her and felt the grief wash over her. There were no waves this time, just one solid downpour that filled her, and in filling her, emptied her of everything else.
She understood that terrible things happened to people every day. She understood the patterns of grief better than anybody because she had learned them, first when her parents had died unexpectedly, and then when Baby Girl had come into the world already gone. And, still, even though she understood, Sierra couldn’t make sense of theunfairnessof it all.
Maybe that was just life, she thought. Everyone, born rich or poor, healthy or sick, happy or sad, struggling through until death came for them. Or, maybe, though everyone suffered, some people were just built differently, better equipped to brace against life’s punches. Mav, for example, had been a rock when their parents had died. Benji, though she knew he’d grieved, had stayed strong through it all too.
In fact, if anyone should be raging at life’s unfairness it was him – Benji. He had been born into a rough situation, to parents who hadn’t deserved him and hadn’t tried to. He had worked like a dog his entire life and saved every penny to build the life he’d wanted. He’d done everything right, and still somehow been punched down repeatedly. By life. By his parents. Byher.
Why wasn’t he bitter? she wondered. Why wasn’t he angry?
As if she’d summoned him with her thoughts, Benji appeared in the closet entrance. Sierra squinted up at him as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the doorframe. He was dressed in blue jeans, a Hunt Ranch shirt and vest. His hair stuck out from beneath his Wrangler ball cap. Those familiar eyes studied her warily, afraid of the mood he might find her in.
She didn’t ask her what he was doing there or tell him that Mav, who he’d undoubtedly stopped by to see, was at the barbecue. She asked, ‘Why aren’t you bitter?’
Instead of deflecting or giving her a vague answer, he slowly lowered himself down to the floor beside her so that their shoulders were touching.
They were quiet for a long time, but because she understood that he was thinking about it, she passed him her wine. He took a sip, passed it back to her, replied, ‘I am.’
‘You don’tseembitter.’ Genuinely frustrated with him, she pushed. ‘Your parents are a mess. Your life was hard. Your kid …’ She took a deep breath and tried again. ‘Your kid died. Your ex treats you like shit … Why aren’t you angry?’
‘My parents are a mess – but I only knew that because of your mom and dad. Your folks … they showed me the type of parent I wanted to be. My life wasn’t hard – not really. Since Mav brought me over that first time and your dad put me on his gelding, Simon, I’ve only ever wanted to work with horses.’ He shrugged. ‘And I’ve been able to do that while putting aside enough money to build a good life …’
Sierra held her breath as he continued, ‘My kid did die, and I’ll always be angry about that. But being there for you was always more important than being angry – even when you pushed me away.’
She stoically ignored that last part, said, ‘How?Howdo you do it, though? I want to be like that … I want to let it go,’ she managed through the emotion suffocating her.
‘I don’t think you do – let it go. You just get better at living with it. And right After …’ Benji trailed off, cleared his throat of emotion. ‘I was too worried about you to really focus on the shock and the grief.’
Sierra could only nod. He had been so steadfast, so gentle and kind and supportive. And she’d pushed him away because every gentle, kind, supportive word had only reminded her of that looming grief and the need to give in to it, even though she wasn’t entirely sure she could survive it.
She didn’t address it now either. But she did ask, ‘What are we going to do with all this stuff?’
It was the first time she had included him in a decision since that day. She had painted over the nursery without asking him. She had boxed up all the baby things and sold the furniture without telling him. And that fact wasn’t lost on either of them.
‘Keep the family stuff, donate the rest?’ Benji suggested. Although he didn’t say it, he thought that when they had kids in the future, they should restart from scratch without any of those little reminders of how terribly wrong things could go.
He stretched his legs out in front of him and studied the little room through the closet door. There had been a time when the walls were lovingly decorated with roses and the baby furniture had been filled with diapers, onesies, and the tiniest little socks in preparation for the day they brought Her home.
Thinking about it now reminded Benji of After too. When Sierra had first come home from the hospital, she had been so quiet and calm, and even though the doctor had told her to take it easy and Mav had kicked her out of her office when she’d tried to go right back to work, she hadn’t rested. She hadn’t stopped. She’d painted the walls of the nursery, covering all the reminders of Baby Girl with Eggshell White. She’d sold their baby furniture and given away the boxes of diapers to a new mom she’d known. And all he’d been able to do was watch helplessly, unsure of how to help, and too afraid that if he touched her or held her or tried to reach out, she would snap and push him away – which she had ended up doing anyway.
The only time he’d suggested she go in and see a therapist, Sierra had tipped her head and frowned in confusion. She’d asked, ‘Why?’ and it was that complete inability to acknowledge what had happened that had terrified him into silence.
Now, he wondered what he could have done differently, if anything. Nobody could prepare for that. Nobody thought that they would have to watch the person they loved most in the world suffer through the biggest trauma of their life, or that when it happened, they would have no power to help them.
‘Do you want to go through it with me now?’ she asked quietly. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever do it by myself.’
‘Yeah.’ He barely managed the single word. It was everything to just sit there with Sierra without her pulling away or snapping at him, so the fact that she wanted his help was entirely overwhelming for Benji, who had been waiting over a year to be allowed close to her again.
In the confines of the closet, her perfume was potent, but it was nothing compared to the gentle give of her shoulder against his. Only that small, insignificant contact was enough to have his body and soul yearning in equal parts. But instead of acting on it, he pushed to his feet, adding distance between them so that he didn’t ruin the gossamer moment by pulling her onto his lap or stealing another kiss. ‘Let me top up the wine.’
