“See you downstairs. Whenever.”
He laughed when I joined him in the living area. “You took eleven.”
“You started timing me while we were still talking.”
We spent the whole morning walking around campus. I enjoyed showing it off. After covering everything worth seeing, we stopped at Bill’s to get coffee and muffins. It was quiet here on a holiday weekend.
We were nearing the residence hall and had just crossed a bridge over the creek when I halted and looked at him in shock.
“What, Sara? Is something wrong?”
“I haven’t thought about Sean since you arrived.”
He moved next to me until we were almost toe-to-toe. “I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t be. You said once that it would sneak up on me. And it did.”
He captured my hands with his. “Sara, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you, but you haven’t been ready. I think you might be now.”
“Okay.” The word came out gruff. Nervous.
“Please hear me out before you fixate on anything. You need to take what I tell you as a whole.”
I trembled so hard that he had to feel it in my hands, because his fingers closed even more securely around mine.
“When my mom died, I was confused and wild. I missed her so badly. I resented that the world had taken her from me. And I was just really pissed—I mean,pissed—that I had to spend an hour or a day without her, much less the rest of my life. I felt guilty that she had died and I hadn’t.
“Then I got myself all twisted around the things that I wouldn’t experience with her. She wouldn’t see me graduate or marry or have kids. That wasn’t fair for her, and it wasn’t fair for me.
“It took a couple of years, but one day I realized that I’d obsessed so much over her death that I’d neglected the meaning of her life. If I was her legacy, then her legacy had been reduced to an angry, useless kid.”
He lifted one of my hands and kissed it. “You have to recover at your own speed, in your own way. I can’t tell you what’s right for Sara; only you know that. But think about what Sean’s legacy was meant to be, and see if you can get there some day.”
I couldn’t be sure when the tears started, but they were flowing steadily, sliding from my jaw to soak into my shirt. He made a rough sound in his throat and pulled me into his arms. I leaned into him, into his strength, and listened without understanding to the words he murmured. Was he reciting poetry? Making it up as he went? I couldn’t tell. But the slow, steady flow calmed me. Soon, there was silence except for the rattle of dried leaves and the murmuring of the creek.
He shifted, drawing away from me in stages. “I don’t like leaving you like this, but I have to go.”
“Thank you for coming.” I felt the absurd need to cry again. For a new reason.
“Hey. It’s okay.” He smiled down into my face. “When are you in Magnolia Grove next?”
“Thanksgiving. I’ll be home for a week.”
“So eat Thanksgiving dinner with me. Dad and I are having a big blowout meal at our place. You should come and bring your parents.”
“Sounds great.” It would break the cycle. Our first Thanksgiving without Sean. We’d be around a crowd of people. We would hold it together because we had to. “You’d better go.”
“Yeah.” He kissed my forehead. “See you in November.”
“Bye.” I spun around and ran inside. Did not want to see him drive away.
Saturday, October 24
Dear Camarin,
Excellent news! The League has offered me the opportunity to continue with my pilot project. I shall seek more assignments where teamwork would best achieve the desired outcome.
It is my sincere hope that you continue to have an interest in serving as my partner on such cases. I know that your specialty lies with the healing of the body, but perhaps you will find value in my projects as well.
