Connected (Connections, #1)(84)
He walks inside.
River comes back and I wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
Snaking his arms around my waist, he kisses my nose. “You don’t have to thank me, Dahlia.”
Loosening my embrace, I search his eyes. “Caleb is a Navy Seal and Ben’s best friend since we were seven. We all grew up together on the beach.”
He shrugs his shoulders as he releases me and grabs my hand. “What’s he doing in there?”
“He said he wanted to check it out.”
“Why?”
“No idea,” I say as I follow beside him, but stop at the doorway. “I don’t want to go back in there, River.”
“Okay baby, let me just see if he’s finished and we’ll go.”
Watching River walk down the hall that leads to what used to be Ben’s bedroom and mine feels strange to me. If it bothers River, he does a great job of hiding it, and I suddenly realize that finding my past in pieces has actually brought me closer to my future.
Before leaving the house, River and Caleb walked through it, securing all the windows and doors. They didn’t have long conversations or even really look at each other, but they did agree they would meet here on Saturday to move the unsalvageable furniture from the house to the curb. The police found no evidence of forced entry, which bothers me. How did someone get in? One officer told me the perpetrator knew what they were doing and probably picked one of the old locks. Then he added that maybe they had a key. I found this unsettling and preferred to think it was what the other officer had told me; that teens broke in for their own sick fun. Either way, whoever did this, did it with the intent of making my home a battlefield. It doesn’t matter who it was, what they did is unforgivable.
Pulling out of my driveway with every salvageable memento in the back of my 2009 white Audi Q7, I can clearly see my home’s exterior is in need of just as many repairs as its interior now is. I’ve known the siding needed re-shingling and the roof needed replacement for a long time. Ben and I had planned to make those improvements. They were top on our list, but when our list became my list, I just didn’t care anymore about it or the house. Now, for some reason, I do. Its sad, broken condition reminds me so much of myself before I met River. I just want to reach out and heal it like River has helped heal me. But just like me, it’s no easy fix. Sure the outside repairs are simple; hire contractors to replace and repair the worn items. It’s the inside that’s not as simple and like my own healing process, it will take time.
Shaking my head, I wonder how a house left empty for only six days could now look like a war zone, and just like refugees, the battle has left me homeless. But unlike the refugees, I have a safe-haven where I can stay.
As I drive past the For Sale sign in my front yard, I’m sad that I might never spend another night in that house. That I might never get to feel the warmth and comfort that I used to embrace so willingly before Ben was killed. Ben and I loved that house, picket fence and all. I remember telling Ben I never wanted to move. Our house had everything I needed, everything that was important to me: close beach proximity, the most amazing garden, a tranquil back yard, and a front porch where we could grow old and tell stories of our adventures to our grandkids.
The sadness that now emblazons within me is not without cause. For someone to want to destroy another’s personal possessions is beyond my comprehension. The things they randomly destroyed were my lifeline to my past, all I had left of the people I loved so much. Seeing my pearls ripped apart like that, taken from a beautiful circle of hope, and turned into small desolate islands broke me once more but this time I was not alone. River was there to soothe me. After silencing my sorrow and wiping my tears with his presence, he discussed what to do next. Call the police, gather anything I wanted to take, and head back to his house.
I did agree to go back to his house, but only for the night. He didn’t want me to be alone and honestly neither did I. He agreed to stop at Grace’s first for dinner and to unload the things I wanted to keep safe, but didn’t agree with me staying at Grace’s. He wanted me to stay with him. I explained that I not only need to be closer than sixty minutes from my house for the numerous repair estimates I’m going to have to arrange, but that I need to work on making myself whole before I can think of living with him. He didn’t question my statement, he didn’t argue, but he also didn’t agree. Maybe sensing my confused state of mind, he let it be. Instead, he kissed me and held me tight.
Pulling up to Grace’s house, I realize the storm is just about over. The wind seems to be calmer and the huge clouds that loomed over me, like a dark umbrella that felt so close I could almost touch them, are dissipating.
Standing in the driveway and waiting for River, a cool breeze of wind blasts over me as a ray of sunshine gleams down. As I look up to the sky a small drop of rain falls on my cheek, so fine and light I don’t even bother wiping it away. This is one tear I welcome. The smell of wet sand infiltrates my senses as the rain clears its way for a beautiful starry night.
I feel slightly nervous about introducing Grace to River. Although Grace is the woman who helped me through my adolescent years by teaching me how to drive, taking me shopping for my prom dress, helping me fill out my college applications, and even bringing me to my first gynecologist visit to put me on birth control, she’s also Ben’s mother. I’m sure she will accept a new man in my life, in fact I know she will, but nonetheless it will be awkward to introduce my once fiancé’s mother to my new boyfriend at her house. Because she’s an amazing woman and because I love her as if she were my mother, I want her to meet him and him to meet her. She’s who I aspire to be.