Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(55)

I slid them on my face and instantly felt relief from the pain-inciting glare. Sara handed me two pills, which I washed down with the coconut water. She held out the muffin, but I shook my head with a grimace, feeling my stomach roll just at the thought of eating it.

‘You’re going to have to eat eventually,’ Sara said sternly.

‘I can’t.’ I cringed, swallowing the nausea back down.

‘Can you stand?’ Sara asked.

I nodded, rising to my feet gingerly, holding on to her arm. Evan made a move in our direction when I faltered, but stopped when I regained my balance. He led the way out of the room as I held Sara’s arm.

As much as I tried not to, I couldn’t stop looking at him. A part of me was convinced he wasn’t real. He looked the same, except maybe a little more … built. But, essentially, perfectly the same. Composed and mature in a three-piece suit that fit his tall frame in a way that belonged on the cover of GQ. Maybe that’s what was going on. I was sitting on a plane, reading GQ, and this was all a dream.

Then the flash of pain brought me crashing back to reality. I was here, in Weslyn – to bury my mother. My knees buckled, and I fell to the floor. Sara screamed out, and Evan rushed back up the stairs, sliding his arm behind me to prop me up.

‘Are you okay?’ Sara asked her. Emma’s body felt limp and frail, leaning into my arm.

‘Yeah,’ she muttered, sitting up. ‘I just got dizzy all of a sudden. I’m sorry.’

‘Emma, you’re scaring me,’ Sara stated, offering her hand. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

Emma nodded slightly. She kept looking up at me, but with those large black glasses covering her eyes, I didn’t have any idea what she was thinking. I slid her arm through mine for added support as she grabbed Sara’s arm again, and we managed to get her down the stairs.

If the only thing she’d consumed in two days was vodka, then she was probably dehydrated, and her blood sugar was way off. How the hell were we going to make it through an entire church service without her passing out?

‘Emma, do you think you could at least drink that coconut water before we get to the church?’

It was the first thing he’d said to me since I’d arrived. I nodded slightly, trying to keep my heart beating normally as I felt his arm tucked under mine. I didn’t want to be this close to him, to touch him, to smell the sweet clean scent that rolled off him and made me even more lightheaded. But I also knew that my body was shutting down, rebelling against the abuse I’d subjected it to the last couple of days, and I wouldn’t be able to stand up if Evan let go of me.

The town car pulled up in front of the picturesque white church with its steeple and stained-glass windows. The funeral director approached the car when the door opened. Every muscle in my body refused to budge so I could enter the historic New England church to witness the sermon memorializing my mother. Panic held me captive in the confines of the car.

Sara climbed back in the car and grabbed my hand. ‘Are you going to be sick?’

I shook my head. Evan leaned into the car.

‘What is it?’ Sara asked gently.

‘She’s dead.’ My voice quivered. I gripped the sunglasses with my hands, pressing them into my eyes, trying to hold back the tears. ‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. She’s dead.’ The lump in my throat grew, and I thought I was going to choke on it.

I closed my eyes to keep the tears trapped. Sara squeezed my hand. I inhaled deeply through my nose and released the air through my mouth to force it away. The panic began to fade.

‘I’m okay,’ I told Sara, encouraging her to get back out of the car.

‘You can get through this,’ Sara assured me, taking my hand again when I emerged from the car. ‘I’ll be right next to you the entire time.’ I could only nod.

Evan offered me his arm again, and I slid mine through and held on tight.

It was the first time I’d seen her react to her mother’s death – and I couldn’t do anything about it. I just stood beside her and helped her up the stairs to where Mr and Mrs McKinley awaited us. Anna hugged Emma and whispered into her ear before leading the way into the church.

Emma’s grip tightened, and I could feel the panic rippling off her as we stepped over the threshold. Instinctively, I covered her hand with mine and concentrated on each step she took, wanting to be her strength as her own continued to slip away.

I slid in beside her in the first pew, with Sara on her other side. Sara’s parents sat at the end. Emma leaned away from me, releasing her hold of my arm and leaning into Sara, resting her head on Sara’s shoulder. I bowed my head in realization of who I was not to her in this moment of need.

The sermon began, and the murmuring stopped. I didn’t look over at her as the reverend offered a prayer and strangers said kind words about a woman who hadn’t earned them.

The reverend returned to the pulpit and said, ‘At this time, I’d like to invite Rachel’s daughter, Emma, up to say a few words.’

I froze and turned my head towards Sara, whose mouth hung agape as she stared at me in shock.

Emma slowly rose and made her way to the stairs that led to the pulpit.

‘Oh no,’ Sara murmured beside me.

‘Do you know what she’s going to say?’ I asked, unable to breathe properly.

‘I’m afraid to find out,’ Sara whispered, not taking her eyes off Emma.