Two Weeks (The Baxter Family #5)(66)

His Vienna.

Especially when he saw the photograph, the one of her at the dinner table. For some reason in that picture Vienna seemed to be looking straight at him. I love you, Daddy. He could still hear her singsong voice. Still see her eyes just like that when she sat beside him on the way to school each morning.

The way Theo would always remember her.

And now . . . now she was gone. The memorials were behind them. Students had moved on with their lives and in an hour Theo and Alma would attend the dance recital. The one Vienna had been so excited about.

But then what?

He and Alma got ready for the performance quietly. In separate spaces, separate worlds. That was becoming more the norm now. They would wake up, say a few words and set about their days. All in silence. There wasn’t anything to talk about, really. No reason to make dinner, no weekend to plan. No future to be excited for.

All of it had died when the drunk driver crossed the line.

On the drive to the school, Theo couldn’t take the silence another minute. He turned on the radio. Love Songs & Oldies. The station was one of Vienna’s favorites. They were a mile from the campus when Rod Stewart came on. “Have I Told You Lately?”

“Turn it off.” Alma looked at him from the passenger seat. “Please, Theo. It’s too much.”

“No.” Theo shook his head. He didn’t want to argue with his wife, but moments like this didn’t just happen. He turned up the volume, just enough to fill the car. “This is her song. On the way to her recital.” He clenched his teeth. “That doesn’t just happen.”

Theo thought he’d cried all he could cry. At some point the healing had to begin. He couldn’t get teary-eyed every hour—the way he’d been since the police officers walked up the driveway. But this time he couldn’t stop himself.

The memory came back to him like it was yesterday. A month before she was killed, Vienna was in this very car with them and this song came on. Somehow, Vienna knew every word. He could hear her voice, feel her presence with them.

“Have I told you lately that I love you? . . . Have I told you there’s no one else above you?”

She sang every line till the very end of the song. And when it ended she leaned up from the backseat, her hands on their shoulders. “That’s exactly how I feel about both of you.” She grinned at Theo and then at her mother. “Whenever you hear it, remember that!”

Alma dropped the fight. She looked out her passenger window, and when the song ended she reached over and turned off the radio. “Please, Theo. I need to think.” She looked at him and her expression eased up. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Me, either.” He wanted to take her hand but this didn’t seem like the time. None of this was her fault. But he knew something for sure. If they chose to grieve separately, in their own silent worlds, then in time it would hurt them. Their marriage.

One of the pastors who had talked to them after the accident told them to see a marriage counselor. Or a grief counselor. “Most marriages don’t make it a year after a loss like this.”

Most marriages. Theo had heard that before and he had scoffed at the possibility. No one would want to lose a child, but such a tragedy would surely make a couple closer. Not more distant.

Now, though, the tragedy was his and Alma’s, and he understood. The silence was strangling the life from the two of them. Even when it was the last thing they wanted. As if the loss was too great to get around or over. Too deep and dark to walk through.

Like overnight they’d become blind to each other. All they could see was themselves, their own heartache and loss. Their separate memories of Vienna.

No wonder so many marriages didn’t survive this.

Help us, God. Vienna wouldn’t want us this way. We need You.

There was no immediate answer to his silent prayer. But halfway through the recital, Alma reached out and took his hand. Nothing about the action would’ve seemed unusual to anyone watching. But Theo knew differently. They hadn’t held hands since they came home from the second memorial.

He took a sharp breath. Then he wrapped his hand around Alma’s and held on tight. As if his next heartbeat depended on this one single connection. The whole time he kept his eyes on the stage. A girl in the front row was tall and thin, beautiful brown skin like Vienna. Theo watched her dance, watched her perform all the numbers Vienna had known by heart. Especially the last number. The encore.

The one Vienna had helped choreograph and had been so excited about minutes before . . .

Theo couldn’t finish his thought. If he squinted just so, he wasn’t watching someone else’s daughter. He was watching his own. His precious baby girl. His Vienna.

Alma didn’t let go of his hand after the recital, even when so many girls and their parents came up and hugged them. Jessie Taylor presented them with another framed picture, one of herself and Vienna taken at the last practice before the accident.

They were halfway home—not talking, but still holding hands—when Alma’s phone rang. She answered it on the first ring. “Hello?”

No telling who was on the other end. Theo listened and kept his eyes on the road.

“Yes, this is she.” She gasped under her breath. “Who . . . who gave you our information?” She looked at Theo. “The state? Okay, wait, so what’s the situation?”