A Walk Along the Beach(76)

“Thank you,” I said, and left to walk over to the church.

Stepping into the dim interior of the church, I found Willa sitting in the front pew, staring at the altar. Silently, I slid into the row and sat next to her, leaving a small amount of space between us.

She glanced up when I sat down, paused, and then looked away.

We sat in silence for several minutes. I reached for her hand and gave it a soft squeeze before she dragged it away as though she didn’t want or need my touch.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

Willa shook her head.

“What about for your family?”

Again, she declined. “There’s nothing anyone can do. Thanks for asking.”

Although she didn’t say it, I noticed the tension in her seemed to increase the longer I sat by her side. Her back stiffened and she bowed her head as if willing me to leave.

    The last thing I wanted to do was walk away. And yet I felt like an intruder, unwanted, a nuisance. I reasoned it was guilt weighting me down. Reluctantly, I stood, wanting her to stop me. She didn’t.

“I’m here if you need me.”

Willa emitted a soft snicker. “You’re a little late for that.”

I longed to defend myself. I wasn’t a mind reader. If she’d told me, if I’d known how close to death Harper had been, I would have taken the next flight out of Chicago. Screw the project; Willa needed me. Only she wasn’t answering my calls, had ignored both my texts and voicemails. Knowing how badly she was hurting, I swallowed down the need to defend myself.

Moving to the end of the pew, I turned back. Willa hadn’t budged; she continued to stare straight ahead, as if I’d already left the church. I found it impossible to leave matters as they were.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me,” I told her.

Silence.

“Can you forgive me?” My heart raced as I waited for her answer.

Then and only then did she turn to look at me, her eyes red and brimming with tears. “Of course.”

I should have been relieved, but the indifference in her response had the opposite effect.

“I’m serious, Willa. Words can’t express how bad I feel about all this. I should have been with you, should have been the one you could lean on for support to see you through those last days with your sister.”

Her face was full of questions when she looked back at me. “I don’t know why you would think that, Sean. It’s all very sweet of you, but unnecessary.”

“Why?” I said, much too loud for being in a church. My voice echoed in the empty space like a bell toll. “You’re my girl. Don’t you realize how important you are to me? I love you.”

    It seemed as if my declaration of love went directly over her head. For a long time, all she did was stare at me. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I insisted.

She shrugged, as if my declaration was nothing more than empty words. From all the calls, texts, and voicemails I’d left, she had to know she was constantly in my thoughts. I wanted to remind her that the last time I was home, not all that long ago, she’d slept in my bed. I spent the night with her in my arms. She’d needed me. Sought out my comfort.

This had to be her grief talking. I consoled myself with the hope that within a short amount of time, and with patience, we’d be back on an even keel. As hard as it was to leave matters as they were, it would be best to leave this discussion for another day.

The doors at the back of the church opened and the man I recognized as Harper’s friend and physician walked down the center aisle toward us.

Immediately, Willa came to her feet, edged past me, and raced toward him. As I watched, she flew into John’s arms, hugging him and weeping on his shoulder. With her face buried against his front, I couldn’t make out what she said.

Watching another man hold Willa caused my stomach to tighten. I should be the one comforting her, but Willa didn’t want me. It hurt in a physical way I hadn’t expected.





CHAPTER 29





Willa


The morning of Harper’s funeral, I rose early and headed for the beach, needing to clear my head. I hoped to find strength and some badly needed peace in the one place I knew I’d find solace.

Sleep had evaded me since my sister’s death. I tossed, twisting the sheets about me until exhaustion would finally lay claim to me. Then within an hour, possibly two if I was lucky, I’d wake sobbing, finding it hard to accept the truth that Harper was truly gone.

Everything in our apartment reminded me of my sister. Each item that was hers brought up memories. Her mountain-climbing equipment. The little stuffed mouse she’d purchased for Snowball. Her shampoo tucked in the corner of the shower. She was everywhere I looked.

Eventually I’d need to clear out her bedroom—a task I dreaded. If possible, I’d need to find another roommate, but that was a problem for another day. My rent was paid until the end of the month for both the apartment and Bean There. This month and this month only. My bank account was empty, and I had no way of making the payment for either come December. Today, the one in which we would bury my sister, held enough grief without my dragging my problems of the future into it.

    The briny scent coming off the ocean filled the air, and the wind buffeted against me, colder now that it was November. I wrapped my coat more securely around me, hoping to find warmth when everything around me was cold and gray. Gloomy and dark. Miserable.