More Than We Remember

by Christina Suzann Nelson

  “Okay, then. Maybe I’ll see you again . . . soon.”

  “I’d like that.” She pinched her lips together. Transported back to high school, she dared to dream for just a moment that he’d see her as more than the kid sister of a friend.

  “Bye.”

  The phone disconnected, and Brianne plugged it back into the charger. She cringed. All these years later, and she still had a crush on Seth Wallace.

  12

  Emilia jammed her boot-covered toes into the side of the truck Roger once treasured. Pain surged up her shin. Once he’d spent sunny days at home washing and polishing the metallic blue finish. She ran a finger along the side of the bed, leaving a line in the thick layer of dust.

  If she could find one fundamental thing that remained the same, then she’d have something to look at, something to draw an ounce of comfort from. But even though they hadn’t moved from their two-bedroom rental, there was a darkness that had moved in with the injuries. It covered all of them with a weight that made Emilia think of the beam that had held her husband down until help arrived.

  Roger was angry with the world, and rightly so. He’d been a provider, a constant and loyal man, a credit to his profession. And in a blink, it was all gone, leaving him in constant agony.

  Before the accident, Tally had been excited about everything. She had a stream of friends in and out of the house, always giggling, even when there didn’t seem to be anything funny. That stopped when Roger took a bat to the wall because the noise was giving him a headache. At least his temper had cooled a bit with a change in medication. Still, Roger was always on the edge of an outburst, exactly what Emilia would expect from any man who bore that kind of pain.

  She turned away from the truck and sat on the ground. The coolness of the earth worked its way through the fabric of her jeans as the familiar scent of motor oil wrapped around her. It wasn’t the life she’d thought she was going to have, but when had she ever had that?

  Roger was getting better at a pace that could be beat by a slug on a tightrope, but there were improvements. He didn’t break things like he used to. His temper seemed more under control. She figured it was from the medicine, but the doctor had hope Roger was slowly regaining himself. However, the doctor didn’t live in the house she now stared at. He didn’t know how dangerous hope could be.

  If someone else looked at her, would they notice a difference? Had the accident tattooed her the way it had Roger and Tally? Probably, but Emilia was too close to see it. There wasn’t anything she wanted to look at too closely anyway. Her goal today—and every day since the accident—was to have enough energy to keep going and not lose her mind in the process.

  A chain rattled, then thumping vibrated against her hand pressed flat to the ground. Before Emilia could turn, a golden retriever was on her lap, slapping her face with a warm and wet tongue.

  “Gustav.” Her neighbor Holly Carmen came into view. “Gustav, no.” She grabbed his collar and pulled him back while continuing to scold the dog. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her gaze now on Emilia. “The latch on the leash broke just as he saw you.”

  Emilia laced her fingers into the fur on Gustav’s neck. It had been months since she’d seen him or Holly. She shook her head. “It’s no problem.” A tear blurred her vision before she blinked it away.

  Holly shifted from one foot to the other. “How’ve you been?” She stared down at the dog.

  “Good.” The lie came easily. Emilia told it almost every day.

  “Us too.” She started to turn away but stopped. “I miss you. I’m not sure what happened, but I wish we could go back.”

  The muscles in Emilia’s throat tightened. She used the truck’s tire to help herself up. “Nothing happened. I’m just busy . . . work and stuff.”

  “I look for you at service every week. If you decide to come today, I’ll have a seat for you in my row.” Her bottom lip curled between her teeth. Not a sign of lying, but Emilia remained skeptical.

  “Sure. It’s just hard for Roger, you know. He gets tired.”

  A line creased the skin above Holly’s nose, and Emilia could see her lie hadn’t passed by Holly unnoticed.

  “Well, if you change your mind.”

  Emilia nodded and turned her face toward the truck. “I need to get moving. I told Roger I’d wash the truck for him. You know, switching chores.” She raised and lowered her shoulders, as if adding this action would tie a tight string around the ball of garbage she was tossing at a woman who used to be a friend.

  “I could help.”

  The offer splashed cold guilt down Emilia’s spine. “Thank you, but it’s really nothing. I enjoy getting outside.” She tucked her chin and pretended to look for something in the bed of the truck. Kindness had a way of unlocking her vulnerability. She’d tried having a good cry not long after Roger’s release from the hospital. It had only served to scare Tally and infuriate Roger.

  She kept scouring the area in search of nothing until she heard the jingle of Gustav’s tags as the dog and Holly finally walked away. Now she’d have to actually wash the truck to give evidence to her false story.

  Pulling the hose from the garage, Emilia gave up her fantasy of a nap. After screwing the hose onto the bib, she sprayed down the first side of the pickup, then moved to the other.

  Through the mist of water, she noticed something in the window of her house. The water drifted away as she stared into the eyes of her husband. Then she went for the bucket and soap.

  A DEEP GRIMACE etched lines into Caleb’s face.

  “Can I please get you the medication?” Addison sat in a chair near the couch, where Caleb writhed in agony. “It’s important for the healing process. You don’t need to be in this kind of pain.”

  “No.” He bit his lower lip. “Those boys left without a mother can’t take a pill to ease their grief. Why should I be able to rest easy?” Sweat dripped from his temple.

  Tears fought against Addison’s resolve. She couldn’t think about those motherless boys, the depth of pain they must be experiencing. She had her own family to worry about. Life was simply not fair, and this accident was another example of how tragedy was always waiting to take you down when you thought you had it all figured out.

  So she’d fight it, like every other time. Addison wouldn’t let the fates take down her or her family. She was a force the devil wouldn’t see coming. This was what a good mother did. She grew fierce when conditions warranted. Never a helpless victim. Always a warrior.

  “He just needs a Tylenol and a cookie. That’s always worked for my boy.” Caroline came into the room carrying not one chocolate-chip cookie but an entire plate, and at eight thirty in the morning, no less. She set the treats on the coffee table beside Caleb, picked one up, and put it into his hand.

  From some hidden reserve, Caleb forced a smile for his mom.

  “It’s time to get moving toward church.” Caroline patted her silver-streaked hair, which she’d wrestled into a bun.

  “Church?” Addison looked from Caroline to Caleb. “I don’t think we’ll be making it this morning.”

  “That’s nonsense. Church is exactly what this family needs. Addison, you may stay home and mind Caleb, but I’ll be taking the children with me. It’s Celebration Sunday. There’s a potluck and outdoor games.” Caroline swung a hand to her hip. “And I made my fried chicken.”

  Addison clenched her teeth, holding back the acidic words that sprang to the tip of her tongue.

  “Sounds good to me, Mom.” Caleb rolled to his side and closed his eyes, the cookie still in his hand.

  “May I see you in the kitchen?” Addison rose and walked that way, not waiting to see if Caroline would follow. She found all three of her children sitting at the table, faces somber, Lilly’s cheeks wet with tears. Each was dressed in clean clothes suitable for church.

  Another chunk broke off Addison’s heart. They’d heard Caleb’s words. She didn’t need to ask or wonder. The grief on their faces showed their innocent
child-hearts had peered into the real world this week. They needed to get away as much as Addison needed them with her, but she couldn’t let Caroline drive them. She wouldn’t lose them the way Georgianna Bosch’s children had lost her.

  “Hustle upstairs and brush your chompers. We’re heading out in ten.” Caroline dropped her purse on the counter, her keys hanging off the strap. She followed the kids up the stairs.

  As soon as the footsteps were overhead, Addison unclipped the keys and tucked them into the breadbox. She then took her own keys and Caleb’s set from the key hooks and stuffed them under a stack of towels in the laundry basket. That would buy her a few minutes to figure out what to do. It was too soon to leave Caleb on his own. He needed her, needed her reassurance, if not her care and nursing.

  Maybe she could use a little church. God might be the only one who could intervene in the chaos, but would He?

  It only took a moment after Caroline returned for her to notice the missing keys. “I don’t get it. I always have them attached to my purse.” She picked it up, looked underneath, then searched the massive interior.

  Addison’s children entered the room in a silence they’d never been able to manage before. They went to the door with barely a wave to their father.

  Guilt twisted Addison’s gut. Who was she supposed to be caring for, her children or her husband? They were all walking around as if one wrong move would bring down the house.

  Caroline threw open drawer after drawer, tossing kitchen items onto the counter. “This is impossible. Did one of you kids mess with my keys?”

  Hannah put her arm across Lilly’s shoulders and pulled her close. For months now, Addison had been struggling with the growing sibling tension between her girls. She’d even prayed that it would resolve quickly. This was not the way she’d desired to see that prayer answered.

  “Miss Brianne next door said she goes to Grandma’s church.” Lilly’s eyes were wide, hopeful.

  The mental list Addison kept of whom she owed grew another foot under Brianne’s name. “I’ll call and see if you all can get a ride.” Addison turned to dial Brianne’s number.

  13

  Brianne’s phone buzzed, waking her from deep sleep. Her eyes fought for more, refusing to focus without a fight. All around her, files and papers were spread across the living room floor. Her neck had the beginnings of a decent kink from the way she’d twisted to fit on the couch.

  Chester yawned, lifting his head from the stack of papers he’d been using as a pillow.

  The phone stopped, but within a minute, its vibrations hummed through the room again.

  Blinking the blur of sleep away, Brianne forced herself to search for the device, finding it wedged between the cushions. She swiped the screen and answered without checking to see who was calling. “Hello?”

  “Thank goodness. I thought maybe you’d already left.”

  “Left?” She ran her hand across her face. Sun filtered through the front window, casting shadows of dancing leaves onto the hardwood floor littered with records of a throwaway career.

  “To church. I’m sorry. I assumed you were going.”

  “Church. Yes. I’m going.” She pulled the cell from her face and checked the time. She’d need to leave in twenty minutes to be there on time. Maybe missing this week wasn’t a bad plan.

  “Good. Would you be able to take Caroline and the kids with you?” A door squeaked in the background. “I don’t want Caroline to drive the kids.” Addison’s voice had dropped to a near whisper. “I’ve hidden all of our keys.”

  “Okay.” Brianne tapped her palm against her cheek. “Yes. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you.” There was a weighted pause before Addison spoke again. “I really appreciate you, Brianne. I don’t know how I would have managed any of this without you.”

  The emotion behind Addison’s words was enough to make Brianne fully awake. “I’m really glad to help.” Months of living alone with only her dog and her artwork as companions had left Brianne balancing on the ledge over depression. She should have seen it sneaking up, but there was a reason that therapists saw other therapists. The brain could easily play tricks on itself.

  She pressed the end button and padded barefoot to the bathroom. The sight in the mirror above the sink reflected an image that would require a shower to correct, but there wasn’t enough time to manage that. It wasn’t like she was going to find the man of her dreams at church. Most of the other members were married or fifty years older than Brianne, and there was basically no one in town who didn’t remember the time she threw up while marching in the Fall Festival parade.

  As a quick alternative, she ran cold water over her hands, then slid them across her flyaway hair. She worked a brush through the mess and tied it up in a ponytail. Another cold splash of water, a little moisturizer and mascara, and the result was passable. She hurried off to find clothes and shoes.

  Halfway down the Kilbourns’ driveway, she spotted Caroline, all three kids alongside her, waving a large purse in the air as if Brianne were a taxi she was hailing. Brianne shivered in the already warm car. The last week had rapidly tugged her from the cocoon of her own making. She was a butterfly with wet wings struggling to unfold in the hot sun of expectations and the needs of others.

  As she pulled up to the porch, Brianne evaluated the size of the group in relation to the size of her late-model Corolla. It would be a tight fit.

  Lilly dragged a booster seat behind her, the pink-covered hunk of plastic thunking against the steps, then scratching through the gravel to the back of the car.

  “Can I help you with that?” Brianne pulled open the door.

  “No, ma’am.” She stretched her tiny body. “I’m a big girl.”

  Brianne held back a laugh but allowed the smile. Could there be anything more precious than this child? At the thought, memories of Amanda swooped in. While not untouched by the world, she had been this precious too when Brianne first met her. Brianne’s smile grew heavy. What role had she played in allowing further darkness into Amanda’s life?

  “Let’s get this buggy on the road.” Caroline climbed into the front passenger seat.

  “Wait.” Addison rushed down the steps and took hold of Brianne’s arm, her fingers cold against warm skin. “Thank you. I really don’t know what I’d do without you. I feel so horrible dragging you into this.” She pressed her lips into a line. “I’ll make this up to you. I promise.”

  Brianne covered Addison’s hand with her own. “You have no idea how much I needed to help.” Until she shared these words, Brianne hadn’t known how true they were. Being needed had Brianne feeling more alive than she had in months. To live sometimes meant having to feel pain. The loss of Amanda hurt maybe even more now than in the beginning. But finally she was able to experience and understand the grief. Before, it had been a black cloud pressing down on her. Now there was meaning to the regret, the questions, the sadness.

  The three-mile drive to church spurred flashbacks to childhood car trips with her brother. Connor could not keep his hands to himself, using them instead to irritate Hannah and Lilly at every opportunity. Lilly countered his attack with a blow of her own. Her weapon of choice was an earsplitting rendition of “Let It Go.” Caroline joined right in with her warbling falsetto.

  But Hannah was the one who had Brianne concerned. Adjusting the rearview mirror, Brianne glanced at the teen. She sat slumped against the door, her gaze distant as her forehead rested on the window.

  There was something going on inside that girl.

  They were a few minutes late, but the parking lot still had plenty of spaces. Caroline was out and slamming her door before Brianne turned the key in the ignition.

  “Let’s get a move on,” Caroline said. Her voice carried like a foghorn. There was an edge to it that Brianne had never noticed before, maybe from the stress of Caleb’s injuries. And then there was her other son. Wyatt was some kind of musician, and from what Brianne knew, he hadn’t been home
since Mr. Kilbourn’s funeral. If her brother’s stories held any truth, Wyatt had been a wild one from the beginning.

  Lilly slipped her hand into Brianne’s. “I wish my mom and dad were here.”

  Brianne smiled down at her. “Your dad will be back on his feet in a few weeks. Then you can go to church as a family.”

  “And you.”

  “Me?”

  “You can come with us and be part of our family.” The little girl reached down to pull a pebble from her sandal. “You don’t have a family.”

  “My family lives in Arizona.”

  “That doesn’t count.” Lilly straightened and tugged Brianne forward.

  It did count, didn’t it? Lilly’s words gave Brianne’s life a lonely hue she wasn’t comfortable with. Is that how they all saw her? Did people think of her as alone and pathetic? Brianne’s stomach cramped. How had she let herself slip so far into isolation? She, of all people, should have known better.

  The swirl of color near the entry chilled her. In the time since leaving her job, she’d missed more and more services, something she’d rarely done before Amanda’s death. Church used to give her peace. It reminded her that her work and her life were for a purpose much higher than any reward she would see in this life. But she’d walked away from the tasks she’d once felt had been designed for her by God himself. And honestly, how could she face God now, when she’d failed so terribly?

  Jeff Delmar, one of the church elders, held the door open, shaking hands with each person who entered the foyer. He held out a hand to Caroline. “Good morning. I hear lots of talk about that boy of yours being back home. Tell him to make time for an old friend, will you?”

  “Of course, Jeffrey. How’s your mother?”

  His face grew grim. “It’s hard, but she’s a trooper. If you could spare the time, she’d love a visit. The pain is keeping her from leaving the house. Pastor comes by each week and gives her the Cliffs Notes version of his sermon. It’s the highlight of her week.”