by Naomi Niles
I reached out and took both her hands in my own. I remembered the days when Mrs. Thomas had been a second mother to me. There were times when I had been more comfortable talking to her than I felt with my own mother. She had the kind of calming presence that invited you to spill your confidences.
“If there’s anything at all I can do for you,” I said. “Please let me know.”
“Tyler told me that you’re going to be playing the piano at the funeral,” Mrs. Thomas replied. “I really appreciate you agreeing to do that.”
“I only wish I was better,” I said. “So that I can do justice to Mr. Thomas.”
“Oh don’t worry about that dear,” Mrs. Thomas replied squeezing my hand. “It’ll be enough for him that you’re playing at all. He was always so fond of you.”
I felt a stab of sadness in my chest and I had to turn my face down to compose myself. I didn’t want to cry in front of Mrs. Thomas; I felt as though the person most affected should be the one to break down and everyone else needed to be strong for her.
“Come and sit beside me, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Thomas sat, patting the seat next to her.
I sat down and wrapped my arm around her. I could tell instantly that she had lost weight, probably in the last few days alone. She had aged considerably since I’d last met her and I wondered if that had occurred over time or if it was a result of her husband’s sudden death.
“How have you been, Elizabeth?”
“Oh, we don’t have to talk about me, Mrs. Thomas,” I said, wondering if that would be insensitive.
“Please,” she said. “I’d rather talk about you than me at this moment.”
I nodded in understanding. “I’m fine,” I replied. “I have two jobs and they keep me busy.”
“I hope you have time left over to enjoy your life,” she said. “It has a habit of going by faster than you imagine.”
“I … well … I try,” I said, but I sounded unconvincing even to myself. “I went through a divorce a year ago.”
“I heard,” Mrs. Thomas replied softly. “I wanted to reach out to you at the time, but I didn’t think it was my place.”
I remembered a time when I was twelve and Dylan had just turned thirteen. We had been bored in the house and we had snooped around until we’d found Dylan’s mothers sewing kit. Dylan dared me to thread a needle and stitch a pattern onto my palm. I challenged him to the same dare and we got out two needles, threaded them, and got to work on our palms. The top layer of skin was course and hard and we could stitch through it without a problem.
I was close to finishing when Mrs. Thomas found out and made us stop. Then she sat us and down and gave us a lecture about doing silly things. “If you keep doing that, you’ll damage your skin,” she had said sternly. “It might not affect you now, but it will affect you later.”
“You can’t tell Lizzie what to do,” Dylan had pointed out. “It’s not your place.”
She had fixed Dylan with a steely glare. “Elizabeth is your friend and I care about her, which gives me every right to advise her.”
Dylan had been annoyed with his mother but I had been far from it. It was nice to have someone looking out for you. It was nice to know that someone cared about you and wanted you to be ok. I had taken it for granted at the time that things would always be like that.
The door opened and Mrs. Thomas looked up searchingly, as though she were expecting someone. She noticed my curiosity. “Tyler left a few hours ago to collect Dylan from the airport,” she told me. “They should be here any moment now.”
I felt my insides grow cold as I realized I would be seeing Dylan soon, very soon. I gulped down my nerves and tried to maintain a calm demeanor. “Would you like something to eat, Mrs. Thomas?” I asked. “Or something to drink at least?”
“Nothing dear, thank you,” Mrs. Thomas replied in a voice that was weak with grief. As other people came to pay their condolences, I moved back into the next room where Maddie was.
“How is she? Maddie asked.
“She’s doing as well as can be expected,” I replied.
There was something of a commotion at the entrance in the next room. “What’s that?” Maddie wondered out loud, craning her head to see a little better.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged.
Two older gentlemen passed by us and I recognized them as Dylan and Tyler’s uncles. “Looks like the boys are finally here,” one said to the other as they moved passed us.
As I turned to Maddie, I realized she was already looking right at me. “You ok?” she mouthed.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I replied.
Chapter Nine
Dylan
There was a line of cars that paraded down the driveway and I was immediately overwhelmed. “Whoa,” I said. “The whole town’s here.”
“What did you expect?”
“An emptier house,” I replied. “I was hoping for some time alone with mom.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” Tyler said. “I think it’s good that mom’s surrounded by people at the moment. It gives her less time to be miserable.”
“I think she’s going to be miserable whether there’s people around or not.”
“Still, it’ll give her some amount of distraction.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed with Tyler. I wondered if he preferred other people being around because that meant he wasn’t solely responsible for comforting mom. A part of me didn’t blame him; being around that kind of grief was draining, especially when you had your own to deal with.
We got out of the car and moved towards the house. Apart from the crowd of people and the vehicles parked outside, it looked the same. It looked like my childhood, painted in the fading light of day. I wanted to take a moment and just stand there and remember, but now was not the time. Tyler went in first and I followed after him. Immediately there were cries from relatives, friends, and neighbors who I hadn’t seen in years.
I hugged some, I shook hands with others, I accepted their condolences, and I thanked them all for their love and support. Then I excused myself and asked where my mother was.
“She just went upstairs dear,” Aunt Brenda said.
Thankful that the exchange with my mother wouldn’t be a public one, I headed upstairs. She answered the door faster than I expected and stood there staring at me without a word. “Mom,” I said. “I’m home.”
Her face broke out into a sad smile and she leaned in and grabbed me. We stood there hugging for a long time and I was immediately comforted by the smell of her. It transported me back twenty years in the past when I was still a young boy and my only definition of safety was tied to my parents. Now that dad was gone, mom was the only thing I had left.
She pulled back after a while and cupped my face with both her hands. “You look like a man,” she said.
“And I didn’t before?” I asked lightly.
She smiled. “I don’t know,” she replied. “There’s something different about you this time.”
I didn’t ask her to explain that. I just let her look at me and I felt the regret wash over me as I realized how much time I had missed with both my parents. I didn’t say anything but Mom looked different to me as well. She looked smaller and older which alarmed me only because she was still a young woman. She shouldn’t have looked so defeated.
“I wish I had been here, ma,” I said sincerely. “So that you wouldn’t have had to go through … everything alone.”
“You have an important job, darling,” mom replied with understanding. “And anyway, Tyler was with me. Your brother has been so amazing through all of this. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”
“Good old Tyler to the rescue, huh?” I said, surprised at the little edge of bitterness in my tone. “It’s good that he was the one who was here,” I continued trying to make up for it. “He was always the more responsible one.”
“You both are,” mom said diplomatically. “In different ways.”
I
t was just like mom to want to make us both feel like we were equally important and equally capable. I leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “I’d like to stay up here for the rest of the night, but I don’t think we’d get away with it.”
“I think you’re right,” mom replied with a small smile. “Why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll be down in a bit?"
I nodded, understanding that she needed a little time to herself before she re-joined the crowd. I grabbed her hand and gave it a small squeeze. “I love you, mom,” I said trying to keep my voice from shaking.
“I know that son,” she replied, as tears formed in her eyes. “I love you too.”
I left her in the room and made my way downstairs. I spotted Tyler out in the back on the patio and he seemed to be deep in conversation with someone. I made my way towards him and walked out onto the patio. The moment I turned I realized whom he was talking. My heart skipped a beat as I looked at Lizzie Miller for the first time in eleven years.
“Lizzie,” I said, her name escaping my tongue without my permission.
“Hello, Dylan,” she said, her voice was soft.
There were things about her that were comfortingly unchanged. The vibrant brightness of her deep-red hair, the startling blue of her eyes, the electric brightness of her smile, and the sprinkling of freckles along the bridge of her nose. And yet, there were just as many things that had changed. She was no longer a girl; she had blossomed into a woman. She was fuller than she had been in high school; her breasts and hips had rounded out a little, giving her body some serious curves.
There was something irresistibly seductive about her and I could barely take my eyes off her. She didn’t have on any makeup, giving her soft features a youthful glow that made her seem years younger. She had kept her hair long even after all these years and I was thankful. I had always loved her hair; it was like a waterfall made of fire.
“How have you been, Dylan?” Maddie said coming forward and giving me a hug.
“Doing ok, Maddie,” I replied distractedly, as my eyes kept flitting to Lizzie.
Only when she spoke did I realize that she and Tyler were there as well. I had completely forgotten about their existence the moment I had laid eyes on Lizzie. She came forward after Maddie and I took a step toward her. We hugged but I could sense how rigid her body was against mine. I remembered a time when she had fit perfectly into me, as though we were made for each other. Now I could sense something between us, blocking the comfort and the passion that had once stood there.
The embrace was all too short, as she pulled away sooner than I had expected. I had no choice but to drop my hold on her and watch as she backed away.
“It’s been awhile,” I said.
“Too long,” Maddie nodded. “We were just reminiscing about your fifteenth birthday actually. Remember your parents hired dirt bikes and Tyler crashed one into your dad’s car?”
“I remember,” I smiled trying to resist the urge to glance at Lizzie. I noticed she was being extremely quiet.
Aunt Brenda interrupted the conversation. “Tyler, dear,” she called. “We need your help with something.”
Tyler nodded and followed her back into the house, leaving the rest of us standing there. Maddie looked between Lizzie and I for a moment. “I think I’ll go see if Tyler needs some help,” she said smoothly and disappeared into the house leaving Lizzie and I alone.
I could feel eleven years of distance stand between us, but I pushed aside the awkwardness and looked out towards the lake. “Let’s go down to the water,” I said, praying she wouldn’t make an excuse and turn me down.
“Ok,” she said simply and we started walking down towards the lake.
We picked the spot that was shaded by large trees and sat down by the edge so that we could dip our legs into the water. This was what we did as kids on cool afternoon days armed with juice bars and silly conversation.
“How are you doing?” Lizzie asked.
I looked out at the calming expanse of water. “I think I’m still coming to terms with it,” I answered honestly. “I can’t quite believe he’s gone.”
“Me neither,” Lizzie replied. “So I can’t imagine how it must be for you and Tyler.”
“I wish I’d had more time with dad,” I admitted. “I feel like we never spent as much time together as we should have.”
“Don’t do that to yourself, Dylan,” Lizzie said softly. “Just appreciate the time you did have together.”
I fell silent, reflecting on how much better I felt in Lizzie’s presence. I realized it had always been that way between us. Whenever I felt angry or frustrated I would go to Lizzie and vent. She would sit and listen to me, sometimes she would speak and other times she simply held my hand, it didn’t matter what she did, I would invariably feel better. She had always been able to calm me down.
“How have you been, Lizzie?” I asked.
“I’ve been fine,” she said vaguely.
“No really,” I said stressing the point. “I want to know how you’re life’s been.”
“I’m divorced,” she said after a moment of hesitation.
“I heard,” I admitted. “Paul Kapke huh?”
“Yes.”
“How did that happen?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
“I was young and he was charming … at the time at least,” she replied. “It’s behind me now.”
There was a note of bitter sadness in her tone and I knew it was painful for her to think about her failed marriage, but a selfish part of me couldn’t help but be happy about it. I hated that she was hurting and I hated what she had been through, I was just glad that there was no other guy standing in my way.
“You’re still as beautiful as ever, Lizzie,” I said sincerely.
She looked embarrassed by the compliment. “How long will you be in town for?” she asked.
“I mean it,” I said deftly ignoring her attempt to change the subject. “You were always the most beautiful girl in the room to me.”
Her eyes went dull with sadness. “Didn’t stop you from leaving though did it?”
I was taken back by her response. There was no anger or accusation in her tone, she stated it simply, as though it were the unequivocal truth. “When I think back now, I really don’t know why I left in the first place,” I admitted. “I don’t know what motivated me to leave town.”
She smiled and shrugged. “You don’t have to explain, Dylan. It was a long time ago. You moved on and so did I.”
The way she said it made it seem like we were done with each other, but looking at her now, I knew I wasn’t done. It was easy to forget when you were on the other side of the world, training six hours a day and trying to figure out the best way to stay alive. But sitting there, under the shade, in front of the lake, and opposite Lizzie, it was impossible to think that the passion and tenderness we had shared all those years ago was behind us.
“Maybe once the funeral’s over and things have settled … maybe we could do something fun,” I suggested terrified that she would turn me down. “We could go bowling or something?”
She regarded me with those brilliant, blue eyes and just when I thought she was on the cusp of turning me down, she nodded. “Ok,” was all she said, leaving me to wonder if she was actually enthusiastic about the plan or if she had simply accepted me out of pity for my loss.
We sat there, falling into a comfortable silence. I kept stealing glances at her, drinking her in as though she were the sun and I was a blind man who had just been given back his sight. She burned so brightly that I couldn’t for the life of me understand what had happened between us all those years ago.
Chapter Ten
Elizabeth
I was impressed by how well planned the funeral was, especially considering that Tyler had been the one responsible for everything. The wreaths he had chosen were simple and pretty, they suited the old-fashioned rustic feel of the church.
I walked down the aisle towards the pulpit, feeling sa
dness at my heels. I was staring at the coffin when my mother up behind me. “Elizabeth, honey,” she whispered as she wrapped a hand around my waist. “You’re here early.”
“I’m playing the piano today,” I admitted.
The nerves were starting to get to me. I would have loved the chance to practice a little more first, but I didn’t own a piano. I had gone to the resident music store in town and Gary, the sales clerk, had been nice enough to let me stretch my muscles a bit. Still, I felt as though I knew enough not to make a fool of myself but not nearly enough to give Mr. Thomas a great send off.
“That’s wonderful,” mom replied. “I didn’t know you were playing again?”
I turned to my mother. She was a small lady with dark-brown hair that she had been dyeing since her forties. We didn’t look much alike, and in my teens that had bothered me. Within a year of my parent’s divorce, my father already had a new family and it felt as though there was no room for me in his life anymore. I figured if my father wasn’t interested in me anymore, then I wanted no part of him, including his looks. After mom had gotten wind of this, she sat me down and looked me in the eye.
“Forget your looks,” she had told me. “I’d rather you have my character than my features anyway.” And after that, it hadn’t bothered me anymore.
“Tyler asked me,” I told my mother. “And I couldn’t say no.”
“That’s good,” she replied. “That’s right. The Thomas’s were always so fond of you; I’m sure Derek would have loved that you’re playing today.”
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” I said. “It doesn’t feel real.”
“Death often feels like that,” mom replied. “It only becomes real once the person has been buried and the mourners have cleared away. When it’s just you and your empty house … that’s when it becomes real.”
“I can’t imagine how Mrs. Thomas is going to get through this.”
“She has her children,” mom said simply. “That’s enough for any mother.” I leaned against my mother, taking comfort in the familiar lines of her body. “I heard Dylan was in town,” she said after a moment.
