by Leah Atwood
“I don’t know. The last time I saw them was when she transferred them all to DVD.”
“You’re right. They’re probably downstairs then.”
He’d given her the perfect excuse to get out of the attic, but after hearing the discouragement in his voice, she couldn’t leave him. “Let’s gather the photo albums and boxes of loose pictures, then we’ll look for the movies.”
“Thanks.” He bent over again and rummaged through a red plastic tote.
The lost look on his face twisted her heart. He’d always been her cornerstone. No matter what happened in life, he stood by her side in staunch support. To see him defeated ate at her core. Would he recover from Mama’s death?
She prayed she’d never know the pain of losing a spouse. Divorce was hard enough, but Wyatt hadn’t died. They’d mutually decided to go their separate ways.
Mama’s death, followed shortly after by Wyatt’s return had launched a soul inspection. Guilt nipped at her for asking Wyatt for a divorce. Truth be told, she’d regretted it as soon as she’d asked, but there had been no turning back if she’d wanted to preserve her pride. But that didn’t matter now. What did matter, was that’s she’d discarded the gift of a spouse for no real reason other than she’d been too arrogant to work through issues.
Wyatt hadn’t cheated on her. He hadn’t abused her. He hadn’t even treated her poorly.
At the time, she’d felt suffocated, believed he held her back. In her fear, she’d abandoned their marriage. She’d been wrong—she knew that—and now, after seven lonely years, she finally had Wyatt back in her life, if only as a friend.
It wasn’t fair. Why did God allow Mama to die? Why couldn’t she have lived to celebrate their fiftieth anniversary? They only hit thirty. They deserved so much more.
Her mom and dad were the two best people she knew. They strove to live a Christ-filled life, respected and loved each other, and portrayed a great example of marriage. Oh, she knew they had arguments at times, but they kept them private. They taught their daughters about compromise and listening and keeping God at the center of a relationship.
If she’d done that, would her marriage to Wyatt have survived?
The warm, stale air in the attic smothered her—or was it her thoughts?
She stepped around a wobbly end table to reach a three-tiered white plastic shelf. The sooner they found the pictures, the sooner she could leave the attic. Six cardboard storage boxes rested on the shelves. Starting at the top, she lifted the lid off the first one. Old bank statements, yellowed with age. In the second, a collection of cheap plastic cups from fairs, restaurants, and several other places.
“Hey, Dad. Any idea why we saved all these?” She held up one with a cartoon buffalo on it that she or Kelly had gotten at a roadside diner on a trip to Montana when they were younger.
“I have no idea.” Dad’s chuckle rang like music in her ears. “The more boxes I come across, the more I’m convinced I need to clean out this place.”
The next had wine corks. Her parents didn’t drink, but Mama went through a phase where she made crafts from corks. She assumed that’s where they had come from. “Let’s make that our summer project. We’ll do it together.”
“Okay.” Dad didn’t sound convinced.
She didn’t ask again, sensing he didn’t want to think about parting with any of his beloved wife’s belongings. Suited her just fine—less time in the attic, though something had to be done about the level of stuff up there.
She made it to the bottom shelf. Success. “I found the pictures.”
Lifting one, she stared at her younger self, happy-go-lucky with blonde hair pulled into pigtails. She wore blue corduroy overalls and a pink shirt underneath. Her hair had since darkened, and she’d grown several feet, but it was unmistakably her.
Dad came over and stood beside her. “Do you remember that day?”
“No, but I remember the outfit. Mom finally said I couldn’t wear it anymore when the pant legs were two inches too short.”
“That’s the day I took you fishing for the first time.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t remember you ever taking me fishing.”
“That’s because it was the first and last time.” Dad smiled. A small grin, but it was there nonetheless. “You caught a perch then started crying because of the hook in its mouth. You were traumatized and refused to go again.”
“I vaguely remember now.” A self-deprecating laugh tipped out of her. “Didn’t I think I’d go to jail for murdering a fish?”
“Yes, you did, and you cried the entire way home.”
No wonder to this day she had no interest in fishing. “At least I didn’t believe in the bogeyman like Kelly.”
“I was glad when that phase was over.” Dad sighed and absently sifted through the photos. “She was so scared, she convinced you to sleep on the bottom bunk so he’d get to you first. That’s how I knew the fear was real.”
“Did I hear my name?” Kelly called from the bottom of the attic stairs.
“Yes, you did.” After setting down the pictures in his hand, Dad stood and went to the attic door. “We’ll be right down unless you want to come up.”
“Um, I think I’ll pass. What can I do?”
Meg placed the lid on the box and carried it to her dad. “Do you know where the albums are?”
“They were in a flower colored box,” Kelly answered from below.
“Thanks.” She shifted the box and balanced it on her hip.
Dad tapped her shoulder. “That narrows down my search. I’ll finish up here and meet you girls downstairs.”
“No argument from me.” She climbed down the steps and handed the box to her sister.
Kelly accepted the box and peeked inside. “We’re including more recent ones, too, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but those are in the albums kept downstairs.” She swept a hair from her face and coughed to clear the dust from her lungs. “Is Kyle here?”
“He’s waiting in the living room.”
“Wyatt should be here soon.”
“You invited him?” Kelly winked. “I’m assuming last night went well?”
“It did.”
“How is he?”
She paused at the steps. “He’s Wyatt, but he’s different. A haunted look kept creeping into his eyes, but he wouldn’t talk about it.”
“My advice, don’t push him.” Kelly looked her in the eyes. “From what I’ve heard, he experienced a living nightmare. I can’t imagine it’s easy to talk about.”
“I know, and I don’t expect him to open up at the click of my fingers.” She started down the staircase. “But in all the years I knew him, I never once saw him like that. I hurt for him.”
“People grow up and change. You have, too.”
“There’s a difference.” Tears pushed to her eyes from a broken heart. “It’s like he’s undone.”
“Give him time, and pray.”
“When did you get so smart? I’m supposed to be the older, wiser sister.”
Kelly laughed. “You are, Meg. You just don’t see it in yourself.”
“Whatever.” She played off the compliment with a good-natured roll of the eyes and smile. She’d made too many mistakes in her early adulthood. Kelly hadn’t made any.
“Don’t undermine your own maturity.” Lifting the box slightly, Kelly nodded in the direction of the living room. “I’ll start spreading these out on the coffee table.”
“I’ll meet you in there after I get a drink. Want anything?”
“Thanks, but Kyle and I grabbed something on the way.”
She’d forgotten her future brother-in-law was there. Before she made it to the kitchen, the doorbell rang.
Please let it be Wyatt and not another well-intentioned person bringing a casserole. She appreciated the community’s outreach. Truly, she did. However, the freezer at her parents’ house was already full, and as it was, she’d had to take a few dishes to her home. Fortunately, she lo
ved lasagna since there was easily a two-month supply of it between her fridge and dad’s. If more came, she’d call the homeless shelter and see if they’d accept it—she’d hate for anyone’s work on a meal to go to waste.
Kelly beat her to the door, the box still in her arms.
Meg cut her off from struggling to answer the door. “I’ll get it.”
To her annoyance, Kelly stepped back but didn’t leave the foyer. “Miss Nosy,” she muttered under her breath.
Unfazed, Kelly laughed. “Like you have room to talk.”
“Got me there.” Hadn’t she stood on the porch and watched her and Kyle for a few seconds yesterday?
She pushed down on the latch and opened the door. “Hi.”
Wyatt stood with a cup in hand. “I brought you this.”
“A cherry lemonade? From Drink Stop?”
He nodded. “I didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”
“Thanks. You must have read my mind. I was on the way to the kitchen for a drink when you rang the bell.” Her heart skipped a beat that he’d remembered her favorite drink, but was she surprised? She remembered everything about him.
“You’re welcome.”
His hands were empty now that she had the cup. “You didn’t get one for yourself?”
A sheepish grin stretched his lips. “It’s been so long since I had one, I drank it too quick and finished it on the way.”
“I see.” She put the straw to her mouth and drank a long sip. “Can’t say I blame you.”
“I’m sure they’ll get lots more business from me before I leave.”
“They offer a military discount now.”
Surprise flicked over his features. “I’m not in anymore.”
“Oh?”
“I thought you knew, somehow. Thursday was my last day.”
“Oh.” The night she’d called him. And yet, he hadn’t mentioned it last night. Why not? What were his plans now? Kelly’s advice from earlier popped into her head. Don’t push. “Well, come in. We finally found the pictures, but Dad’s still looking for the albums that have the best photos in them.”
“Are you sure Kelly and your dad don’t mind me being here?” He darted a glance around the foyer as if looking for them.
“Not at all. In fact, Kyle is here with Kelly.”
“Kyle Martin?” His brows shot up. “The geeky kid who lived down the street?”
“Shh.” She put a finger to her lips. “He’s right in the other room.”
“Sorry.” He offered an apologetic shrug. “I didn’t mean any offense. Personally, I always liked the kid. Good manners. And he helped Noah with his first college calculus class. It just took me by surprise that he and Kelly are together.”
“Engaged.”
“Wow.” His eyes widened. “I never would have seen that coming, but cool.”
Footsteps pounded on the steps.
Dad appeared at the bottom with several brown photo albums in his hand. “I found them.”
“Great.” She switched her gaze from her dad to Wyatt. “Dad, you remember Wyatt.”
“Welcome home, Son.” Her dad extended a hand to shake. “We all prayed for you during your time of service.”
Wyatt accepted the hand. “Thank you.”
Meg flinched when her dad called Wyatt Son. He reserved that term for any young man he thought highly of, but it stung her heart that it had once meant more than that to both of them.
If Wyatt was affected by the endearment, he didn’t show it. He continued clasping her dad’s hand. “I’m sorry about Mrs. Beth. She was a wonderful lady and will be greatly missed.”
“Thank you.” A forced smile did nothing to hide the pain in Dad’s eyes. “She thought a lot of you. You were the son she never had.”
Letting go of her dad’s hand, Wyatt only nodded.
She suspected son got to him this time.
They walked to the living room. Kelly and Kyle greeted Wyatt, welcomed him.
Dad, Kelly, and Kyle sat on the sofa.
Wyatt sat cross-legged on the floor, parallel to the table.
Meg sat next to him, not solely for the purpose of easy access to the photographs. Breathing in, she caught a whiff of his cologne—a subtle, earthier scent than the musk he’d worn when younger. It suited him.
Several piles of photos lay on the table.
“I started separating them into time periods.” Kelly pointed to the stack on her far left. “These are the pictures I found of her as a child and teen. Grandma dropped several off earlier today.”
Pinpricks stung up and down Meg’s arms. Poor Gigi and Poppa. They had looked worse than Dad at the funeral home yesterday. They had politely declined to join today but had offered to bring their personal photos by.
As much as saying goodbye to her mom hurt, she couldn’t imagine burying a child. She prayed she never found out.
By the time they finished—an hour later—Dad’s eyes were weary. The task had taken an obvious toll on him.
He stood and excused himself. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me. Eat whenever you’re ready—I don’t have much of an appetite lately.”
“Get some rest, Dad.” Meg began returning the unused photos neatly to the box.
Before leaving the room, he shook hands again with Wyatt, then Kyle. “Thank you both for being here for my girls. You’re good men.”
Kelly reached for the stack of pictures they’d decided to display on Monday. “I’ll drop these off at the funeral home on my way home.”
“Thanks, sis. I appreciate that.” She stretched her legs and accepted Wyatt’s help to stand. “Can everyone stay to eat before leaving?”
“I can.” Kelly gave a sideways glance to Kyle. “Can you?”
“Sure. I’d already planned to spend the evening with you.”
They exchanged a lovey-dovey look that had Meg rolling her eyes
Hold it, am I jealous? There’d been a time she and Wyatt had shared little glances like that—she was missing that. Kyle and Kelly were great together, and she was happy for her sister.
Wyatt slipped a hand into his pocket. “If you want me to, I can stay, but I don’t want to cause any extra work for you.”
Sweet Wyatt, always thinking of others.
“You’d be doing me a favor.” She chuckled despite the solemn mood. “There’s so much food in there, I don’t know how it will ever all get eaten.”
“Since you put it that way...” When he smiled, she saw a glimpse of the younger, carefree Wyatt.
She decided there and then to do whatever she could to bring that sparkle back to his eyes for good.
Chapter Seven
He never imagined walking into a church could be so difficult. His tour with Dad yesterday morning had helped break the ice, but today was different. Today he’d have to listen to a sermon. Hear God’s Word read aloud. So he hadn’t even made it out of his car.
A ten-thousand-foot freefall had nothing on the adrenaline pumping through him.
It’s a church service, nothing to be afraid of.
Yeah, right.
How long could he attend before admitting he was angry with God? Once he freely acknowledged his feelings, he’d have to deal with them, and he wasn’t ready.
He wanted to believe that God was good and just, and there was a higher purpose for Mike’s death. But what if there wasn’t? What if he delved into his anger, ready to accept the truths Chaplain Reed had tried telling him, only to discover he didn’t believe?
That would mean Mike had died for no reason. And living with anger was easier than dealing with that possibility.
Did his thoughts even make sense? Some days he wasn’t sure, didn’t even understand his own reasoning.
He was a mess, and church was the last place he belonged, but he felt drawn to attend with family.
Corie tapped on his shoulder from the passenger seat. “Planning on getting out anytime soon?”
“Yes.” He glanced at her and winked. “I was waiting to see
how long it took you to say anything. Your response time was slow at the batting cage yesterday.”
“Whatever. I still hit more balls than you.” She rolled her eyes, an action she’d perfected in her teen years, then her expression turned serious. “You were a million miles away. Are you okay?”
When had she grown up? She deserved to know her brother had issues of his own and wasn’t perfect.
“It’s been over a year since I went to church.” He watched her face for any response.
“Since before the accident?”
“Yeah.”
“When Mom and Dad sat me down and told me you were MIA, I lost it.” Her eyes, bright blue like their mother’s, glistened. “I went to my room and had a shouting match with God. Well, I don’t know if it could be considered a match since I was the only one doing the yelling.”
“What did you tell Him?”
“That I’d never forgive Him if He let my brother die. That everything I knew of Him wasn’t true if you didn’t come home.” She wiped at her eyes. “It wasn’t pretty.”
He handed her a tissue from the console while he absorbed her confession. “What happened after you did that?”
“Nothing. I sat on my bed and cried. Prayed and cried some more.”
Hmm. That sounded familiar. “You prayed after you yelled at him?”
She snorted. “Seems funny, doesn’t it?”
“A little, but I’ve been there.” A line of churchgoers walked into the building, but Wyatt didn’t move to leave his vehicle. “Did you get an answer?”
“Not immediately. Mom and Dad told me all the Christian answers, reminded me of all the verses that should have helped me, but nothing reached me.” She traced the edge of her Bible with a finger. “The Wednesday after we got the news, I sat on my bed brushing my hair before school. I heard a noise outside my window, and after five minutes, I got up to see what it was.”
“The wind?”
“No, a sparrow.” A serene glow settled over her features.
“Okay?”
“Do you remember the verses about God knowing every hair on our head and how we’re more valuable than sparrows?”
“Yes.” He’d heard it many times, struggled lately to believe its truth.
