Unexpected Love Story

by Natasha Madison

  Chapter Three

  Crystal

  I rock her from side to side until Blake approaches us. He picks her up as I peel her off my chest. She doesn’t even stir; he carries her to the dreaded fucking white room. The room of death as we all call it. He places Hailey on a chair as my uncle cradles her in his arms.

  I get up, and Blake pulls me to the side. “What the fuck happened?”

  “It was a head-on collision,” I say with a low voice, hoping no one else hears me. “He was DOA.” I’m about to tell him something else when I hear Hailey’s broken voice.

  “Where is he?” She tries to stand, her legs still weak. My uncle turns to her, trying to talk her out of it, but she snaps.

  “I need to see him.” I know from her tone that it isn’t a request. She’s demanding to see him with her own eyes; she needs to see this isn’t just a dream. She looks up at me, and I know nothing will change her mind. I hold my hand out to her, trying to give her my strength. I try to give her whatever she needs from me in order to get through this.

  “I have to warn you …” I try to find the words to tell her that it isn’t him. He doesn’t even look like himself anymore. I don’t have a chance to tell her anything else because, at that moment, two officers walk into the waiting room. They look around, and once their eyes fall on me, they freeze. One of the officers is Frank Vincent, and we went to high school together. His face says it all as he tries not to make eye contact with Hailey. He comes forward, taking off his hat, carrying a plain brown bag in his hand. It looks like the bags we hand over to the family members when the patient is no longer with us. The only things left of that person is in one fucking bag. I don’t even hear what Frank tells her because my eyes focus on the brown fucking bag.

  She nods at him, while he hands holds the bag while her eyes stay focused on it. I drag her away from everyone, walking us into another room, and close the door behind me. Her eyes never fucking leaving that bag that she holds in her hands.

  “Listen, Hailey. I know you want to see him, I do. I know. But I’m going to be very honest with you. You won’t recognize him.” I stop talking to take a deep breath and push down my sorrow and sadness. “I promise you that if I thought seeing him would help you, I would bring you to him right now, but it’s not Eric. It’s not your husband.” I can’t stop the tears that slip out. I can’t stop the look of pain she gives me, either. Tortured. Broken. Empty.

  “This is a dream, right?” Tears fall down her face again, making new tracks. “This isn’t happening to me. It’s not him, right? It’s just a terrible misunderstanding. That’s the only way any of this would make any sense.” She almost begs me to tell her it isn’t him. And at that moment, I want to. I want to go back there and pound on his chest until his heart starts beating again. At that moment, I know miracles don’t fucking happen.

  “I’m so sorry, honey. It’s him. I wish I could take your pain away. I would do anything to take it away.” I walk to her and wrap my arms around her. My hand meets her cold body; it’s almost as if she is standing in the middle of a snowstorm without a jacket. Her sobs start quietly, but before long, the wails fill the room. And as she slowly goes limp in my arms, I hold her body as much as I can till we are both on the floor, her body lying in my lap, as I take in her closed eyes.

  “Blake!” I scream. The door is opened, and he rushes in. “Get Dawn.” He turns to run away as I lift her arm, taking her pulse. It’s elevated, but I wouldn’t expect anything less.

  Dawn rushes in the room with Dr. Arnold right behind her. “I think she fainted, I caught her before she hit her head,”

  I tell them as Dr. Arnold takes her vitals and checks her.

  “She’s in shock. What do you want to do?” He looks at me. “We can keep her here, or you can take her home.”

  “Home,” Blake and I both say. “The last thing she needs is to be in a room two feet away from her dead husband,” I whisper to him, and he nods his head.

  Blake walks over and picks her up in his arms for the second time today. “Help me put her in my truck,” he tells me as my uncle holds up my aunt, who is quietly sobbing in his arms. I follow Blake out to his truck, opening the door so he can place Hailey in the seat. The brown fucking bag clutched in her hands so tightly, her fingertips are white. Nothing will take that bag away from her. Nothing will let her drop it.

  ***

  The sun heats my face as I stand here watching him buckle her in. After closing the door, he says, “Get in.” I just nod at him, open the back door, climb in, and fasten my seat belt. As I look out the window, I grab my phone that I had in the back of my scrub pants and text Dawn. It’s the only thing I took when I walked out with Hailey.

  I’m on my way to Hailey’s.

  She texts me back right away.

  We got you covered. Don’t worry about us. Let me know if you need anything.

  I smile and put my phone away. I need fucking tequila or whiskey. We pull up to Hailey’s house before I even have a chance to decide. I jump out of the truck, opening the passenger door to unbuckle her, and help her get out.

  I follow Blake and Hailey as they walk up the step to her house, their house. The house where Eric and Hailey lived.

  I walk in and take in the house. You know right away Eric is home. As an aircraft engineer, he was always on the road, but when he was home, his things were all over the house. A tossed sweater here; an empty mug by the couch. And now is no different. His sweater is tossed over the couch. Hailey walks over to the mug left beside the couch and picks it up.

  “He just got home last night,” she whispers at us, looking up. “Maybe if he didn’t come back, he would still be here. Maybe,” she trails off in a whisper. I look at Blake, telling him silently to get rid of anything that shouldn’t be out of place. He knows what I mean by just a look, walking to the kitchen, and I turn to walk toward Hailey.

  “Why don’t I take you upstairs and you can lie down for a bit?” l ask. She sets the mug and brown paper bag down, walking toward the stairs.

  “Don’t touch his things,” she tells me, looking over her shoulder. I follow her as she walks in their bedroom. The bed still fucking unmade. His work pants over a chair in the corner. His work boots right next to them. Exactly where he took them off. His bathrobe is lying across the end of the bed. She walks over to it, picking it up and wrapping it around her. She falls onto the bed and curls herself into the fetal position. Blocking herself from the hurt, she’s preventing anything else from getting in.

  I watch her from the doorway till her breathing evens out. When I hear the front door open, I turn to walk down the steps and come face to face with my aunt Joanne. Her eyes red still.

  “Where is she?” she asks, taking off her jacket and tossing it on the couch right next to Eric’s sweater.

  “She is sleeping or resting,” I answer her quietly. “I don’t even know anymore.” I walk into the kitchen and head to the cabinet that holds the whiskey. I take out the bottle and set it on the counter. My aunt places the brown fucking bag on the counter next to the bottle, putting the mug in the sink.

  I reach out to grab a glass to pour a shot in. I shoot it back, the burn going from my lips, all the way down my throat, and hitting my stomach. It warms right through me. I look back to see Blake leaning against the counter. “You want one?” I ask. He just nods, so I pour him the same amount in the same glass and hand it to him. He tosses it back without wincing like I did.

  “How the fuck did this happen?” I ask the room, and no one answers me. No one even looks up. I pour another shot and immediately down it. This time with less burn. “I’m going to go lie with her in case she wakes up in a panic.”

  Blake nods, so I walk out of the room and make my way upstairs. She hasn’t moved since I left; her breathing is still the same except you can hear little hiccupping sobs between breaths. I can only imagine her dreams.

  I lie next to her, my eyes finding the window as I watch the sky turn from blue to black. I k
now right away when she is awake; her breathing isn’t the same, it’s not smooth. She’s taking deep, deep breaths now.

  “Is it real?” she asks, knowing I would be here, knowing that she would be here for me. She doesn’t wait for me to answer.

  “My chest hurts. My heart hurts,” she whispers the last part, and I turn to put my arms around her as tears stream down both of our faces. “Did he suffer?”

  It’s a question that everyone asks. “No,” I answer as my voice cracks and a sob tries to come out. “He was already gone when they brought him in.”

  “Do you think he knew today was going to be his last day?” Her questions gut me; questions I have no answers for. That no one can answer. “Do you think he knew? What am I supposed to do now?” She turns and looks at me. She searches my eyes for the answers, but I don’t have them. Her eyes close again as if she is chasing the good dreams.

  “Do you want something to eat?” I ask her, knowing full well she isn’t going to eat anything. Her hand goes to her chest, and she tries to rub away the pain. “You need to at least drink something.” I get up off the bed and look over at her, giving her a moment to … I don’t even know what; there is nothing for her to wrap her mind around. Her husband is dead; half her soul is gone. I walk downstairs; looking in the kitchen, I find Blake is now sitting at the kitchen table with my aunt. “She’s up,” I tell them both as I look over at the empty whiskey bottle. “You couldn’t even save me a shot?” I look over at Blake, recognizing the emptiness in his eyes.

  “I should make her something to eat,” my aunt Joanne says, and I scoff. “She needs to eat even if it’s just a bite.” She gets up, going to the fridge.

  I nod, opening the cupboard to grab a glass to pour water into and then walk over to the coffeemaker and pour a cup of coffee.

  “I’m going to go get her,” I tell them, walking back upstairs with the coffee and water. I’ve given her enough time by herself. “Your mom wants to make you something to eat even if it’s just toast.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She turns, burying her face in Eric’s pillow. “He’s really gone?”

  Wiping away a tear falling down my face, I walk to her and sit down on the side of the bed. “We will get through this. I promise you.” I wish I had more conviction. I wish I believed the words myself. I wish I knew how.

  “I don’t think I will ever get over this.” She closes her eyes again, getting lost in her memories. Getting lost in the happy dreams, instead of staying here in the darkness, where there are no answers and where there is nothing but pain.

  Chapter Four

  Gabe

  “I can’t believe that in forty-five minutes, you’re going to be a married man,” my cousin Walker says from beside me on the couch. I look up at him, taking in our tuxes.

  “I can’t fucking wait,” I tell him while my other cousin Brody comes into the room. “I will also say I’m never planning another fucking wedding again in my life.” I bring the glass of scotch to my lips.

  Ever since I proposed to Bethany, my life has been turned upside down. Bethany and I met when we were both in college. My father and I run the best medical clinic in five counties. My father was old school, but when I came in, I brought new technology with me. In the five years I’ve been with him, we have grown tenfold. Out are the old machines, and in are the state-of-the-art machines. It was a gamble we decided to take, and it’s paid off so much. We are even looking at expanding and adding a pediatric wing.

  I fell in love with her the minute I saw her, her blond hair perfect, her body even better. She was a debutant, a true Southern woman. I asked her out after a month, and we have been together ever since.

  Standing in the middle of the vacant lot I just bought for us to build our dream home on, I proposed. I got down on one knee and promised her the moon and stars. She accepted and then my life went into overload. Between work and the planning of this circus that is now my wedding.

  I didn’t give a shit where we did it or who was there, but her parents took over, and it rose to five hundred invites. In the meantime, she was building us a castle. Or at least that was what I thought. Every suggestion I had was thrown out the window, but I didn’t give a shit. I just wanted her to be happy.

  “Jesus, I don’t think I’ve seen that many people in my life.” Brody walks in, pulling the collar of his tux away from his neck. “This fucking monkey suit is strangling me.”

  Walker laughs at him as he throws himself down in the chair next to him. “The good news is that the house is finally finished and everything moved in. You get to sleep in your bed tonight.” He lifts his glass to me.

  “Finally,” I say, thinking about how we’ve been living in Bethany’s little apartment while we wait for the house to be built.

  The knock on the door makes me look up, and I see Mila, Walker’s four-year-old daughter, bounce in. “Poppa.” She comes in wearing the white flower girl dress. “I got a basket of flowers.” She tries to climb on the couch, but the puffy dress makes it almost impossible. My gram walks in next, dressed in a brown gown.

  “Are you boys ready?” she asks, looking around at us. “Jensen, don’t give him too much to drink.” My cousin’s name is Jensen Walker, but the only one to actually call him Jensen is my gram.

  Walker’s father and my father are brothers. Walker’s father passed away the year after he retired, leaving Walker to take over Walker Construction. Like me, he brought in new things, and his company blew up. He married his high school sweetheart, but she left him with a Dear John letter two weeks after his daughter was born.

  Left him and their daughter for his best friend. It’s been four years, and I still haven’t seen him on a date. I smile at his beautiful daughter, hoping that Bethany gets pregnant right away. We discussed it, and we both want big families.

  “Okay, boys.” I down the rest of my scotch. “Let’s go get me married.” I clap my hand, putting on the jacket to my tux and pulling down the cuffs. Gram takes Mila by the hand and walks out of the room.

  “All for one,” Brody starts, and Walker and I both finish, “one for all.” It was our motto growing up. The three of us never strayed far from the others. The three amigos they called us, but we always corrected them with the three musketeers. We thought it sounded manlier.

  We walk out of the back of the church and into the side door. I take in the flowers all over the church. The smell of roses hits me right away when I walk in. I step up to the altar, taking in the church. It’s packed to the gill and down to standing room only. I nod at a couple of people who I recognize on my side of the church. My parents sit in the front row, a smile on their face as they watch their only child get married. My father puts his arm around my mother’s shoulders, bringing her in and kissing her forehead.

  From as far back as I can remember, my parents have never shied away from affection. That and they love each other with everything they have. I want that. And I finally found it with Bethany.

  I smile as the music starts. Her parents walk down together, and I silently nod at them. Bethany was adamant about walking down the aisle by herself. “I’m an independent woman, Gabe,” she would always say.

  Next up is Bethany’s sister, who smiles the whole way. Then little Mila walks down the aisle, stealing the show. I look over to see Walker with the biggest smile on his face and nothing but love for her.

  She goes to sit with Walker’s mother. “I did it, Grandma,” she yells and has everyone chuckling.

  Bethany’s best friend, Amilia, walks down next. The doors of the church close behind her as she marches down the aisle. I stand here with my hands crossed in front of me when the “Wedding March” begins to play. Everyone rises to their feet in anticipation of the bride coming down the aisle.

  I hold my breath, looking down and then up again, but the doors remain closed. I look over at Amilia, who just shrugs. The song finishes, and the doors stay closed. I look over at Walker and Brody, who both have a worried look on their faces. I am abou
t to walk to the back of the church to see if she is okay when the doors finally open. I breathe a sigh of relief, but it is short lived when I look up and see the wedding planner, Jennifer, walking down the aisle. She keeps her head down as she makes her way to the altar. My heart rate picks up as the heat on my neck rises, and I suddenly feel like the shirt is suffocating me.

  Jennifer walks up the four steps to approach the altar. “Gabe,” she whispers, coming close to me.

  “Is everything okay?” My palms start to sweat. “Where is she?”

  She glances down at her feet, then looks up at me with tears in her eyes. Looking over my shoulder at Walker, she softly says, “She isn’t coming.”

  “What do you mean she isn’t coming?” My voice rises a bit. Walker approaches one side of me, and Brody walks to the other side.

  “She got here with everyone, and she waited till Amilia walked down the aisle. She handed me this and then took off in a cab parked on the side of the church.” She hands me a white note.

  “I don’t understand.” I snatch the white paper from her, unfolding it and seeing Bethany’s handwriting.

  Gabe,

  I can’t do this. I can’t go through with this. I made a horrible, horrible mistake by accepting your proposal.

  It was what was expected of me, but I can’t go through with it. I’ve taken a job in Chicago. I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t have the courage to tell you to your face.

  Bethany

  “Oh my god.” I hear Walker next to me, but my eyes never leave the paper. I never look up from her note. Bethany’s mother walks up to see me, grabbing the paper from me.

  “She fucking left me.” I turn, looking at Walker and then Brody, who is now joined by Darla at his side. “She left me at the fucking altar.” I throw my head back and laugh, hysterically. I’m having a stroke; that must be the reason. I turn to look at the whole church as the whispering starts. I look at my parents, my mother dabbing away her tears while my father whispers in her ear.