Why Now?

by Carey Heywood

  She shakes her head. “You were tired, do not apologize.”

  “You have a beautiful home,” Kacey murmurs, her head turning to take in the room.

  “Thank you,” Ingrid replies with a soft smile.

  “Are either of you hungry?”

  Kacey nods while I reply, “We are, but if it isn’t time for dinner we can wait. We don’t want to put you out.”

  Mr. Sonderveik moves into the hallway. “It is no trouble. Come, sit.”

  Mrs. Sonderveik motions for us to go ahead of her, after Alexander. We move into the dining room where the table is already set. A grouping of candles on the table adds a nice glow to the room.

  “Wine?” Ingrid offers us each some red wine.

  Even though Kacey normally sticks to beer, she accepts a glass.

  She shifts in her chair to look at Mrs. Sonderveik. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She shakes her head in response and moves quickly from the room. When she returns she carries two plates, one she sets in front of Kacey and the other in front of me.

  She’s back again with two more plates, one for herself and Alexander.

  “This is Flaekesteg,” Mrs. Sonderveik says quietly, as she sits.

  “It’s pork with red cabbage,” Mr. Sonderveik explains.

  I look towards Erik’s mom. “It smells delicious.”

  She dips her head in a silent thanks.

  Mr. Sonderveik raises his wine glass. “To our American friends for making such a long journey to come and stay with us.”

  We eat, we drink, and we talk. We learn there’s a word in Danish for sharing wine and a meal with friends: hygge.

  It’s low-key and, for this being our first meeting, comfortable, at least for me. Their mannerisms, the way Mr. Sonderveik leans back in his chair with his broad arms crossed over his chest are so familiar. If it weren’t for our bodies protesting, we could easily stay up half the night around the table sharing stories.

  Instead, we say our goodnights and make our way back upstairs and to bed. The Sonderveik’s room is on the first level so Kacey and I are alone upstairs. If she weren’t so tired, I’d jump her. I’ll have a better chance in the morning before we go downstairs to breakfast.

  Kacey takes the first go at the bathroom and is already passed out once I’ve had my turn. As soon as I crawl into bed, she moves into me. I curve my arm around her and hold her tightly.

  Sleep claims me, fast and deep.

  A knock on the door to our room, what feels like only moments later, has me blinking open my eyes. Kacey is still out. The knock comes again and she turns over, mumbling something unintelligible under her breath.

  Easing out of bed, I pad over to the door.

  Mr. Sonderveik is on the other side.

  “Get dressed. We’ll go for a walk.”

  Too tired to argue, I nod and close the door. Five minutes later, I spare one last longing glance back at a still sleeping Kacey before I go in search of Erik’s dad.

  He’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me. The house is quiet so I wonder if Mrs. Sonderveik is still sleeping as well.

  He opens the front door and I follow him out into the yard. It’s dim, the sun still rising.

  He’s quiet as we walk down the street and to a path a patch of trees. The dimness increases despite the rising sun once we’re in the shade. The path is bumpy, with loose rocks. It makes me grateful my hiking sneakers were the ones closest to me when I got dressed this morning.

  “Ingrid’s parent’s lived not far from here and we visited them many times when Erik was a little boy.”

  He pauses when we reach an opening, the trees thinning out and the path leading us to a clearing. From the clearing, the coast becomes visible though we’re high above it.

  “He loved it here,” he says, inhaling deep his chest puffing out after his last word.

  The sun made significant progress while we were on the path in the woods. The morning is bright now, the air crisp for now even though it should get close the seventy degrees today.

  “He loved the water,” I reply, my eyes drinking in the view. “That was his favorite part of working on the rig. He used to say no matter where you looked as long as you were on the deck you had a dream view.”

  Mr. Sonderveik nods. “Yes, I remember him telling us about the beautiful Pacific Ocean.”

  His voice is thick.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” I murmur, picturing a much younger Erik standing where I am right now.

  By the time we return to the house, Mrs. Sonderveik and Kacey are both sitting on the back patio having tea and scones so we join them. Once we’ve finished eating, I excuse myself.

  There’s something from the States I brought to give to them. Erik is gone; as much as I hate it, there is no bringing him back. It hurts some days more than others but remembering him and the things that brought him joy help.

  He loved the ocean, loved it. It brought him peace. Living and working on that rig was hard but he was happy there. I hope somehow, wherever his spirit is, that he knows he accomplished what he was working for. His dream of his parents having this house came true because of the man he was.

  Tucking the wrapped bundle under my arm, I make my way back to the back patio. The sun is higher, the morning chill melting away.

  Kacey gives me a small smile when she sees what’s under my arm. Right there, she’s wordlessly supporting me. She might be small but she has this inner strength men twice her size wish they had.

  She knows how hard this is for me. What do you give to someone whose son died? He saved my life. If it wasn’t for him, Reilly would be all alone in the world and Kacey wouldn’t know how much I love her. We’re building a life together because I’m still here.

  I brought them a piece of him.

  If Erik Sonderveik wasn’t in the gym, goofing off or working, he was drawing. His muse was the ocean. He drew in pen which I always thought was crazy because what do you do if you mess up?

  The stuff he kept in our room was damaged in the fire. Sadly, they weren’t able to salvage any of it. He might have been trying to impress Reilly, but the last time he came home with me he brought his sketchbook with him and let her keep a couple of his drawings.

  We framed the best one for his parents.

  My throat suddenly thick, I offer the package to Mrs. Sonderveik. “We thought you’d like to have this.”

  Alexander gets out of his chair to come stand behind hers as she carefully unwraps it. As soon as she sees the drawing, she lifts one shaking hand to her mouth.

  Mr. Sonderveik puts one hand on her shoulder and leans forward, the fingertips of his other hand tracing Erik’s scrawl at the bottom of the drawing.

  In the drawing, the sun is setting. There are blacks that blend into purples that blend into blues then reds and oranges to the bright yellow of the sun. There are white tipped caps of the waves the sun disappears into. Vibrant and full of movement, this drawing seems alive.

  He was so talented and conscious of the beauty in the world around him. He never lost that even sharing a room with me. At times, I was so angry, so buried under the pressures I put on myself. He never let me bring him down; instead, he had a way of cheering me up.

  Tears stream down Mrs. Sonderveik’s face. When Alexander pulls his hand back, she curls the frame towards her and, looking up at him, hugs it to her chest.

  He kisses the top of her head, his hand giving her shoulder a squeeze. There’s something so soothing in the way he doesn’t stop her from crying. He comforts her and allows her to grieve.

  After a moment, he reaches for a napkin and offers it to her. Ingrid still clutches the frame to her chest but quietly dries her face. Her pain was so hard in its silence.

  “Come, I want to show you both something,” My Sonderveik says.

  When I stand, Erik’s mom reaches out and grasps my forearm. With her wet eyes on mine, she nods. Her lips are tightly shut, as though if she were to open them she ma
y sob or scream or . . . so she doesn’t.

  When she lets go of my arm, Kacey and I follow Erik’s dad upstairs to the door on the other side of the bathroom. He opens it and motions for us to follow him inside.

  The furniture, the drawings on the walls. This room in a new house must have been Erik’s room from their old house.

  Alexander walks to the dresser and lifts a framed photo from it. It’s a young Erik, maybe elementary school aged, in a school uniform. His mom and dad stand behind him, a hand on each of his shoulders as he stares proudly at the camera.

  That boy, that man, gone.

  “He was a good boy,” Alexander says, setting the frame back down.

  Kacey reaches up to wipe at her eyes. We knew this trip was going to be emotional but neither of us was prepared for how emotional.

  “He loved to draw,” he continues, lifting his hand in an arc to bring our attention to the pictures on the wall.

  “He was so talented,” Kacey murmurs, her voice wavering.

  Mr. Sonderveik smiles at her. “He was.”

  The pictures on the wall are like the one we brought, of water, only a different body of it.

  Kacey moves closer to look at them and Alexander comes to stand next to me. “Thank you.”

  “It was nothing,” I reply.

  “Not only for the drawing,” he explains. “But for coming here. Erik spoke of you often. You were a good friend.”

  I gulp. “He was like a brother to me.”

  He closes his eyes at my words.

  When he opens them, he looks at his feet. “I will go and see Ingrid.”

  He moves past me and through the doorway. When we hear his footsteps on the stairs, Kacey comes to hug me.

  “Should I have given it to them? It made his mom cry.” I murmur.

  She sniffles and then nods. “Anything that reminds them of him right now will make them happy and sad.”

  After a shower and an early lunch, the four of us pile into their compact car. Where we’re going right now was the main reason for our trip. I was still in the hospital when Erik was buried. Today, I’m visiting his grave.

  Kacey and I are squished in the backseat, not that I mind. She holds my hand, here for me mentally and physically. Sometimes I wonder what I’m giving her.

  I brush my thumb across her soft skin. My burns are gone but my hands will never be the same. My skin has a leathery quality to it now, no amount of lotion will make my skin as soft or smooth as hers.

  She still craves my touch, not turned off by the roughness. So strong but soft and sweet at the same time.

  I spoil her every chance I get. She deserves that and more for waiting for me to get my head out of my ass. Erik would be proud of me for stepping up. That’s one thing I know for sure.

  He was bummed I was leaving the rig but thrilled that Kacey was the reason for it. He knew long before I did that she was it for me. It could be the artist in him that gave him the ability to see the details other people missed.

  He knew I loved her, and not like a sister loved her, long before I did. God, I miss him. Leaving the rig, I knew our friendship was going to change. I knew that I wasn’t going to see and talk to him every day.

  He was planning to work for another couple of years. During that time, he could have visited Kacey and me. We would have talked on the phone or over email from time to time while he was on the rig and then more often once he was off it.

  He was going to move back to Denmark. With his savings, he was planning to go back to school and was going to live with his parents in their new house while he did. I was ready to watch him live his life and hear about it whenever we caught up.

  Now all of that will never happen. All of his possibilities died with him. My throat thickens and Mr. Sonderveik turns into a cemetery.

  Neat rows of stones, some with statues, fan out from a small pond to a wrought iron fence lined with trees for shade. Mr. and Mrs. Sonderveik walk ahead of us on the path. She’s holding a bundle of yellow flowers.

  They’re standing close but are not touching. Kacey and I are holding hands. When we reach his grave, I’m surprised by how simple it is. It’s not that it’s so simple it’s out of place with the rest of the headstones around it; it’s the fact that it isn’t.

  His grave looks like all the other ones and that bothers me for some reason. I’m angry at the other headstones for looking the same as his and for his for not standing out. People should be able to tell he was someone special by looking at his grave.

  Mrs. Sonderveik bends down to lift the wilting flowers that rest against his stone and puts her fresh ones down. As she straightens, she rests her hand on the top of his headstone, her head bowed, silent tears falling onto her flowers.

  She steps back and directly into Alexander. With her face to his chest, his arms hold her to him. He looks over at us and then back down at Erik’s grave.

  Then, with a tight smile, he leads Ingrid away giving me privacy to say goodbye. They move further down the path, her body tucked against his, his arm around her back.

  Kacey starts to pull away so I tighten my grasp on her hand.

  “Don’t you want to be alone?” She whispers.

  Shaking my head, I pull her closer. “Stay.”

  She nods and I look down at my friend’s grave. His name, Erik Johan Sonderveik, the day he was born, the day he died and an etching of a cross.

  That’s it, that’s all.

  Clearing my throat, I cough and take a deep breath before I can say anything. “Erik,”

  Fuck, this is hard. I drag my hand across my face and cough again.

  “Man, I can’t believe you’re gone.”

  Kacey starts to sniffle and quietly cry next to me.

  “You saved my life and it pisses me off that I can’t make it up to you. There are so many things I’ll never be able to repay you for man. Reilly, Kacey, the fact that I made it all those years on that rig and I’m still breathing right now is because of you.”

  Dragging my hand over my face again, I’m not surprised my cheeks are wet.

  “Before I passed out, the last thing I saw was you. You and blue skies, man. You were my brother. I need you to know I loved you like one, man, and I’ll never forget what you did for me, ever.”

  Kacey turns her face into my side, her hands clutching my shirt.

  “You were the best man I knew.” I croak.

  When I don’t say anything else, Kacey pulls away from me and drops to her knees in front of his headstone.

  Her small hands against the ground, her head bent down and voice breaking, she murmurs. “Thank you for saving Jake. Thank you. Thank you.”

  When she stands, she moves back into my arms. Somewhere, somehow, I hope he heard us.

  His parents are sitting together on a stone bench closer to the pond. Once Kacey has dried her eyes, we move toward them. A ways down the path, something has me looking back.

  There’s a gray bird sitting on his headstone, watching us walk away. Kacey looks over her shoulder to see the bird as well. Together we watch it fly away and off into the trees that surround the cemetery.

  It was probably nothing, or maybe it was something. Either way, when we turn back to continue making our way to Erik’s parents, my heart is lighter.

  We spend a week with them. A week full of laughter as we share our favorite stories of Erik, and tears as we mourn his absence. They take us to see the places he loved and places they believe we will love as well. Beer is big in Denmark, so Mr. Sonderveik is happy to visit any brewery Kacey mentions.

  I help Alexander hang Erik’s drawing in their dining room. While we work, Kacey stands back with her arm around Ingrid’s shoulders.

  Today is our last day here. Alexander and Ingrid are taking us to the train station in a couple of minutes. Our bags are already in the car. Kacey and Ingrid are in the front yard waiting for Mr. Sonderveik and me.

  We’re standing in Erik’s room, the room with all of his things, but one he never step
ped foot in.

  I clear my throat and Alexander looks at me. “Erik would have hated to think you two were alone in the world, and I’m not sure if he ever told you this, but Reilly and I lost both of our parents when we were young. I know we could never replace Erik, but I wanted you to know he was like a brother to me and we could be your family too.”

  My voice breaks more than once as I speak.

  Like Erik, Alexander is quiet before he responds. He does this by crossing the room and hugging me to his chest. He swallows as he pulls away and nods.

  Neither of us says anything else about it, but after we leave Erik’s room and make our way to the front yard, he murmurs something to Mrs. Sonderveik. She looks up at me and nods, her eyes wet.

  When we get to the train station we all share hugs. Kacey and I find a seat with a window near where Alexander and Ingrid stand. They do not leave until our train pulls away, waving until we are out of sight.

  “How are you?” Kacey asks, her hand warm in mine.

  Her beauty, her strength, and her love still have the power to render me speechless at times. She loved and waited for me for so long. She didn’t hesitate when I asked her to come to Denmark with me. This trip was something I needed to do, but without her by my side I’m not sure I could have done it. Alone we survived, but together we will live.

  Lifting her hands to my lips, I make a promise to myself to spend the rest of my life being worth the wait.

  “When we start a family, if we have a son, I’d like to name him Erik,” I murmur against her knuckles.

  Her face is soft, and her eyes are wet when she replies, “Okay, Jake.”

  Stay tuned for Heath’s book, Why Lie? coming later 2016.

  Firstly, I’d like to thank you, the reader.

  I could not have published Why Now? all on my own. I’d like to thank the following pros who made this book what it is today; Sarah Hansen, Tami Norman, Holly Malgieri, Vanessa Brown, and Erin Spencer. To the bloggers who not only read and review my words, but share my books as well, thank you so much for your support. A particular thanks to any blog who signed up with Southern Belle Book Blog to help support the release of Why Now?