Whispered Prayers of a Girl

“Oh, Gwen, that’s wonderful!” she says happily, then remembers the sad part of my statement. “What was going on when she smiled? You said a few days…. Something’s happened. What is it?”

This is the part I wanted to ask her about. I hesitate, wondering how I should go about it. She may not even have the answers I seek.

“Do you remember a guy named Alexander from when you used to visit your gram’s during the summers?”

There’s silence, then, “Does he have a last name?”

I shake my head, then feel foolish because she can’t see me. “I don’t know it. He said his grandfather raised horses and he’d go over sometimes to help him. He actually inherited the farm. It’s out on Hallow’s Road, only a few miles down from your gram’s house.”

I hear her hmming across the line as she thinks it over.

“Yes!” she shouts, then lowers her voice. “Alexander David Christenson. The reason I remember his full name is because I always liked it. I had a crush on him one summer when some boy knocked my ice-cream cone out of my hand. Alexander saw it and bought me a new one. I think I was ten at the time. Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

Guilt eats at me as I think about my next question. I know I should ask him myself, but I just can’t bring myself to. Whatever the answer is, I know it’s extremely devastating for him, and I don’t want to see the pain I know his eyes will hold if I do ask.

“Do you know exactly what happened to his wife and child?”

Emma’s quiet for several seconds before she answers, her voice sad. “I don’t know much. Only that he was driving when someone pulled out in front of him. He swerved to avoid hitting him and they rolled into Hallow’s Creek. I don’t know how accurate it is, but from what I was told, his wife and little girl drowned.”

My hand flies to my mouth and a soft sob escapes before I can stop it. “Oh my God,” I whisper brokenly. “How awful.”

“Yeah. It was pretty tragic.”

It feels like there’s a ton of bricks on my chest. Poor Alexander. It’s already bad enough to lose someone, but to lose them in such a harsh way…. I can’t even imagine the pain he went through. Is obviously still going through. No wonder he always looks morose. No matter how much times passes, be it four years or twenty, you never get over something like that.

“Gwen? What’s going on?” Emma asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “What happened was horribly sad, but you seem more upset than a person should be that wasn’t there and didn’t know them.”

I get up, grab my coffee from the counter, and bring it back with me to the table. Pulling one of my socked feet up to the seat, I hug my knee.

“The kids and I… uh… we were sort of forced to stay with him for a few days last week.”

“What do you mean, forced to stay with him?” she asks suspiciously.

“I was out visiting your gram. When we left, the snow was coming down really hard. An animal ran out in front of me, and I slid off the road when I pressed the brakes to miss it.” Before she has a chance to ask, I reassure her. “We were all okay, but I couldn’t get the truck out. Luckily, Alexander came by and found us. However, there was a tree in the road so he couldn’t take us back to town. We had no choice but to go home with him.”

“Damn it, Gwen. Why am I just now hearing about this?” she scolds.

“Because this is the first time we’ve really been able to talk.” I tuck my bangs behind my ear. “Anyway, Alexander took us in for three days. Emma—” I stop and have to clear my throat. “Kelsey smiled. She actually smiled, and showed more of her old self than she has since Will died.”

I hear a sniffle from Emma, and I know she’s just as amazed as I am. She was there from the beginning of my and Will’s relationship, she was there the days the kids were born, she was there through each milestone, and she was there when we all fell apart after he died. She helped pull us together. When Kelsey went quiet and withdrew, Emma was affected as well, because she loves my kids as if they were her own.

“Wow,” she says. “Has she talked?”

I prop my elbow on the table and rest my head in my hand. “No. Nothing like that, but I’ve seen more animation on her face than I have in years. I’ll take anything I can get.”

“And you think Alexander had something to do with it?”

“I do,” I answer. “I don’t know what it is about him, maybe it’s because she senses his own pain and can relate to him.”

“And Daniel?”

“Daniel absolutely loves him. Alexander was so good with both of them. He portrays this hard and quiet man that obviously doesn’t let people get too close, but with the kids, I guess he couldn’t help but open up.”

“And what about you?” she inquires quietly.

“What about me?” I play dumb. I get up from my perch on my chair and carry my coffee cup to the sink. It’s cold, so I pour it down the drain.

“Has he opened up to you?”