It Started at Christmas...

Memories of that night assailed him. For years he’d blocked them from his mind, not wanting to remember.

Shelby dancing. Shelby smiling and laughing. Shelby so full of life. And liquor. She’d been full of that, too.

She’d wanted more, had been going to take his car to get more, and he’d argued with her.

Even with being under the influence himself, he’d known she’d been in no shape to drive. Unfortunately, neither had he been and he’d known it, refusing to give her his keys.

She’d taken off running into the darkness, calling out over her shoulder that if he wouldn’t take her, she’d just run there.

He should have let her. She’d have run herself sober.

Instead, to the teasing of her friends that he couldn’t control his girlfriend, he’d climbed into his car and driven down the road to pick her up.

But he hadn’t been taking her to the liquor store when he’d wrecked the car.

He’d been taking her home.

They’d been arguing, her saying she should have known he was a baby, rather than a man.

He’d been mad, had denied her taunts, reminded her of just how manly she’d said he was earlier that evening, and in the blink of the eye she’d grabbed at the steering wheel and he’d lost control of his car and hit the tree.

The rest had come in bits and pieces.

Waking up, not realizing he’d wrecked the car. The smells of oil, gas and blood.

That was the first time he’d realized blood had such a strong odor. His car had been full of it. His blood. Shelby’s blood.

He’d become aware of people outside the car, working to free them from the crumpled metal, but then he’d lost consciousness again until they’d been pulling him from the car.

Shelby had still been inside.

“I can’t leave her,” he’d told them.

“We’ve got her, son,” a rescue worker had said. “We’re taking you both to the hospital.”

“Tell her I love her,” he’d said. “That I will always love her.”

“We will, son. They’re putting her in the helicopter right now, but I’ll see to it she gets the message.”

“Tell her now. Please. Tell her now.” He’d tried to get free, to go to her, but his body hadn’t worked, and he’d never got to tell her. He had no idea if the rescue worker had carried through with his promise or not.

But as soon as Lance had been released from the hospital, he’d told Shelby himself.

Kneeling exactly where he currently knelt.

He’d been guilt-ridden then. He was just as

guilt-ridden now.

“I’m so sorry, Shelby. I love her. In ways I didn’t know I could love, I love McKenzie.”

He continued to talk, saying all the things that were in his heart.

For the first time peace came over Lance. Peace and self-forgiveness. Oh, there was a part of him that would never completely let go of the guilt he felt that he’d made such bad choices that night, but whether it was the late hour or his own imagination he felt Shelby’s presence, felt her forgiveness, her desire for him to let go and move on with his life.

Was he being self-delusional? Believing what he wanted to believe because he wanted McKenzie?

“I need a sign, Shelby. Give me a sign that you really do forgive me,” he pleaded into the darkness.