My hands balled as the rest of the congregation gathered. No one spoke. Dressed in black, some with a blue ribbon tied somewhere on their person in homage to my mother, they all waited for something.
Someone.
Me.
Swallowing my phobias of contact and caring, I strode from the treeline and into the sun.
A few gasps sounded.
Hope tried to come to me, but her father stopped her.
Aunt Cassie’s and Grandpa John’s eyes immediately welled with tears.
I kept my back straight and chin up, stoic and unbreakable as I held out my hands and waited until she placed my mother’s ashes in them.
Aunt Cassie bit her lip, unable to stem more sadness as I nodded and carried the black vase to the same place where Mom and I had said goodbye to Dad.
People followed me, not giving me peace, expecting me to be the one to say the eulogy.
I had nothing to say.
Only that life was cruel.
And fighting for love wasn’t worth it.
Dad had been forty-three when he passed.
Mom was the same age.
Ten years apart, but both gone so young.
A cruel twist of fate or just rotten bad luck?
I no longer cared about figuring out existence and the rhythm of the heart.
My family was gone.
And soon, I would be too.
Removing the lid, I stared at the grey dust inside, searching for words of wisdom and consolation. Mom had said the tribute at my father’s funeral. She’d held the attention of townsfolk and doctors with her penned paragraphs destined for the book that would make their love story famous.
I had nothing like that.
I wasn’t a writer.
Or special.
Or gifted.
I was just their son.
The orphan.
Turning around, I faced the crowd…and shrugged.
Tears erupted Aunt Cassie and Hope, and Nina turned into her father with sobs.
For the longest moment, I was wordless. But then the desire to get this over and done with shoved simple, almost heartless things from my mouth. “There’s nothing to say apart from goodbye.” I cursed the heavy hardness in my chest. The knives and swords that stabbed my every breath. “She wanted to be scattered here. So…I’ll honour her wishes.”
The breeze whipped harder as I tipped an urn for the second time in my life and let the mortal remains of my mother free. They fluttered and flew, cascading over earth and leaves, leaving the barest of silver traces behind.
Grandpa John sucked in a heavy sob before turning to the small gathering.
And he did what I could not.
His deep baritone blanketed the hillside with tales of my mother when she first found Cherry River, of her many years of friendship with Aunt Cassie, and of her star-crossed marriage to my father.
I didn’t listen.
I couldn’t stay.
Leaving the empty urn against a twisted tree root, I shoved my dirty hands into grubby pockets and strode away.
For a second, I was alone in my exit.
But then, tiny footfalls chased me, not stopping until the shadows of the forest kissed me, and I stopped to face the inevitable.
“Jacob.” Hope dashed the final distance, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “I was so worried about you. Dad and I searched for two days looking for you.”
I studied her, taking in the black dress and midnight boots. “I didn’t want to be found.”
“Well, you’re here now. Please…stay.” Her forehead scrunched as if she was fighting something before her eyes watered and she plastered a hand over her mouth. A loud cough escaped her, rattling and wet, thick and sick.
I backed up. My hand swooped up on its own accord to stop her as she moved toward me. “Stay away.”
She wrung her fingers. “It’s just the flu. That’s why I kept my distance from you after our kiss…. The cough sounds worse than I am. Truly. I’m much better now.”
My skin prickled with horror as she coughed again.
My ears rang with other coughing, other dying, other goodbyes.
And I’d officially reached my limit.
No more.
Just…no more.
“Leave, Hope. Leave and never come back.”
She froze. “Wh-what did you say?”
“I said you’re no longer welcome here.”
“But…Jacob.” She inched closer. “What about us? What about—”
“There is no us.” I backed away again, stumbling in my haste. “Not anymore. I can’t.”
“You can. It’s just a stupid flu, Jake.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Well, don’t say such idiotic things about asking me to leave.”
“I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”
Her eyes welled with liquid. “Don’t do this, Jacob. Don’t push me away.”
“It’s already done.” My spine ached with pain.
I couldn’t be near her.
I no longer had a heart.
I was empty.
Dead.
Gone.
If I’m dead, why does this hurt so goddamn much?
“There’s nothing left for you here.”
“There is.” Her voice tangled with pleas. “There’s you.”
“No.” Pointing toward the boundary of Cherry River, I commanded, “Go. I won’t tell you again.”
“But, Jacob—”
“Do as I say, Hope.”
“You’re upset. I want to be there for you—” Another cough interrupted her, splintering my tattered heart into fragmented pieces that would never fit together again. “I-I’m in love with you, Jacob. I love you. Don’t you see? You can’t ask me to turn my back on that. Della would want us—”