Her head swings to face me, her eyes wide in panic, and when she opens her mouth to say something, Olivia rushes by and asks, “Have you seen Luke?”
“Last I saw him, he walked off that way.” I point toward where I saw Luke, hoping Olivia will walk off so Raine can say what she was about to tell me.
Olivia’s gaze follows where I’m pointing, and her frown deepens when we don’t see him anywhere. “Will you let him know to call me later? I have to head out.” She motions for Raine to follow her since they arrived together.
Raine raises her brows, and Olivia gives her a look that says,I’ll explain later.
I run a hand across the roughness on my jaw and say, “Some other time, then.”
Raine nods and waves goodbye. “I’ll see you Tuesday?”
I give her a wave and watch as she leaves. Just before theyreach Olivia’s vehicle, Raine turns back and smiles at me. I feel my heart swell with hope.
Chapter Twenty-One
Twelve Years Before
Raine
The lake is like a mirror during the night. I can see reflections of the bright light from the moon, the twinkling stars, as well as Ryland’s form as he sits at the edge of the dock. Kentucky’s weather is always strange. It’s in between the spring and summer season where some days are comfortable and warm, while other days there’s a promise of cooling rain. Thankfully, today we were blessed with some warmth.
I walk across the dock, the wood creaking with each step. Looking down at my reflection I watch as it sways with the water. My skirt flows in the slight breeze, and the bright-pink color of my hair stands out on top of the dark water. I smooth down my skirt before taking a seat next to my boyfriend.
My boyfriend.It never gets old saying that.
I sigh and slip off my sandals, sinking my feet into the lake. I hiss, feeling how cold the water is but keep them in anyway. I need something to focus on besides the fact that there is nothing I can do to help take Ryland’s pain away.
It’s been a few weeks since his Nan passed away. What we thought was a simple cold ended up getting much worse. Hetold me on the phone this morning that he’s still having a hard time processing the loss. For him, it feels like she’s still everywhere—everywhere but here with us, and the realization hurts. Ryland’s family has quickly become like my own, and losing Nan is the first time I’ve experienced a loss.
It feels extra heavy knowing that Ryland is feeling even more pain than I am. What can I even do to help him? He leans over and places his head onto my shoulder. I do the same, leaning my head onto his, and slide my hand underneath his.
“It’s nice that you have your own car now and can drive over here,” he says softly, giving my hand a squeeze.
“Yeah, at least on the weekends.”
Over the winter, on the days that we’re nice, Papaw let me drive down the back roads in his truck. I also got a job during the week, working at MJ’s Diner downtown. The owner is good friends with my grandparents and agreed to let me have off on the weekends. It’s been a nice change.
The job gives me something to do during the weekdays after school. Mom and Davis don’t question my job’s schedule. For him, the more I work, the more money I can give him since he demands half of my paycheck for what he calls ‘a lesson in responsibility’. It’s a price I’m willing to pay for the little taste of freedom it brings me. I only go home to shower and sleep during the week.
A few days after Nan’s passing, Pops showed up to the farm and handed the keys to her Honda Accord to Papaw. He said that Nan wanted me to have it. It was on her list of demands that she made during her last days with us. It felt strange accepting the vehicle, but I know it was her way of taking care of me.
There’s no way that I could afford a car on my own with the dent in my income that Davis has caused. With the car being gifted to me and my grandparents insisting they put it on their insurance policy, I only have to worry about gas and food.Everything else I have saved and kept safely in my room at my grandparents’ house.
“Yeah, Nan wanted to make sure I could be here for you more,” I reply.
“Yeah,” he says with an exhale.
We sit for a few moments of silence, wrapping our arms around each other, and I say, “I hate that I can’t take the pain away.”
“I wish the same for Pops. I hate seeing him like this. He said this morning that it feels like an amputation.”
“I say it does.”
I can only imagine the loss Pops must be feeling right now. I can’t fathom the thought of losing one of my grandparents and having to watch them grieve in the same way. If I’ve learned anything about grief these past few weeks, it’s that it creates an unbearable pain that will never fade away. It’s something we have to learn to carry with us, until we return to heaven and can be reunited with our loved ones.
“I hate this so much. I feel so angry with God,” Ryland admits.
“You shouldn’t be mad at God for this. I know your Nan wasn’t.”
