Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Ella

I kneeled by my brother's grave and wiped off the dust that had accumulated since I'd been here last Sunday. His face was engraved in the stone, right next to his name: Gregory Allen Klein. My grandmother had insisted on the engraving. I hadn't really understood it back then, but I kind of liked it now. Ever since I'd moved back, I'd made a habit of visiting his grave every week, and each time the pain of his loss was waiting for me.

"Hey," I began, trying to visualize him standing beside the headstone. "Today's the day you left this earth. The day I lost you."

I seated myself beside the grave, crossing my legs and moved my summer dress over my knees. Every day, it felt more like summer.

"I have news. I saw …" I was almost embarrassed to say it out loud. "I saw Noah yesterday. Remember how I told you Will Armstrong had a heart attack? Noah's back in town because of that. It sounds stupid, but when I saw him, I actually put my hand on his shoulder and told him I was sorry about his dad. And you wouldn't believe that Kayla came to my house today. It still feels weird to call it my house."

I leaned back, pushed my hands into the grass, and tipped my head back to the sky as I closed my eyes. "She yelled at me and told me not to touch him. Said it messed with his mind." I snorted. "I guess I'm good at messing with both of our minds. Because I don't know, bro. I thought trying to push him out of my life would help me forget what happened. It hasn't."

I felt tears welling up, and I let them evaporate in the heat of the sun on my face. This was as close to my brother as I could get. My grandparents had always brought Greg and me to church. It just felt right to believe that God was there and Jesus loved me.

I hadn't gone to church often. When I was married, we'd tried to go a few times, but Brian thought it was lame. We'd always talked about finding a church that both of us could like and that we could raise kids in. Not that he'd wanted kids.

Brian must have sensed that I was thinking about him again, because my phone buzzed with another call from him. I declined it.

He was quick to text me. I know this is a hard day for you. Thinking of you.

That jerk. Just when I thought I was over him, he did something nice. If only it could make up for all the other things he'd done.

Another text came in. I resisted at first, then checked it.

El, if you don't come home, I'm going to come there. I have to see you. Things are not finished between us, and you know it.

I let out an irritated sigh and typed back. We are divorced.

I love you and I need you.

We are through. Stop texting me.

I need some documents for insurance. You need to find a copy of our marriage license and send it to me.

Suddenly overwhelmed, I shut my phone off and turned my focus back toward my brother's grave. I always thought of it as a one-sided conversation. What would Greg want to know?

"Brian is an idiot," I told him. "And yes, Noah looked good. He was stunned to see me. You know, Mercy told me yesterday that I should forgive him and myself. Like I could ever do that." I paused, choking on a sob. "Losing you that day was and always will be our fault. I'm sorry, but I can't ever make up for it. You're gone, and I will suffer for it the rest of my life." I kissed the tips of my fingers and pressed them against his engraved face. "I love you."

A voice pierced the quiet. "Ella Bella."

I jumped up and whirled around, taken by surprise. "Oh. Hey."

Clint Long stood with his hands in his pockets. Clint and I had graduated from high school the same year, and I'd seen him last week in the ER. He was an electrician in town, and he had hurt his hand. The reunion had been nice, but he'd asked me out and I'd put him off.

Clint looked past me. "Oh. Sorry to bother you. I was just leaving flowers at my mom's grave and saw you. I should give you your privacy."

"It's okay," I said, taking a step toward him. I'd forgotten that he'd lost his mom to cancer during our junior year. Clint had led the school in fundraising and everything.

"Okay," he said, smiling at me. He held his hand up. "My hand is healing nicely. Thanks for the stitches."

I shifted into my nurse persona. "Good. Remember to come in next week and get them out. Don't take them out by yourself."

"Yes, ma'am." He gave me a little salute, grinning. "I wouldn't dream of it."

I smiled back. Clint was a nice guy, and I could tell when we'd talked at the hospital that he'd purposely tried to make me feel welcome and not talk about the hard things when I'd stitched him up. "That's good. Then I'll see you next week."

"Will you?"

I shrugged. "If I'm not the one taking them out, make sure to stop by to say hi."

"Okay. I … Would you want to grab dinner next week?"

I hesitated.

"Or lunch." He grinned again. "I'm not picky about which meal I eat with you."

That was kind, but I didn't really want to be involved with anyone. Instantly, I thought of Noah, who I didn't want to date either. Still, I could imagine eating dinner with Noah in our old haunt at Jim's Place, with our favorite pineapple anchovy ham pizza dripping with grease. I blinked as all the old memories threatened to come back.

"Ella?"

"Uh, I'd better not."

"It's just two friends having dinner. We could grab burgers and go to the falls and sit at those picnic tables. How about Thursday?"

It didn't sound bad. I hadn't been out to the falls since I'd been home. My heart thrummed as I considered how to word this. "Thank you, Clint, but I just got divorced and I'm trying to start over. Now just isn't the right time."

His smile turned thin. "Right. Timing. I guess that's as good of an excuse as any."

"An excuse?" That set my hackles rising. I was highly sensitive to mood changes in men, especially after being married to Brian and dealing with all the crap he'd put me through. Mercy always teased me that I'd gotten jaded from going through a dozen red flags before learning how to recognize them.

I turned away from him, dismissing all ideas of possibly dating him in the future.

"Hey, wait."

I put my hand up. "I have to get going." I fixed him with a look to emphasize my point. "I don't want to go out, Clint."

I left him standing there. Maybe I was being oversensitive, as my mother had insinuated, but this was Greg's day. I hated that I'd seen anyone here and the mood had been spoiled.

As I walked through the rows of graves, something flashed in my periphery. I paused next to the Hamilton mausoleum, one of only two such structures at the cemetery. Was someone else here, besides me and Clint? My heart thumped, and I picked up speed, crossing the gate. I had to get out here before church let out. Pastor Jones had tried to talk to me last week. I wasn't opposed to church, but I certainly wasn't ready to start attending regularly again.

The sermon would be over soon, and the churchgoers would start coming out. Would Noah be at church with his family? Of course, the answer was yes. His mother had never let the kids miss church growing up.

I marched toward the parking lot, but then something occurred to me. I turned back to get one last view of the cemetery … and I saw Noah walking toward my brother's grave.