CHAPTER NINE Hunter

T he ride back to the diner with Jill was quiet. Both of us were internalizing our first meeting with the town's new doctor, neither of us prepared to speak first about our impressions.

Olivia Newton-John was breaking my heart on the radio when she sang she was hopelessly devoted to some guy. The radio was tuned to the nearest radio station a hundred miles away. Maybe ‘70s soft rock had become my favorite because we only had the one station.

Next up, Gary Wright was telling us all about a dream weaver while we remained stuck in our minds. Had I wanted my introduction to Ben to go better? Probably. But I doubted things would make a bit of difference in my life now that he'd arrived. Like I assumed many people had done, I'd spent too much time anticipating his arrival ever since I saw his picture in the paper.

Driving away had me feeling let down by the experience. Sure, he was just as attractive in person. Perhaps more so if I was being honest. But men like Ben Hawthorne didn't have the time of day for simpletons like me. He was suave and New Yorky. Was Yorky even a word? It's the description I think best fit him.

I glanced at Jill and noticed a sadness. We both appeared to have been let down by the meet and greet. Possibly she'd envisioned her chance at love had failed. As much as I hated to admit it, maybe I had, too. Two years was a long time to grieve, and I thought for just a second that a new man might help soothe the pain.

I wasn't sure if I hurt more for me or for Jill. I'd had a husband, her brother, but she hadn't had the same opportunity yet. We pulled in front of the diner and sat staring out the front windshield, neither of us ready to resume lives we'd hoped to have left behind by then.

Her fingers wrapped around the door handle, but she didn't open it. "You were right, Hunt."

I knew what she meant. "Doesn't matter, sis," I replied. "He's too uppity for either of us."

"I could fix that," she mused, still staring straight ahead. "I know I would've liked the chance."

"He's not worth it," I lied, still trying to convince myself he wasn't my type.

"Easy for you to say. You've still got a chance."

My eyes glassed over as I watched Miss Chow, Agnes's cat, wander by. Apparently, she'd gotten out of the tree. Two of Jill's regulars stared out the windows of the diner, rudely watching our every move. I hated June 1 st twice as much today. The need for a good cry was just under my cry-prevention fa?ade.

"He's not for me, Jill," I muttered. "He's filet mignon, and I'm ground chuck."

"Eerie, isn't it?" she asked, still focused on nothing straight ahead of her. I didn't want to acknowledge what had been unspoken thus far. I silently prayed she wouldn't say it. "His eyes," she whispered, ruining my prayer. But why wouldn't my prayers be ruined? God didn't like me, anyway. He'd taken my one true love. "Did you notice them?"

"Please don't," I begged.

She reached her hand across the seat and rested it near my leg. "Exact color."

"I know," I whispered.

"Mark wouldn't mind, Hunt. I know my brother. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you found love again."

I refused to cry and swallowed hard. "I don't want to find love again," I admitted. "I want what I had, Jill. I want what I had," I repeated, lowering my voice.

"Come in for some pie. I'll put a candle on it."

I tapped the steering wheel, suddenly remembering today was my birthday. "Thanks, sis, but I'm gonna go out to the cemetery."

"Hmmmm. I don't know, Hunt," she hummed, turning to face me. "On your birthday, and the anniversary of him dying? You think that's a good idea?"

"Probably not," I replied. "But I feel drawn to him today."

Jill pushed her door open and stepped out, leaning back inside. "How about a beer later at Smitty's?"

"Let me see how the rest of my day goes. Can I text you?"

She touched her mouth with a finger and made a kissy sound. She'd been doing the silly move her entire life. I remember as far back as fifth grade when she used to write me love notes. I'd look up after the discovery and she'd do the same damn gesture.

Jill smiled and gently shut the door, watching me as I backed up. Lifting two fingers from the steering wheel, I acknowledged her with a wave before I pulled away. She was my lifeline these days. The person who kept me tethered to reality and insisted I put one foot in front of the other as I trudged through the fog of my life after Mark's sudden passing.

The drive to the north side of town was brief. The town's cemetery was less than a quarter mile out of city proper, located in a barren field and down a potholed gravel road. There were gravestones as old as the Civil War, most of them long abandoned by generations who'd faded away with their memories.

Mark was next to his grandparents and parents. His parents were killed in a car accident out on one of the many dirt back roads of our county shortly before he died. Mark had told me many times that he wanted to be cremated, but he'd never put the wish to paper. Jill wanted her family side by side, so I gave in. She'd also asked if I wanted to buy a plot next to his and theirs, but I was too wrapped up in my grief blanket back then to give her an answer. That was two years ago. I hoped she'd forgotten by now.

I traipsed up the gentle slope to Mark's gravesite, unprepared to deal with the coming pain even if I'd relived his loss a million times. As I approached, I noticed fresh flowers in a small vase on Mark's granite monument. Jill must have stopped by because their grandparents and parents had flowers as well. His beaming face stared back at me as I dropped to a knee, wiping at the oval-shaped, ceramic image of my love.

"Looking cute, mister," I whispered, dabbing at some dirt a lawn mower may have deposited just above his right eye.

I remembered a talk we'd had about one of us dying before the other. We'd agreed that if we saw a hummingbird, it would be one of us saying hi. Checking in from the afterlife. I had yet to see one of the fucking things ever since.

"New doctor arrived today," I said. "Your sister's in a flutter, of course. I'll admit, he's handsome, for sure. But I hated him straight off. Not my type. Too fancy. You'd love him, though."

I stood and stared at the beautiful man in the tiny picture. Mark had been my everything. I breathed him in as my source of all that I needed to survive. Shit like this wasn't supposed to happen. Why did it? There'd been no warning concerning Mark's heart condition. In fact, he'd had a physical a month prior and nothing indicated he wasn't the picture of perfect health.

"You weren't fair, baby," I whispered. "You promised me we'd grow old together, remember?"

Where were the fucking hummingbirds, for Christ's sake? I needed a goddamned sign. I glanced around the neighboring marble monuments for any signs of the tiny bird. Fuck all was what I saw. As I stood over the eternal sleeping space of my beloved, I almost wished I could crawl in with him. One last embrace for an eternity.

"I love you. I hate you sometimes, but I love you."

A wave of grief hit me so hard that I damn near buckled at the knees. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to scream and howl so the world could feel my agony right along with me. Life is not fair, and I doubted I'd be able to believe it was ever again.

I stepped through the rusty old gate as I exited the cemetery, toward the SUV the city gave me for being the Sheriff. Taking one last look across the field of the dead, searching for the birds with the tiniest hearts, I pulled myself into my vehicle.

I didn't cry, but I could build one hell of a wall of water that was hard to see through. Jill was right. Coming here today had been a mistake. Being near Mark on this particular day only made my life seem worse. I leaned forward and rested my chin on the steering wheel, about to scream until my lungs flew out of my mouth. That dam of water in my eyes was at the breaking point, threatening to release two years of hurt, but I wouldn't go there. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

But then I saw something spinning on the other side of the chain-link fence that outlined the small cemetery. Blinking to clear my eyes, to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing, I focused on the shiny stick in the ground and what was whirling at its top.

A plastic hummingbird, impaled by a metal stick, spun around, dancing in the sunlight.