1. Saturday Mourning

Chapter 1

Saturday Mourning

A thick blanket of light and dark gray clouds hung oppressively low in the October sky. The air was crisp. A slight breeze bustled the dried and decaying leaves in a whirlwind as they moved across the dust covered trail of wilderness on the outskirts of Newbury Grove. Those leaves that had yet to fall painted a tapestry of rich orange, yellow, and red amongst the trees of Wildgrove Park.

The less fortunate trees, those now completely barren, stood as a reminder to those who lost everything. Their bare limbs stretched into the sky for a respite from the loss of foliage. They stood waiting for happier times.

A golden retriever enthusiastically pulled Hugo Dodds as they rounded a trail corner winding through the park. The dog pulled and yanked Hugo as she hurried to a new spot on the trail. She stopped and lingered to take in smells. She quickly marked the ground as her territory. Her nose twinged, and she focused on a new target. Hugo knew what was to follow. She took off at a quickened pace.

“Slow down,” said Hugo, but the command went ignored. “Max, stop. ”

The dog got lower to the ground. Her upper body strength now overpowered Hugo as he tried to pull back on the leash. The resistance only fueled her desire. She was like a sled dog, determined to pull her passenger forward to the next destination.

Hugo stumbled over a rut in the trail. He relinquished his grip on the leash before being pulled to the ground. Now free, Max ran toward her new target. She rubbed her nose against the dirt to get the new smell.

Hugo collected himself and pointed to the ground next to him. “Maxine, come here now!”

Maxine pulled her nose away from the alluring odors. Her head was low, ears pulled back, and she dragged the leash behind her as Max returned to Hugo. She circled around Hugo’s legs before sitting down next to him. She glanced up, tail wagging in the dirt, wide-eyed as if to beg for forgiveness.

“Good girl,” Hugo assured her as he rubbed her head. He gripped lower on the leash, closer to Max’s collar, and wrapped it around his hand to give him more leverage. “Now. Easy walk.”

They continued down the path at a steady pace. Max hesitated for a moment to look at the spot of her mysterious smell, but continued forward next to Hugo.

The nature trail morphed into civilized concrete as Hugo and Maxine emerged from Wildgrove Park. They turned down the sidewalk toward the center of town. A white, wooden semi-circle sign with green lettering in the center median of the street greeted them. Welcome to Newbury Grove, Est 1892 . On a small rectangular sign beneath was the town motto, Welcome to the Neighborhood . Hugo gave a passing glance to it and continued on.

Guarding the entrance to the town center was a stone cathedral with brightly colored stained glass windows. Streaks of white and grime weathered the gray stones of the facade. Hugo paused. His eyes drifted up the stone steps to the two large wooden doors of St. Jude Church, where he married Elizabeth—and where he buried her six months ago.

“Are you ready?” Oliver asked in a low, hushed tone.

“As ready as I’m going to be, I guess,” Hugo replied.

Hugo had sequestered himself in a church storage room, not yet ready to grasp his new reality. He focused on his hand movements in a mirror. Hugo tugged and pulled at his necktie, undoing the knot and ripping the tail of the tie back through. He repeated the choreographed dance once again, not stopping until the tie and knot were the correct length.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Hugo replied, never looking away from the mirror. His gaze was unrelenting. Focused. “I’m fine.” He gave the tie a few more tugs out of frustration. Tears welled in his bloodshot eyes, and his nostrils flared.

“Take your time.” He patted Hugo on the shoulder and exited the room.

Hugo was now alone. A tear rolled down his cheek. He ripped the mirror off the wall, smashing it into a hundred little pieces, and threw what was left across the small storage room. Hugo picked up a heavy-duty plastic classroom chair and flung it at the window. The window glass splintered as the plastic and metal smashed against it. The block cement wall prevented the window from completely shattering as it caught most of the chair’s blow. Hugo’s nose snarled. His fists clenched. He hunched over and let out a soul splitting, agonizing, barbaric yawp.

There was a knock on the door.

“Hugo, it’s time,” the priest’s voice entered the room.

Hugo snapped back into focus. His heart raced with adrenaline. His breath labored between rapid and short bursts. He glared into the mirror. His hands were still fiddling with his tie. It was all a dream. His outburst. Just a dream. A not so wondrous dream for his new nightmare.

Hugo wiped away the tears and brushed wayward strands of hair back into place. He checked on the plastic chair next to him to make sure it was still there. His eyes snapped to the splinterless window. His labored breathing relaxed.

Hugo took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready.”

Hugo jerked back to reality as Max tugged on her leash. A rush of dizziness overcame Hugo before he caught his bearings.

“Yeah. Yeah. We’re going,” Hugo assured the dog.

She took the lead, and they continued down the sidewalk toward the center of the town.

The town center was a bustling place of commerce. The old brick facades with brightly colored awnings, built right before the turn of the twentieth century, appeared well-kept and clean for their age. Hugo passed by a local bank branch, a pub, a barbershop, a bakery, and places of business that sold other items, such as jewelry and gifts. He stopped beneath a red, green, and white awning.

He focused on the gold lettering for Antonio’s Italian Ristorante on the door leading into the rectangular building. He glanced over at the small, round table in the window’s corner. That was their table—Hugo and Elizabeth’s table. This was their favorite restaurant, where they spent many date nights over the years.

Sweat rolled down Hugo’s back. Why did I wear the sweater ? Hugo thought.

He shifted back and forth in his seat, trying to pull up his pant leg. These pants are way too tight. I’m going to rip them. Why didn’t I get bigger pants ?

“How’s the lasagna?” Elizabeth asked with her trademark radiant smile .

“Excellent, as always,” Hugo replied. He set his fork down and took a sip of wine. “How’s the ravioli?”

“There has never been a bad meal at Antonio’s,” she replied before taking a bite.

Hugo peered outside from their table in the corner. The full moon peeked from behind the clouds to illuminate the night sky. The rain held off. Good. He put his hand into the black leather jacket pocket.

His fingers traced the small felt box within. His thumb prodded the seam, opening it without Elizabeth noticing. He slipped his thumb and index finger inside, rubbing the metal ring to verify it was still there. He withdrew his fingers slowly, not wanting the lid to make a sound.

“Everything okay?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yeah. Things are great. Only going to get better,” he replied with a smile. Hugo paused. “I was thinking. Let’s take a stroll down to Wildgrove Park.”

“At night?”

“Yeah. Beautiful night. Beautiful moon. Beautiful girl. It’ll be a night to remember.”

She lowered her eyes to her nearly finished plate, blushing and smiling with delight. When her eyes met Hugo’s, she gave him a wink.

He raised his glass in a toast. “To a beautiful evening.”

She raised hers. “To a beautiful life.”

They clanked their glasses and took a sip.

Max’s loud and piercing bark snapped Hugo out of his daze. She had to make her presence known to people strolling across the street.

“Max! Stop that,” Hugo commanded. “Sit.”

Max did as instructed. Hugo pulled out a small dog biscuit from his jacket pocket and gave it to Max.

“No barking. ”

They continued down the sidewalk. As they passed the townsfolk of Newbury Grove, some people recognized the pair.

“Hey Hugo,” a voice shouted.

“Hi,” he politely replied.

“How you doing, Hugo?” others asked.

“I’m fine,” he replied, not wanting to make small talk.

He hurried from the town center and turned down a side street. Folk Victorian homes lined both sides of the street. As Hugo journeyed past, the white, yellow, and beige houses all blended together. Leaves from the trees littered the sidewalk. They crunched as the pair continued home.

More voices shouted, “How you doing, Hugo?”

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Just fine.” His shoulders slumped, and he directed his eyes down on the leaves to avoid eye contact with anyone.

“Hugo!” a man shouted. “Hold up a sec.”

Hugo stopped. He closed his eyes with enough force to will him home, but alas, he was still standing on that sidewalk. When he opened his eyes, an older gentleman ambled down his gray wooden steps, joined by his wife.

“Hi, George,” Hugo responded with a dejected voice. “Hi, Julia.”

“How are you doing?” Julia asked.

“I’m fine,” he responded with the same monotone answer as before.

“I wanted to let you know that, well, that Elizabeth is greatly missed at school this year,” George said as he hugged his wife. “It’s… It’s not the same without her. She brought so much joy to the students and us teachers. Her students are taking it pretty hard. We’re all taking it pretty hard. We’re going to miss her.”

“How do you think I feel? Every day. Day after day. I’m home alone, waiting for her to walk through that door. This has been one long, horrible nightmare,” Hugo shouted. “I want to see her smile again. Hear her laugh. See the brightness in her eyes. But nothing happens. I’m reminded of it daily. I don’t need some jackass to do it for me. As far as Elizabeth’s concerned, just stop. Stop asking how I’m doing. Stop talking about her. JUST STOP.”

Hugo hunched over, fists clenched. He let out another barbaric, soul shattering yawp. His heart raced as George and Julia stood there in shock. Tears welled in Hugo’s eyes as he fixated on their horrified expressions. Hugo broke eye contact.

He sighed and noticed George and Julia smiling at him. He wanted to say those words to everyone who ever asked how he was doing. Hugo slumped his shoulders in defeat. He attempted a half smile.

“Thank you,” he replied in a sad, monotone voice. “She touched so many people and will be missed.”

“If you ever need anything,” Julia began. “Please. Please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Please stop asking me how I’m doing , Hugo thought before replying with a simple, “Thank you.”

Hugo and Max continued their journey home. They turned down one more side street. They passed a few more houses before arriving at 1691 Ravenhill Dr.—a white, Folk Victorian home trimmed in dark green. Rectangular with tall, pointed gabled roofing. The paint was peeling from the siding, and the windows were dirty. Bushes on the side of the house were unkept and had grown wild over the summer. Elizabeth was the gardener, not Hugo.

An expansive porch spanned the entire front of the house. Stairs led up to a green door. Hugo and Max started up the stairs when someone from across the street called, “Hugo!”

Hugo stopped. I just want to go inside. He turned around to see Johanna Newes marching down the porch of 1692 Ravenhill Drive. Hugo relaxed, knowing Johanna would never ask that question.

“Look at this.” Johanna pointed to the house next door. “Look what the new neighbors did.”

Hugo followed Johanna’s pointing to his right toward 1693 Ravenhill Dr. The once beige house was now a dark purple outlined with black trim. The front gazebo like porch was a dark shade of gray. The front door was as black as the trim.

“The house sold? When did that happen?”

“Two days ago,” Johanna replied. “Look what they did to it.”

“It’s purple. Was it purple this morning?”

“No. I’ve been home all day, and I never saw anyone paint that house.”

“I kind of like it.”

“How can you like—” her voice trailed off. She tugged at her muted gray button up sweater. “It’s an abomination.”

“It’s not that bad,” Hugo assured her. “It brings character to the neighborhood.”

“We’re a simple town. We don’t need any funny business.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not!” responded Johanna.

Max nestled against her leg, trying to get Johanna to scratch her head.

“You can pet her,” Hugo said.

Johanna timidly pet Max’s head twice before looking back at Hugo. “We live in a quiet neighborhood. If people are allowed to paint their houses purple, then next thing you know, the whole place changes. I don’t want the neighborhood to change. I like it as it is!” Her fingers twice tapped the silver cloak clasp pinned to the lapel of her sweater.

“Tell you what,” Hugo replied. “When I see the new neighbor, I’ll mention something.”

“Thank you,” Johanna responded and peered down at Max. “You’re a good girl.” She gave Max a few more pats on the head before returning home.

Hugo and Max finally approached the front door. Hugo waved his phone over the lock. A gear moved on the other side to unlock the door.

He opened the door and shouted into the house, “Computer, I’m home. ”

Lights turned on immediately as they entered. He closed the door behind them. He removed Max’s leash and hung it on a coat rack. She ran wildly throughout the house.

Collapsing piles of mail littered the dining room table. Clumps of dog fur balled together on the hardwood floor. The furniture tops were dusty.

Hugo entered the kitchen and grabbed Max’s water bowl. He filled it from the tap and placed it back on the mat next to her food bowl. An empty pizza box spread across a garbage can and the dog food container. He moved the box to the side and opened the container. Only a few pieces of food lined the bottom. He closed his eyes and gave an extended, drawn-out sigh. He shut the lid and moved over to the refrigerator.

The fridge was nearly barren. A couple of water bottles, a bottle of ketchup, a take-out container, and a couple of bottles of wine was all that Hugo found. He pulled out the container and examined the contents inside. His dinner from a week ago. It didn’t look very appetizing, so he threw the container in the trash. He grabbed his car keys from a hook next to the back door.

“Max,” Hugo shouted. “Come get your water.”

Max ran down the hallway, squeaking her favorite toy in her mouth. She dropped the stuffed green and yellow mallard duck and lapped up the water from the bowl. Water splashed all over the floor—most into the rubber mat, and some onto the hardwood.

Hugo opened the back door. “Computer,” Hugo shouted. He waited for the familiar ping to reply. “I’m leaving.”

“Setting away mode,” a female voice echoed through the house.

The front door lock buzzed, and the lights turned off.

“Be a good girl while I’m gone,” Hugo said.

Max glanced up; the bowl was almost empty. Hugo shut the door, and the buzz of a gear locked it.