Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

Holland

I t's bright outside—blue skies, fluffy white clouds and sparkling sunshine, and I'm not sure I've ever felt more depressed in my life. I thought I'd suffered a broken heart eleven years ago when Trey broke up with me so we wouldn't upset his brother, but I realize now that was nothing compared to the pain I feel now.

My heart has been shredded by a thousand slices with a dull blade born of sorrow for losing Wade, helplessness over not being able to do anything of use for Trey, tears for the entire Blackburn family, and my irrepressible fear that I'm going to lose Trey again.

I called him first thing this morning while lying in bed. I didn't get any sleep last night and figured waiting until eight a.m. was plenty of time to give him. It wasn't a total shock I got his voicemail. I didn't bother to leave one, though, instead shooting him a text so that he had words that maybe he could read over and over again. I love you. I want to help you. I'm here for whatever you need but please don't ask me to leave you alone forever.

In the kitchen, I found my mother drinking coffee and scrolling through her iPad. Her current favorite pastime was looking at Pinterest for ways to redecorate the kitchen. The tension that existed between us the last few days was still there and amplified on my part because of Wade's death. Mom didn't know about any of it and when she started in about the printshop, I didn't pull any punches.

"I can't talk about this right now, Mom. Wade Blackburn died last night."

She paled, her mouth gaping and even as she stammered her apologies and condolences, I was already tuning her out. I grabbed coffee, took a shower and left.

It's not to Trey's house I'm driving but to another person who I know might need me just as much. I pull into the Blackburns' driveway, my gut churning with what I might find inside. What's happened to my beloved adopted family as the realization that Wade's smiling face won't be at the kitchen table anymore? Has there been some form of acceptance or have they sunk deeper into despair?

Whatever the case may be, I am here to help in any way I can.

The Blackburn house stands tall and proud, a reminder of the strength of this family. I know they'll ultimately survive this but for now, they just have to survive today.

Tommy answers after my second knock, his face lined with exhaustion and grief. He looks like he's aged twenty years since last night but manages a small smile when he sees me. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?"

I step in and give him a hard hug. "No better than you, I imagine. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over by a freight train," he admits wryly.

"And Fi?" I ask, as she's who I'm most worried about.

"She's in the kitchen. Her Irish backbone's back in place, ramrod straight, but I'm worried about her. Kat and Gabe are on the way to the airport to pick up Abby and Kellan. Ethan's over at Marcie's with Sylvie."

"How did Sylvie take the news?" She had been asleep last night when I arrived.

"She's devastated. She and Wade had grown close since she came to live with us. That kid has had too much death of loved ones." He rubs a hand over tired eyes. "At any rate, Ethan and Marcie decided to get her out of the house today, so they're hunkering down over there."

I nod in understanding. Ethan had his own little family to protect and care for, and from what I've learned in the short time I've known Marcie, I think she's well equipped to take care of him in return.

I hesitate, then ask what's been gnawing at me the entire drive over. "Is Trey here? He didn't return my call this morning."

Tommy's expression turns even sadder. "No. He hasn't returned my calls either, so don't take it too personally. He did text to let me know he's staying home today, that he wants space. I don't think space is good for him, but I'll give it to him."

I don't think it's good for him either, but I suppose I need to respect his wishes as well. My voice cracks when I say, "He shut me out last night. He blames himself, Tommy."

Tommy sighs deeply. "He'll come around, Holland. He just needs time."

"I hope so," I say, my eyes welling up with tears. "I want to help him, but I can't if he won't let me." I suck in a deep breath and let it out. I manage a small smile. "But for now, I'm here for you, Fi, and the family."

"And we love you for it. Why don't you head into the kitchen," Tommy says, turning for the home office Ethan normally works from. "I'm dealing with the funeral arrangements."

I swallow hard, noting the way his shoulders sag. "Would you like me to…"

Tommy shakes his head. "I want to do it. It's important that I do it, but thank you."

Reaching out, I grasp his hand for a brief squeeze, then leave him to do a job no parent should have to handle.

I follow the scent of freshly baked pastry into the kitchen. I expect to see Miranda behind the counter but she's nowhere in sight. Instead, Fi stands there spreading icing over a large pan of cinnamon rolls.

She's so intent on her work she doesn't notice me, and I use the opportunity to watch this amazing woman who has been more a mother to me than my own. My biggest shame in leaving everyone behind is in not being honest with her as to why I cut ties. She's not held it against me though, welcoming me back with open arms.

An overwhelming surge of love and fondness hits me so hard, for a blissful moment it drives away the darkness. As if Fi can feel it, she looks up. Red and puffy eyes warm when they see me, and she sets the spatula aside, still loaded with frosting.

"Holland, love, I'm glad you're here." She moves around the counter and wraps me in a hug that feels like a weighted blanket.

And here I am… supposed to be comforting her.

I can't hold back my tears any longer. They spill over as I hug her tightly. "I'm so sorry about Wade, Fi. I loved him."

Fi's grip on me tightens, and I can feel her own tears wetting my shoulder. "I know you did, dear."

And I love your other son, Trey.

So much.

Yet I feel the doom hovering over us. He was so resolute last night, just like he was eleven years ago when he broke up with me. Trey takes his family loyalty deeply. Once before, he set me aside to avoid creating a rift with Wade. This time, he stood his ground, took the risk of denting his relationship with his brother.

And now, Wade's dead and Trey blames himself.

Blames us.

The floodgates open, and I sob uncontrollably. "This is all my fault," I blurt out.

Fi jerks and pushes me away from her, hands gripping my shoulders as she stares at me in shock. "Why would you say that, love?"

"If I had just stayed away from Trey," I wail with a tortured soul, "none of this would have happened."

Fi's expression turns stern and she uses that voice that none of us kids wanted to hear when we were in trouble. "Now, you listen to me, Holland Rhodes. This is not your fault. It's not Trey's fault. What happened to Wade was a tragedy caused by a drunk driver, and no one else."

"But Trey says—" I start, though Fi cuts me off.

"Trey's hurting, and he's not thinking straight," she says firmly. "He's blaming himself, and you, because he's overwhelmed with grief. And we can understand that, yes?"

I nod uncertainly.

"Yes," she confirms with a knowing smile. Her hands cup my cheeks. "My dear girl, you and Trey being together did not cause that accident. I firmly believe that. Just as I believe you and Trey belong together. I know this is a dark cloud hoverin' over us right now and Lord knows, I don't know how I'm going to survive losing my boy, but I know one thing that helps. Want to know what it is?"

I nod earnestly, needing the hope.

"It's that true love has taken root between you and Trey, and that one day, you'll marry my boy, be my daughter for real, and give me pretty grandbabies. I try to hold on to a glimpse of that future to keep me from falling apart right now. I'm going to suggest you do the same."

My heart hurts and mends at the same time. I pull Fi into a tight hug, squeezing her with all my might. "I hope I grow up to be as strong as you one day."

I can feel Fi nod, but then she starts sobbing and I hold her tightly. We stay like that for what seems forever, and then she's back to being strong again. She grabs tissues from a box on the back counter and we wipe our faces and blow our noses.

"Want a cinnamon roll?" she asks.

I don't. My stomach feels like I would hurl it right back up, but I know Fi provides comfort by baking and I want her to think her efforts make a difference to me. "Sure," I say, and move to the coffee pot. "Want another cup of coffee?"

"No thank you, love," she says, turning back to the task of icing the remaining rolls.

It's quiet in the kitchen as Fi hums a soft tune and I doctor up a cup of coffee at the kitchen window. Again, so bright outside as the back pastures sparkle with morning dew. I wonder if Trey can even see color right now, or is he stuck in a world of depressing gray?

I want to know. I want to pester him to let me in and let me make things Technicolor for him, but I need to exercise patience. I'll do it because Fi asked me to, and wild horses couldn't drive me away.

All of a sudden, a loud snort comes from Fi and I turn to find her head bowed. I move to her side, lay a hand on her arm. "Are you okay?" I ask, ready to comfort her through another sob fest.

She lifts her head and those eyes reddened by hours of tears sparkle with amusement and she starts laughing.

"What's so funny?" I ask hesitantly.

"I was thinking about that time when Wade was ten, and he got it into his head that he was going to build the grandest treehouse Shelbyville had ever seen. He enlisted you, Kat and Abby to help him."

I chuckle. "I totally remember that. We spent days gathering wood and supplies."

"And Wade, bein' the enthusiastic leader, climbed the tree to start buildin' the foundation. Halfway through, he realized he'd never actually learned how to build a treehouse. Ended up stuck in the tree, with the ‘foundation' fallin' apart beneath him."

Fi laughs harder and I can't help but join in. "We had to go get Trey to help us get him down. He had to climb up and rescue Wade."

"Got a stern talkin'-to from me, he did," Fi says, her laughter fading into a fond chuckle. "That boy was always up to no good."

Fi picks up the pan of cinnamon rolls and carries it to the table. I grab my coffee and follow her. We sit across from one another, and she pulls a piece from the pan. As she pops it in her mouth, I do the same. Admittedly, my empty stomach needed it because I feel a little better.

"Remember when Wade went through a phase where he was obsessed with magic tricks?"

Fi grins wide. "Practiced for hours in his room, convinced he could become the next great magician." Her face screws up into a frown. "It was all cute until he decided to perform that trick where he'd make my favorite vase disappear."

I nod with a laugh, remembering the great show he put on one evening after Sunday dinner. "I remember the look on his face when he opened the box up after it supposedly disappeared, only to have it fall out and crash to the floor."

Fi shakes her head, her smile faltering. "What I wouldn't give to have him here breaking all my favorite vases right now."

"Me too," I whisper, the loss once again pressing down on me.

Until Fi giggles. I lift an eyebrow in silent question. "County fair, sixteen years old."

I snort so loud I cover my nose with my hand, holding back a guffaw. I mumble through my fingers. "He wanted to impress Kimberly Darfan and entered the talent show."

"Borrowed his da's old guitar, he did, and practiced a song for weeks. The day of the fair, he got up onstage, nervous as a cat in a room full of rockin' chairs. Started playin', but halfway through, he forgot the lyrics." Fi's smile remains but her eyes turn sad and reflective. "Stood there, strummin' the guitar, and then he just started makin' up words, singin' about everything he saw in the crowd. By the end, everyone was laughin' and cheerin'. The girl he was serenading? She thought it was the funniest and sweetest thing ever. That was our Wade—always turnin' mishaps into joy."

We eat cinnamon rolls and share more stories. Tommy comes in to join us for a bit, the kitchen feeling a little warmer, a little brighter. The strain of tragedy looms heavily, but for a beat, we're able to find comfort in the memories of Wade's vibrant spirit.