Come to Me Quietly (Closer to You) (28 page)

Aly crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her face to the cool winter sky. Evening approached. Pinks were strewn across the deepening blue, twilight casting a striking chill in the air. Aly tugged her sweatshirt a little tighter to keep herself warm. After school, she’d gone to Rebecca’s house to hang out, one of her best friends who lived in the next neighborhood over. But she was supposed be home before it got dark.

Her backpack bounced on her shoulders as she hurried. Turning right on the street where her family lived, Aly jogged across the street and up the sidewalk to the front door. She opened it, rushing in, the announcement of her arrival poised on her tongue.

Then she stumbled to a stop.

Her hand shot to the wall for support, and a chill so much different than the one she’d felt outside trickled down her spine like a rush of frigid ice. She shook and crept forward, canting her ear to the sounds coming from her mother in the living room.

She was crying.

No.

Not just crying.

Aly had only heard her mother sound like this once before – the day Aly’s grandma died.

She was weeping.

The cries slithered along the floor, crawled up the walls, pierced Aly’s ears. Fear and panic struck her heart. It pounded hard. She felt along the wall, her back pressed to it and her eyes pinched shut as if it would protect her from whatever had done this to her mother. She stopped at the archway to the living room, holding her breath as she risked peeking inside the room.

Her mom was on the floor, on her knees. Her dad kneeled over her, rubbing her back, trying to calm her. But her mother sobbed toward the floor, completely inconsolable.

“Shh, Karen… I’m right here… I’m right here.”

“Dave… ” She said his name as if maybe he could take away whatever was hurting her.

In some sort of daze, Aly wandered out into the middle of the room and stood there gaping at her mom falling apart. The ball of dread sitting like a rock in her stomach promised her something was very, very wrong.

Her dad caught sight of her. “Aly, sweetheart,” he said, his voice instantly on edge, protective, as if he wanted to shield his daughter from whatever was happening, but was unwilling to leave his wife’s side.

With a short gasp, her mom jerked her head up. “Aly, baby.” She struggled to climb to her feet, though her shoulders stayed slumped and her back bowed.

For two seconds they just stared at each other, and then Karen rushed toward Aly and took her in her arms, lapsing back into tears that she expelled in the crook of Aly’s neck. “Oh my God, my baby… my baby… ”

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Aly begged. Right then, she just needed her mom to tell her that everything was going to be okay, the way she always had done when Aly had been a little girl. In just the assurance of her words, she made everything better.

Karen edged back and took her face in her hands. Her head tilted to the side, her brown eyes so sad.

Aly knew this time whatever her mother was getting ready to say wouldn’t be bringing her any comfort. She shuffled her feet, and that rock in her stomach took it all the way to the floor.

“Baby… there was an accident… Helene… ” She trailed off, seemingly unable to complete the thought, her expression steeped in sorrow.

Aly shook her head, trying to make sense of the stream of turmoil coming from her mother’s mouth.

Karen’s lips quivered. “Helene… she’s gone. Baby, she’s gone.”

“What?” Confusion flooded through Aly’s consciousness. She was unwilling to believe the meaning of her mother’s words. “What do you mean?”

Her mom winced and grimly drew together her lips.

Aly shook her head.

No
.

Helene was dead?

“Jared was driving them back from getting his license… they said he pulled out in front of a truck.”

And Aly could feel her mom’s heartbreak, could feel it quivering in her touch. But in that moment, Aly was numb with disbelief. It seemed impossible.

“Is Jared okay?” she finally managed to whisper.

Her mother shrank, her lip blanching as she bit it hard. “They don’t know if he’s going to make it.” The words bled from her mouth, slow and unsure, filled with sympathy, but sharp with grief. “He’s in bad shape, Aly. Neil just called… He’s at the hospital. Your dad and I need to go.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Her dad stepped in. “I want you to stay here with Christopher. He was supposed to spend the night at a friend’s. I just called him and told him what happened. He’s on his way home.”

“No, Dad, I want to come.”

“I think it’s best if you stay here. I’ll call you once we get there to let you know what’s happening.”

“Dad, please.”

He hugged her, smoothing his hand over the back of her head, his tone pleading. “Just stay here, okay, sweetheart? For me? We need to be there to help Neil with Courtney… and Jared… We just don’t know what we’re going to find when we get there.”

He left her standing there, stunned, unable to absorb the blow. It tumbled through her like a storm.

She loved Helene. So much. Family… that’s what she’d been. It didn’t matter that they weren’t related by blood. Helene had been there in every memory that counted.

But it was the thought of Jared being taken from her life that pushed Aly’s back up against the wall, her chest heaving when the grief finally struck.

“No,” she whispered. “Please, no.”

“Today we gather to celebrate the life of Helene Rose Holt.”

A deep, mournful sob broke in the row directly in front of Aly as the minister began to speak. Jared’s father, Neil, sat hunched over as he wept, and Neil’s father placed a hand on his slumped back. The older man’s words were indistinct as he whispered something in his son’s ear. Neil Holt shook harder and wept more.

Aly sucked in a breath, unable to hold back the tears falling from her eyes. Her throat felt so tight and her chest so empty. She’d been crying for days, and she didn’t know if she was ever going to stop.

Beside her, her mother squeezed her hand so tightly it hurt, as if the pain emanating from Neil Holt was her own burden, too.

Aly squeezed her back. None of this felt real to her. How could it be? It seemed impossible that someone could so suddenly be ripped away without warning. It seemed savage and cruel.

A gust of cold air stirred the surface of the ground and rustled through the barren trees. Branches creaked as they bowed, whining, as if they felt the void, too.

In front of her to the right, Courtney blinked down on Aly with her bright blue eyes. Her grandmother held her on her lap, Courtney’s arms wrapped around the old woman’s neck as she peered back at the gathered crowd, the nine-year-old little girl looking more stunned and confused than anything else.

On the other side of Aly, Christopher sat with his elbows on his knees, his face hidden in his hands. Most of the week he’d remained stoic, outwardly unaffected by the horror that had befallen their families. But Aly heard him crying at night, as if he couldn’t hold his own misery in anymore. He just wasn’t capable of showing anyone the way he really felt. Seeing him like that had scared her.

But it was Jared who terrified her.

Aly’s bleary eyes settled on the back of Jared’s head where he sat to the left of his father. He was unmoving. Still as stone.

As if he weren’t really there. His body was, but he wasn’t.

They’d waited to have the funeral until the day after he was discharged from the hospital. He’d been there for nearly a week recovering from broken ribs and a punctured lung. The doctors said he’d been lucky.

Aly stared at the back of his blond head of hair. It appeared stark white under the glaring winter sky, strands of it thrashing in the sharp gusts of wind that cut across the joyless ground, the relentless stirring at complete odds with the boy who sat comatose.

Lifeless.

Aly’s heart hurt. It’d been hurting for days, but seeing him like this was killing her. Only once had her mom allowed her to go with her to the hospital to visit him. The entire time Jared had pretended to be asleep, as if he didn’t know they were there. But Aly knew… She’d seen the flicker of his lids and the awareness in the twitch of his fingers.

What she’d expected today, she didn’t know. Crying, she guessed. That she would witness him mourn the way he should because Aly couldn’t imagine anything more horrible than losing your mother. She wanted to reach out, to touch him and tell him it was okay and that no one would blame him for grieving.

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

But he just sat there, staring directly ahead as if he had some sort of detached fascination with the large spray of red roses blanketing the top of the white casket. Around it, pictures were arranged on easels: a picture of Helene as a little girl, one in her cap and gown, dancing with Neil on her wedding day, her face filled with absolute joy as she held her newborn baby boy, the last a recent family picture of the four of them. But Jared’s attention never strayed.

Maybe it was wrong that Aly noticed, that she was so aware of every move he made.

Helene’s sister, Cindy, rose and slowly approached the podium that had been set up to the left of the casket. Cindy sniffled and dabbed under her eyes with a tissue. “If you’re here today it’s because you had the great honor of knowing my little sister, Helene. I’m sure you’d all agree with me that she was the one of the kindest, most genuine people you’d ever meet.” A low murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. “She couldn’t walk in a room without making everyone else smile just because her joy was so infectious.”

She wet her lips, then continued. “My sister was the definition of warmth. Beautiful. Unforgettable. She cared so deeply for everyone. But her family was the most important thing in her world.” Cindy looked directly upon the front row. “Neil, Jared, Courtney… she loved you all so very much. I don’t want you to ever forget that. I’m going to keep those memories of her close to my heart, and I hope you’re able to do the same.” She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes pressed tight. She could barely continue to speak. “Thank you, everyone, for being here, for celebrating my sister’s life. No doubt she is watching over us now, thankful each of you is here.”

She stepped down and the minister took her place. He led them in a prayer. A somber and final “Amen” rolled over the gathering.

The casket was slowly lowered into the ground.

Aly’s mom whimpered.

This time Aly was the first to squeeze her mother’s hand. Her mom was hurting, and she wanted her to know that she understood. Helene had been her best friend, as close to her as a sister. Aly would never forget the way Helene’s warm laughter had constantly filled their house, the lilt of her quiet but strong voice, the way her kind eyes had watched and loved and encouraged.

Aly was going to miss her, too.

Once the coffin was fully lowered, the minister made an announcement that all could come forward to the grave to give their final respects. Afterward they were all invited to a reception taking place at the Moore home.

Jared’s grandfather helped Neil to stand, stayed at his side as he lumbered over the hard ground. He took a single, long-stemmed rose from a basket and dropped it into his wife’s grave. For a few minutes, he just stood there, staring, lost in the bleakness of finality, of what could never be taken back, never recovered, never regained.

She tried to hold it in, but a soft sob escaped from Aly’s throat. She caught a glimpse of Neil’s face when he turned around. The man had forever worn an affable smile, and now Aly wondered if he’d ever smile again.

The rest of the front row stood to pay their respects, all except for Jared, who didn’t so much as flinch. People cried as they approached the grave. Each one dropped a rose to the top of Helene’s casket and said a last good-bye.

Aly followed her mother and father out, took her own rose, and tossed the flower into Helene’s open grave. With her eyes shut tight, she murmured toward the ground, though she was speaking toward the heavens. “I’ll miss you so much, Helene.” Wiping her eyes, she stood aside and watched as the sea of black made its way by the grave that would permanently mark Helene’s death.

The entire crowd made their pass, before they scattered out to gather in groups where people wept and hugged and comforted each other.

Aly couldn’t help noticing those who whispered, ones who cast sidelong glances speculating about the boy who sat utterly alone, staring blankly ahead at the spot where his mother’s casket had rested before she’d been lowered into the ground. Anger twisted through Aly’s gut, and she wanted to lash out at them, to tell them to stop judging because they didn’t come close to understanding who Jared was. None of them knew the kindness of the boy who had always thought of everyone, the one who loved his mother and who was so obviously destroyed.

Breaking from the circle of her family, Aly made her way back to the basket of single, long-stemmed roses, taking one in her hand. The few that remained had been at the bottom of the pile, the wilted, red petals crushed. Cautiously, she made her way over to Jared, searching for some sort of recognition in his eyes. Still there was nothing. Aly gently laid the rose on his lap and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Jared.”

His hair fluttered in the breeze, and Jared just stared.

Two months had passed since the accident. Everything had changed.

Aly was in her room with her door shut, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her sketch pad on her lap. The small lamp on her nightstand softly glowed against the walls of her room. Furiously her pencil brushed across the thick, textured paper. Shadows sprang to life, her worry inscribed on the page.

So many nights she spent awake worrying for Jared, completely powerless, while she watched him fade away. How badly she wished for some way to help him, to make him see that he was only hurting himself more, and that Helene would never want this for him.

Rumors had begun to surface, trickling all the way from the high school to the middle school. They terrified Aly more than anything because she saw their truth. She saw it in his eyes every time the two of them passed, even when he didn’t seem to even know she was there. It was like he saw right through her, like he was absent. Gone.