Written in the Scars (40 page)

TY

My reflection stares back at me in the mirror. I don’t look bad, just a little cut here and there. My hair needs trimmed and my limp is back pretty heavily, but there are no lasting effects of the accident.

Not physically, anyway.

I lay my tie around my neck and wait for Elin to come and do it. I’m not even going to fuck with it. Not only because I won’t get it right anyway, but because I like her attention on me.

I need it.

I crave it.

She’s the only thing that keeps me together.

Sleep has become my enemy. I wake up in cold sweats, sometimes from seeing Cord’s face slip into the darkness, sometimes as I feel the earth shake beneath me and listen for the rocks to start falling. Jiggs has this problem too. They say it’ll go away eventually. Maybe. Either way, I can deal with it because Cord gave me the chance.

I smile as I think back on his life. No one loved him like a parent, no one loved him like a husband. Yet, even with the absence of that kind of unwavering affection, he knew it.

I’m proof.

It’s made me realize how selfish we are with our emotions. How we blame other people for the decisions we make or the lack of opportunities we have and how stupid that is. Cord had an excuse to get out of anything; he had the hardest life of anyone I know. Yet he never used it as a crutch, and he didn’t let it keep him from choosing love. Even if he didn’t realize it.

“Hey,” Elin says from behind me.

I turn to see her. Her eyes are puffy.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, reaching out and cupping her cheek.

She sighs. “I felt like I should go through that envelope from the hospital,” she says. “And I found this.”

She holds up a piece of paper that stills me. It’s white notebook paper with smears of black.

“Cord wrote this while you were underground. And it has my name on it,” she whispers.

I fold her into my arms and rest my chin on her head as I remember us writing them. I had no idea he was writing to her, but I can’t say I’m surprised. “Does it say anything important?”

She pulls away. “I’ll read it to you:

“Well, this sucks.
”

She laughs at the little stick person in a state of obvious frustration that was clearly drawn for her amusement.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think down here. I’ve thought about a lot of things, but I keep coming back to what you said about everyone’s life having a purpose. I’m sitting here in this hole the size of a small room with water freezing my toes off and your husband and brother making me crazy with their bickering and I’m wondering—how in the hell did I get here? Maybe my purpose in life is to be tormented by them assholes. Both of them.”

Another stick person makes her giggle and she looks up at me, then clears her throat before continuing.

“In all of my life, you made the biggest difference.”
She looks at me, needing a second to gather herself before continuing.
“Even growing up, as kids, you showed me how to fight for people, how to stand up for what’s right. You never knew it, but a lot of who I learned to be was by watching you and the empathy you had for people, even in times that were hard. You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

Her voice cracks and I grab her hand and squeeze it.

“I want you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to deliver your family back to you. And if I don’t make it out of here, I don’t want you to be upset. I mean, cry, because that feeds my ego a bit, but realize that maybe this was my purpose in life, like you said. And if that’s the case, I’m okay with that. I really am. Remember that story I told you once about “insane decisions”? This one was premediated. Remember that. Always.

Life’s not for the faint of heart, that’s for damn sure. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and this, my friend, won’t kill you. But I don’t know how much stronger you can get.

“There’s a winky face,” she says, sniffling back tears.

“Thank you for taking an interest in the kid from foster care that pulled an attitude on you in the cafeteria line in junior high. I don’t know why you did, but it proved to be the luckiest day of my life. It was the start of a family I never had.

“Thanks, Pit Bull. I’ve never really said this to anyone, but I love you guys.

“Cord.”

She breaks into tears and I hug her tight. “I had no idea he thought of me like that,” she sniffles. “No clue.”

My tongue is tied, the idea of my friend being gone too fresh to discuss. Hearing his last words, the words I watched him write on that piece of paper read out loud, is haunting.

“We need to go,” she says, reaching for my tie. “We can’t be late for his funeral.”

She works getting my jacket situated when I look at her. “He knew you were pregnant, didn’t he?”

Her hand stills. “Yes.”

“And I didn’t know?”

She looks into my eyes, tears filling them. “It was Cord that told me I was pregnant.” She goes back to work on the tie, clearing her throat. “He would’ve been a great husband and a great father someday.”

I force a swallow and look away, blowing out a breath. “Did you read the letter I wrote you?”

She shakes her head. “No. I couldn’t. I mean, I tried. But it started with ‘I guess I didn’t make it’ and I couldn’t read on.” She finishes working my tie, pats my chest and steps back. “There you go, handsome.”

I nod, thankful she didn’t read the letter. Maybe we’ll read it together at some point and maybe we’ll let it sit in a drawer. I don’t know. All I do know is that I’m grateful she didn’t
have
to read it.

ELIN

I swore I’d never set foot in here again. After the funeral service for my parents, I could barely drive by the little building on Main Street without breaking down. Yet, just a few years later, I stand in the very same place, giving another eulogy for someone I love.

The microphone hisses as I adjust it. I vaguely wonder if I can just shut it off, but that seems more of a hassle than it is worth.

Taking a deep breath, my lungs fill with the scents of a hundred flower arrangements surrounding the casket of my friend. Yesterday was calling hours. Ty, Jiggs, Lindsay and I stood at Cord’s side and watched as mourners lined up down the aisle, out the door, and around the corner. They stood on the sidewalk in the pouring rain until it was their turn to enter to pay their respect to a man that deserved it.

I can’t look over there. My feet are glued behind the podium, stuck in place by the gazes of people filling the seats facing me. The director brought in every chair they had in storage and it still isn’t enough. Through the windows, I can see shadows of people standing on the sidewalk outside, listening to the service through speakers. It’s almost too much to take in.

My hands tremble as I lay a piece of paper on the wooden stand in front of me. I constructed words as beautifully as I could late last night, wanting to say the perfect things as a goodbye to my friend. I can’t see any of it.

Head bowed, lip quivering, I choke back the sob that shakes my chest. Lindsay rushes to my side, a handkerchief clenched in her hand. Her arm stretches across my shoulders and I turn to her.

We cry. Even when I’m sure there aren’t tears to be spilled, they come out in waves. Before I can start to pull myself together, Ty and Jiggs are pulling us into one giant embrace.

We stand, the four of us, our fifth wheel missing, and feel the loss of him more than ever before. Arms entwined, heads touching, tears mixing—we grieve the loss of a person that is simply irreplaceable.

I glance up, wiping the tears from my face. A small gasp escapes my lips. Half the people facing me are standing, the other half on their way to their feet. Chins tucked, hands folded in front of them—it sends chills through me.

Jiggs slips his wife under his arm and guides her back to her seat. Ty presses a soft kiss to my forehead and asks me with his eyes if I’m okay. “I’m fine,” I whisper. He seems unsure as he rubs his fingers down the cuts just starting to heal on his cheeks.

Finally, he takes his seat in the front row and I’m left watching the townspeople take theirs as well.

“I want to thank you all for coming today,” I say, my voice heavy with emotion. “I know none of us want to be here. I’d rather be home, listening to Ty and Jiggs and Cord argue over who is the better mechanic.”

A few chuckles roll through the room. My eyes find Ty’s and he smiles, urging me on.

“Cord left me in charge of his affairs. When the paperwork was handed to me, I wasn’t sure how to take it. Me?” I point to myself. “Why me? Then I saw how messy his house was and I realized it was some form of payback.”

Lindsay’s grin relaxes me and I take a deep breath. “Cord was a complicated guy in some ways and, in others, he was so simple. On one hand, he frustrated me like no one else on the planet. He wouldn’t do what I told him and he called me Pit Bull,” I say, rolling my eyes, “even though I hated it.”

The words end as I choke back the tears. “That’s a lie,” I sniffle. “I didn’t hate it. What I will hate is not hearing it again.”

I glance at the casket. My breathing ragged, my shoulders vibrating with the emotion that threatens to spill out across the parlor. He looks so peaceful, like he might sit up and give us his easy smile at any minute. It’s devastating.

“They say people don’t remember words. They remember how you make them feel. I disagree. I will remember so many things that came out of Cord’s mouth.” A smile tickles my lips as I taste the salty tears streaming down them. “I’ll miss him bossing me around and giving me advice, even when I don’t want it. I’ll miss the way his laugh sounds in the middle of Thoroughbreds on a Saturday night. I’ll miss the way he’d get me to do what he wanted without me realizing it.”

I try to find Becca in the sea of faces. I know she’s there. I saw her earlier, but the tears make everything smear together. “This is so unfair,” I say, squeezing the words out between sobs. My gaze meets Ty’s and I have to grab ahold of the podium for support when I see the anguish on his face. His hands are clasped together on his lap, his gaze fixed on the casket at the front of the room.

“I wish I could talk to him just once more. To tell him . . .” I take a second to catch my breath. “To tell him thank you for sending Ty and Jiggs back to me. To tell him he was right about so many things. To tell him how much we all love him.”

My tissue is completely soaked, the white material breaking apart in my hand. I press my palms against my eyes. I know I look like a complete disaster, but it’s nothing compared to how I feel.

“What happened in the mine was a tragedy. I’d give anything to go back to that day and keep them all home. But I can’t.

“Even though he didn’t admit it and maybe he didn’t even realize it, but Cord McCurry loved more purely than anyone. His love didn’t come with strings. There were no contingencies with his friendship. If he liked you, that was it. I think we can all learn something from that.”

I stand tall, clear my throat, and feel a sudden burst of clarity. “Cord’s life was cut unfairly short and I refuse for it to be in vain. His death will not be something we cry about today and go to work tomorrow and forget. I won’t allow that.”