Page 7 of Rugged and Filthy

Which was rare even after all this time.

I twirled the bright red rose in my hand, licking drops of rain from my lips as Xena scampered away, sniffing every dead flower and fallen leaf, her tail wagging incessantly.

“I have to do this, Erin. It’s my anniversary.”

“I don’t think Finn would want you to be here today,” she said in quiet reverence. She’d insisted on driving, likely worried I’d accelerate, dumping the car off a cliff.

“It’s something I need to do. Please understand why, Erin. Please. I feel closest to him here.” I bit back another sob, trying to ignore the lump in my throat that was as big as the knot in my stomach. It had been another sleepless night of holding my pillow to my face, trying to keep as quiet as a church mouse so everyone in the house wouldn’t hear me. They didn’t deserve to wallow in the same anguish as I did after all this time.

“Then go. I’ll be right here.”

Her lovely Irish brogue was like sweet music and when I tipped my head toward her, her smile was bright even if the dullness in her eyes was a direct reflection of the way I felt.

Courage was something that my father had always told me I’d been born with, that I had it in spades. I’d never been afraid to speak my mind or tell someone of authority they were wrong. I’d been the one to argue with doctors countless times, yelling at them to do their jobs. I’d been in two barroom brawls just because a bloke had called my sister names. And it had nothing to do with the flaming red hair that I’d inherited from my father.

For all the nights I’d spent alone, for all the worry I’d experienced after my father’s heart attack and learning about his aggressive form of cancer, nothing was as terrifying as facing the rest of my life very much alone.

Right now, there was little left of the girl I’d once been.

I shuffled forward, concentrating on the soft beating of my heart before a single rumble of thunder sounded in the background.

As I weaved my way through the gravesites, I did what I always did when I visited. I read every tombstone, concentrating on the lovely sayings that were always carved in the thick stone.

She was a wife and mother, a wonderful friend.

He was a pillar within the community, a man who would give you the shirt off his back.

She was our only daughter, a beautiful angel taken too soon.

I’d memorized the names and dates, reciting them in my mind on the nights I couldn’t sleep. I’d envisioned their unknown faces, laughing and happy just like I’d once been. I’d mourned for their families, like mine had for me. And I wished for a better future for all the survivors, even though I knew in my heart of hearts that time could never heal all wounds.

As I headed to Finn’s grave, I took a few moments to catch my breath before kneeling. Tears slipped past my lashes even though I’d told myself I wasn’t going to cry. “Hi, baby. I’ve missed you. Have you missed me?” Very gently I lowered the rose to the ground, sniffing back the racking sobs before rubbing my fingers across the carved letters of his name, saying them out loud so no one would forget his existence.

Including me.

“Finn Xavier Donnelly. Beloved husband and father, adored son.” Dropping my head, I closed my eyes as I allowed the memories of our wedding day to filter into my fractured mind. It had been beautiful, perfect in every way. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky, the bright blue color and vivid flowers adding to the spectacular moment. That day, I knew we’d spend the rest of our lives together.

I allowed the sweet images and memories to continue for a few precious minutes, the only peace it seemed I ever got when I was here. After they began to fade, the ugliness of reality returning, I eased into a sitting position. I couldn’t care less that it was muddy. I didn’t mind the chill in the air.

The severe heaviness of everything that had occurred was suddenly right there in front of me, trying to suffocate the life out of me as if the Grim Reaper had an opportunity to dig his claws into my mind and body, taking me straight to hell where I belonged. I’d felt that way since Finn had died, as if I should have been the one who lost their life that day.

He hadn’t waited for the cancer to take him. He’d been determined to provide for his little family even in his death.

I would never forget the day the tragedy had occurred, taking my heart and soul with it. It had been another one with not a cloud in the sky. Finn had come home from a recent hospital stay, acting as if he could conquer the world. He’d even convinced me that he’d felt good enough to go shopping. It had only been for groceries and wine. He’d wanted wine, which meant he was feeling so much better. We’d stopped at our favorite wine shop, picking his favorite merlot, not mine. But I was so excited that he felt better, I would have chugged battery acid if necessary.

It felt as if the tide was turning for us, as if he might beat the ugly disease. He’d told me he’d wanted to surprise me with a little gift, begging me to wait while he entered a store across the street. Xena had come along on that beautiful day, Erin taking care of our precious baby so we could have a couple’s date afternoon. Who went grocery shopping and to a dog park for a date?

It hadn’t mattered. Just being with Finn out of the hospital had.

But the beautiful day had turned into just another tragedy. He’d left the store with a small bag in his hand, waving to Xena and me before moving to the curb to wait for the pedestrian light to flash, allowing him to cross.

Only he didn’t wait. He was looking straight at me as he stepped off the thick concrete, his face more determined than ever.

He acted as he if couldn’t hear the yells of those on the sidewalk or the horn that blasted the second before a dark sedan slammed into him, knocking him what seemed like a hundred feet across the ugly pavement. I’d watched his body flipping.

Once.

Twice.

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