Page 1 of Echoes of Eternity

CHAPTER 1

Each step Ryan Fitzgerald took helped ease the weight of losing his father, even if it was just for a moment. His childhood home lay a full two blocks behind him. He was almost to his destination. Raking a hand through his hair, he didn’t look back as he rounded the corner of A Street, headed for 14th. His father’s lawyer had just broken the news to him and his four siblings that the Cedarwood Creek Grill, the prized possession of their family, had been left to him by his father. It was a surprise to everyone and a spark of joy to him in an otherwise dismal day.

As he arrived at 14th street, the corner edge of the Cedarwood Creek Grill sign came into his view, just through the top of the evergreen trees of Eastern Washington. He smiled. It was the first time he had smiled in the last four days since losing his father and arriving back to his childhood hometown of Cedarwood Creek. The smile soon fell away as he took a deep breath and continued onward. The weight of what lay ahead pelted his mind like a barrage of missiles. How would he ever run the family business from all the way in California? What if he failed? The last thing Ryan wanted to do was drive his father’s business and legacy into the ground. A daunting task that he could barely fathom when grief was at the forefront of his mind.

Continuing his steps, he cut through the tree line and came into the back alley behind the grill. He slowed his pace as he arrived at the red beat-up metal door on the backside of the restaurant. This door did a lot more than a typical door. It held much of Ryan’s memories of growing up in the small town of Cedarwood Creek. The dents and the old worn stickers, still intact, told stories of years gone by and what life was like for him and his four siblings. For instance, the big dent in the bottom right came from his father, Frank, plowing the alley of snow with Mr. Henderson’s new ATV when Ryan was twelve. He had ran the ATV and plow straight into the door. And the worn Incubus music band sticker right by the door handle. A remembrance of Ryan’s first kiss with Heidi at his first concert. This door led not only into the kitchen of the Cedarwood Creek Grill, but into a world of Ryan’s past, a time in which is father was alive and Ryan was just a boy. And now the door also held his future.

Emily, Ryan’s wife, suddenly came into view from around the corner of the red brick building. Sighing with a sound of relief, she lifted her hands outward as she walked toward him. “There you are. You left without even a goodbye, Ryan. I was worried about you . . .”

As he turned toward her, he saw a flicker of worry mixed with concern in her ocean-blue eyes. He didn’t mean to place it there, and a part of him wanted to reach out and snatch it. But he couldn’t. If losing his father was teaching him anything, it was teaching him how weak he truly was in life. It didn’t seem to matter how hard he'd tried since losing his father. Ryan knew he hadn’t been the strong pillar his family needed in this time of crisis. The reality was that his dad was gone, and something broke inside him that day. And he had not a clue how to fix it.

Shaking his head, his voice was gentle and just above a whisper as he finally responded to her. “I’m sorry, Em . . .”

He walked over to her and gently brought his hands up to her sides, holding her.

“I . . . I just had to get out of that house.”

“I get that, but without saying anything? To me? You just slipped out of your dad’s study and right out the front door. I want to be here for you in your pain.”

Suddenly, he could feel his heart leap back onto the emotional roller coaster he had ridden since losing his father. His throat clenched, his eyes welled with hot tears, and he felt even the slightest touch could cause another wave of grief and pain come spilling over the edge.

“I just need a moment right now.”

His hands fell away from her, and he walked toward the door.

She stopped him with her words. “I am your wife. Please let me care for you, Ryan.”

“I know you care, but . . .” He looked at her, really looked at her. Those eyes were his home, his joy, his comfort. And yet in that moment, they fell short of what he needed. Though she was the woman he had been married to for sixteen years and who had birthed their three beautiful children, she couldn’t provide the comfort his soul craved. She was standing there and waiting for something that Ryan just couldn’t give her—his pain and his heartache. “I know you care, Emily, and I love you. But there are some journeys in life that no one, not even a spouse, can go on with us, and I’m on one of those journeys right now.”

He turned away from his wife and back toward the red door. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he looked over at her once more. “I’ll meet you back at the house.”

In the grill’s office a short time later, Ryan sighed as he slipped the last few months’ paid invoices back into their manila folder and smoothed a hand over his face. His father hadn’t digitalized anything related to the business. Old school didn’t begin to describe the situation. Ryan yearned deeply to just leave California behind and relocate to Cedarwood Creek to take care of the business, the house, and his mother Veronica. He felt torn knowing Emily wouldn’t be happy in Cedarwood Creek. As he thought more about a plan for the business, he relaxed into his father’s wooden office chair that had been there since he could remember. His right hand naturally moved to the scuff atop the right armrest where a chunk of wood was missing. He picked at it as he thought about the overwhelming nature of his predicament.

His thoughts soon drifted to earlier at the house, during the wake after the funeral. The slideshow playing on multiple televisions throughout the house, the memorial and flowers set up in the dining room in honor of his father, and the friends and family gathered around laughing, crying, and sharing memories of the life Frank had shared with them all. It all felt like a bad nightmare, and he was just waiting to wake up.

Then his heart dipped, remembering the mysterious text message from an unknown number on his father’s cellphone.

In the midst of his grief, he had somehow forgotten about it entirely.

Ryan had been signing the guest book when his father’s phone buzzed with a text message. The phone sat right beside the guest book on the table. Lifting the phone, he read the text.

Feeling distant. Need to talk to you, Frank. XOXO

Rising to his feet, he started to pace in the office. He pondered why he had chosen to delete it.

His mother Veronica’s somber expression came into his mind’s eye. He couldn’t tell her. Then he thought about the conversation he had five minutes prior to that with Bill, the head deacon at his father’s church. Bill was pressing him for answers on what would happen with the business, offering to purchase it. Bill went on to ask about the financial situation of his mother and even went as far as to ask where his father’s tools were located because Frank had never returned his impact drill.

Ryan couldn’t risk people in town finding out about the text.

Stopping mid-stride, his eyes caught a framed picture on the wall of his father shaking hands with Pastor Chris on the day his father was ordained as a deacon.

Sitting back down in the office chair, Ryan raked his hands through his hair. Then suddenly, an epiphany bloomed in his mind. His father was gone, and any secret sins his father had were buried with him that morning at eleven o’clock. It made no good sense to go digging up what had been laid to rest.

Jason Fitzgerald, Ryan’s younger brother, knocked lightly on the door frame of the office. Ryan sat up a little straighter in the office chair.

“Em said I could find you here.” Grabbing a metal chair, he slid it over and sat down about a foot away from Ryan. “You okay, man? Your wife seemed pretty concerned about you at the house.”

“The hysterics of our three sisters was too much for me, Bro. I had to get out of there. Plus . . . I just miss Dad and being in that house wasn’t helping. I can’t believe he’s truly gone. It still doesn’t feel real.”

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