Page 198 of Finding Hope

Ha. Funny.

44

JACK

A VISITOR

Walking along the paved walkway through tall pear trees, I emerge into the open area where Steph’s marker rests.

It’s just a regular sunny day. Cloudless sky, fresh breeze, everything is as it should be, except today, someone else stands in front of her grave, touching her headstone, tracing her name.

I press my hand down on Annie’s quivering head when her hackles rise. Steph’s visitor isn’t doing anything wrong; Steph can’t hurt anymore, so there’s no reason for Annie to flip.

I watch the man place a bunch of flowers in the vase in front of her. He works to set them right, fussing until he’s happy, and sends the V between my brows digging deeper.

That’s the vaseIput there, for the flowers thatIbring. Now the bunch in my hand feel redundant, sub-par, my hand-picked peonies lame compared to the bright display of store-bought tulips he brought for her.

I don’t know him. I don’t recognize him at all.

I think – Ithought– I’d met just about every person Steph ever knew, but just like I stopped Annie from reacting, I force myself to cool it as well.

She’s just a headstone now, just a plot of earth.

No matter what, no matter who he is, he can’t hurt her.

He looks to be mid-thirties, maybe late. Sort of fit, but not like the fighter physiques I see so often. Just a regular guy; not fat, not scrawny.

His hair sits neat on his head, combed, and with a salt and peppersprinkle that ages him. He couldn’t possibly be forty, yet his hair hints that he is.

He speaks in soft tones, so soft, I only catch every few words as they float on the soft breeze;home, sorry, Glenn.

Curious, unable to stop myself, I step toward him. “Can I help you?”

He jumps at my words, lifting at least half a foot in the air, then with a hand over his chest and a wedding band circling his finger, his nervous eyes meet mine. Stubble coats his cheeks, his jawline stands out, his cheeks almost sunken like he could do with a few good meals.

His skin is tan, but could do with some more color. It’s with the thought that he’s spent far too long inside that my radar goes on alert.

I take another step forward and watch him nervously wipe his hands on his pants.

His voice crackles with nerves. “Hello. I’m sorry for coming here.”

I take his extended hand with narrowed eyes. “Who are you?”

“Ah…” He clears his throat nervously. “I’m Glenn.”

“Glenn...” I release his moist hand and step back. “Can I help you?”

“You’re Jack…”

“I am.”

I watch on in horrified fascination as tears spill over and dribble along his cheeks. Suspicious, but knowing without a doubt he’s harmless, I take him in a back-thumping hug and hold on when he lets out a heart-breaking sob.

“What’s going on, Glenn?”

“I… uh…” He clears his throat uncomfortably and watches me through wet lashes. “I got back to town just today, and I… I wanted to come see her, to say sorry.”

I look over his shoulder, at Steph, at the flowers. “Sorry?”

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