Page 81 of Hard Hat Hottie

My water logged eyes connect with hers, and a torrent of tears fall. Joyce pulls me to her side, and I lose myself for countless moments. I know she’s been paid to be here, but she’s the closest thing to family I have left now. And soon, there will be no reason for her to stay. I knew this day would eventually come. I just wasn’t ready.

I’m all alone. My one tie to family gone. Matthew has Ellie. I have no one. How does anyone move on from this?

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

HARRISON

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I try to straighten my tie to no avail. Wearing my mother’s favorite navy suit, I try once more to get it just right.

“Here. Let me?”

Turning, I see Ellie standing in the doorway.

“Thanks. I suck at these things.” I wear ties all of the time for business meetings. But my heart isn’t in this. Who wants to get dressed up so they can say goodbye to the one person they’ve known their whole life? The one person who loved them enough to stay?

“There.” Her words bring me back from wherever the hell I was.

“Thanks. Matt all ready to go?”

“Yeah. He just needed a minute.”

I nod, realizing I’ve been so focused on my own grief I haven’t been a very good big brother. But I’ve been on this taffy puller of a life for so long, I simply don’t have anything left to give. I’m barely putting one foot in front of the other. Not to mention, soon he and Ellie will be back in Sycamore Mountain, and I’ll be left alone in this empty place. Nothing but the memories of her here to torment me.

“Is he okay?”

“I think so. He’s dealing with a lot of guilt. Believing he should’ve done more to help you. Spent more time with her. But I think you two are made of different stuff.”

Looking in her direction, I wait for her to clarify what she means. “You’re so strong, Harry. You were so patient with her. It tore Matthew up when she didn’t know who he was. I’m not saying it didn’t have the same impact on you, but your brother could never have done what you did. As much as he appreciated your keeping her in your home, he wouldn’t have been able to manage.”

I’d never want my brother to take any blame for this. It was my choice to keep her at home. I acknowledge it wasn’t purely altruistic. It was selfish. I needed her here. Matthew had a life somewhere else. “He has nothing to feel guilty about.”

“Well, neither do you. You’re a good man, Harrison. I’m sure your mother is looking down with pride at the strong person she raised.”

I know she means well, but I don’t want to think about that right now. Moving past her, I head into the bedroom. Standing in front of my dresser, I instinctively reach for my Magic 8 ball, only to find it’s gone. Not sure why I even need it at a time like this. Maybe because it’s one of the few tangible things I have left of my parents. Had Mom hidden it somewhere? Rather than get fixated on the missing item, I decide to look for it in her room later and walk toward the kitchen, where I find Charlene perched at the marble island. She’s dressed in black, her hair now a golden hue.

“Hey, blondie,” I joke. My voice so hoarse it likely sounds like a prepubescent teen.

“Hey, babe. How you holding up?”

I shrug my shoulders. I mean, how do you reply to that? I feel like I’m lost at sea? A boat without an anchor?

Walking over to the coffeepot, I recall the day Harlow and I woke to find Mom had made coffee and poured cereal for her boys. The image of my mother running her hand down their back and referring to them with our names causes me to choke up. There’s no sense in pouring any of this. I’ll never taste it anyway.

Matt and Ellie enter the room, and I turn. Char holds her arms out for Ellie, who quickly comes in for a hug.

“You all right?” I ask Matt.

“Yeah. I’ll be okay. How about you? You going to be okay here?” Without her is what he’s trying to ask. I answer the best way I know how.

“I don’t know.”

We head to the church, surprised to find the parking lot so full of vehicles. My mom hadn’t entertained friends in years. We weren’t big into church. Whowereall these people?

As we enter, we’re ushered into a parlor room until the service begins. Everyone makes awkward chit chat, if only to break the silence that continually draws your thoughts toward despair.

“Hi.”

I turn to see Joyce and instantly feel a warm sensation envelop me. It’s a connection I truly need today. “Thank you for coming,” I greet as I pull her in for a hug.

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