Page 53 of Returning Your Love
People in line behind me made me release my hold and move on when I’d rather have stood by his side offering my support.
I knelt in front of Shelly’s mom, but her gray eyes were vacant. She didn’t recognize me, nor did she acknowledge the condolences I spoke over losing her only child. Standing, I nodded at the nurse seated slightly behind her before making my way to the second row of chairs facing forward.
Even though I couldn’t stand beside Chaz, I planned to sit there until the last person paid their respects. And if he still wasn’t ready to talk, then I would continue to wait, same as Babs had for the love of her life.
Chaz was worth it. Always had been, but I’d been too blind, and now we both paid the price.
Chapter 18
Chaz
Iwas too aware of Jamie seated mere feet from me, and I struggled to focus on thanking people for coming as they passed by me after a moment or two by Shelly’s casket.
We’d had to keep the lid closed due to her injuries, but I’d been forced to see the damage to her body in order to properly identify her at the hospital. I’d barely made it to the bathroom before puking my guts up that night, the sight of lacerations and swollen features haunting enough she visited me in my dreams, telling me tolookat her, that I was to blame for what had happened.
My swimmers had been the problem exactly as she’d screamed about, the fallout of which had brought us to this point.
She’d made her choice to fuck another man, but she never would have been down in Berlin on Wednesday if I’d been the father of that baby in her belly. Failure number six-thousand and fifty-three or what the fuck ever, proven true by irrefutable evidence.
No one knew about the longed-for pregnancy as far as I was aware, and our corner of the world never would. According toher text, she’d only found out that morning, and I had to wonder if she’d had a chance to tell Tara or the baby’s father.
I’d been at the shop all day every day since the accident, thankful Dad had seen to the funeral arrangements so I was free to lose myself in work rather than stewing in truth and lies. Whiskey helped me with the quiet hours at home, probably more than was healthy, but I couldn’t fucking deal with the constant thoughts in my head. Especially those which made me feel evenmoreguilty.
Relief.
No one hounded me about being late. A shrill voice no longer ranted every day about what I did or didn’t do. There was no more gaslighting. No arguments. Just quiet—what should have been peacefulness—but my brain didn’t allow such a thing.
“Why am I here?” Shelly’s mom asked loudly, startling me along with a lot of the people in the hushed room. “I just don’t understand! I want to go home!” Her whining sounded just like Shelly, but I forced myself to think about my mother-in-law’s complete lack of memory rather than get pissed off she disrupted what was supposed to be a few hours of respect for her last known relative.
It would have been for the best if she’d stayed at the nursing home, but Dad had insisted she deserved to be present for her daughter’s wake. It’d been two years since she’d recognized Shelly in a moment of clarity and even longer that she remembered I was her son-in-law.
“I want to go home!” she hollered again, growing agitated in her wheelchair.
The nurse attempted to soothe her, at least getting Shelly’s mom to lower her voice.
Dad approached and spoke quietly to the nurse before glancing at me, his gaze stating his intention to remove her from the room to stop further disruption and embarrassment.
Whatever. He’d been the cause of it by insisting she be present. Her being there was begging for trouble. Might as well let him handle the situation because I had zero patience for it.
I nodded, and they wheeled her away, allowing me to breathe a little easier.
The line waiting for a moment of prayer over Shelly’s casket continued out the door where the trio left, and I expected it spread down the hallway and into the parking lot beyond. I appreciated everyone showing respect for Shelly, but continued condolences wearied me.
Pippen Creek’s funeral home wasn’t exactly large, so when a townsperson was ready to be laid to rest, the place packed out. An hour in, and my feet were pinched by uncomfortable-as-fuck dress shoes, and the tie choked me. I was to the point of ready to complain along with Shelly’s mom. But I had no excuse for the outburst wanting to erupt from beneath my skin.
Zero.
I grew tired of saying “thanks” and drumming up smiles for people I held in high esteem or truly appreciated seeing. Countless arms hugged me, perfume and cologne clinging to my nose and causing nausea to brew in my empty stomach.
I checked my watch discreetly while waiting for the next person kneeling beside Shelly’s casket and making the sign of the cross over their chest. One hour to go. I would get through this then head home for a double shot of whiskey to help my exhaustion drop me into bed without further thought and hopefully nightmares.
My gaze roamed the room—skipping over Jamie—and snagged on a blonde rounding the corner.
The sight of the nurse from Berlin leached the blood from my face as I tried to pay attention to the person moving to stand in front of me and offer their sympathy. How much had Tara been involved in Shelly’s life? Obviously, she’d known of Shelly’saffair, her interactions with that man in the ER proof enough she’d been a trusted confidant to them both about their secret relationship.
I kept an eye on her as the line slowly moved, my focus on her rather than the people attempting to comfort me with meaningless sentiments, no matter the intent behind their words. They echoed one after the other, their compassion falling on deaf ears.
Tara stood before the casket, her lips murmuring as though offering a goodbye that shouldn’t have been forced onto either of them. Her shoulders lifted as though inhaling a bracing breath, and she turned toward me.
