Page 92 of Stepping Into Tomorrow

“Mind if I talk to Eli for a minute?” Nash asked.

Bella’s eyes widened a fraction before she turned to Eli. “You okay with that, mijo?”

Eli shrugged. Bella stood, casting her worried expression towards Nash. “I’ll be right down the hall if you need me.”

He wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand in reassurance, but Eli was watching. The kid didn’t need anything else to confuse him on such a trying day. He waited for Bella to clear out before he walked around the room, studying the way Eli had set things up. Boats in glass bottles of various sizes and shapes adorned his walls. Eli had mentioned his father had been into that. Robert must have done those.

“I like what you’ve done with the room.” Nash hadn’t been in here since they’d moved in, preferring to give him space.

When Eli didn’t say anything, Nash turned around to find the boy holding his iPad, swiping left every few seconds. Nash sat on the side of the bed, peeking over his shoulder. Images of a man Nash assumed was Robert flashed on the screen. Eli looked a lot like his dad. They both had blue eyes, but his hair wasn’t as light as his father’s. Another swipe and there was another picture of Robert with his arm around a younger Eli as they stood on a boat, holding up their catch proudly. He swiped again, and this time Robert had his arm around Bella as she held a baby Eli. God, she looked like a kid. A sliver of jealousy stabbed through him that he had no right to.

Nash cleared his throat. “You know, I lost someone I loved too.”

Eli set the iPad down on the bed.

Nash handed him the notebook and pen. Eli took it, his fingers clasping the edges. “Sometimes it helps to write down what you would tell them if they were here.”

“But he’s not here,” Eli argued.

“I know, bud. And it sucks that he isn’t. But you’ll always carry a piece of him with you.”

“That’s not possible—”

“I don’t mean a physical piece. You have the memories you made together, right?”

Eli nodded.

“That’s what you hold on to when you feel sad and when you’re missing him. You remember all the good, and you work at being grateful for that time. And then with this . . .” Nash pointed to the notebook. “With this, you can talk to him. You can write letters to your dad to catch him up on what you’ve been up to. Tell him what makes you happy, sad, angry, and everything in between.”

Eli squeezed the pen tighter, his knuckles whitening.

“And then when you’re done, you can tear it out and throw it away or leave it in there. This is a special notebook for you to talk to your dad.”

“What if I forget him?” Eli’s voice was just above a whisper.

Nash slid his arm around him, giving him a sideways hug. Eli leaned against him. “Is that why you’ve been looking through pictures? You’re afraid you’ll forget?”

Eli nodded.

“I’ll be honest—you may forget some of the details over time, but the core of who your dad was and how much he loved you will never be erased. And you have these pictures to help remind you, and I’m sure your mom will be able to tell you lots of stories of you all together.”

“Did this work for you?” Eli asked, pointing to the notebook. “For the person you loved and lost?”

Nash sighed. He had stacks of them, mostly drunken apologies of failing Ana. Did it help? For one brief moment when the ink spread over the page he at least felt like he was doing something, and he wasn’t so helpless. But it never lasted. His soul wouldn’t settle without knowing where she was or what happened to her. But he couldn’t explain that to a kid, especially a grieving one.

“Yeah, bud, it usually does.” For a little while at least.

42

ISABELLA

Isabella sipped her tea in silence, taking in the view of Nash’s backyard. The field was coated in frost and a dense fog had rolled in. She shivered in the cold shadows of the remaining darkness, enviously eyeing the golden sunlight peeking over the mountains in the distance. She tightened the blanket around her shoulders and sipped her drink for warmth. She wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. The house was too quiet.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, squinting at the brightness of the screen.

Tessa: Thinking of you today. I’m here if you want to talk.

Isabella: Thank you.

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