Page 4 of There I Find Hope

Chapter 2

Noah stood uncomfortably at the back of the church. He really didn’t belong here. Except, he was a resident of Strawberry Sands and had gone to school with Sunday Landry.

He had a huge crush on her too. At one point, they’d been good friends. He had hoped for more, but she’d been swept off her feet by the man she eventually married when they were seniors in high school and he’d come to do a presentation about careers.

Noah wasn’t sure of the details, because once Sunday had met Glenn, she hadn’t had much time for him.

And that was understandable. He had more than one friend who had fallen in love and had neglected their regular friends for a while until the newness of their infatuation wore off.

But Sunday had married and moved away and Noah had gone off to college, and they had never reconnected. Even though she rented her candy store from his company which owned the building.

He didn’t think she knew that. It wasn’t common knowledge in town. He didn’t go around announcing to everyone that his business had been successful, or that he’d come back to Strawberry Sands and invested in the town he loved and grew up in.

He’d been biding his time since Sunday moved back. Several large projects had taken his time in Chicago. One—a hotel just north of Strawberry Sands—had just been approved and they were breaking ground on it soon.

But this... He couldn’t even fathom the pain she must be going through now. Because he cared for her—high school was a long time ago, but he supposed he was the kind of man who was friends forever—he wanted to do something, anything, to help her. But he didn’t know what. So he just showed up at the funeral. His heart aching, his soul longing to help, his hands itching to do something. But all he could do was stand in the back, awkward, nodding to the people he knew, which was almost everyone, and wondering if Sunday really wanted him to come up and give his condolences. Or if she’d prefer to not have to interact with almost strangers.

He decided that he would simply go to the casket, stand respectfully in front of it for a few moments, and then walk out, not adding to the line of greeters and hence the amount of time Sunday had to spend on her feet.

Seeing him might dig up memories she would rather keep buried. Not that they had any bad blood between them, it was just he was around when she decided to run off with Glenn, which had obviously not worked out well for her.

As Noah stopped in front of the casket, he glanced over and narrowed his eyes. The man standing in front of her now, holding tightly to the hand of a slender blonde woman, who gripped the hand of a young child, looked a lot like an older version of what he remembered Glenn to look like.

The man spoke to Sunday, whose grief-laden face suddenly looked stricken, like the man had stabbed her in the heart.

Noah’s jaw tightened, but if that was Glenn, Noah knew divorces could be nasty, and perhaps Sunday was still in love with him. Obviously, he had moved on.

Noah turned his face back toward the casket, not really wanting to look at the lifeless little boy, the one he’d seen cheerfully holding onto Sunday’s hand, skipping up and down the sidewalk, his laughter ringing out over the streets as Sunday’s smile lit up her entire face.

He had several memories like that, times when he’d seen Sunday looking so happy that he’d almost approached her.

Perhaps it was just fear, but he didn’t want to approach her and be rebuffed, because that felt like it was a final thing. He’d spent so much of his time thinking about Sunday and wanting to be with her that if he had been rejected, he wasn’t sure exactly what he would do. He didn’t want to face the reality that Sunday would never be his.

He’d just started to move away from the casket when sudden movement out of the corner of his eye made him freeze, and then a woman screaming profanity made him turn.

The woman was Sunday.

In all the time he had known her, Noah had never known her to say anything inappropriate, let alone allow the words that were erupting out of her mouth to see the light of day. There was no doubt of what she was saying. But the even more shocking thing was that she had launched herself at Glenn, her hands curled like eagle’s talons, as she swiped at his face and neck. He lifted his hands, trying to ward her off while the force of her efforts made him backpedal. He retreated right into the front pew, where he plopped down, with Sunday on top of him.

That was all it took for Noah to launch himself toward the fighting couple. A portion of his mind realized that the graceful woman who had been with Glenn was now on the ground along with her child who had started to cry, but she wasn’t the woman he was concerned about.

It seemed like the entire population of the church converged on the front pew, but since Noah had been so close, he was the first to arrive.

He grabbed Sunday by the waist and pulled her back, assuming that if Glenn was able to right himself, he would not attack her back, if the man was indeed Glenn.

“Let me go! How dare you insult my son! Especially when you were such a pathetic father who never gave a flip about anything!” Sunday struggled, continuing to hurl insults at Glenn, who had picked himself up off the pew and was brushing himself off, looking derisively at Sunday, who sobbed as she spoke, still struggling, and was basically hysterical.

Noah figured she could have gone to the doctor and gotten some tranquilizers or something to keep herself calm. But until Glenn had stood in front of her, she seemed to be doing just fine.

“Hey.” He didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t say “It’s okay,” because it wasn’t. No one thought anything was okay. It was not okay when a child dies. He couldn’t say, “you want to set a good example for your children,” because her only child was lying cold in the casket.

He couldn’t say, “calm down,” because he didn’t feel like he had that right. Maybe he could say that he would act the exact same way that she was, if he had been in her situation, but he didn’t really see how that would help.

He pulled her aside as the crowd formed around them. He recognized Lena, her mother, as she hurried over, deep lines of concern etched in her brow as she held her hands out, effectively taking Sunday from his arms.

He didn’t laugh, it would have been a humorless laugh, but he’d finally gotten to hold Sunday. Although he hadn’t even really noticed. He was just trying to...keep her from killing her ex, he supposed.

He wanted to comfort her. To be the one who had that right, but he stepped back, giving room to her mother, who barely glanced at him.

---