In the Stillness

CHAPTER 46



“Have you talked to anyone about that letter?”

My visits with Dr. Green have decreased to every other week, and this is the first time I’ve seen her since my mom’s experiment in apology.

“No.”

“Not even Ryker?”

“Not even Ryker.”

“Why not?” She tilts her chin, almost knowingly.

“Well,” I sigh, “what’s the point? I don’t mean that sarcastically, either. I promise.” We chuckle in unison. “I’m at a point now, I think, where I don’t need to dump everything on everyone all the time. I mean, I don’t feel like my friends look at it as me dumping on them. I . . . just don’t need to right now.”

“Excellent, Natalie.” She smiles and takes a careful breath. “Have you spoken with your mother since you got the letter?”

“Yes.”

I tell Dr. Greene that my mother and I had a short, tear-filled conversation where I thanked her for not destroying the letter. She said that once she found out my and Bill were still talking, my dad clued her in on the last ten years, and what Ryker had been through. She said when she put that together with what I told her at the boys’ birthday party, she realized her short-sightedness.

“How did things end with you two on the phone?” Dr. Greene checks her watch, letting me know our time is almost up.

“Things are okay, they’ll be fine. I guess it’ll just take some time, like everything else.” With a smile and an appointment for three weeks from now, I leave the office and look forward to a quiet afternoon.

While I’ve learned to savor the quiet when it comes, I’m grateful that Tosh and Liz will be home from Hawaii at the end of the week. As I finish up a chapter of a book I’ve been getting lost in, my phone rings with a number I’m unfamiliar with. It’s our “413” area code, so I answer.

“Hello?”

“Natalie Collins?” a woman’s voice greets me.

“Yes, this is.”

“Hi, this is Karen Matthews, George and Marion Frank’s daughter.” Her tone tells me to sit.

“Oh, okay, hi.” I know I sound breathless, but can’t help it.

“Dad passed away last night.” She clears her throat as she finishes, allowing for a small sob to escape my throat unheard.

“I’m so sorry,” I make out between not-so-silent tears. I haven’t seen George since Christmas, and Marion the week before that. “What happened?”

“He passed away in his sleep.” After a few sniffs, she manages to tell me that Marion got my number from the Soldiers’ Home, and asked that I be called about the funeral arrangements. It’ll be in two days.

“Thank you for calling, Karen.”

Hanging up, I collapse to the floor in a puddle. Not wanting to bother Tosha on her vacation, but knowing I need to talk to someone—and soon—I call Bill.

“Hey, Nat, what’s going on?”

“Bill . . .” My ugly cry reaches his ear in no time.

“Natalie? What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

“George . . . from the Soldiers’ Home . . .” is all I can make out.

“Oh, Nat . . . where are you?” Bill’s voice cracks.

“At my apartment.”

“Sit tight.”

Twenty minutes after hanging up, Bill shows up at my door. I don’t care how he got my address, I’m just thankful he has it. Though I don’t remember when I stopped, I start crying all over again when I open the door and find his Ryker-blue eyes staring back at me. His hug absorbs my sobs as we move to my couch, where he lets me cry for several minutes. After I calm down, and he—at some point—makes tea and hands it to me, I tell him about my conversation with Karen.

“So,” I finally take a deep breath, “will you please come to the funeral with me? I don’t want to go alone, and Tosh—”

“Of course, Natalie.”

After a few minutes of quietly sipping tea, Bill rests his hand on my shoulder.

“You going to be okay, Sweetie?”

I nod, wiping my nose with my sleeve. “I will be. I’ll see you at the church on Thursday.”

When he leaves, I consider texting Ryker, but can’t imagine what he’ll do from so far away. I text Eric to let him know I’ll be pretty unavailable for the next few days, so to only call me if it’s an emergency. I need the quiet today.

Marion lost her soldier. No matter when, no matter how, losing your soldier is unlike anything I can explain. I can only imagine it based on the fear that lingers in my chest. The fear that never really goes away.

A swift, pounding headache produced by too much crying and too little sleep sits shotgun on my drive to the church on Thursday. Two days of silence found me somewhere between reading through Ryker’s letters on the floor at 2am one morning, and sleeping until 9am this morning, making me almost late for the service.

Parking my car in the back of the lot, I’m thankful to see Bill’s car waiting for me. He must have seen me pull in, because as soon as I open my door, he opens his. Walking to his car, I manage a polite wave before my eyes dart to the passenger door as it, too, opens. Nearly slipping on the ice-slicked parking lot, I come to a stop. My lips part as Ryker starts toward me.

“Ryker!” Ignoring the ice, I rush to his side the car, where he lifts me into a fierce hug. “What are you doing here?” I sob into his black peacoat, my feet suspended a few inches from the ground.

“Dad called,” he whispers. “You should have called me, Nat.” Kissing my cheek, he sets me down.

“You flew home just for this?” I whisper back.

I feel him nod before he says, “I came for you.” Kissing my cheek, he sets me down.

“You didn’t have to—”

Ryker silences me by wiping a tear from my cheek with his black cotton glove before locking his fingers with mine. “Let’s get inside. They’ll be starting soon, and it’s freezing.”

Bill walks on my other side, resting his hand on the center of my back as we ascend the steps of the church.

The funeral is a full military affair that immediately calls to mind Lucas’s funeral, only this time I have Ryker at my side. I can see in Ryker’s jaw that he’s thinking the same thing. He doesn’t let go of my hand through the entire service.

As we were the last in, we’re the last out when the service is over. Walking through the connector before the front door, a small voice calls out.

“Natalie.” Marion appears from a side room with a smile on her face.

“Marion.” As I walk toward her, she extends her arms. “I’m so very sorry, Marion,” I sniff as we embrace.

“Thank you, Sweetheart. It’s okay, though. He had a great life.” With glistening eyes, she peers over my shoulder, reminding me that Ryker and Bill are behind me.

“Oh, Marion, this is Bill Manning, and,” I take a deep breath, “this is Ryker.”

Marion’s cheeks turn a fresh shade of pink as she eyes Ryker from head-to-toe. “I thought you were in Wyoming?”

Ryker cracks a little grin and looks at me.

“You’ve come up.” I shrug passively.

“Listen, you two,” Marion starts as the funeral director approaches her with her coat, “I want you to come to my daughter’s house tomorrow, around noon.”

Ryker and I look at each other for a confused moment.

“Just do it,” she butts in, “Norman from the funeral home will give you Karen’s address. See you then.”

And just like that, tiny, feisty Marion leaves the church, having given us our orders for tomorrow.

Walking back through the parking lot, I reach for Ryker’s hand. “Thank you for coming, Ry. When do you have to go back to Wyoming?”

Bill gets into his car as Ryker walks me to mine. “I’m not,” he says as we reach my door.

“Why not?”

“I told you already,” he smiles, running his hand down my cheek. “Want me to come back to your place with you?”

He told me?

Still trying to discern his response, I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. Just come to my place in the morning and we can go to Karen’s. What do you mean you told me?” My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

Ryker looks away for a second as he sees it hit me.

I came for you.

He didn’t come today for me. He came today for me.

“Ryker . . .” Ten years, countless tears, and months of therapy later, I find myself at a loss for words.

Ryker’s eyes focus on mine in seriousness as he grabs my shoulders. “Call me if you need me, okay? I don’t care what time.”

“I will.” I nod, trying to swallow away the sudden dryness of my throat.

With his seemingly-signature kiss on the head, he walks back to his dad’s car and they drive away.