She tore into the bedroom, slamming the closet doors open. “Where are you?” Sara shoved clothes around on the hangers, knocking shirts and dresses to the floor. Some hit her in the face, landing on her, and Sara retaliated by yanking the clothes from the hangers and tossing them behind her. On and on, her breath leaving her in gasping sobs, she destroyed the perfectly ordered closet.
When Sara spun around to see what she could upheave next, sunlight streamed through the window, landing on the hope chest, making it glow. She dropped to her knees, resting her head on the hard wood, and let the wretched tears take over. “How could you leave me?” she moaned to the vacant room.
“Sara?”
She froze, wiping her eyes, thinking she was hearing things again.
“Oh, Sara, what are you doing?” Warm hands grabbed her, turned her around. Lincoln’s sad eyes slammed into her. “Did you decide to redecorate?”
Sara snorted, it turning into a half-laugh, half-sob.
He pulled her to him, rocking her, making her feel safe and taking the loneliness away. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to be alone. You can’t do this on your own. You don’t have to. That’s why I’m here.”
“You left.” Sara closed her eyes, inhaling Lincoln’s scent, becoming centered once more.
“Only for a little bit. I came back. I’ll always come back.” Sara stiffened in his arms and Lincoln said, “I’m not him, Sara. I’ll always come back. I promise.”
She pulled away, searching his tight-lipped expression, seeing the fierce gleam in his eyes. “You don’t know that.”
“Yeah. I do. I’m not leaving you. Not ever. Not ever.” Lincoln’s fingers dug into her shoulders, keeping her anchored to reality. “I swear to you, Sara, ain’t nothing taking me away.”
It was a lie, but it was a lie Sara needed to hear. She let herself believe it. Lincoln needs you, whispered through her head and she shivered at the truth of it.
***
“You’re strong enough to get through this, Sara.”
Sara shook her head. “I’m not strong. I don’t even want to try to be. I’m just…struggling to not want to die, and the thought of living; it really holds no appeal to me. So I exist.”
“I know you lost your parents and I know you lost a baby. Now Cole.” Mason crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter. “You look surprised. You really shouldn’t be. Spencer’s talked about you and Cole often enough, even before I met you that fateful day at Wyalusing. What I’m saying is; you got through all of that and you can get through this too.”
Swallowing, Sara played with her wedding ring. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she’d thrown on an old yellow shirt of his and black leggings. She looked like an oversized bee. Mason had said as much.
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Not at all. But it’s not unattainable and you act like it is. That’s what you need to change. The way you think about things. About yourself.”
“Don’t you think there comes a point when it’s all too much? When you cave, give in from all the pain and all the loss? Maybe that’s where I’m at.”
He smiled. “Nah. If you were at that point, you wouldn’t be standing here, talking with me.”
“You make me,” she pointed out.
“Truly? You’re going to do me like that?” Mason looked disappointed in her, but she knew him well enough to know he wasn’t, not really. “You could have not answered the door that first Sunday, or even the second one, or even today, but you did. You want help. You want to move on. You just don’t know how. But that’s part of it; finding out how to handle the things in life you can’t change.”
“You either know way too much or not enough,” she mumbled, rubbing her forehead. She was tired, so tired.
“Have you seen Lincoln lately?”
Her stomach twisted at the mention of his name. “Yes,” she answered breathlessly. “Why?”
Mason shrugged. “No reason. Keep seeing him.”
“I don’t think Lincoln would let me stay away even if I tried,” she said dryly, the hint of a smile on her lips.
“Ah, see? In all of this sorrow and pain you feel, you just smiled. You had a reason to smile, and it was Lincoln. That’s what it’s all about, Sara; finding reasons to smile. It gets easier, it gets less painful, and then it doesn’t hurt so much. You don’t have to hurt to mourn someone. Do you understand what I mean?”
Sara drew in a shaky breath, briefly closing her eyes as she nodded. “I think so. Yes.”
Mason walked to her, grasping her cold hands in his warm ones. “You’re strong enough. Know that. Believe it.” He squeezed her hands before releasing them.
“Why are you so adamant about helping me? It’s not like I’m paying you and I know I’m not exactly your idea of fun.”
“You remind me of me, only more melodramatic.” Mason winked, moving toward the door.
“I’m melodramatic?” she demanded, incredulous.
He paused, his hand on the door handle. “Yes. I think that’s what I said, didn’t I?” Mason nodded. “Yes. I did say that. You define melodrama, Sara dear. You should have been an actress. See you next week.”
Mason had rendered her speechless.