“I don’t want to intrude,” Heather answered quickly. “I just wanted to bring something by for Cara. I was so sorry to hear about . . . Brett. I’m sorry not to have been at the funeral, but I didn’t know.” Even as she said it, Heather felt her cheeks burn. What would she have been doing at the funeral anyway? It was a dumb thing to say.
But Emmi seemed touched by her words. “How could you? You only just got here. It was a very nice service. People came from all over and spoke so highly of him. I never saw so many people.” She paused in reflection, then shook her head, coming back. “He will be deeply missed.”
“I didn’t have the opportunity to meet him,” Heather said.
“Right, you’d just arrived. I think that’s what’s so hard for Cara. There was no warning, it all happened so quickly. Cara’s not receiving visitors,” she added apologetically. “But can I offer you something to drink?”
“No, really,” Heather said, stepping back. “We just wanted to drop this off. It’s some cheeses and fruit. I thought that way she could nibble on them whenever she wants. Nothing to heat up.” She glanced quickly up at Bo, a signal that it was time to leave. “Thank you, Emmi.”
“Nice to see you again, Miss Emmi,” Bo said. “Give Cara my love.”
“I’ll tell her you were here.” Emmi looked at Heather. “Both of you. I’ll come by and say a proper hello when things settle down here. Thank you again for coming by. I know it will mean a lot to Cara.”
Bo was lost in his own thoughts and uncharacteristically silent on the way back. The reality of Cara’s loss lay like a heavy pall around them. Though they hadn’t seen Cara, the grief permeating the house was palpable.
Driving along on the bouncy golf cart, Heather let her senses take in her surroundings in an effort to lift her now-dismal mood. It was early afternoon on a sunny day. The air smelled of salt and jasmine. The temperature was balmy— in the eighties and not too humid. It was perfect beach weather. They passed young couples tugging wagons filled with toys and children, an older couple holding hands, a few teenage girls in bikinis brazenly strolling in the street, a large dog dragging his walker—all holding colorful towels, all heading for the sea.
Despite the sadness of death, life went on, Heather thought. She pushed a shock of hair from her face in the breeze. She had to remind herself of that every day, find strength, even courage, in that knowledge. When her mother had passed, she’d thought she’d never get past her grief. Guilt was a terrible burden to bear. But she was slowly learning to do just that. Just one week here had opened the window to what was possible. As the beach house that was fast starting to feel like home came into view, she prayed now for Cara. She had to learn this painful lesson. And quickly. If you let it, grief could swallow you whole.
Chapter Ten
NO MATTER HOW prepared she thought she was for death, Cara couldn’t have anticipated the depths of the loss she felt.
Her grief was all-encompassing. With her mother’s passing, Cara had felt sorrow, of course. She still missed her mother deeply. But Brett’s death was akin to dying herself. Her world had ended. She grieved her past, present, and future.
She’d lost her faith in God: Cara couldn’t pray to a being that would take her husband away. She’d planned the funeral in a daze. She was confused, disoriented, flooded with waves of guilt and anger. A funeral was nothing they’d ever talked about. Funerals were something they’d plan much later in their lives. When they were older. They were still young, or so they’d thought. Yet now, in the space of two weeks, Cara felt very, very old.
Cara lay on her bed with her arm covering her eyes, even though no light pierced the darkness save for what leaked through the slits of the closed drapes. She felt lifeless. No energy, no desire to rise out of bed. All she wanted to do was sleep and hide from everyone. She grew aware of the sound of knocking on her bedroom door.
The knocking continued, more insistent. “Cara?”
“Go away, Emmi. Please.” Her voice was low and rusty.
“It’s not just Emmi. I’m here, too. Open up, darlin’.”
That was Flo’s voice. Dear Flo . . . But still, Cara couldn’t bear to talk to anyone.
“I’m sleeping.”
“You’ve been sleeping day and night for two weeks.” The door pushed open. Cara removed her arm from her eyes and peered over, squinting in the dim light. She saw Flo leading the charge with Emmi right behind her.
Cara groaned and put her arm back over her head. “I have a terrible headache.”
“No, you don’t,” Flo said as if she were speaking to a recalcitrant child. She sat on the mattress beside Cara while Emmi went to open the drapes. Immediately the room was drenched in sunlight. She reached out and, taking Cara’s hand, moved her arm from her eyes. Cara resisted, but Flo was firm. She continued holding Cara’s hand in a motherly manner, peering into her face.
Cara reluctantly opened her eyes.
Flo smiled and squeezed her hand encouragingly. “Hello, precious,” she said with great warmth.
“Hello,” Cara replied despondently.
Flo spoke in her typical matter-of-fact style. “We’re worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“We don’t think you are fine,” Flo replied. “You’re not leaving your room, barely eating—honey, it’s just not healthy.”
“So?”
“So, we’ve come to help you,” Flo replied in a cajoling tone.
“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Cara said, pulling back her hand and clasping both arms across her chest, turning her face to the wall. “But I’ve been through the five stages of grief, okay? And now I’m tired and just want to rest.”
“Honey,” Flo persisted, not one to be pushed aside, “grief doesn’t come in five neat stages. You’re bouncing around all of them like a pinball and landing squarely in the depression zone at the end of each one. You forget I was once a social worker and I know about this stuff. You also forget that I was with your mother when she was in this very same state after Russell Bennett died.”
Cara turned her head back to search Flo’s face. She’d never heard this before. “Mama?”
“Yes, Lovie. She’d locked herself in her room, inconsolable, as you are now. She’d lost the love of her life, as you have. That kind of grief is dangerous. It can destroy you, if you let it.” Flo squared her shoulders. “I didn’t let it destroy your mama, and I’m sure as hell not going to let it destroy you.”
Tears filled Cara’s eyes and she reached up to wipe them away, surprised that she had any tears left to shed.
Flo cleared her throat, moved by emotion. “Now,” she said firmly, bolstering her resolve, “Emmi and I know you don’t want to see anyone right now, and that’s okay. You’re entitled. Grief doesn’t have a timeline. You take all the time you need. But you have to take care of yourself while you grieve. Frankly, Cara, you need to bathe. Give us a chance to change these sheets.”
“No!” Cara exclaimed, panicked, as she curled on her side. She spread her palm against the sheets on Brett’s side of the bed and rubbed them caressingly. “I can still smell him,” she choked out.