As they shoveled the last of the dirt over the fresh grave, and laid the flower left my mourners over the loose mound, she stood there, watching, disbelieving. A soft rain began to fall, as if compensating for the tears she could no longer cry. In the back of her mind she half expected him to pull up in his beat up old ford pick up truck to collect her and take her home. But the truck was a write off, a crumpled mass of twisted metal, and he would never be pulling up to take her anywhere ever again.
It should have been a wonderful night, a night filled with romance and promise, everything should have been perfect. Now he was gone and with him her hopes and dreams. An engagement ring had been found in his pocket and he had told his mates to wish him luck. She would have said yes. Yes to spending the rest of her life with him, yes to having his children, yes to loving him forever. She would still love him forever, his ring on her finger where his family had insisted it belonged, but there would never be a wedding, or babies, or a chance at a happy life.
Crumpling to the ground, she began to sob, digging her fingers into the red mud that covered the man she loved. Slamming her fist into the slush, all of her emotions let loose in an uncontrollable flood.
"Brody, how could you do this to me? How could you leave me? I love you, how could you leave me alone? I cooked your favorite dinner, everything was perfect. I was going to say yes Brody. How could you leave when I was going to say yes?"
She had no idea how long she had laid there, crying, wet and covered in mud. A pair of warm hands embraced her shoulders and coaxed her to her feet, but her sobbing had rendered her exhausted and her knees buckled beneath her. Strong arms lifted her, carrying her to the front seat of a car she had never seen before, and wrapped her in a blanket. Her mind was as numb as her body as she sat there not knowing who he was or where he was taking her. In the back of her mind she feared the worst, her shredded heart wishing for it.
Emma didn't remember arriving at her mothers, or being carried from the car, the first realization of being at her mothers home was when her mother helped her into a hot bath, gently washing her face and telling her it was going to take time, but everything would be fine. She wished somehow that she could believe her, but it didn't seem possible. To Emma Christian, life was over.
Her dreams were filled with one nightmare after another. Images of Brody's truck rolling over into the ditch, his body hanging lifeless through the shattered windscreen. Another might like this and she would begin to doubt her sanity could hold together. The images faded she was left with a mist that seemed to swirl and dance around in her head. Somewhere in the fog, an image was taking shape, forming, solidifying, and coming towards her with slow deliberate movements. She knew that walk, that face, that smile and those eyes. It was Brody. She reached out for him; tried desperately to hold him, but the closer she got, the more he faded back into the mist. She stopped reaching and began to cry. Even in her dreams life wasn't fair.
"Emmy. Emmy sweetheart. Don't cry. I haven't left you; I will never leave you. Have faith my darling. I will love you forever."
The sound of his voice was so real, so comforting. She reached for him again, and both Brody and the mist were gone, all that was left now was the darkness.
It was ten a.m. before her mother roused her from her restless slumber, insisting she come and eat something. The last thing she really wanted was eat, but at this point she would do just about anything to shut her mother up and make her happy. She sat the table, staring blankly at her food and making swirling patters in her eggs with the end of her fork. There was a knock at the door but she didn't even bother to lift her head to see who was there.
"Hello Emmy." She froze where she sat. She knew that voice all to well. Her heart leapt with sudden joy.
"Brody?" she spun around expecting to find the last few days had been nothing but a bad dream and Brody had come to collect her and take her home. But the man before her now was not Brody, she didn't know who he was, but there was something about is voice, his eyes, the way he was smiling. She shook her head, trying to regain some control over reality. He mothers coughed a little politely.
"Emma, this is Jake Fern, he brought you here yesterday from the cemetery. He just popped by to see if you were ok."
Emma eyed the man a little closer. He was a complete stranger, and yet there was something about him that was so familiar. Brody was the only one who ever called her Emmy, and those eyes. She looked at her plate, biting her bottom lip in thought.
"Thank you for your kindness Jake, I was not myself yesterday. My mother made me this great breakfast, but I just can't bring myself to eat it. I so much hate wasted food, would you like it?"
His smile broadened and became even more familiar. Taking the chair on the opposite side of the table to Emma, he reached for her plate and utensils.
