Graveminder

Chapter 8

REBEKKAH STOOD AT THE BAGGAGE CAROUSEL. THE AIRPORT WAS MOSTLY empty at this hour, shops closed and gates vacant. She wasn’t quite alert, despite several cups of the nastiness the airline passed off as coffee, but she was upright, awake, and moving. At this point, that was about as much of a victory as could be hoped for.

Cherub, unhappy to be in her kitty carrier, mewed plaintively.

“Just a little longer, baby,” Rebekkah promised. “I’ll let you out when we get ...” The words dried up as she imagined going home and finding it empty. Tonight there would be no rose-scented embrace to make everything less bleak: Maylene was gone. The tears that Rebekkah had kept in check the past few hours slipped down her cheeks as she watched the baggage carousel. Maylene is gone. My home is gone. The few short years Rebekkah had lived with Maylene, and the next nine years of visiting her, had made Claysville home, but without Maylene, there was no reason to come back here.

Rebekkah leaned against the faded green wall and stared blindly while the rest of the passengers got their bags and left. Eventually hers was the only bag circling. The carousel stopped.

“Do you need help?”

Rebekkah looked up at a man in an airport uniform. She blinked.

“Is that your bag?” He pointed.

“It is.” She stood up. “Thank you. I’m fine.”

He stared at her, and she realized that her face was wet with tears. Hastily she wiped them away.

“Why don’t you let me—”

“Thank you, but I’m fine. Really.” She smiled to take the sting out of the words and walked over to heft her bag off the carousel.

Looking unconvinced, he walked away.

Rebekkah extended the handle of her bag, picked up Cherub, and headed toward the rental-car desk. One step at a time. A few minutes later, keys in hand, she turned away from the counter and almost dropped Cherub.

A man in a pair of jeans, boots, and a well-worn leather jacket stood in front of her. His hair was a little longer than usual, brushing his collar, but the familiar green eyes watching her warily hadn’t changed.

“Byron?”

The temptation to throw herself into his arms the way she once had was overwhelming, but he kept his distance.

“It’s been a while,” he started, and then paused. He raked his hand through his hair and gave her a tense smile before continuing, “I know we didn’t part on the best terms, but I thought I’d make sure you were settled in.”

She stared at him, her Byron, here. The past few years had given him more edges, shadows where his cheeks looked too sharp and his eyes too worried, but the gestures were unchanged—so was the wariness.

I earned that.

“I didn’t know you were back,” she said foolishly. Her hand tightened on Cherub’s carrier as they stood there in the sort of awkward silence she’d dreaded when she thought about seeing him again.

After a few moments, he held out a hand for her bag. “Let me get that.”

When he reached out, she jerked her hand away quickly so as to avoid touching him.

The tightening of his expression made clear that he noticed, but he took the bag and motioned for her to precede him.

They’d gone several silent steps when he said, “I’ve been here for a few months now.”

“I didn’t know. Maylene didn’t tell me.” She didn’t tell him that she hadn’t—wouldn’t have —asked Maylene either. Rebekkah had figured out that dealing with Byron was best done by pretending he didn’t exist, that he was as dead to her as Ella. Managing that feat was a lot harder with him walking beside her. Rather than look at him, she looked at the tag on the keys in her hand, staring at them even though she knew the make and model. “The last she’d mentioned you was ... I don’t know when. I thought you lived in Nashville or somewhere down that way—not that I was checking up on you.”

“I know that.” He gave her a wry smile, and then took a deep breath and changed the conversation back to safer territory. “I’ve only been back a few months. Since late December.”

“Oh.” Lack of sleep and grief were apparently making her foolish because she admitted, “I was here at Christmas.”

“I thought you might be, so I didn’t come back until after Christmas.” He walked with her to the rental-car lot. “I didn’t figure either of us needed to deal with ... any of it then, so I waited till I thought you’d be gone back to wherever you were.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. This is what I wanted, what I asked of him. Unfortunately, standing in the deserted lot, jet-lagged, grief-stricken, and lost, made her want to forget all of that. You’re the one who told him to stay out of your life, she lectured herself as if the words would keep her good sense intact.

But as they walked, his already whiskey-deep voice broke the silence: “I told myself I’d stay out of your way, and I will if you want, but I couldn’t ... I needed to make sure you got in safely. I said I’d give you your distance, and I have. I will. I just want you to know I’m here if you need a friend the next few days.”

Rebekkah didn’t know how to reply. They had said words much like those to each other for almost a decade. Since when Ella was still alive. Rebekkah knew it was safer not to look at him, wiser not to let herself go there. She glanced at him and then quickly looked at the car in front of them. “It’s this one.”

“Pop the trunk.”

She did so, and he put the bag in while she put Cherub’s carrier in the backseat. Then she stood unsurely at the door.

He held out a hand, which she looked at blankly. When she didn’t move, he said, “You’ve been up all night. You’re exhausted and upset.” He uncurled her fingers and gently took the keys. “Let me drive you to the house. No strings, Bek.”

“Your car—”

“Bike. It’s a bike, not the same one I had before but ... Anyhow, it’ll be fine here.” He walked around and opened the passenger door. “Let me do this. I can’t fix much of anything, but ... It’s a good hour or more to town, and ... well, I’m here already. Let me be a friend tonight. After that, if you want me gone, I’ll do my best to stay out of your sight.”

“Thanks for meeting me and for offering to—for being a friend,” she said, and then she got into the passenger seat before she did throw herself into his arms. He was the one person who had stood by her side during the two worst things in her life—Ella’s death and Jimmy’s—and now he was here, ready to help her get through a third one. Despite the times she’d stolen away in the middle of the night, the words she’d hurled at him, the calls and visits she’d ignored, he was still willing to help her keep it together.

There were a lot of things she ought to say, apologies, explanations, maybe even excuses, but she was silent as he opened the driver’s-side door and got into the car—and he didn’t push her. He never had.

As they left the lot, Rebekkah relaxed for the first time since she’d received the call. He was the one person left in the world who truly knew her, flaws and all. It felt both comforting and unreal to sit next to Byron. When she’d moved to Claysville during high school, he’d been Ella’s boyfriend, but instead of ignoring Rebekkah, he made sure to include her—enough that she’d thought about him being more than a friend, enough that once, just once, she’d crossed that line.

Then Ella had died.

Afterward, Rebekkah had had a difficult time staying on the right side of the line, and over the years, she’d been in and out of his bed, but it always ended the same way: Byron wanted more than she could give him.

She stole a fleeting look at his ring finger, and he pretended not to notice.

“Do you need to stop anywhere?” he asked.

“No. Maybe. I’m not really sure.” She took a deep breath. “I expect that the cupboards ... that food isn’t an issue.”