***
Lance didn’t believe her. Not one bit. Hecouldn’t work with her. She was as beautiful as he remembered.Plus, all he saw was her tear-stained face he’d left her with allthose years ago. Forever imprinted in his memory.
Shaking his head, he filled his thermos withcoffee. He couldn’t be late since he missed last week. Lance askedhis mother to come with him, but she refused as always.
Losing a child wasn’t easy, so he neverquestioned his mother’s reasons for not visiting his littlesister’s grave. Where was his father? The man never slowed down,always looking for the next deal, and expected Lance to do thesame.
He grabbed his jacket and briefcase andproceeded to his 2018 Cadillac CTS. He’d stop on the way topurchase flowers for his sister. Though she was only fourteen, sheloved yellow roses. Driving down the Main Street in downtown DeltaHeights, he bypassed the parked cars. Light posts with hooks heldflowerpots, while sapling trees spaced along the sidewalk.
Parking in front of the flower shop, hespotted the planters filled with colorful flowers and trailing ivy.Lance straightened his tie. If only he could live in the heart oftown. Though many in his graduating class wanted to bolt aftergraduation, he loved the community. He inhaled fresh flowers andgreenery once he stepped inside, and he heard the suction of thedisplay case door.
“Good morning, Lance?” Hilda greeted him witha warm smile on her face.
“I need half a dozen yellow roses, please.”He pulled his wallet out from his back pocket.
“I know what this is for.”
Lance paid for the flowers and then stuffedextra cash in the mason jar on the counter. Hilda lost her youngestson, who was in the military. She took donations from customers tohelp the families of wounded soldiers and those who had lost lovedones while fighting for America.
“Thank you, as always.” He grabbed the smallbouquet.
Hilda winked at him before he left the shop.Lance played the jazz station on his radio once back inside hiscar. Chantelle was the reporter? He knew she wrote for a magazine,but Grant didn’t give him the name. He should have dug deeper. Whydidn’t he?
He gripped the steering wheel, but then heloosened his hold. Why did her presence bring a chill to his skin?His chest heaved. Turning into the parking area of the graveyard,he entered through the iron gates. He followed the paved drivewayand parked his car.
Lance cut the engine, grasped the bouquet,and stepped outside. The path clicked underneath his shoes as hemade his way to the gravesite. His baby sister. Amelia looked up tohim. He smiled to himself, recalling their relationship.
“Why did you tell him that?” Amelia hadasked.
“He’s not good enough for you,” Lance hadsaid. Deshawn Campbell. Captain of the football team and bad newsfor his baby sister. He didn’t threaten the guy, but he said enoughfor the boy to stay clear.
Amelia had rolled her eyes as he drove themhome from school. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take careof myself.”
He nodded. “Sure you can.”
She had shoved at his shoulder. “I mean itLance. I liked him.”
“He’s no good. Trust me.”
“Why?” She had rolled her eyes.
How did he explain guys to his sister? “I sawhim with another girl. Guys like that don’t deserve girls like you.You deserve better.”
He parked the car in their driveway. Ameliadidn’t move. Instead, she took off her seatbelt and reached forhim. She hugged his neck tight.
Then she kissed his cheek. “You’re the bestbrother in the entire world.”
“Don’t let that get around, okay?”
“Why not?” She hugged him again. “You’realways taking care of me.”
Lance blinked, staring at his sister’sheadstone. Protect her. He had failed that big time. Yet, no onewas to blame for her accident.
Chapter 7
“I miss you, Daddy.” Chantelle sat on thestone bench in front of her father’s grave. She stared at hiscarved gravestone: Loving husband and father. Gone too soon.
She further heard the maintenance crewpruning and sweeping, while the wind rustled through the trees.Birds and small animals chirped and squeaked as the gates creakedwhen opening and closing for outgoing and incoming visitors.
“Mom’s doing okay.” Chantelle continued.“She’s happy. I’m still getting used to her having remarried. Ineed more time to adjust. Though I’m surprised Grant is okay sincehe… was in the room with you when you passed.” She choked back asob. “I wish I had been there too.”
She blew out her cheeks. “Anyway, I wanted tostop by before work gets crazy. I love you.”
It was better to remember the happy times.Her father was the best man she knew. He’d nursed her broken heartafter things crashed and burned with Lance. Chantelle rememberedlying in her hospital bed. Lance had left to talk with his parents.They hooked her up to various equipment: an IV, a heart monitor,and a finger clip.
“How are you feeling?” Her dad had asked.
A twinge of pain took over her chest. “I’mokay, but...”
“But what?” Her father raised a thickeyebrow. He repeated his question. “But what?”
“I know I disappointed you.” She rubbed ather stomach with her free hand, feeling the pain in her chestincrease.
He stroked her cheek with his free hand. “Doyou think this changes how I see you?”
She bobbed her head.
“It doesn’t Chantelle. I don’t care what youdo, you’re still my daughter.”
“I’m so sorry.” A tear spilled down herface.
Her father leaned in and kissed her forehead.“I wish I could take this pain away.”
Chantelle’s body trembled as she cried. Howdid her life take a turn for the worse?
“You’ll be okay,” her father had said.
“I don’t think so.”
He stared into her eyes. “You’re strong.”
She was only eighteen. Life wasn’t supposedto be this way. She had her entire life in front of her, but ifthis was a sign of her future, she didn’t care anymore.
“You hear me, Chantelle?” Her father’s eyeshad widened as if to bring emphasis.
She nodded and wiped her face. Then Lance hadreturned to her room. His smile was sad. Her father had left themalone to talk.
Standing to her feet, Chantelle grabbed herpurse beside her. Those days were long gone. The pain had subsided.The cuts weren’t as fresh, but the scars remained.
Chantelle ran her fingers through her hair.
