“Why didn’t you take me, God?” I shouted in the cab of my truck. “Why?”
Rage burned through my chest, raised the hairs on my scalp, tingled through my limbs. I drove faster down the mountain, more dangerous. Part of me wanted to die, to end everything here and now. If there was a Hell, then I’d be punished like I should be and if, maybe there was a Heaven, and God could look past my sins, then at least I would see Megs again.
Dad’s face flashed in front of me.
Mom told me he was the one who called the ambulance after I’d passed out, and how he’d stayed by my side while the doctor’s made me vomit over and over again. How he wouldn’t leave the hospital room until he was sure I was okay. But, he couldn’t even look me in the eye afterwards. I knew he loved me, but he couldn’t deal. I’d changed too much.
Awesome.
I’d lost Megs, destroyed my chance with Lauren, and I’d decimated my relationship with my dad.
I slowed down to the speed limit and tightened my grip on the wheel. Even if I wanted to end it all, I couldn’t put Dad through the pain I’d felt in losing Megs. I wanted to drive home to talk to him about everything. Tell him how sorry I was for what I’d done. Tears flowed as I drove for hours to see Megs at the cemetery instead.
The moon hung full in the sky above me and the stars blazed around it like tiny replicas. From what I could tell, it was about 2400 hundred hours. I stretched myself out on top of Megs’ grave, soft blades of grass cool beneath me and tickling against the skin on my arms. Six feet of earth and death separated what was supposed to be forever.
“I’m sorry, Megs,” I whispered into the grass, pulling my hat down until it met the ground, a shield from reality, because here and now, I needed it to be me and her, and no one else. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you, Megan Kristine. I’ll always love you. I mean that.”
A searing pain rippled across my chest as the wedding image haunted me again, Megs’ silhouette rimmed by a ring of light. It wasn’t supposed to be like this now. But, it was.
Fine.
Since I couldn’t end my agony, I’d just stay here forever. I was beyond done. I couldn’t handle the pain anymore, and I definitely couldn’t handle the thought of letting myself love Lauren. And it wasn’t just the betrayal either. Underneath everything else was the thought of losing everything again. I didn’t trust myself not to screw it all up. I didn’t trust in anything anymore, definitely not God.
I clenched my fists, hating myself so much, wishing with every fiber in my body that it was me in that grave. For hours I stayed there, sobbing and muttering, making my case—telling the grass, and the dirt, and whoever else was listening that I didn’t deserve to live.
At some point, Pastor Gregg’s advice came back to me. The part where he’d told me I should tell God how angry I was. I’d tried to on the ridge, after my first date with Lauren, but so much of me had resisted. So tonight, I bowed my heart and parted my lips and prayed again. Not just any prayer. I prayed with every drop of waning strength I had left and that prayer was me roaring my pain, and shouting my frustration, and howling my grief. I didn’t stop until my voice got hoarse and my tears dried out.
Hours must’ve passed and I was too weak to do anything but stay there, face down, aching for the woman six feet beneath me. Somewhere in the heartache, a peace like I’d never felt in my life swept through my whole body, relaxing every muscle, and soothing every hurt. A vision of Megs materialized, and she stood in front of me dressed in a white gown, her entire body glowing. Looking so much like she did on our wedding day.
Megs, I tried to say, but my voice was gone. I tried again, but nothing came out. I couldn’t move at all.
I love you . . . I forgive you . . . I love you . . .
Her voice was a gentle wind across my skin, the power of that stubborn love echoing in my soul, and then Jesus appeared beside her, echoing the same words as he stretched his arms out wide. I couldn’t miss the gouges in the middle of his hands as he said,
I love you . . . I’ll forgive you . . . I love you . . . I’ll forgive you . . .
“Carter?”
“Megs?” I lifted my head from the ground, looking around, everything blurry until Dad’s form came into focus. “Dad?”
He was sitting beside me. The sun was just rising above the trees. The birds sang, and the grass glistened, and I was soaked with dew.
“Son, you’re not thinking of . . . ending it all again, are you?”
“What?” I sat up quick. “No. I just . . .”
“Pastor Gregg called last night. Said you had a rough day. Said you’d left Bridgeport. Since you never came home, your momma sent me here this morning to come looking for you. Hang on.” Dad tapped something into his phone. Probably letting Mom know that I was okay. Or maybe he was telling her I’d finally lost it. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
After yelling at God last night, talking to Dad felt easy. My throat burned as I told him everything about my guilt over Meg’s death, my guilt over falling in love with Lauren. With chills coating my skin and eyes watering, I told him about Megs standing right here in front of me, forgiving me the way she had.
“I know it sounds weird, and I swear I wasn’t hallucinating. It
