That was when I saw my angry neighbour staring at us from his front porch while drinking.
The intensity of his gaze made me pause.
Thinking that maybe introducing Lucas might help soften whatever tension existed between us, I decided to try again.
I walked toward him with Lucas in my arms and Oreo trotting beside me.
I smiled politely.
He looked at me for a brief second, then stood up, walked inside his house, and slammed the door shut.
I blinked at the closed door.Hmm… this could take a while.
I turned around and headed back inside my house with Lucas and Oreo.
Locking the door behind me had become an automatic reflex ever since I moved away from Manitoba. Jeremy, my foster father, had destroyed a part of my youth.
He had stalked me.
He had threatened to hurt Lucas.
He had kidnapped Caleb’s nieces.
He had shot Caleb and me.
Even now, the memories still made my stomach twist. Sometimes I wondered what would have happened to Lucas if I had died that day while trying to rescue the girls. What if something had happened to Caleb? Or worse… what if something had happened to those little girls?
A chill ran down my spine as I thought about it.
Fear of Jeremy still lived inside me, even though he was gone. Some wounds took longer to heal than others. Death did not always kill fear. Sometimes it left fear behind to live on inside the people who survived.
Deciding that ice cream would make the evening better, Lucas immediately agreed. We sat together later that night, eating our ice cream, slowly letting the sadness fade as we talked about the wonderful weekend we had just spent with our friends.
The next dayat the restaurant, curiosity got the better of me.“Do you know anything about the man who used to sit at the corner table at the restaurant?” I asked Jack.
Jack raised his eyebrows slightly. “Just a bit,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, he’s my neighbour,” I said. “I was just wondering about him. I tried talking to him a couple of times, just to be friendly and know my neighbour, but he didn’t seem interested in conversation.”
“Hmm,” Jack said thoughtfully while standing beside me. “Leave him be. He has been through a lot of personal turmoil and tragedy. He lost his wife and daughter in a plane crash in Nepal while they were vacationing about two years ago. He was supposed to join them a day later, but instead he returned home with their coffins.”
“Oh gosh.”
The words left my mouth in a whisper.
His behaviour now made sense.
A cold sensation spread through my chest. My eyes squeezed shut for a moment as the weight of that tragedy sank into my stomach.
He must still be grieving.He must carry unbearable guilt.
I could only imagine the agony he felt.I did not know why, but something inside me felt drawn toward him.
Maybe it was because I had initially thought he was simply a sad drunk.Maybe it was because I carried my own share of heartache and understood what grief could do to a person.Maybe it was because none of the neighbours had ever mentioned anything about him.
Now I understood why.
A couple of days later,when I parked my car in the driveway, I saw him sitting outside his house again.
