“I’ve never been mad. I’ve always understood. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a sibling. Your family shattered. Your parents endured terrible pain. And for you?” He shook his head. “The death of your twin must be like losing part of your soul.”
Here it comes. She braced herself for the wave of niceties she’d grown weary of. The sympathy and empathy. All of it felt so shallow compared to the real fathoms-deep pain.
“Finding yourself must have been a lot.”
She hadn’t heard that sentiment before. He was right. Figuring out who she was as a single act instead of a double had been the hardest part of adapting to life without Liz. Where one of them was lacking the other carried the weight. They’d been such partners growing up that Liz often remarked any husbands they found would have a hard time building a life together and separating out the other twin.
His words didn’t spark the same sharp pain in her heart. Emma softened her hard posture, relaxing inch by inch.
“No one would resent you needing space.”
“I’ll be on the search for myself for the rest of my life,” she said. “But I’ve come to understand that’s true for most people. I guess leaning on my faith helps there.”
“We all need Him. I’ve tried to be a light for those in our community. Living my life and never hiding what I believe hasn’t always been easy. I’ve been a target for unkindness and pettiness.”
“But you keep being honest. You’re incredibly courageous.”
“I don’t know if it’s bravery or stubbornness. But I keep at it. I’ve helped some people turn their lives around. Not everyone. Enough to prove to myself that it’s the right thing to do. What have you been doing with your life?”
“I’m a therapist. I specialize in behavioral counseling. Helping at-risk teens. Trying to give people hope.” Every person mattered to the Lord, and Emma wanted to spread the word. No problem was too great or shameful to ask for forgiveness and find a way forward. Perfect and normal didn’t exist. She wanted to help others live without the regrets that plagued her.
“A life well lived.”
Or at least time spent well. She wasn’t sure how much living she had accomplished. But she didn’t correct him. “Seeing the camp is sad. It’s deteriorated, but I can’t remember the last year. My memories of that time are hazy. What I can recall are from those early summers. I’m sorry you didn’t get to experience it.”
“Because my family couldn’t afford it? Or because I’m a boy?” He chuckled.
Her cheeks heated. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“I’m teasing. I agree with your assessment. I would have loved it. I spent plenty of time traipsing these woods the rest of the year but never during the summer and never overnight. The Thomases have always been such a giving, generous family. I can’t imagine the blessing of spending time in their utopia.”
“Grounding yourself with nature is healing. Letting go of electronics and expectations and learning to listen to yourself and the world around you helped me grow. I quieted down for long enough to listen while I prayed.” She sighed. “I’d love for the kids I work with to have opportunity to go to camp. Being city kids, they aren’t out in nature very often. But…”
“You don’t think you could come back here again? Why did you return?” he asked, the question barely above a whisper.
She blinked back the tears. Crying wasn’t an appropriate response to tenderness. Their old bond resurfaced but cold facts remained. She couldn’t rest her head on his shoulder or lean into him as she sobbed.
“I came back to bring up memories of Liz. My therapist encouraged me to attend as a way of unlocking my mind and forgiving myself.” She shivered. “But being here is stoking my deepest fears. I don’t have any clear mental pictures from that time. I’m suffering more.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Our last conversation,” she murmured, raising her gaze. Her chin trembled, and her skin chilled. She had to say the awful words. She held his warm chocolate gaze but felt no heat. She was ice cold. “I can’t remember what was said. Did I cause her to run out? Why wasn’t I there when it happened? Was it all my fault? We took care of each other.”
Daniel had never imagined the moment he told Emma about his investigation. He’d had plenty of daydreams but not about a work in progress. He’d wanted to solve the case, knock on her door, and give her answers. Perhaps she’d come back to town with him. He wanted to remove the biggest obstacle between them before approaching her again so they could find a way back to the kids they’d been before everything had changed.
Instead, he tightened his grip on the wheel as he turned into the parking lot of the hospital and stopped the SUV. The conversation demanded a little more privacy than pulling up in front of the building. Sitting in his patrol vehicle, he turned toward her and finally accepted that they could never go back. His mind tricked him into believing in a fantasy, like he’d get a do-over for the last two decades. He had to go forward in this reality, whether he liked it or not.
“Whatever happened, you were not responsible,” he murmured.
Emma crossed her arms over her chest and faced the windshield. “How can you know if I don’t?”
She looked like she’d donned a suit of armor. He’d give her one if he thought it would protect her. The heart could only take so much. Could his insight help her heal?
“Emma, I have been investigating your sister’s death for many years,” he said. “I don’t believe it was an accident. The details don’t fit. She was the most careful person I’ve ever met.”
“Please, don’t let me off the hook. If I pushed her to do something, what does that change other than my guilt?”
“I don’t know details of what happened between the two of you,” he said. “I am aware of other facts.”
