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We’re seated at a booth and menus handed to us.
“What should I get?” I ask Sage who has already slid his menu to the edge of the table.
I place mine down, waiting for his answer. “The French toast, for sure—the cinnamon one. It’s phenomenal. And get the orange juice. It’s freshly squeezed.”
I give a small laugh. “How about you order for me?” I suggest, arching a brow.
He rubs his lips, hiding a smile. “Deal.”
A waitress appears moments later, as if she senses we already know what we want. Sage rattles the order off to her, which is easy since it’s the same for both of us.
When she’s gone, Sage stares across the table at me. His eyes are sad and as I look him over, I realize how much my brother has aged in the last year. He’s young, sure, but there are slightly visible lines by his eyes and the sides of his mouth that weren’t there before. The stress and worry has taken a toll on him.
“How are you today?” He winces and shoves his fingers through his hair. “That sounds generic, but I mean it.”
I don’t know the best way to answer him. I don’t want to lie and make it seem like I’m a-okay, but I don’t want to worry him any more than I already do.
I shrug out of my coat to give myself a moment to compose myself and come up with an answer. “Not good, but better than I thought I’d be,” I settle on. It’s true too. I thought I might end up curled in a ball, thinking of the terror, of my mom, my friends, of the innocence that was robbed that day.
Sage nods, his tongue sliding out to moisten his lips. He only does that when he’s nervous or bothered by something. “I keep trying to imagine what that day was like for you, and God, Dani … it kills me inside to think about what you survived.”
I close my eyes, blocking out the images that only hours ago I shared with Lachlan. “Don’t think about it, Sage. Please.”
He continues, undeterred. “Getting that call…” He pauses, shaking his head. He looks pained, sick to his stomach. “It was the scariest moment of my life.” He looks utterly heartbroken relaying this. “I think I blacked out. The next thing I knew I was getting off a plane in Portland, on my way to the hospital. You were still in surgery, but I kept telling myself you’d sense I was there. I needed you to pull through more than I needed anything else.”
“Sage.” Tears fill my eyes, spilling over. I reach across the table, placing my hand over his. He flips his over, squeezing mine.
“You have no idea how terrified I was. I thought my entire family was gone.”
I close my eyes, my whole body shuddering. I hate thinking of anything to do with what happened, but that day and the days immediately following were some of the worst. When I was first told I might never walk again, my first thought was that I’d rather have died. Looking back, I know that was a selfish thing to think, but I thought my life couldn’t be fulfilling. I was naïve and angry.
Sage clears his throat, leaning back in the booth. “I’m glad I have you, D.”
I don’t have words for him, so I simply smile and hope it’s enough.
The market he takes me to is indoors, which is ideal considering the cold weather, and huge. It spans thousands of square feet as far as I can see.
We stay together, because even with cell phones if we split up it would be hard to find one another.
“What are you looking for?”
I glance up at him, surprised he’s noticed my intense scanning. “I’m not sure.” I shrug, my eyes roaming the tables we pass. “But I’ll know it when I see it.”
He jerks his head in a nod and we keep moving.
There is an overwhelming amount of stuff on display, from things that look more like junk, or yard sale items, to nice items like antiques and handmade creations.
We’ve been looking nearly an hour, and I can sense Sage getting tired since he loathes this kind of thing, when I finally spot what I’ve been looking for.
Well, I wasn’t looking for this item in particular, just something that reminded me of our mom. For the last year I’ve tried not to think about her, and hidden reminders away, but today I’m choosing to remember by getting something I know she’d love.
“Dani, where are you going?” Sage calls after me.
I hadn’t even realized I was moving away from him.
I stop at the booth, my fingers gliding over the handmade wind chimes. They’re decorated with flowers, yellow and white hand painted blossoms, as well as three-dimensional ones made from wire. It’s stunning and someone had to spend a lot of time making it. My mom loved nature. She loved gardening and digging her hands in the dirt. She always said outside was where she belonged, wild and free like the birds and flowers, and that the wind chimes she collected were the music of her soul. She had so many of them, hanging from the back porch, trees, anywhere she could put one.
“This is it,” I announce to Sage when he joins me.
