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Chapter 22
“Are you sure you wanna do this today? We can come back if you’re not ready,” Sam said, holding Aero’s hand tightly while they sat in his truck outside the cemetery fence.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” Aero admitted, staring out over the graves.
“On three?” Sam suggested, and he nodded stiffly. She counted, and they pushed their doors open in unison, stepping out of the truck and standing in front of the wrought iron gate. It reminded Aero of the compound, his safe place, his home. Maybe Sarah and Nora found comfort and peace within a gate, too, he mused. That thought made it easier to step through the gate, the gravel of the winding path crunching beneath his boots. Sam trailed along behind Aero, watching him intently, anticipating him turning around and bolting at any moment.
He slowed to a stop at an intersection that split the cemetery into quarters, with a large oak tree at the crossroads.
“This is a lovely place,” Sam said gently, reaching for Aero’s hand. He accepted her touch, squeezing her hand.
“I know. It’s not sad, like some cemeteries,” Aero murmured. It was the only one in town, so he hadn’t had much choice, but the graves stretched over the grass, up a sloping hill, and ended at the tree line just outside the wrought iron fence. The sky above was blue with wispy white clouds; birds sang from the tall, leafy oaks that dotted the churchyard; and grave markers of all colors and sizes were arranged in long, neat rows. It was soothing, in a way.
“They’re over here,” Aero said gruffly, clasping Sam’s hand tight and guiding her down the path to the left. About halfway down, he stopped short, and she bumped into him. He stood stock still, staring off into a section of neatly kept headstones.
“Aero?” Sam said, looking up at him.
He cleared his throat. “Do you mind, um, can I go alone?”
“Of course, love. Take your time. I’ll wait here, okay?” Sam offered him a smile. He nodded, rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relax, and approached the marker.
Sam watched as Aero took slow, careful steps down the row, stopping in front of a granite marker shaped like a heart. It sat beside a tall tree in the shade, with a concrete vase mounted beside it for flowers. He sank to his knees in front of the marker and bowed his head. Tears filled her eyes as she watched the man she loved, his shoulders hunched, his fists clenched.
He was hurting, as she’d known he would, but she wasn’t prepared for the sight.
Sam could hear him speaking softly, but she couldn’t make out the words. It wasn’t her business, she decided, and she looked away to give him some privacy.
The sun shone off the smooth black granite of the marker that his mother had picked out when Aero was unable to pull it together to make any kind of arrangement. It was lovely, he had to admit, and exactly what Sarah would have wanted. As much as a person could want a headstone, he supposed.
Someone had visited somewhat recently, and a bouquet of daisies was just beginning to wilt in the vase. He removed them slowly, setting them aside and inserting the bouquet of flowers Sam had helped him choose on the way over.
“They’ll love anything you bring, Aero,” she’d said softly, rubbing a hand up and down his back as he agonized over what arrangement he should choose.
“Sarah hated roses,” he muttered, glaring at the colorful blooms. “But I can’t… Did she like sunflowers? How could I forget which flowers she liked? Sam, I just…”
He’d started to panic, his breaths coming fast and shallow, the display before him turning into a swirling blur of colors as tears clouded his vision.
“Hey,” Sam said with gentle firmness. “Let’s take a walk.”
Aero had nodded frantically, wiping his eyes with his sleeves before following Sam out onto the sidewalk.
Leaning against the storefront window, Aero took several deep breaths.
“Aero, look at me,” she’d said, taking his hands in hers. Their eyes met and held, the rest of the world melting away as he focused on his breathing and the golden flecks in her irises.
“Can I ask you a few questions?”
Aero nodded, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles again and again.
“What was Nora’s favorite color?”
“Pink,” he said automatically.
“When Sarah bought clothes, were they fancy or more casual?”
“Casual. She liked thrift stores. She wasn’t fussy.”
“What kind of perfume did she wear?”
