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My people.
Tears fought their way to the edge of Meg’s lashes. She blinked them away. “I had people at one point. Now they’re all gone.” Her voice was hoarse, her throat hot and raw.
“That sounds painful.”
“It was a while ago. I’m used to it.”
But her usual disclaimer wasn’t working today for some reason. Yes, time had passed, but was it true to say she’d ever gotten used to it? She had learned to cope and was doing a great job of it, so why was she feeling so…much…right now?
“Making peace with loss can be a lifelong task,” Rachel said gently. “Maybe what Franklin said has got you rethinking that.”
Meg swallowed. Words she’d always kept pressed down deep inside wouldn’t be held back. “My mom left when I was a kid. My dad died not too long ago, as well as my brother.” She shut her eyes tight, the tears that had threatened to fall now dotting the front of her coat.
“That’s a lot for anyone to bear. It’s okay to not be okay.”
Meg let the words sink in. It was exhausting being okay all the time, being strong so that people wouldn’t pity her, making sure she didn’t add to her father’s burdens, watching out for her brother, pushing the emotions away so that the pain didn’t engulf her.
Being alone.
Beinglonely.
In the quiet of the church, they sat side by side. Like a whisper on a breeze, Rachel’s hand moved to Meg’s knee, gave it a soft squeeze, then returned to her lap.
After a few moments of quiet, Rachel said, “I’ll leave you to have some time to yourself. But like I said, I’m here if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.” The pew squeaked as Rachel stood to leave, the sound echoing through the church.
Meg sat a bit longer, then headed home. What compelled her to share all of that with a practical stranger, she had no clue. And yet in that moment, she felt more peace than she had in a long time. Arriving at her apartment, she tossed her keys onthe counter and headed straight for the tub. As she soaked in a bubble bath, she allowed the tears to flow freely, grief pouring from her via her sobs.
Chapter Twelve
The park washumming with activity. It looked as if half the town had showed up to help with the Harvest Festival setup. Meg sat at a picnic table awaiting instructions from Hannah on how she could be of help. Her mind wandered to the night before. She was still amazed how much peace she could have with a virtual stranger just sitting with her. Rachel had acknowledged the depth of Meg’s pain but didn’t apologize or give platitudes or try to make Meg feel better. She was just…there.
Meg smiled as she remembered Rachel saying, “I’m just here if you need me.” That hadn’t made sense to Meg at the time, but now it did.
Most people in Silver Bay who knew the details of what happened had learned it from the news at the time, but memory faded, for them. For Meg, she lived with it every single day. Believing that saying it out loud would make it worse, she’d never talked to anyone about what had happened.
And yet in the stillness of the church, she’d told Rachel.
Talking was not only easier than she’d imagined, but it made her feel a tiny bit better. A small piece of grief had chipped off and drifted away, much like her tears as they had hit the bathwater and disappeared.
She had woken up that morning expecting to dread her run with Chet, but she didn’t. Their first mile was with Dottie again, but this time Chet jogged the dog down to the fire station telling Meg to wait for him. He said it was because their route kept going from the corner, but she knew he had clued in tosomething the day before and was making sure she didn’t go near the fire station. The depth of perception he had of her feelings bothered her less than usual.
During their run, they had chatted about the Harvest Festival and light topics such as what it was like to own a diner or the things they both enjoyed about running. For most of the seven miles however, they paced side by side, then went their separate ways.
Her eyes wandered over to the area where a group of people were building booths. With Chet already on her mind, it wasn’t hard to find him as he carried a stack of lumber over his shoulder. She’d gone into the running fundraiser frazzled about him trying to get to know her better. But now, the tables were beginning to turn, and she found herself wanting to know more about him.
“Careful. If he catches you staring, he just might think you’re interested.” Baylee’s soft voice near her ear caused her to jump.
“What the…?” She turned, hitting Baylee in the arm with a flailing elbow.
“Ow.” Baylee rubbed her arm and scooted a little farther away. “Lesson learned. Sneaking up on you is a bad idea.”
“So is giving me grief about Chet.”
“I was not giving you grief. I was teasing. There’s a difference.”
