Why Now? (30 page)

Kacey reaches up to wipe at her eyes. We knew this trip was going to be emotional but neither of us was prepared for how emotional.

“He loved to draw,” he continues, lifting his hand in an arc to bring our attention to the pictures on the wall.

“He was so talented,” Kacey murmurs, her voice wavering.

Mr. Sonderveik smiles at her. “He was.”

The pictures on the wall are like the one we brought, of water, only a different body of it.

Kacey moves closer to look at them and Alexander comes to stand next to me. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” I reply.

“Not only for the drawing,” he explains. “But for coming here. Erik spoke of you often. You were a good friend.”

I gulp. “He was like a brother to me.”

He closes his eyes at my words.

When he opens them, he looks at his feet. “I will go and see Ingrid.”

He moves past me and through the doorway. When we hear his footsteps on the stairs, Kacey comes to hug me.

“Should I have given it to them? It made his mom cry.” I murmur.

She sniffles and then nods. “Anything that reminds them of him right now will make them happy and sad.”

After a shower and an early lunch, the four of us pile into their compact car. Where we’re going right now was the main reason for our trip. I was still in the hospital when Erik was buried. Today, I’m visiting his grave.

Kacey and I are squished in the backseat, not that I mind. She holds my hand, here for me mentally and physically. Sometimes I wonder what I’m giving her.

I brush my thumb across her soft skin. My burns are gone but my hands will never be the same. My skin has a leathery quality to it now, no amount of lotion will make my skin as soft or smooth as hers.

She still craves my touch, not turned off by the roughness. So strong but soft and sweet at the same time.

I spoil her every chance I get. She deserves that and more for waiting for me to get my head out of my ass. Erik would be proud of me for stepping up. That’s one thing I know for sure.

He was bummed I was leaving the rig but thrilled that Kacey was the reason for it. He knew long before I did that she was it for me. It could be the artist in him that gave him the ability to see the details other people missed.

He knew I loved her, and not like a sister loved her, long before I did. God, I miss him. Leaving the rig, I knew our friendship was going to change. I knew that I wasn’t going to see and talk to him every day.

He was planning to work for another couple of years. During that time, he could have visited Kacey and me. We would have talked on the phone or over email from time to time while he was on the rig and then more often once he was off it.

He was going to move back to Denmark. With his savings, he was planning to go back to school and was going to live with his parents in their new house while he did. I was ready to watch him live his life and hear about it whenever we caught up.

Now all of that will never happen. All of his possibilities died with him. My throat thickens and Mr. Sonderveik turns into a cemetery.

Neat rows of stones, some with statues, fan out from a small pond to a wrought iron fence lined with trees for shade. Mr. and Mrs. Sonderveik walk ahead of us on the path. She’s holding a bundle of yellow flowers.

They’re standing close but are not touching. Kacey and I are holding hands. When we reach his grave, I’m surprised by how simple it is. It’s not that it’s so simple it’s out of place with the rest of the headstones around it; it’s the fact that it isn’t.

His grave looks like all the other ones and that bothers me for some reason. I’m angry at the other headstones for looking the same as his and for his for not standing out. People should be able to tell he was someone special by looking at his grave.

Mrs. Sonderveik bends down to lift the wilting flowers that rest against his stone and puts her fresh ones down. As she straightens, she rests her hand on the top of his headstone, her head bowed, silent tears falling onto her flowers.

She steps back and directly into Alexander. With her face to his chest, his arms hold her to him. He looks over at us and then back down at Erik’s grave.

Then, with a tight smile, he leads Ingrid away giving me privacy to say goodbye. They move further down the path, her body tucked against his, his arm around her back.

Kacey starts to pull away so I tighten my grasp on her hand.

“Don’t you want to be alone?” She whispers.

Shaking my head, I pull her closer. “Stay.”

She nods and I look down at my friend’s grave. His name, Erik Johan Sonderveik, the day he was born, the day he died and an etching of a cross.

That’s it, that’s all.

Clearing my throat, I cough and take a deep breath before I can say anything. “Erik,”

Fuck, this is hard. I drag my hand across my face and cough again.

“Man, I can’t believe you’re gone.”

Kacey starts to sniffle and quietly cry next to me.

“You saved my life and it pisses me off that I can’t make it up to you. There are so many things I’ll never be able to repay you for man. Reilly, Kacey, the fact that I made it all those years on that rig and I’m still breathing right now is because of you.”

Dragging my hand over my face again, I’m not surprised my cheeks are wet.

“Before I passed out, the last thing I saw was you. You and blue skies, man. You were my brother. I need you to know I loved you like one, man, and I’ll never forget what you did for me, ever.”

Kacey turns her face into my side, her hands clutching my shirt.

“You were the best man I knew.” I croak.

When I don’t say anything else, Kacey pulls away from me and drops to her knees in front of his headstone.

Her small hands against the ground, her head bent down and voice breaking, she murmurs. “Thank you for saving Jake. Thank you. Thank you.”

When she stands, she moves back into my arms. Somewhere, somehow, I hope he heard us.

His parents are sitting together on a stone bench closer to the pond. Once Kacey has dried her eyes, we move toward them. A ways down the path, something has me looking back.

There’s a gray bird sitting on his headstone, watching us walk away. Kacey looks over her shoulder to see the bird as well. Together we watch it fly away and off into the trees that surround the cemetery.

It was probably nothing, or maybe it was something. Either way, when we turn back to continue making our way to Erik’s parents, my heart is lighter.

We spend a week with them. A week full of laughter as we share our favorite stories of Erik, and tears as we mourn his absence. They take us to see the places he loved and places they believe we will love as well. Beer is big in Denmark, so Mr. Sonderveik is happy to visit any brewery Kacey mentions.

I help Alexander hang Erik’s drawing in their dining room. While we work, Kacey stands back with her arm around Ingrid’s shoulders.

Today is our last day here. Alexander and Ingrid are taking us to the train station in a couple of minutes. Our bags are already in the car. Kacey and Ingrid are in the front yard waiting for Mr. Sonderveik and me.

We’re standing in Erik’s room, the room with all of his things, but one he never stepped foot in.

I clear my throat and Alexander looks at me. “Erik would have hated to think you two were alone in the world, and I’m not sure if he ever told you this, but Reilly and I lost both of our parents when we were young. I know we could never replace Erik, but I wanted you to know he was like a brother to me and we could be your family too.”

My voice breaks more than once as I speak.

Like Erik, Alexander is quiet before he responds. He does this by crossing the room and hugging me to his chest. He swallows as he pulls away and nods.

Neither of us says anything else about it, but after we leave Erik’s room and make our way to the front yard, he murmurs something to Mrs. Sonderveik. She looks up at me and nods, her eyes wet.

When we get to the train station we all share hugs. Kacey and I find a seat with a window near where Alexander and Ingrid stand. They do not leave until our train pulls away, waving until we are out of sight.

“How are you?” Kacey asks, her hand warm in mine.

Her beauty, her strength, and her love still have the power to render me speechless at times. She loved and waited for me for so long. She didn’t hesitate when I asked her to come to Denmark with me. This trip was something I needed to do, but without her by my side I’m not sure I could have done it. Alone we survived, but together we will live.

Lifting her hands to my lips, I make a promise to myself to spend the rest of my life being worth the wait.

“When we start a family, if we have a son, I’d like to name him Erik,” I murmur against her knuckles.

Her face is soft, and her eyes are wet when she replies, “Okay, Jake.”

Stay tuned for Heath’s book,
Why Lie?
coming later 2016.

Firstly, I’d like to thank you, the reader.

I could not have published Why Now? all on my own. I’d like to thank the following pros who made this book what it is today; Sarah Hansen, Tami Norman, Holly Malgieri, Vanessa Brown, and Erin Spencer. To the bloggers who not only read and review my words, but share my books as well, thank you so much for your support. A particular thanks to any blog who signed up with Southern Belle Book Blog to help support the release of Why Now?

I’d like to thank my first readers, my coven girls, who provided feedback for this story one chapter at a time (Nasha Lama, Christine Bowden, Kimberly Miller, Alisa Winters, Kara Johnson, and Jennifer Mitchell). I also received feedback and early reviews from some of my Keep Calm and Carey On members (Dina Piscotti Maio, Emma Parrott, and Karen Bowman, and Debi Quick in particular).

I feel so blessed to be a part of such a supportive writing community. Particular thanks to Renee Carlino, Joanne Schwehm, Stacey Lynn, Heidi McLaughlin, Jessica Prince, Lisa Paul, and the whole FTN crew.

To my husband, Seth, thank you for putting up with my particular flavor of crazy. If it wasn’t for your support, we’d be having cereal for dinner three nights a week (at least). To our kids, Zach, Aydan and Emma; this is my thirteenth book baby but you three will always be our greatest creations.

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author with thirteen books out and many more to come. She was born and raised in Alexandria, Virginia. Ever the mild-mannered citizen, Carey spends her days working in the world of finance, and at night, she retreats into the lives of her fictional characters. Supporting her all the way are her husband, three sometimes-adorable children, and their nine-pound attack Yorkie.

I’d love to hear from you!

[email protected]

www.careyheywood.com

Keep reading for a preview of