3. Chapter 3
I’m filling some containers with paint when I spot Katherine and Tori making their way to the door. It looks like Tori brought a friend. I put the lid on the jars and walk over to the door, realizing a smile is already spreading on my face.
“Well, hello. Who’s this cute little girl you brought with you?” I ask.
“It’s me, Auntie Loren,” says Tori.
Laughing, I say, “Okay then, who’s the other pretty little girl?”
“This is Holly Baldwin. Aaron’s daughter.” Katherine responds.
“Hi Holly, I’m Loren. It’s nice to meet you.” I shake her little hand. She looks up at me with beautiful, deep blue eyes that remind me of the ocean. She’s about four, and I can tell she’s the spitting image of her mom.
I met Julie only once at Adam and Katherine’s wedding. I know she passed away a couple of years ago. Death. Something I don’t like having in common with anyone. Poor Holly. Poor Aaron.
I have a few customers sitting at various tables around the room. We walk over to an empty one in the back, and I ask Katherine if she and the girls would like some lemonade. “I made it last night.” I leave out the fact that I made it after having a total meltdown and needed something to keep me occupied and too tired to think, so I squeezed every lemon by hand.
I bring out some cups and the large pitcher of cold lemonade. After pouring each of us a cup, I go to the back and bring out Tori’s plate. She painted a house with the sun, and a few clouds in the sky, and four stick people I can tell are Katherine, Adam, her, and her baby brother.
“Here you go, Tori. It’s still warm, but you can take it home.”
Holly looks over at it and then looks up at me. Her eyes melt my heart.
“Holly, would you like to paint a plate too? Or would you prefer a cup?”
For the next hour, Katherine and I sit with the girls and watch Holly paint a small plate while Tori sits beside her and draws on a piece of paper. When Holly finishes painting her plate, I reach for it and carefully pick it up. She has painted something very similar to Tori. The house, the sky with big white clouds, and the sun. Except there are only two people in the scene, her and her dad. I also see something in the sky that looks like a bird but bigger.
“What’s that right there, Sweetie?” I ask her, pointing at the image.
“That’s my mommy. She’s an angel up in heaven now.”
I feel my heart ache as I reach for the rings around my neck and look up at Katherine, who gives me a knowing glance. “You did great, Holly,” I say, “Your mommy is a beautiful angel.”
I take Holly’s plate to the back and tell her it’ll be ready on Monday.
“Auntie needs to put it in the kiln and bake it like a cake,” Tori tells Holly.
“That’s right,” I say, “We need to bake it so the paint won’t rub off and so it can be shiny like Tori’s plate.”
“Okay,” says Holly. ”I’ll ask my dad to bring me back on Monday.”
When my last two customers pay and walk out, I go to the door and lock it before putting a sign up that reads “Out To Lunch… Be Back in an Hour”.
“Is anyone hungry?” I ask, knowing that Katherine is always hungry these days. The girls are nodding. I made some tuna salad last night after scrubbing my kitchen floors, doing two loads of laundry, and cleaning all the items on my bathroom counter. “But who wants to hear all about that,” I think to myself.
We pick up our cups and pitcher of lemonade and go to the back of the studio, where there are a few other rooms. To the right are my firing room and two bathrooms. On the left is a supply closet and a small kitchen where I often take my lunch break.
“Let me call Adam and Aaron to let them know we’ll be home after lunch,” says Katherine. She dials and spends a couple of minutes talking to Adam. Then she puts him on speaker and tells him and Aaron all about the girls’ art projects.
I make some tuna sandwiches with a side of potato chips, and we drink the rest of the lemonade.
Holly approaches me before they leave and says, “Thank you. I can’t wait to take my plate home. I’m going to put it in my room.”
I bend over and give her a little hug. When I let go, I realize my rings are dangling in front of her. She looks at them intently, then reaches over and takes hold of them. “These are pretty,” she says.
“Thank you,” I respond.
“Why do you wear them on your neck instead of your fingers?” she asks.
I don’t know how to respond. “One is too big for my fingers, so I wear them on a necklace,” I say, gently pulling them away from her little fingers and putting them back inside my shirt.
Katherine takes both girls by the hand and kisses me on the cheek. I also hug Tori before opening the door for them and switching the sign back to “OPEN.”
I walk to the shelves in the back and start loading the kilns. I stop at Holly’s plate, which hasn’t fully dried yet. Her family is now fractured and incomplete. The unfairness of it all fills me with rage. For the entire year following Justin’s death, I went to therapy. I tried grief counseling. I attended support groups. I spent a lot of time talking to my parents, my sisters, Adam, and our pastor. Really, to anyone who would listen. They couldn’t help me. No one could. I would never see those deep brown eyes looking back at me ever again. He would never hold my hand again. He would never whisper “I’ve loved you forever” in my ear ever again.
If I close my eyes, I can still smell his aftershave. The aftershave he started wearing when we were twelve. He asked me if I liked it, and when I said yes, he said he’d never wear anything else.
Katherine and Adam were already engaged when Justin died. Their wedding day was scheduled three months after ours. Katherine wanted to postpone the wedding after what happened in an attempt to spare me the heartache of attending a wedding that wasn’t mine. She said they could wait a year. I refused to have them do that. Whether it was three months, a year, or five years, it would not make any difference.
I hear the door chime. I’m grateful for the distraction. I walk back to the front, where I find a few teenagers browsing through the catalogs on the table and a couple more looking at the unfinished cups, bowls, and plates they can choose from.
“Hi, is there something in particular you’re looking for,” I ask.
“Yes, we want to make something for our boyfriends,” one of them says.
An hour later, they put the final touches on their cups. They all look happy with their work. When they leave, I put their cups in the back room and begin cleaning up. Tomorrow is Sunday, so the studio will be closed. I’ll go to church in the morning, where I will cry and talk to God—reminding Him that I’m still waiting for Him to heal my broken heart.
With each passing year, I’ve hoped that one day, I’ll wake up and feel whole again. But so far, nothing has changed. It doesn’t hurt less. It’s the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think of when I’m lying in bed praying for sleep to come. The only time I feel any joy is when I see my niece. She makes me smile. But I want my smile to reach that place within me that only Justin knew—the place where love grows. Yes, I want to love again.
I’m parking in my driveway an hour later when the phone rings. “Hi, Katherine,” I say.
“Hey, sis, I’m calling to invite you over for dinner. I’m making your favorite. Spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread and a salad.”
“That sounds great,” I say. “But I’m not hungry.”
“Are you sure?” She sounds disappointed.
“Yeah,” I reply. “Rain check?”
“Okay, but you’re missing out,” she says.
I thank her, tell her I love her, and ask her to kiss Tori for me, and then I hang up.
I open my front door and quickly decide that a shower is what I need to help me unwind. I stand under the running hot water until it cools. I turn the water off and reach for my robe. After slipping into it, I use the towel to wipe the mist off the mirror. I look at my reflection, not recognizing the woman staring back at me.
Justin always told me I was beautiful. Looking at the shell of the person I used to be makes me realize that when he died, he took something from me. I’m thinner, even a little paler than usual. I try to smile so I can see what others see. My smile doesn’t reach my eyes. The joy I once knew is gone. The joy I see in my sisters, in almost everyone I know, I no longer see in myself. I look at the three rings I wear around my neck: my engagement ring and our wedding bands. I touch the inside of Justin’s ring and can feel the engraved words I know are there: Justin Loren - I’ve Loved You Forever.
I change into my pajamas and climb into bed. I look at the clock and see that it’s only seven o’clock. “I’ve loved you forever,” I say aloud before closing my eyes and praying that tomorrow will be better.
My alarm wakes me at six o’clock in the morning. I’m determined to go for a walk before church. I get out of bed and brush my teeth before putting my hair in a ponytail. I put on some leggings and a T-shirt, and I dig in the back of my closet, looking for my running shoes. I pull a sweatshirt from the hall closet and lock the door behind me.
Realizing it’s colder than I expected, I slip the sweatshirt over my head. When I round the corner at the end of the street, I see a man running towards me. I can tell he’s been running for a while when he rushes past me, and I see that the front of his shirt is drenched in sweat.
“Loren?”
I turn around and look at him, but nothing registers. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” I ask him.
He walks back towards me, and I can tell he’s not even the slightest bit out of breath. Impressive.
” Yeah, hi. I’m sorry, Loren, it’s me, Aaron. Aaron Baldwin.”
“Aaron? Oh my gosh. Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”
“I recognized you right away,” he says. “You haven’t changed at all.”
I try to smile, but I can’t. I was grieving when we met, and that hasn’t changed.
“What are you doing here?” I finally ask.
“I just moved back to Cold Spring,” he says.
“No, I mean, what are you doing in this neighborhood? “
That’s my house,” he says, pointing at the house next to mine.
“You live here? In this house?”
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Where’s Holly?” I ask.
“She spent the night at your sister’s.”
“Oh, I see.” I take a deep breath and try to soften my tone, recognizing that I’m being rude.
“I met Holly yesterday. She’s adorable.” I look at him in the eyes before adding, “Aaron, I heard about your wife. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” he says.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, I say, “Okay, well, welcome back to Cold Spring. I’ll be seeing you around.”
The fact that we never break eye contact makes me feel uneasy. His eyes are dark brown—no, they’re hazel. With the sunlight shining on them at this moment, I can see they’re a deep golden amber in the center and almost green around the edges of the iris. I realize I’m staring.
“Okay,” He says, “It was nice running into you.” He smiles, and I can see deep dimples forming on his cheeks.
“Likewise,” I say, smiling back.
I give him a little wave before we go our separate ways. I start walking faster and turn around just in time to see that he does, in fact, live next door. He catches me looking at him, and I feel a rush of heat reach my face.
I take out my phone and start dialing. Katherine and Adam have some explaining to do. Waiting for her to pick up, I make a mental note; his smile never reached his eyes either.