Chapter 30
Susan’s headlights cut through the darkness as she drove home from the Welcome Center. Exhaustion settled into her bones, but it was the satisfied kind that came from work well done.
Her thoughts drifted to Paul’s words in the kitchen, the vulnerability in his voice when he’d mentioned being the partner someone deserved. They’d been close to having a deep and meaningful conversation, but the interruption had probably been for the best.
As Susan turned the corner, she noticed lights blazing from every window of Lynda’s house. That was strange, considering it was nearly eleven o’clock.
Susan slowed her truck, debating whether to stop. The memory of Lynda’s tear-stained face at the hospital made the decision for her. She pulled into the driveway and climbed out into the cold December night.
No sound came from inside. Just silence broken by the distant lap of lake water against the shore. Susan knocked, then waited.
When the door opened, Susan’s stomach dropped. Lynda’s eyes were swollen and red, her face blotchy from crying. She wore the same clothes she’d had on at the hospital, now wrinkled and disheveled.
“Susan.” Lynda’s voice cracked. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw your lights were on.” Susan stepped forward. “Can I come in?”
Lynda nodded wordlessly and moved aside. Susan followed her into the living room, then stopped short.
Draped across the sofa was Lynda’s wedding dress. The beautiful deep winter white gown caught the lamplight, its fabric shimmering with an elegance that seemed cruel under the circumstances.
Beside the dress sat a cardboard box, partially filled with wedding items. The silk flowers Lynda had been so excited about. A stack of programs with Isabel’s careful calligraphy, wasted on an event that would never happen.
“Oh, Lynda.” Susan moved to her friend’s side.
“I keep telling myself it’s just a postponement.
” Lynda sank into the armchair across from the dress.
“That we’ll reschedule once Matt recovers.
But watching him breathe with the help of machines.
..” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
“What if the last conversation we had was about Christmas lights?”
Susan perched on the edge of the sofa, careful not to disturb the dress. “The doctors said the surgery went well.”
“Being optimistic isn’t a guarantee.” Lynda wiped at her face. “I thought I knew what fear felt like when my marriage fell apart. But this is different. This is watching someone you love fight for every breath and knowing there’s nothing you can do.”
The rawness in Lynda’s voice made Susan’s throat tighten.
“Have you eaten anything today?” Susan asked gently.
Lynda shook her head. “I can’t. Every time I think about food, I remember all the wedding planning we did around meals.” She gestured helplessly at the dress. “None of it matters now.”
“It matters,” Susan said firmly. “That future is just delayed, not destroyed.”
“Is it?” Lynda looked directly at Susan, her expression devastated. “I spent three hours making phone calls tonight. I had to tell each of our guests that Matt was in the hospital and we weren’t getting married after all.”
Susan could imagine how agonizing each call must have been.
“Isabel offered to make calls for me,” Lynda continued, her words tumbling out faster.
“So did Kathleen. But these are our guests. People who were excited to witness our vows. They deserved to hear it from me.” She laughed bitterly.
“I made it through about twenty calls before I broke down. Then I pulled myself together and finished the rest. Every single person was kind, which somehow made it worse.”
Susan studied her friend’s exhausted face, seeing not just grief but crushing guilt. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I know that logically.” Lynda picked up one of the silk roses. “But Matt was out buying supplies because we wanted the perfect setting for the wedding. He was driving in terrible conditions because we were so determined to have everything ready for Christmas Eve.”
“Stop.” Susan’s voice came out sharper than she intended. “Matt was in an accident. That’s all. Not because you wanted a beautiful wedding. Sometimes awful things happen to good people. You can’t take responsibility for something completely beyond your control.”
Lynda’s shoulders shook with silent sobs. Susan moved to kneel beside her chair, taking her friend’s trembling hands.
“I’m terrified,” Lynda whispered. “I found love again when I thought that part of my life was over. And now I’m surrounded by reminders of a future that might not exist.”
“You’re not a fool.” Susan gripped Lynda’s hands tighter. “You chose courage over fear.”
“Everything feels so overwhelming.” Lynda gestured around the room. “What am I going to do with the dress, the flowers, and the programs? I thought about cancelling the cake order, but Megan’s already baked and decorated it. There’s so much to undo, and all I want is to sit beside Matt’s bed.”
“Then that’s what you’ll do tomorrow,” Susan said. “The wedding details can wait.”
“But people want answers.” Lynda stood abruptly, pacing to the window. “And I don’t have any. I don’t know when Matt will wake up or how long his recovery will take.”
The words came out as a sob. Susan crossed the room and pulled Lynda into her arms, feeling her friend’s body shake with the force of emotions she’d been holding back all evening.
“You don’t need all the answers right now,” Susan murmured.
They stood there while Lynda cried, Susan rubbing circles on her back the way she’d done when Lynda’s marriage ended, when she’d moved across the country to start over.
Eventually, Lynda’s tears subsided. She pulled back, wiping her face with her sleeve. “I’m sorry. You must be exhausted from the Welcome Center event.”
“Don’t apologize.” Susan guided her back to the chair. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”
Lynda looked at the wedding dress. “I keep thinking about everything we had planned. Walking down the aisle, seeing Matt’s face, saying our vows. All those moments are just... gone.”
“Not gone,” Susan corrected. “Postponed. Those moments will still happen. What you and Matt have is real.”
“What if he doesn’t make it?” Lynda’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Then all of this becomes a memorial instead of a celebration.”
“I can’t tell you everything will be fine,” Susan said quietly. “But Matt is strong and he’s receiving excellent care. And you won’t face this alone. Isabel, Kathleen, and I will be right beside you.”
Lynda nodded, fresh tears streaming. “When the hospital called, my first thought after terror was that I needed my friends.”
“That’s what family does,” Susan said.
Lynda took a deep, shuddering breath. “Will you help me put the dress away?”
Together, they carefully folded the wedding dress. The fabric whispered between their fingers, a sound that should have accompanied celebration. But instead, it marked the closing of a chapter.
Lynda brought out the garment bag from Emily’s boutique. As she zipped it closed, Susan saw her friend’s jaw tighten.
“Tomorrow I’ll focus on Matt,” Lynda said. “Tonight, I needed to fall apart. Thank you.”
“Always.” Susan helped carry the dress to Lynda’s bedroom. “Now, will you try to eat something?”
Lynda managed a weak smile. “Only if you stay. I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Susan thought about her own empty cottage. “I’d be happy to stay.”
In Lynda’s kitchen, Susan made them hot cups of herbal tea while Lynda assembled simple sandwiches neither of them wanted but both needed. They ate in silence, two women bound by friendship and shared grief.
After they’d eaten, Susan convinced Lynda that she’d feel a little better after having a shower. With clean clothes, freshly shampooed hair, and some food in her tummy, Lynda said she felt better.
When Susan finally headed home, she looked back at Lynda and Matt’s home. The only lights that were still on were the security lights. Hopefully, that meant that Lynda was on her way to bed and not sitting in the dark, crying herself to sleep.
Susan glanced in the rearview mirror and pulled over to the side of the road.
Amy was waiting with Matt, but she’d want to know that her mom was overwhelmed and needed some extra love and attention.
Susan pulled out her cell phone and texted Amy: Hi Amy.
I just saw your mom and she’s having a difficult time at the moment.
If you could come back from the hospital a little earlier, I’m sure Lynda would appreciate it.
Amy replied a few seconds later: Matt’s brother arrived a few minutes ago. Leaving the hospital now. Thank you for looking after Mom. XX
Susan closed her eyes and prayed that Matt’s body healed quickly. The sooner he came out of the coma, the sooner he could start his long road to recovery.