Chapter 53
Greyson
“She’s gone,” I breathed out after pounding my fist against the guesthouse front door.
Eleanor stood there with a look of concern.
My mind was spinning, and I hadn’t any tools to slow down the speed at which my thoughts were shooting through my mind.
“I just went to check on her, to see if she was ready to talk, and she was gone.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened with worry, which only made me more scared. Her hand landed on my forearm and she released a breath. “OK, OK. Don’t worry, we’ll find her. So where would she go? We can go looking for her. What are some of her favorite places?” I asked.
“I don’t know, I don’t know where she would go. She was so upset, she could be anywhere,” I said, pacing back and forth, racing my hands through my hair. “This is all my fault. I did this. I made her run away,” I muttered, falling apart second by second.
I needed Eleanor, because I couldn’t stop myself from going wild. My thoughts were running away from me, and each one that came felt worse than the one before it. I needed her to give me some reassurance that everything would be OK.
She stepped back and narrowed her eyes. “OK, so where would I go if I felt betrayed . . . Where would I go if I felt lost? Where would I go? What would I do? Who would I run . . .” She paused and realization hit her brow.
“My mom. I’d go to my mom. That’s probably what she’d do. She’d go to her mother.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, pausing to raise an eyebrow.
“When I’m lost and confused and at my lowest, I always go to Laurie Lake, because that’s where my mom is in my heart. That’s where I’d go. I’d go to my mom.”
The pieces clicked in my mind. “The cemetery,” I spat out. “Can you watch Lorelai?”
“Of course. Go. Call me if you need anything.”
“OK, thank you,” I said, hurrying down the steps.
“And Grey?” she called after me.
“Yeah?”
“Breathe.”
* * *
I know she said breathe, but I hadn’t taken a breath since I took off toward the cemetery. My thoughts were surrounded by fears. My throat was tight, and it took everything inside of me to keep from falling apart right then and there.
The past kept flashing in my thoughts, memories pushing to the forefront of my mind.
I forced myself to stand, and I checked on Lorelai.
Even though she cried, she seemed OK. Then I went to find her sister.
I hurried through the blinding rain in search of my daughter.
“Karla!” I called once, twice, a million times.
There was no reply, nothing to be heard.
The thoughts that raced through my head were unwelcome, and I had to do everything to keep from falling apart.
“No,” I muttered to myself. “She’s fine. She’s OK. She’s OK,” I kept repeating over and over again. She was OK.
She had to be OK, because if she wasn’t, I wouldn’t know what I’d do.
My eyes blurred over, but I blinked away my emotions. I wouldn’t shed a tear until she was with me. I wouldn’t fall apart before I knew she was all right.
I parked the car and rushed through the cemetery.
The closer I grew, the more worried I became.
There was a small figure lying still in front of Nicole’s tombstone. My heart ached as I moved faster, dashing through the space, praying to God for her to be OK. But she looked so still, so small . . .
When I turned to my right, I saw her. A small figure laid out in front of two trees. She looked so small and still.
So very still.
The stillness is what scared me the most.
“Karla,” I called out, “Karla!” I cried.
The moment her body moved, a breath of relief hit me. I kept dashing, faster and faster, running to get her.
“Dad?” she asked, turning to face me.
I collapsed to the ground the moment I reached her, pulling her closer to me, holding her so close that I could hear her heartbeats. So close that I was certain there was no way we could get closer.
“What are you doing here?” she cried, pulling away from me. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and I touched my hands against her face. I felt every inch of her head. I touched every inch of her, making sure she was OK.
“Kar . . .” I couldn’t speak the moment I felt her pocket. I went to reach into it, and my heart split in half as I pulled out a bottle of her prescription pills and stared at them in my hand. Then I looked to Karla.
Her body began to shake.
Her lips trembled.
My heart shattered.
“What are you doing with these, Karla?” I asked, my voice low, so low she couldn’t hear the fear feeding on my soul.
“Dad . . .”
“Karla. What were you going to do with these pills?” I asked again.
Her eyes welled up, and a flood of emotions spilled out of her as she began sobbing uncontrollably into the palms of her hands.
“I hate this!” she hollered. “I hate all of this. I hate being me. I hate being alone. I hate how much I miss Mom. I hate how hard everything is. I hate myself so much, Dad. I hate this world. I wasn’t going to do it, though, Dad.
I promise, I wasn’t. I just . . .” Her words became so jumbled up, and every piece of me shattered as I watched my daughter fall apart. “I’m tired, Dad. I’m tired.”
I wrapped her tightly in my arms and held on for dear life. “I got you, Karla. I got you. Just you, Lorelai, and me, OK? From this point on.”
“Just the three of us?” she asked with wonderment in her eyes.
“Yeah. Just the three of us. There is no one, and I mean no one, more important to me than you and your sister. You are my world, Karla. You are my complete and only world.”
I meant that down to the deepest parts of my soul.
I’d give up my world for my daughters.
I’d surrender it all if it meant their hearts would be OK.