Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Tori
Stepping into the chapel to see Trent before the funeral is an out of body experience.
When I walk inside, a chill hits me, and it’s as if I leave my body and float away.
How can I be here? How is this happening?
How am I spending my Friday afternoon dressed in black, my hair smoothed back in a bun, standing in front of a coffin draped in the American flag, red, white, and blue flowers on top.
I have never hated the colors more. The colors he fought for, stood for, the colors he died for.
I want to tear them off. Shred them to pieces, the same way my heart has been.
His mom chose a closed casket, and I’ve never been more thankful.
I don’t think I could have faced seeing him lying there in his uniform, unmoving, the injuries that took him hidden with make-up.
No, I choose to remember his big green eyes that only looked at me and the smile that could light up anyone’s bad day.
To most people, he was Scotty, but to me, he was Trent. My Trent.
My fingers trace over the fabric of the American flag, and I hang my head.
“Hey, Trent,” is all I manage before sobs wrack my body. My knees buckle, and I plant both hands on the edge of the coffin to steady myself. This wasn’t meant to be how our story ended. This wasn’t the plan.
A cramping sensation forms in my belly, and I clutch my center, and I wonder if it’s our baby’s way of letting me know they are with me.
“We are having a baby, Trent. You’re going to be a daddy.
” But those words and the reality that he won’t ever meet his baby or know if he ever got my letter all become too much.
I wrap my arms over the coffin, slowly lower my body against it, and I let myself cry.
I cry for our story that was cut far too short, my baby who will never know their father, and the man who never got to live the life he planned after he left the military.
It makes all of this even harder, knowing that he planned to leave after this tour. He wanted more. He wanted to travel, he wanted to plant roots, he wanted to build a farm and foster animals, spend his days strumming his guitar, and he wanted to do them all with me.
My fingers circle the plaque that’s engraved with his name, and I begin humming the song Trent would play for me.
Lovely Lady May. He said it was my song as my name’s Victoria May.
I don’t know when I stopped humming, and the tears stopped flowing, but a hand lands on my shoulder.
It’s warm and familiar, and something about it reminds me of Trent.
I lean into it, praying it doesn’t go away.
“Tor, it’s time,” Noah’s voice says calmly, and I know I have to leave him now. I have to walk away and get ready to say goodbye.
Noah steps back and gives me space. I press a kiss to the cold wood of the coffin and close my eyes.
“I love you,” I whisper, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall again, and take the hardest steps I’ve ever taken away from his coffin and watch as my brother, Noah, Jack, Brad, and some other soldiers surround his coffin and prepare to take him on his walk to his final resting place.
The evening chill works its way into my bones as I lie motionless on the damp grass beside Trent’s grave.
One hand clutches my stomach, and I use my index finger of the other to draw broken hearts into the mud on repeat.
I couldn’t handle the wake, couldn’t listen to one more I’m so sorry for your loss, or another sympathetic look, couldn’t bear to watch Trent’s mother sob.
She chose to have him buried in their hometown of Greendale Hills near their family farm, and she couldn’t have picked a more perfect spot.
Under a tree, away from the entrance, and right in front of the North Carolina mountains.
It’s beautiful and peaceful, and I don’t want to leave. I don’t’ want to leave him.
I feel a presence behind me, but I don’t budge. I’m too numb.
“What are you doing out here by yourself, Tor?” Noah’s gentle voice asks as he crouches down beside me.
I don’t answer.
“You look cold. Come inside.”
Again, I don’t respond.
“Tori, you’ve not spoken all day. Please let me help you.”
A lone tear rolls across my nose and down the opposite cheek as I pull my knees up to my chest.
“Tori, please, it’s breaking us to see you like this. He wouldn’t want you to be like this.”
I know he’s right, but still, I can’t bring myself to move or speak.
“Can I join you?” Noah asks, but he doesn’t wait for a reply.
I feel something—most likely his military jacket being laid over me—and then the heat of his body presses against my back.
When his arm wraps around me, and he whispers, “I’ve got you,” I let go.
I sob as he holds me until my body reaches the point of exhaustion, and I go limp in his arms.
“Noah, I’m pregnant,” I say so quietly I wonder if he heard, but when his body stiffens, and his grip on me tightens, I know he did.
“I didn’t get to tell him,” I say solemnly.
“He’ll know. He’s always with you.”
“I don’t think I can do this on my own,” I admit out loud for the first time.
“You can do this, but you don’t need to do this alone. I’m here."
“I never told him I loved him.” I sniff.
“I need to tell you something,” Noah confesses, and it has me turning over to face him.
It’s then I see the pain and heaviness he’s been carrying.
There’s a darkness that haunts his eyes, and worry lines across his forehead that I’m sure could reveal a thousand stories if I took the time to study them.
He’s been through a lot, seen a lot, and it hits me that I am not the only one hurting here.
We all lost Trent, and he was there. I still don’t know what happened. I don’t know if I ever want to know.
“Tell me what?”
His throat bobs as he swallows, and his struggle to say what he’s about to say is evident in the way he tenses his jaw.
“Before he died…” He pauses, taking a second to breathe, and my stomach cramps in anticipation of his next words. “The last thing he said was, ‘Tell Tori I love her’, and he made me promise to look out for you. I gave him my word, so you don’t have to do this alone, okay.”
I press my forehead to his—it feels close and intimate, but not in the way lovers feel. No, we are two people grieving and longing for the same person. In this moment, I think we both need this closeness, and I am so grateful to have him here with me.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say through a hushed whisper as I let his words sink in and it only makes me long for Trent more. Knowing his last thought was me just shows the kind of man he is…was.
He nods and brushes a piece of stray hair away from my cheek.
“You’re cold, and it’s late. We should get you back to the hotel,” Noah says.
My lip quivers, and my words are shaky as I confess, “I don’t want him to be alone. It’s his first night. What if he’s scared? I… I need to stay.”
I prepare for him to tell me how silly and irrational I am being, but instead, he holds me tighter and pulls the jacket over us.
“Then I’ll stay with you, and we’ll keep him company together.”