Pieces of Olivia (19 page)

I dropped my keys on the key ring in my kitchen and lay down on my sofa, my phone a heavy weight on my stomach. I thought of calling Rose. I thought of calling Kara. But somehow, I couldn’t even think of calling Preston. What would I say to him? I still wasn’t sure how I felt, but Taylor’s words clung to me, unwilling to let up.

I pulled my laptop out and went to my email, prepared to send a message to Trisha, the one person I longed to talk to. The one person who couldn’t respond.

I clicked my inbox, prepared to go to
Compose
, when my eyes locked on my latest email. Sitting in my inbox was a reply from Trisha. I sat up quickly, running my hands over my face and closing my eyes to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. I opened the message, unsure of what to expect, but what I found wasn’t an email from Trisha. It was from her mom.

Dear Olivia,

Could you please come see me when you are in town next? There is something I would like to share with you.

Love,

Judy Owens

I reread the message three times, before I was up off the sofa, grabbing my keys and dialing her number on the way to my Land Rover. She picked up on the second ring. “Mrs. Owens? It’s Olivia. How is today?”

***

I stepped into the Owens’s sunroom to find a smiling Mrs. Owens, a tea service, and a stack of papers beside it. I eyed the stack curiously as I went around to sit on the sofa across from her.

“Hello, Olivia. I’ve missed having you here. It’s been a long time.”

My gaze fell as I realized with embarrassment and guilt that I hadn’t come to see the Owens even once after Trisha died, and she was their only child. I had been so consumed by my own loss that I didn’t stop to consider that theirs was even greater.

“I’m sorry. I should have come by.”

She brushed off my apology with another smile. “I understand. Tea?”

“Please.”

As she poured the tea, my eyes drifted to the stack of papers again. They were emails. I tilted my head, and then my gaze snapped back to Mrs. Owens. “Those are . . .”

She sat the teapot down and peered over at me. “Yes, they are yours. And I’m sorry for the intrusion. I actually intended to stop reading after the first, but I became invested, and then the more I read, the more my interest turned to worry. Have you read your emails, Olivia?”

I shook my head. “No, ma’am. I haven’t.”

“Would you?”

I glanced down at the stack of emails. “I . . .”

“Not aloud of course. Just . . . read one.”

I hesitated, but Mrs. Owens had been through so much. I didn’t want to be difficult. I reached for the top sheet and held it out in front of me. I began reading the words, my mouth falling open with each devastating line. I picked up the next email without asking and then the next, and then before long, I had reached the last email I had sent to Trisha. The one where I told her I wanted to try. I stacked the emails back into a neat pile and told myself to breathe.

“Do you want to know who I see when I read those emails?” Mrs. Owens asked. “I see a girl who isn’t living. I see a girl who has let her grief define her. I don’t want that for you. Trisha wouldn’t want that for you. You were her best friend. She would never want you to be in so much pain.”

I looked away, sure that if I kept eye contact I would begin to cry. “I’m sorry for my emails, Mrs. Owens. I never considered that you might read them. I thought . . . well, honestly, I’m not sure what I thought.”

She covered her mouth with one hand and nodded, tears gleaming in her eyes. “Don’t be sorry. I could feel how much you loved her in those letters. But I think it’s time that you and I both put what happened behind us. I will always love my daughter. I will cherish her memory. But I can’t bring her back. Crying over her isn’t going to bring her back. I’ve realized that . . . and I hope that you can realize that, too. Your pain is only hurting you. It does not change her fate.”

I felt a tear roll down my cheek. “How do you put it behind you?”

She sat down her teacup, came over to sit beside me, and patted my knee. “By living, dear. And by embracing life. One day at a time.”

I sat in my car outside Westlake Cemetery, trying and failing to find the courage to step outside. The day had begun to drift away and the winter air had proven cold without the sun to keep it warm. I put the car in drive, resigning myself to the fact that Mrs. Owens was ready, but maybe I wasn’t just yet, when my phone began to ring. I glanced down to see Mom’s number flashing at me. I waited until the call went to voice mail, but then it immediately rang again.

“Hello?” I asked, worried that something bad had happened to my dad or one of my sisters.

“Thank goodness you answered. I spoke with Judy and she said that you had stopped by. Are you all right, honey?”

My bottom lip shook. I couldn’t speak. I knew the moment I did I would burst into tears.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the cemetery,” I said, the words muffled by my effort to not cry.

I heard her cover her phone and say the address for the cemetery. “Okay. Just stay in your car. I have help coming.”

I thought of my dad getting off work to come coach me through this mess. “Please don’t send Dad. I’m okay. I just need a moment.”

“I didn’t send your father. I sent someone better.”

We hung up after I assured her that I wouldn’t get out of the car until her help arrived. I waited until the sun began to set over the trees and the day was darker than it was light, my mind on Trisha and what I was about to do. I heard a soft tap on my window and looked up, expecting one of my sisters or Corrine or even Pastor Grant, and stared straight into Rose’s gray eyes.

My heart clenched at the sight of her, and I bit my lip to try to keep it steady. I opened the door and stepped out. The last time I saw her I fired her, and now she was there in front of me, cigarette in hand. “I couldn’t smoke the entire ride here, so you will have to forgive my greeting. Some things must come first.” She tapped the ashes off the end and squinted at me. I knew she was waiting for me to say something, but what could I say?
Sorry
didn’t come close.

“Rose, I . . .” I shook my head, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I let you down and I’m sorry.”

She smiled at me. “You could never let me down. Don’t you know that?” She pulled me into a hug. “You just got your strings crossed, and instead of trying to set them right, you cut them clean. I thought I knew where you were in the journey, but I was wrong. I pushed you, and maybe you weren’t ready to be pushed. So it’s my fault.” She wrapped her arm around me. “Now, I believe you came here with a purpose.”

I nodded, no longer able to hold back the tears. “I came to see Trisha.”

She squeezed me a little. “I thought so, which is why I brought you a gift.” She pulled out a photo from her coat pocket and handed it to me. “This was the final photo in your box. I think you’re ready to see it.”

I glanced down cautiously at the photo, expecting to see Trisha, but it wasn’t a photo of her. It was a photo of me. A photo from before. It had been taken at the senior lunch at school. The photographer was going around taking pictures randomly of us seniors for the yearbook. In the photo, I was sitting by myself on a bench. There was no one around me. No one in the background. I was looking at something to my right, a giant smile on my face. I had never looked happier.

“What were you looking at?” Rose asked.

I blinked fresh tears. “Trisha. She was class president. I don’t think I ever told you that. Anyway, she was practicing her speech to the graduating class, and I remember thinking that I was so proud that she was my friend, so lucky to have her. I wish I would have told her.”

Rose nodded. “Why don’t you tell her now?” She directed me toward Trisha’s grave, and then stepped away to give me space. I hadn’t been to her grave since I left Westlake, but I knew the marker’s location by heart. I stepped around until I was in front of her grave and kneeled down before the headstone, reading the inscription:
Beloved daughter and friend
.

I closed my eyes and pressed my palm against the stone. “Trisha, it’s me . . .” I said. “Sometimes I wonder what you would say if you were sitting by my grave. I picture you painting your nails and asking me about the color and acting as though I’m not dead at all. Like I’m still there, listening.” I smiled. “I want you to know that you were more than a friend. You were my example, the person who helped me see the right way to be, the right things to do.” I paused, the weight of what I was going to say next settling over me. I opened my mouth, but instead of words, a sob burst from my lips, rattling my body and weighing down my heart. Dad always said there was time for everything. A perfect moment. And I knew this moment had come.

I leaned my head against the gravestone and then pulled away, wiping my tears with the sleeves of my coat. “I never said goodbye. We were on the patio, and then I left to find Matt and I never said goodbye. I just left. You had gotten so concerned about Matt and the drugs that I knew it would become an argument, so I snuck away. And then I never saw you again. I can’t stop the horrible
what-ifs
now. What if I had stayed with you? What if I hadn’t convinced you to go at all? What if I had broken up with Matt weeks, even months before, like you begged me to? You are here, instead of me, and I will always blame myself for that fact.” Tears streamed down my face, and I was unable to stop crying. “But I’ve realized that even though I will never get over your death, I have to say goodbye now. I have to let you go.”

I stared at her grave through my tears, trying to find the strength to stand up. To walk away. I knew the moment I did that I would have to face that I would never see Trisha again. A part of me clung to her as though if I fought hard enough, if I just hung on, she would somehow come back. But that wasn’t reality. The reality was that she was gone, and I was here. That was our fate. Now, I had to find a way to play mine out.

I felt a hand rest on my shoulder and I peered up to see Rose there with me. I didn’t even hear her walk up. “I don’t know how to walk away,” I said, my lip trembling.

Rose tilted her head, and for the first time, I saw tears in her eyes. “I know, but we don’t always have to walk through the tough stuff. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, there are people willing to carry us.” She glanced behind me, and I turned to see Preston standing there, his eyes burning into mine.

“I’ll carry you,” he said. “I will always carry you.”

I scrambled to my feet and into his arms, nuzzling my face against his chest, tears soaking through his jacket. He held me close and stroked my hair. “Your mom called me. I couldn’t get here fast enough. I’m so sorry for everything. I thought of telling you about Kara a thousand different times, but it was so long ago, and you were so scared to trust me to begin with. I didn’t want to give you a reason to run. And then I lost you anyway because I was too afraid to be straight with you. You’ve had so much pain in your life . . . I’m just sorry that I added to it.”

I pulled away so I could see him, my every feeling bubbling to the surface at once. Guilt. Regret. Happiness. Love.

Love.

My eyes locked with his, and I knew, with certainty, that everything I needed was standing right in front of me. “I love you,” I said, my voice shaking with emotion. “I’ve been so afraid to say it out loud, but I do. So much. And I’m sorry, too. I was irrational and selfish and so many other horrible things, but if you could just try to love me again, I promise, I won’t leave.”

A slow smile crept across his face, lighting the darkness in his eyes. “Try? I never stopped.” And then his lips were on mine, first gently and then with urgency, every bit of the longing and sadness over the last few weeks pushed into that single kiss. He lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs around him, feeling finally at peace. I would always carry scars from the fire, but I was no longer afraid of the rain.

I was ready to live.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!
“If you don’t come out of there right now, I’m going to break down the door! They will be here any second!”

Preston smiled down at me in bed and then pressed his lips to my neck, trailing kisses across my collarbone and down to my cleavage. “We have time.” He thrust his hips against me, causing heat to pool in my belly. We had gotten as far as removing my shirt, before Kara started banging on my door. She’d gone half of spring semester living at Liberty with a roommate from hell, before finally caving to my offer to move in with me at my apartment. Ethan and his new roommate, Colt, were scheduled to arrive any second to help with the rest of her boxes, even though Preston and I said we could cover it. I thought Kara just wanted an excuse to ask Ethan to come up, but I wouldn’t admit that to her.

“Just a second,” I called, knowing she was going to bang again if we didn’t reply. I focused back on Preston on top of me. “We have to go,” I whispered.

He nipped at my neck again. “Are you sure?” He fixed his mouth over mine, then ran his tongue across my lips, while his hand roamed over my breasts, down my stomach, to . . .
Oh my
—

“Seriously, guys!”

Preston jerked up. “Why did you agree to let her move in again?”

I smiled. “Because she hated her new roommate. And because we love her.”

“You love her,” he grumbled. “I love you. And this.” He kissed me again, and I started to relent until Kara’s banging interrupted. Yet again.

I pushed Preston away. “Calm down. They’ll be gone soon and we can resume the position.”

He climbed off me, his lips quirking up. “And what position would that be?”

“That will depend upon how nice you are to them.”

“I’m always nice.”

I slipped my tank top back on and scooped my hair into a high ponytail. “To me.”

“Well, you’re the only one that matters.”

I grinned as I went for the door. “Two points.”

I swung the door open to find Kara on the other side, clearly aggravated.

“Finally,” she sighed. “Okay, they will be here any—” Before she could finish, we heard a knock at the door.

“Why are you so nervous, anyway?” Preston asked. “You’ve been around Ethan for years. Unless it’s the roommate.” He studied her. “It’s the roommate, isn’t it?”

“What? No, I haven’t even met the guy. I’ve only talked to him on the phone and a couple of times on Facebook.”

I grinned. “Right.” I opened the door to find Ethan and then what had to be the most badass guy I had ever seen. He wore dark jeans and a fitted black T-shirt that circled his thick biceps so tightly it looked like it could have been painted on. From the shirt, swirls of colored ink ran down each of his arms, the designs so intricate that I couldn’t make out any of the tattoos without staring. His light blond hair had bits of brown in it, making it hard to determine really what color it was, and then he spoke and I realized what had Kara so flustered. He was Australian. There wasn’t an American girl alive that didn’t go crazy for Australian accents, but they were like kryptonite to Kara.

I turned around to her and beamed, letting her know that I knew exactly what the problem was and I planned to give her hell for it later. The guys came inside and I closed the door behind them.

Ethan kissed Kara’s cheek and then motioned between us. “Colt, meet Kara and Preston and Olivia.” His gaze stopped at me, his eyebrows drawing together. “Damn, girl, what the hell happened to you?”

I had begun to show my scars more and more since saying goodbye to Trisha. I knew how they looked, but I wasn’t willing to hide myself any longer. I was trying.

I opened my mouth to answer, when Preston and Kara popped off at Ethan at the same time, and then Colt said, “I think they’re wild. Makes you look tough. Hot.”

Preston pulled me against him, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Yeah, well, get your own. And you,” he said, nodding at Ethan. “Say that shit again and you’ll have your own scars to worry about.”

Ethan tossed up his hands. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean anything.”

I shrugged and glanced over at Kara, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were on Colt. “Thanks for defending her,” she said, her tone soft.

He smiled. “Nothing to defend.”

Kara smiled back, their eyes locking for a beat before both looked away. I tilted my head up at Preston, who returned the same questioning look. I had no idea what would happen between Kara and Ethan, whether their relationship could take another year apart or whether they would go their separate ways, but one thing became clear: For Kara, Colt would be trouble.

“Looks like that’s the last of it,” Ethan said after we’d brought in the final load from Preston’s truck. “What’s on the agenda now?”

I checked my watch. It was just after four. “Want to grab an early dinner and head downtown for the Spring Jam Music Fest?”

Colts eyebrows lifted. “Music fest?”

I opened my mouth to reply, when Kara piped up. “Yeah, it’s supposed to be awesome. Ten live bands, food and drinks. We should go. You know . . . if you want.” Their eyes locked again, and I found myself grinning despite Preston urging me to stop before Ethan noticed.

Everyone agreed with the new plan, and we took our time walking down to Preston’s truck, enjoying the cool spring breeze and the beauty of Charleston Haven. It was the only apartment complex I’d found that looked like it belonged in Charleston and nowhere else—flowers and trees everywhere, brightly painted exteriors that gave homage to Rainbow Row. Music and laughter called out from the outdoor pool as we passed, and I imagined long hours by the pool with my friends. I paused just beside Preston’s truck and peered around the complex and then over at Kara and Preston. I remembered my first day at the College of Charleston, how halfhearted I’d felt about coming here, and now, there was nowhere I’d rather be. I smiled, allowing the warm feeling of contentment to settle over me.

I was finally home.