Seasons of Sorrow (4 page)

“I won’t fight the divorce on one condition,” she stated firmly.

“What’s that?”

“I keep the house. It’s paid for, all of Adam’s things are here, as are all of my memories of him. I want to keep it.”

“And if I disagree?” Derek asked.

“I fight you tooth and nail. I ask for everything I can get, all of our assets, and half your retirement account. I also expose every dirty deed you have done in the last few months, not only to the judge, but to anyone who will listen to filthy gossip and spread it all over town.”

Her face must have convinced him that she was earnest because her husband just nodded. “Fine. You may keep the house. I’ll even pay the taxes for next year.”

Charlotte had been counting on his distaste for rumors and ugly talk to get her what she wanted.

“How generous,” she replied, her expression giving nothing away.

Derek rose from the table. “I’ll go pack a few of my things. I’ll want to arrange to get the rest sometime next week.”

Charlotte merely nodded, too exhausted to care any longer. It was obvious that Derek wanted a clean getaway and she was going to give it to him. Her husband had taken the last thing he would get from her, and that was her agreement to grant him a fairly painless divorce. With dry, burning eyes, she watched the man she’d loved for the last ten years and the father of her deceased child walk out of the kitchen. And felt nothing but emptiness.

After Derek left, Charlotte drifted upstairs back to the nursery. The ache was back in her breasts but she could summon the energy to do anything about it. Instead she sat in the glider by the crib and stared mindlessly at the room; the light blue walls, colorful pictures, and stuffed animals that she had painstakingly chosen for her son.

She knew she was wallowing but she wasn’t ready to let go. She might never be ready to let go of her little man, to accept that he was gone. In the three short months since he had been born, he had become her entire world. Now that world was crumbling, and Charlotte was lost.

Sometime later, the front door opened and closed. Charlotte heard it and wondered if Derek had returned because he had forgotten something or because he changed his mind. But it wasn’t her husband.

Brandy’s voice drifted up the stairs and into the nursery. “Charlie? Where are you?”

Charlotte didn’t answer, too lost in her thoughts to respond.

Brandy appeared in the doorway. “God, Charlie.” Brandy came over to the glider and sank down on her knees in front of her. Placing her hands over Charlotte’s, she said, “What can I do for you?”

Charlotte looked down. “Derek left. I’m completely alone now.” The words echoed in her head, but she still felt as though the reality had yet to sink in.

Brandy’s hands squeezed hers. “No, you are not. You have me. You will always have me. And you will always have Greg. We both love you too much to let you be alone.”

“How did you know?” Charlotte asked.

“Know what?”

“That Derek left.”

Brandy was silent. She clung when Charlotte tried to pull her hands away. “Wait, wait. Look, Greg saw Derek at the office and Derek told him. I came because Greg thought you were still too upset to see him.”

Charlotte laughed but the sound held little honest humor. It was almost a sob. “When did we go back to middle school?” she asked hoarsely.

Tears filled Brandy’s eyes. “Charlie, don’t. We can see how hard this is for you and neither of us want to make it more difficult.”

Blinking furiously, Charlotte looked away from her friend’s pleading face. She knew that her friends meant well, but she couldn’t bring herself to let it go. “I don’t know what that means, Brandy. There is no way to make this easier.” Her throat closed and she had to stop. She had to clear her throat before she could speak again. “What I need from you is honesty. Complete honesty. If you lie to me again, I won’t be able to forgive you. To me, you are more than a friend. You’re the sister I never had. Sisters and true friends don’t lie to one another. Even if the truth hurts, they share it and then help carry the burden and pain.”

Brandy rested her cheek on Charlotte’s knee. “Okay, Charlie. No more lies, I promise.” She lifted her face. “I can’t promise for Greg though.”

Charlotte’s lips tilted slightly, a suggestion of a smile. Greg was beyond stubborn and she and Brandy knew it too well. “That works.”

Her friend leaned in to embrace her. “I love you, Charro.”

Charlotte squeezed her friend tighter at the use of one of her old nicknames from college.

Brandy leaned back so that she was sitting on her knees. “Have you eaten anything today?” she asked. When Charlotte shook her head, she sighed. “Okay, I’m going to make you some food and this time you’ll eat it and keep it down.”

Charlotte nodded. She realized it had been almost thirty-six hours since she’d eaten a meal she hadn’t thrown up. She let her friend help her out of the chair, surprised at the stiffness in her limbs. She followed Brandy downstairs and let her friend take care of her for a while.

Chapter Three

A
week later, Charlotte had settled into a routine of sorts. She would get up in the morning, usually after a restless night. The memories of that horrific moment were inescapable at night, when the house was dark and the neighborhood was quiet. Brandy would call and harass her into eating if she hadn’t already. The one time she ignored the phone, her friend had shown up on her doorstep and practically force fed her.

In the late morning, she would shower and drive to the cemetery. Charlotte would spend at least an hour, usually more, at Adam’s grave, telling him how much she missed him and about small things she experienced throughout the day before. Then she would stop at her parents’ graves, something she rarely did before Adam passed, but began to do often after his death. She needed to talk to someone, to vent the grief, anger, and deal with her wild mood swings. Even better that they couldn’t respond. She didn’t want to hear what others thought about her loss. Charlotte needed to expel the pain before it festered and poisoned her.

The afternoon was spent taking care of small chores, reading, or rocking in the glider in Adam’s room. Many days she spent the afternoons crying, her arms and heart aching to hold her little boy again and knowing she never would.

In the evenings, Brandy would come by and either bring food or cook dinner. The first couple of days she stayed the night. After that, she would stay a few hours after they ate and go back to her condo. Sometimes they watched television together. Other days, Brandy would stay downstairs while Charlotte went upstairs to look at Adam’s pictures or write in her journal.

Before she married Derek, Charlotte used to write constantly. She kept a journal from the time she was a little girl and throughout college. It wasn’t until she married Derek and he commented that keeping a diary seemed like a childish pastime for a grown woman. At first Charlotte ignored him but, after listening to his slightly disdainful comments for over a year, she finally gave up the practice. It seemed easier to go along with his wishes over something so small.

Now that Derek was gone, Charlotte began her habit of writing down her thoughts again. Some days, between her one-sided conversations with Adam or her parents and her journal, that was the only way she could stay sane.

At the end of the week, she asked Brandy about Greg. Charlotte hadn’t seen or heard from him since the night she yelled at him. It was the longest they had gone without speaking in years.

“Charlie, he feels horrible about everything and he doesn’t think you want to see him,” Brandy said.

Charlotte stared down at her plate, shoving the pieces of chicken around with her fork.

“Don’t tell me you blame him.” Brandy leaned forward. “It’s not his fault, Charlie.”

Charlotte dropped her fork into her plate with a clatter. “He knew! He knew everything, Brandy! He should have told me.”

She shot to her feet and knocked her chair over. The air in the room seemed too thin. She couldn’t catch her breath and her skin felt tight, hot, and tingly.

Brandy jumped up and came around the table. “He wanted to tell you. I told him not to.”

Breathing shallowly, Charlotte shook her head. “Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me something like that? If I had known, I would have left him. I would have taken Adam and left him. Then Adam would have been sleeping in my bed that night and he wouldn’t have died. I would have known something was wrong and I could have saved him! If I had just known, I could have saved my baby!” She screamed the last words.

Those thoughts had been haunting her for days. Charlotte hadn’t allowed them past her lips because, as much as she wanted to believe it, the small voice of logic in her mind argued that she was wrong. Still, as irrational as she knew it was, she couldn’t stop the
what if
‘s from invading her every waking moment.

Brandy caught her as her legs gave out. “Oh, sweetie. You know that’s not true. There’s nothing you could have done. And no way to know what might have happened. Greg wants to help you and he’s hurting too. He loved Adam. Neither of you should go through this alone.”

Charlotte sobbed. “I know it’s not true. But, if it’s not his fault, it’s mine. I’m to blame. I didn’t save my baby. I didn’t save him.”

She cried so long and hard that her throat was raw and her eyes burned. It seemed as though she cried for an eternity. Brandy simply held her and stroked her hair until the storm of grief passed.

When Charlotte finally calmed, Brandy snagged a paper napkin off the table and gently wiped her face and eyes.

“I think you need to see a grief counselor, Charlie. Or at the very least join a group,” Brandy stated. “You need to deal with this and you’ll need more help than Greg or I can give you.”

“It’s only been eleven days, Brandy,” Charlotte said.

“I know, sweetie. I just mean that you need help processing your emotions. You’re on a rollercoaster right now and you need someone who’s been there or at least with experience in helping people who have lost children. I’m worried you’ll never heal otherwise.”

Charlotte nodded. “I’ll do it.”

Brandy sighed. “Good. I brought over a list of grief counselors and meetings in the area.”

She couldn’t stop the small laugh. Leave it to Brandy to decide a course of action, research it, and maybe even begin implementation before she discussed it with anyone else.

“Did you make the appointment already?” Charlotte asked.

“Nah. I thought you should probably pick your own, though I did look up the credentials of all the counselors on the list to weed out possible quacks.”

Charlotte leaned her forehead to Brandy’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“I would do anything for you, Charlie. You’re the sister I never had and I love you.”

Brandy stood and helped her up.

“Will you be mad if I tell you I’m not hungry?” Charlotte asked.

Brandy just shook her head with a sigh. “I’ll put it in the fridge. You can eat it later.”

Charlotte hugged her friend tightly. “Thank you.” She leaned back. “For everything, okay? I wouldn’t be doing nearly as well if it weren’t for you.”