SWNOVELS Rewrite Our Story: Chapter 5
I’VE BARELY HAD the chance to open the passenger door of Cade’s truck when a body comes crashing into mine. My back digs into the frame of the truck as Pippa envelops me in a bear hug.
“Mare,” she breathes into my hair, squeezing me tightly. “I’m so glad you came.”
I pull my best friend into my body, clutching her as tight as I can manage. “Of course I came,” I mumble into her hair, getting a mouthful of her straight, brown locks.
Silence unfolds as we hold each other. It’s only been three months since Pippa came up and visited me in Chicago. We had the time of our lives as I showed her every tourist attraction possible in the seven days she spent with me. Neither one of us could’ve imagined the reason we’d be reunited again.
Pulling away, Pippa hooks her arm through mine. “I really don’t know if we’d be able to do this without you.”
With her mention of we, my eyes flick to Cade. He still sits in the driver’s seat, his attention on Pippa and me. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes as he stares back at me.
I don’t tell Pippa that I’m fairly certain Cade doesn’t want me here. Looking away from him, I let her pull me toward the stone path that leads to the front door.
My heart sinks when I notice the rocking chairs that are perched on the large front porch. One of Linda’s favorite things to do after dinner was to rock in the chair and look out on the land. She’d make tea, sweetened with way too much honey, and talk your ear off sitting on that porch. I hadn’t realized how much I missed those evening chats until it dawns on me that they’ll never happen again.
I look to Pippa at my side. Her eyes are red, free of makeup as she keeps her gaze pinned on the front door. I wonder if her mind is wandering to the same place mine was. Looking over my shoulder, I notice Cade pulling down the tailgate of his truck.
“I should probably get my bags.”
Pippa shakes her head, keeping a tight grip on me. She clings to me for dear life. As if now that I’m here, she can’t stand to let me go. “Cade can do it,” she states, the tone of her voice leaving no room for discussion. Pippa is as head-strong as they come. Whatever she says, goes.
Proving her point, Cade pulls both my suitcases from the truck bed. His fingers wrap around each handle as he follows far behind Pippa and me.
I tear my gaze from him, not wanting to be caught staring at the bulging biceps fighting against the sleeves of his shirt. “What do you need from me?” I ask Pippa, following her through the large wood front doors.
Pippa takes a deep breath, leading me to the expansive kitchen. She points to a counter full of photos, papers, and catalogs for different packages from the funeral home. “I need a lot, honestly. But most importantly, I was wondering if you’d maybe speak at the service?”
Blood drains from my face as I think about having to stand in front of the entire town. I had to do it once before—for my mother’s funeral. I was too young to stand up there, but my dad wouldn’t say anything and so many people from the town were looking at us. I thanked them for coming and tried to use words to describe what Momma meant to all of us. It wasn’t something any ten year old should have to do. Linda had been there to save the day. She’d left her seat and said some words to the crowd on behalf of our family.
Pippa must notice the color leaving my face because she chews on her lip nervously. She looks away from me and focuses on the photos of her mom laid out on the table. “You just have this way with words that no one else has.”
“Written words. I don’t know if I’m good at the whole saying it aloud thing.”
Pippa’s shoulders slump as her eyes focus on a picture of her mom holding baby Cade. “Will you at least help me write something that I can read?”
As terrifying as it is to stand up at one of those podiums again and address a crowd full of people, I don’t want Pippa to have to go through it since it’s clearly something she isn’t comfortable with. “I’ll write and read it,” I assure her, squeezing her shoulder. “But will you read it once I’m done to make sure I’m saying what you want me to say?”
Pippa’s eyes fill with tears. She wipes at them immediately, not wanting me to see them. That’s Pippa. She’s headstrong and extremely confident. She’d much rather people not know her emotions, to not see her falter, even if it’s in the instance of something as tragic as this. She and Cade are more similar than they’d care to admit.
“I’m sure anything you write will be perfect, but of course I’ll read it.”
I swallow, ignoring the sound behind me as Cade brings my suitcases through the front door. I’m already terrified of having to write a eulogy for Linda. How are you supposed to encapsulate all the good and wonderful things someone did in their life in a few short paragraphs? It’s unfair, to reduce something as incredible as Linda’s life to a few short moments in time.
“Where should I take the bags?” Cade’s interruption has Pippa and me turning to face him.
“I can stay at my old place,” I offer, not wanting to get in the way of them. They’re all grieving, the last thing I want to do is to be a bother to them.
Cade and Pippa share a look.
“Cade is staying there now,” Pippa explains nervously. “We kept it for you for a while after your daddy left, but something had to be done with it and you didn’t come back. Then we uh, kind of rebuilt it. The wood was bad and we wanted to add extra rooms and bunks for staff to sleep. But it’s been Cade’s place while he finishes up with his own house. We’ve both been staying in the main house anyway, just so Dad isn’t here alone.”
“Duh,” I breathe, swatting the air. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m good with any of the guest rooms.” I look at Cade. Will it ever be easy to look into his deep copper eyes? Or will I always feel an ache in my stomach when our gazes collide? “Just pick one for me,” I add. Cade’s parents’ house is massive. While it was built ages ago by Cade’s great-grandfather, it’s been kept in pristine condition throughout the years. Different things have been expanded over time, adding to the luxury of a house they all still call a cabin despite it being more like a mansion instead.
He nods and grabs my suitcases without saying a word before heading up the stairs.
Pippa watches her brother with concern. Despite being a few years apart, the two of them are closer than most siblings. I remember the fights they got into when we were kids. Even though they fought a lot, their arguments never lasted long. Cade always ended up letting Pippa win. He’d apologize, even when it was typically her that was supposed to be the one apologizing.
“How’s he doing?” I ask, unable to help myself. Despite Cade always working closely with their father so he can take over the ranch one day, he was still a momma’s boy. He was sweet to her. If anyone could pull him out of a bad mood it was his mom. He’s got to be hurting. But in typical Cade fashion, you’d never know it.
“You know Cade,” she answers sadly, picking up a picture of Cade and Linda from when he was a baby. “He won’t really show—or tell us—how he’s feeling. But I know it’s not good. All he’s been doing is working.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“He was the one to find her.”
My head whips in her direction as dread settles deep in my bones. “What?” I croak as sadness washes over me. The trauma Cade must be dealing with is overwhelming.
Pippa begins to place the photos in different piles. I want to ask her what she needs me to do to help sort them, but right now I’m too stunned. “I was at work, and Dad was on the trails. Cade stopped by for a morning coffee with Mom. It’s something they’d been doing for a few years. She’d been on him for working too much. One of the paramedics, someone who stops by the bakery often, told me Cade had given CPR on his own for at least thirty minutes until they arrived. Since then he’s just been…quiet.”
“I can’t even imagine.” I help her straighten a pile of photographs just to give myself something to do, my mind focusing on the pain Cade must be going through.
My eyes travel to the stairs again, shocked to see Cade leaning against the wood bannister. His expression is unreadable. I wonder how long he’s been listening to our conversation. He hadn’t been there when I looked not too long ago. He’s the only person I know who can walk so quietly in a pair of heavy cowboy boots. I rip my gaze away from him, not wanting to look at him longer than necessary.
“So what are we doing with the photos?”
When Pippa tells me we’re searching for ones to include in a slideshow for Linda’s memorial, I dive into the task. Hours pass as we sit at the large kitchen table, sorting through pictures that span decades.