Captured at Nightfall (Capture My Heart Love Story) (35 page)

When she felt she could talk well enough again, she said, “Go on,
Adam. Just tell me. What was it?”

“Myocardial Infarction—
a heart attack. Caused by a blood clot.” He shook his head. “We won’t know for sure until the,
ah
, doctors can take a look at Mary”—
Oh, not an autopsy.
Allie’s stomach clenched—“but the clot must have dislodged from somewhere else and traveled to her heart.

“I was in there, c
hecking on her when it happened.” Adam’s voice was miserable. “I ran to the bed. But she was falling. Like slow-motion.” He dropped his head into his hands. “I caught her, but it was already too late.”

Finally,
Allie let her eyes find his, rubbed her hands over her face, and pushed away the locks of hair that had fallen forward over her wet cheeks. Adam had
always
taken special care of her mom.
Always
. Gone above and beyond for her. And to have been there with her at the end. . .

She reached out for
him, and as she did, he seemed to let go of whatever strength it had taken to bring himself here. Pressing his head into the top of her arm, his shoulders shook with silent grief. “I tried everything, Allie. I swear I did. She was just
gone
.” A fresh wave wracked through his chest. “I’m so,
so
sorry.”

Matthew
had eased off as Adam crumbled into her, so that it was just her and her very best friend, entwined in their sorrow. Allie ran her hand over the top of his head, let her fingers trail through his hair while tears flowed freely between the two of them.

Best friends.
Through thick and thin.

That had been them for over a decade.

“It’s okay, Adam,” she forced through a raspy throat. “I’m glad it was you with her. Couldn’t have asked for anyone better. You loved her too.”

***

The next few days were a haze of murky sadness, while Matthew was right there with her every heart-shattering step of the way, to pull her through it and lift her up when she would have fallen beneath its crush. Because of him, somehow the funeral arrangements all were made, the coffin bought, the parlor reserved, the local newspapers called, as well as an obituary written up. Besides helping her through all that, Matthew had also insisted on her staying with him every night.

Which had shocked the hell out of her.

He’d filled
all his meds and used them to sleep at night so he’d know she was safe. They’d also gone back to Doctor Nik for some additional tips on sleeping together . . . just in case Allie caught him in the middle of another flashback, she’d know what to do.

It had been a complete three-sixty
for Matthew, born through necessity . . . and love.

During the day, he’d refused to leave her side for more than an hour at a time.
Had taken the week off from everything to be with her.

Now
, it was the day before Mary’s funeral and Allie was standing in the parlor to the funeral home, ready to descend to the stainless steel sanctuary where the mortician made most of his living. While she’d seen her mom once already this time was going to be harder. More final.

How was she
supposed to survive the actual funeral?

She liked the mortician, though. He’d been kind and soft-spoken, knew just what to say to soften the blow of that first time seeing her mom’s lifeless body. He wasn’t creepy, either. Just a kind old man whose job it was to bring peace to the families left behind.

While Matthew had driven her, she needed to do this part alone—mainly, saying her goodbyes. So he said he’d wait up in the main foyer where the funeral rooms sat.

As the mortician led her into the room that held her mom’s body, the temperature dropped noticeably. Arms wrapping around her waist, she followed him over to her mom’s side, the smell of formaldehyde and bleach strong in the air. Then he left her in the
same spot she’d been for the last ten minutes, standing above her mom’s cold, supine form, looking down at her pale, unanimated features, and feeling a whole lifetime of memories flood through her.

Her mom’s eyes were closed, as if she were simply sleeping. She looked good. Much better than the first time she’d seen her.
Peaceful and more natural. The mortician had done a fine job preparing her for dress and makeup.

Allie
looked down at her mom’s face, noticing that her laugh lines were still around her eyes.
Man, those crow’s feet had bugged the heck out of mom.
She’d flip a gear if she knew everyone would be staring at them tomorrow morning.

Allie
loved them.

The deeper her laugh lines got;
the wider Mary’s smile. Which was a big deal. She’d been so sad and lonely most of the time.

Now, here she lay, finally at peace, all the difficulties and unhappiness of this life far behind her at last. Her cheeks were pale, in need of the rouge
Allie had brought in her bag of makeup.

Allie
had rarely seen her mom without the stuff.

She se
t the bag aside on a stainless steel surface that lined the back wall, along with one of the glittery, peacock colored dresses Mary reserved for a night out on the town. It would probably be a little too big now—her mom had dropped a ton of weight over the last year—but Allie knew she’d hate to be seen in anything as drab as black. And besides, Mary had spent enough time suppressed due to her sickness. Screw the idea that funerals were supposed to be somber. This was to be Mary’s send off, and Allie would make sure she shined one last time.

Dropping herself into a small metal folding chair at the head of the mortician’s table,
Allie reached out to touch her mom’s hand. When her fingers brushed cold, waxy skin, she stopped, reminded instantly that this body was now just an empty shell for the spirit and animation of life that had since vacated. Pulling out of momentary shock, Allie gathered her mom’s hand into hers and squeezed it gently. Her throat tightened and she swallowed a few times.

“Oh, mom,” she whispered. “
I’ve missed you.” It had been years since her mom had really been there mentally. Allie ducked her head to run a palm over her wet cheek, thinking back to those last moments she and Matthew had spent with Mary. What a blessing that momentary flash of lucidity had been. Allie had needed her mom’s approval of Matthew. She’d always been so unsure of the opposite sex. Not to mention the whole other level of man Matthew was. Her mom’s quick acceptance, rational or not quite, would be something she’d keep in her heart forever.

Forehead pressing into the back of her mom’s now-warmer hand, she softly said, “I found it, you know.
Love
. You told me for years and years that it was out there and I never believed you. Never wanted anything to do with boys . . . because, if my beautiful, funny, amazing mom couldn’t find it, then what chance did I have?

“I
did
find it, though.” Allie shut her eyes, envisioning bronze hair and dark green eyes as volatile and changing as a summer sea. “Matthew. I love him.
So
much. I don’t think my heart could be any fuller for what I feel for him,” she broke off on a sob. No wonder Mary had spent her life searching for what she’d had so briefly with David. Something like that, once you had it, changed you forever.

Love.

Real love.

Allie
could hardly believe it.

It had snuck up on her in the most unlikely of places, hiding in a dark corner of
the UMMA, inside a man, who, by all accounts should have been untouchable, lost as he was in the shadows and dark places that came to life at nightfall.

It had found them; connected them. Each having the missing piece the other lacked, and once they had been joined, a spark was lit inside the both of them, bright enough to chase the shadows away and help them
each find happiness, that alone, had been out of their grasps.

Since her mom’s death,
Allie had spent every night with Matthew, wrapped in the strength of his arms and warmed by his encompassing love. True, the meds were a huge help, but, Allie imagined that their joining had an effect, as well.

She’d learned so much in the past months about the essence of love. Learned that it was organic, a living, growing thing that morphed to meet their needs. It had come o
n fast and hard for them; but soon grew into something deeper—stronger. And, yeah, that spark was always there, instantly igniting into a wild passion. But then it could smolder with a quiet power, deeply moving and capable of changing their very molecular makeup, bringing them together and forging their bond stronger.  Matthew’s PTSD and her mom’s death had been the iron and the hammer.

Allie
carefully aligned her mom’s hand on the table where it had been before, and then took a moment to just stare at her profile, knowing this would be one of the last times she’d see her on this earth. Trembling fingers flitted over the edge of Mary’s forehead and smoothed a bit of chestnut hair that had fallen over her ear.

She realized that she believed in an afterlife.

Inside some small part of her heart there was this voice that told her she’d see her mom again. It was diminutive, but undeniable, and whether that made her delusional or not, it gave her peace.

“I love you, mom,” h
er voice cracked and she ran her fingers through Mary’s hair one last time as she stood. She bent down and placed a gentle kiss over one pale cheek. “Forever.”

Allie
smoothed down the sides of her sapphire blue, boat-neck sundress with shaking hands, but the silk skirting kept fluttering around her legs no matter how much she pushed it back into place. The overhead air conditioning unit was a relentless foe. At least it was unable to blow her hair today. She’d been unwilling to even try to do her hair enough to let it fall free down her back. Instead, she’d tied it back into a simple, loose braid that settled between her shoulder blades. 

Warm lips pressed over the arc of her bare shoulder and her eyes fluttered shut.
Matthew had not broken contact with her skin since they’d woken up this morning. He’d been her shadow, or perhaps her guarding angel, a constant source of strength behind her at the funeral home.

She looked around at the sprays of carnations that filled the room,
and then on to the looming cherry walnut casket that gleamed under the soft lighting in the center of a floral arch.

Allie
had said her goodbyes already, had made fragile peace with her mom’s death, and now simply looked on at the rise of her mom’s beautiful face from the white, satin cushions that pillowed her head.

This was it.

The end.

So soon, it still had
Allie breathless and trying to catch up.

Please
help me get through this.

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, pushed away the well of pain, tried to center
herself. All the while Matthew’s hand was on her hip, his fingers stroking and soothing, as though he knew she was ready to bolt at any second. Clearing her tight throat, she thought back to those peaceful moments from this morning. The two of them cocooned inside the warmth of bedding, and somehow a smallest smile cracked through the raw hurt.

Matthew
had rolled over so that he was staring at her as soon as he’d seen she was awake. “Baby?” His hands cupped the side of her face.

Still getting used to waking up beside him, she mumbled something unintelligible, not sure if she was awake yet or not.

His breath tickled over her bare skin like silky, hot feathers. “You awake?”

“
Mmmpfh
.” She was pretty sure that had meant yes, but left it up to Matthew to figure it out for himself.

“F
eeling okay?” His voice dropped into the low tones of worry it had taken on for the past week.

H
e’d been gentle with her. Understanding. She’d been so up and down, trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered life; only, once she seemed to get all the pieces up, they’d only slip between her fingers and crash into even smaller shards around her feet. Going over the plot information, purchasing that
awful
tombstone and having to figure out a single sentence to encompass all who her mother was, ordering all those flowers, picking out the casket, and all the horrid paperwork that went into it. She’d gone through each action one task at a time, just as Matthew told her—compartmentalized each job individually; to the very motion at times, if needed.

At home, though, once she didn’t have to be brave anymore . . . that had been a whole other story.
She’d be in the middle of dinner, or watching TV on Matthew’s chest and she’d just bust apart into a wash of inconsolable tears.

Poor
Matthew.

His girlfriend had been transformed into a pathetic, broken thing with a leak.