Reclaimed Page 22

  “Could you go get all the stuff from Dad’s room?” He smiles. “I don’t think I can go back there.”

  Reaching over, he cups my face. “Of course.” He kisses my nose. “You go relax and I’ll come back for you when you’re done.”

  “How…?” I’m at a loss for words.

  “How what?” he asks as he rubs his thumb across my skin.

  “How did I get so lucky?” I whisper.

  His brows lower but then his face softens. His lips touching mine. “It is I who is so lucky,” he whispers.

  I grasp his upper arm, pressing my lips to his. He’s amazing. And he’s mine. I don’t want to stop, in fact I want more, but I know my appointment awaits and other things that must be done. With a sigh, I pull back but I smile at the light in his eyes. “I won’t be long.” He leans in and kisses me quickly then I get out of the car.

  I’ve had the most relaxing time, getting my hair cut then pampered with a mani/pedi. Instead of bothering Dax to pick me up, my friend Mandy, someone I’ve known since grade school, offered to take me home. She lives only a few streets before mine so I agreed. Dax has already done so much for me. I don’t even think he knows just how much. After waving goodbye to Mandy, her telling me she’ll see me at the funeral on Friday, I walk into the house feeling renewed. Setting my purse down on the kitchen counter, I’m smiling as I walk into the living room. I stop when music fills the air around me. Dax is sitting on the couch, strumming a guitar, and – singing. I didn’t know he played the guitar or could sing, showing me there’s so much I still don’t know about him. I start to take a step but as he continues, I freeze. I’m enamored by his voice. In awe of him once again. The song he sings gives me chills. “Sounds of Silence”. How could he know how special this song is to me? Tilting my head, I watch him. His fingers strum the strings as if they have a mind of their own. With a look of concentration on his handsome face, his voice low, a bit rough, but then reaches to the highest notes with ease.

  “He sings and plays guitar too? Lord, what can’t he do?”

  Brooke’s voice startles me, the music stops as I look over my shoulder. When I turn back, Dax is staring at me, more like glaring, as if I’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t. I smile at him, trying to reassure him. “Apparently he can,” I answer Brooke, acknowledging to Dax that I heard. I feel her arm around my shoulders, her hand hanging over the right.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  He looks at Brooke and smiles. “Hey, Brooke? There’s a few of Harry’s things out in my car. Would you mind getting them, please?” He stands, laying down his guitar on the couch.

  My eyes shift to Brooke, who releases her hold on me, with an eye roll. “Sure. Sure. No problem.” She turns and walks into the kitchen so I look back at Dax. “I’ll take my time,” Brooke yells.

  Dax walks over to me and takes my hands in his. “I hope you’re not upset. I didn’t know you’d come in.” His eyes are filled with worry as he searches mine, and I’m lost in them. “I never want to do anything to hurt you, or cause you any pain.”

  “No. It was – beautiful.” He smiles, his body relaxing. I blink several times, the idea that forms so quickly bowling me over. “Would you play and sing at Daddy’s funeral?” His eyes widen and he seems shocked. “That song is very special. It was one that he and I listened and sang to, a lot.” I squeeze his hands. “It would mean so much to me if you would play and sing that song at his service. I know he would love it too.”

  He releases one of my hands and puts his underneath my hair and around the back of my neck. “I would be honored.” I lean in and kiss him. He makes me feel strong. Makes me want to be a better person. He’s still a bit mysterious and has that bad-boy exterior but I know he has the biggest heart.

  “Get a room.”

  We both smile against each other’s lips at the sound of Brooke. We pull apart and Dax takes the box from Brooke and we walk together to put it in Dad’s room. “Will you play it for me again?” I look up at Dax, eager to hear him again.” He nods as he gives me a wink. Who knew my bad-boy mysterious man was also an amazing musician? Could I fall any more in love with him?

  The rest of the week was filled with cleaning every inch of the house to get ready for any visitors, working with the funeral home to pick out the perfect flower arrangements, and I put together a small video containing pictures of Mom, Bobby, Dad, and me to play on the screen before the funeral begins. That was a lot of work and a ton of tears. Dax helped, laughed with me when appropriate and held me when I needed comfort. As the week progressed, I would hear Dax playing his guitar in another room singing the song for Dad’s funeral. I wished he had told me of his talent before Dad died. Dad would have loved to have heard him.

  By Friday, I felt calmer, more at peace, not that I ever will fully. I think not rushing to have the service helped – a little. I also wanted to allow time for those coming in from out of town, mainly Tony and his family. I feel strange as I shower and dress, knowing where I’m going, and what’s about to take place. Obviously, it’s not my first funeral for a loved one, but I understand them so much better now. I know that it won’t really be Dad lying in the casket, just his body. His soul left the moment he passed away, reuniting with his love and only son.

  I look up into the mirror and reach up to touch the fresh tear on my cheek. I’m smiling, thinking of them all together for the first time in so long. That’s the only thing that has gotten me through this.

  “Are you about ready?” Dax’s voice calls from outside my bedroom.

  And him.

  He’s been my pillar of strength, my guiding light, beaconing me to be strong, and comforting me when I needed it. I know I wouldn’t have gotten through this as well without him. “Yes. Coming.” Putting my mascara wand back into its case. I run my fingers through my hair and smooth my hands down my black dress. I’d gone shopping yesterday, Dax sitting in a chair by the three-way mirror as I modeled dress after dress. I got a lot of….

  “Too sexy but you should get it.”

  “Too conservative.”

  “Pull that sleeve down over your shoulder. Oh, yeah.”

  Obviously, I didn’t get but one when he said it was appropriate. Once again, he built up my self-esteem and confidence with all of his remarks. Making me feel beautiful, wanted. Thoughts of his vision of our meeting enters my mind from time to time. How strange, yet romantic, the life forces that be gave that to him. To me. To actually help him gather his strength to live when his wounds begged him to die. Never in my life have I heard of such a thing but to know that I somehow helped him to survive still isn’t payment enough for all that he’s done for me.

  I walk out of my room and into his open arms, still amazed how being close to him calms me. His arm moves around my waist, turning me and leading me through the house and out to his car. Once strapped in, he pulls out of the garage and into the sunlight. I’m thankful it’s sunny today instead of the dreary rainy days like some are for funerals. I want to rejoice in his life, not be brought down by the fact that he’s gone. We arrive at the funeral home an hour before the service will begin, wanting to take some time to make sure everything is set up and spend a little time before everyone gets here. As we walk into the small chapel, I first notice the beautiful flower arrangements I’d picked out sitting on tall pedestals surrounding his casket. However, there’s one beautiful bouquet that’s different from all the rest that captures my attention. I purposely don’t look at the casket in order to save as much mascara as I can before I know it will diminish with my tears. Still holding firmly onto Dax’s hand, I walk down the aisle and right over to the flowers, picking up the card with my free hand.

  To celebrate the life of Harry Benton,

  The memories of the times I spent with him,

  I’ll always hold dear to my heart.

  With all my love,

  Dax

  The tears I’d hoped to keep at bay appear quickly as I turn around and hug him tightly. �
�Thank you,” I whisper close to his ear. “You’ll never know how much I appreciate you through this difficult time and how much strength you’ve given me. I could not have lived through this without you.”

  He hugs me back and returns a whisper in my ear, giving me chills. “Anything for you.”

  I walk over to the minister who is standing by the service coordinator and go over things, briefly. I ask them not to begin the slideshow I’d created until after I have some time alone. I’m not ready for this, but yet I am. Even though I’m sad, nervous, and scared, I just want this to all be over, to try to start my new life without him. Suddenly, my heart begins to beat too fast. I feel a light sheen of sweat on my forehead, and I can’t seem to catch my breath.

  “Whoa! Here, come sit down.” I feel Dax take my upper arm and my hand, leading me over to the first pew. My eyes squeeze shut as I gasp for air. I feel the cushion on the wooden pew beneath me and his strong hands on my upper arms. I’ve never had a panic attack before but I know this is how people have described them. “Saige, look at me.” I open my eyes slowly and see Dax squatting before me. He smiles. “Good. Now look at my eyes and concentrate on them. Try to breathe slowly.” My eyes move to his and I stare at them. Brown. More like a honey brown. I take a breath and let it out slowly but it’s so hard as I feel like I didn’t capture any air. “Can you get her a glass of water, please?” I’m shaking inside and out. “Keep looking at me, Saige.” His voice is demanding. I must have looked away not realizing. “Good. Focus on my eyes. Only my eyes. Take another breath.” I pull in some air. “Release it slowly.” I do as he says and can feel my heartbeat slowing just a little. “Good.” He smiles. “Do it again.” I do it a few more times with his instructions until I start to feel like myself. Again I think about his strength and kind heart. Suddenly he stands and turns around. “I think she needs a little time alone.” Demanding. Commanding. Sweet man.

  I hear footsteps and see people in my peripheral, walking and then a soft shut of a door. Continuing my breathing exercises, my heartbeat returns to normal and that feeling of not being able to pull in air finally evaporates. “Here, take a drink.” I smile as he hands me a glass of water, the coolness of the liquid flowing down my throat helping instantly. “That’s my girl.” My girl. “Has that ever happened to you before?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  He reaches up and runs his fingers through my hair, soothingly. “It’s no wonder with everything you’ve been going through. Are you okay now?” So much worry in his eyes, creases indented on his forehead showing his concern.

  Reaching out, I rub my finger across those worry lines, trying to smooth them out. “I’m better. Thank you.”

  He smiles, rubbing his hand over my arm. “Do you want some time alone?”

  “No!” I startle, not wanting him to leave. “Please, stay with me.”

  “Always,” he answers. He stands and sits down next to me. “Take your time. Everyone else can wait. This is your time.”

  We sit for a long time as I stare at Dad in the open casket. He looks like himself from afar but up close, not so much. That’s one thing I didn’t have to endure at Mom and Bobby’s funerals. They had closed caskets because their bodies were unrecognizable from the car wreck. Thank God they died on impact so at least they didn’t suffer. Their service was traumatic because I was so young. Daddy’s death is the same but at least we got to spend so many more years together. I’m so glad he didn’t have to suffer any longer than he did.

  Dax takes my hand from my lap, squeezing, giving me the courage I need. Slowly I stand, picking up a few tissues from the box at the end of the pew, and walk over to his casket. I can’t hold my tears back any longer and I let them fall freely. “Daddy,” I whisper. “I’d say I already miss you but I started missing you as soon as you shut down a couple of months ago.” I sniff and dab my eyes. “I’m glad you are yourself again and with Mom and Bobby. I know you’ve missed them terribly. Give them a hug for me?” I turn around, not knowing what else to say but so full of emotions. I look at Dax, sitting with his arms on his knees, looking up at me with such sadness in his eyes. “I’m ready.”

  The service has been perfect. The words the minister said touched my heart. I’d gone over memories of Dad and what kind of man Dad was with him ahead of time. The slideshow that played during made tears brim in my eyes, never falling, even though I’m the one that created the presentation. I look down as Dax squeezes my hand and look at him as he begins to stand. I watch him walk out of a door, behind the podium, my heart racing with anticipation. Soon he walks back into the room carrying his guitar. I will my tears to be held at bay but they betray me instantly as the music begins and he sings. I’ve heard bits and pieces as he practiced but I’ve never heard him sing it all the way through. Chills surge through me, memories invading, and I want to beg the heavens to bring Daddy back. Sitting in the sand, making sandcastles with him as we’d sing the song we loved so much. Strolling through the park on a warm summer Saturday afternoon, hearing the local band playing our song in the gazebo. My focus comes back when Dax shrills out the words, his voice once low reaching a high note so clearly. As he reaches the end, sounds of crying and sniffling are heard around the room. His guitar playing – phenomenal. His voice – captivating. He becomes more of a mystery but one I can’t wait to find out more about. It’s highly unusual for people to clap during a funeral service but not only did everyone applaud, they stood. I watched as he raised a hand in thanks then walk back out the door, returning quickly without his guitar. He sits down next to me and as the minister finalizes the service, I reach over and take Dax’s hand so proud and honored he did that for Dad and me.

  The service ended and everyone was asked to say their final goodbyes to Daddy and then leave the chapel and walk to the area where the vaults are. While I was here making the arrangements, I purchased the vault on the other side of Mom and Dad, a larger one like they have where I’ll be laid to rest along with my future husband.

  I’m surprised at how calm and collected I am as friends walk up to the casket saying their last words to Daddy, then stopping by patting my shoulder, giving me a hug, and saying their condolences to me. Maybe I’m going to get through this better than I thought, well, except for the panic attack I had earlier. Thank God for Dax making me feel not so alone. I don’t think I could get through this without him. Once the last person has walked by, I let out a sigh in relief.

  “I’m so proud of you.” Dax’s voice causes me to look at him. His breathtaking smile lights up his face. “Can you ease up now?” I follow his eyes, looking down at our entwined hands. Letting out a gasp, I release my death grip, feeling horrible. I look up and he’s still smiling, seemingly unaffected by my attempt at cutting off his circulation.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. I feel terrible. No wonder I was able to get through this ordeal more easily. He’s been my strength, my rock, through it all.

  His smile widens. “I’m not. If I can do something as simple as hold your hand, which I enjoy anyway,” he winks, “to help give you support, I do it gladly.” I smile as he squeezes my hand. I’m not sure how he has any feeling left in it. We both move towards each other, simultaneously, our lips pressing against each other’s.

  “Thank you for being my strength,” I whisper against his mouth.

  He kisses me again, lightly. “You are your own strength, baby. I’m just here to help you when needed.”

  God! The words are sitting on the edge of my tongue. One small push and I’ll say them. I want to – so badly. But is that what this really is? Love? Such a powerful word and so easily spoken. Is that truly what I feel or are all these extreme emotions because of the situation? I need to be sure. After Daddy and I had talked about how to be really sure about knowing if it’s the right man, if I’ve truly fallen in love with someone, can make a lifelong commitment to, is absolutely without a doubt true love, I have to be sure. I want it to be Dax, so desperately.

  “Miss Bent
on.” I look up to see the service coordinator standing before me. “I’ll give you a little time to say your goodbyes and then I’ll take you to the atrium where everyone is waiting for the closing. I’ll just be outside the door.”

  I smile and nod then turn to daddy. Thinking I’m ready, I begin to stand then sit back down, quickly. “Only when you’re ready,” Dax whispers close to my ear. I nod. My heart is beating so erratically, my palms begin to sweat. This might be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But really he’s been gone for nearly a week, only the body he once occupied remains – I remind myself. My life has changed so much over the last five months. Now, with this finalization, it’s like I’m starting a new chapter, one I knew I would have to eventually but not so soon. Gathering up my courage, I stand and walk over to the casket, taking my last look. There are no more words to say, no more tears to shed. It’s time to move on and remember all the memories and be grateful he didn’t suffer long.

  I turn, take a deep breath, and walk over to Dax. He stands as I approach and takes my hand and we walk out of the chapel. The coordinator is waiting outside the door and we follow her out through the atrium and into the mausoleum. Everyone who was at the service is sitting in rows of chairs with the overflow standing behind and beside them. We’re lead to the front, two chairs empty. Dax helps me sit then takes the chair next to me, our hands still intertwined. The crowd is hushed as we watch the attendants roll the casket into the room. A beautiful bouquet of roses spread over the top. We listened to the minister saying some final words of love, and then it was over. Done. Final. Dax took my hand and led me through the crowd and out of the atrium, soon to be surround by people giving words of sympathy. These things are necessary for people to say, their way of dealing with sorrow and remorse, but even though I know they care its words I really don’t want to hear. However, instead of being saddened, I smile and thanked them, even inviting some over to the house to share memories. Most said they would come and quite a few of them said they would stop by their own houses to change first. I’m glad for a little reprieve.