Chapter 21
Brian
and Leighanne had protested, but Sara insisted on riding in the back of the
car only with Michael. Leighanne, Sara felt, should sit up front with her husband.
So it was. Cradled in Sara's arms, Michael sucked on his thumb- much the way
Jane said her eldest son had. But everything was quiet. There was the low hum
of the radio under the hushed tones of both Brian and Leighanne. Suddenly Sara
became aware of how the tires sounded as they rolled along the pavement. The
rhythmic pattern over and over in addition to Michael's thumb became soothing.
With Michael and the tires providing the backbone of a drumbeat, the murmurs
in the front seemed like a bas-line, the radio a familiar guitar and Sara felt
a lump rise in her throat as she realized what song it was. All of those years
that Nick had done the singing for her caught up to Sara in an instant. She
had a voice of her own and somehow Nick had captured it.
For a moment, Sara turned her face towards the sun and felt the warmth spread
all over in a welcoming fashion. Sara adjusted her hold on Michael and put him
over her shoulder. He smelled like Nick.
Good Lord did her smell like Nick.
If Sara closed her eyes, she could see him: all 23 years of him laughing and
smiling in front of her as the healthy young man he had become. If she opened
her eyes, though… he was gone.
Michael pulled
his mother's ear in his infantile way. Sara opened her eyes and saw Nick's ocean
blues staring back. As much as it provided Sara comfort that Michael was like
his father, it wrenched her heart that much more with every passing day.
Brian glanced in his rear view mirror and noticed Sara's catatonic state.
"I hope she'll be OK," he remarked quietly as he glanced quickly at
Leighanne-who was still crying silently. Brian breathed a heavy sigh and put
hit hand on her knee in a reassuring fashion.
"You OK?" Brian asked as he made the right-hand turn into the driveway.
Leighanne shook her head. "He was so young."
"I know," Brian answered softly.
"Brian?" Sara called from the back. "Can you turn the radio up?"
He granted Sara's with and the volume of the music increased just enough so
it was audible.
Soft crying could be heard in the back where Sara was clutching Michael to her
chest. It was her song.
"…What I'd give to run my fingers through your
hair/ Touch your lips/ To hold you near…When you say your prayers try to
understand…"
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