Kiss Me Hard Before You Go (24 page)

He heard snippets of conversation, “He just collapsed,” one person said, and another added, “They said he was holding onto his chest and then fell to the ground.”

He shoved his way through the barricade of people, feeling a sense of urgency. Stoney was kneeling on the ground, bent over a man and pounding his fists against the man’s chest. Finch jerked his head to the right and saw the face of that man laying on the ground. It was Gray, and his eyes were closed shut.

Finch’s heart sped up, and he quickly flew to Gray. “What do we do?” he asked Stoney with desperation.

“Breathe air into him,” Stoney said.

Finch bent over and opened Gray’s mouth. He exhaled everything he had in him and came back up for a breath, seeing that Gray still lay motionless. Finch leaned over and breathed into him again. Nothing. Gray was lifeless.

Stoney shook his head and frowned at Finch. “He ain’t gonna make it.” He grabbed Gray’s wrist and felt for a pulse. “Ain’t got no pulse,” he said with sadness.

Finch pushed Stoney out of his way and pounded against Gray’s chest, beating him. “Come on!” he shouted. “Damn you, wake up!” He breathed into Gray’s mouth and Stoney grasped onto Finch’s arm.

“He’s dead, Finch,” he said. Finch fell back and squeezed his eyes shut.

He couldn’t move, his body wanted to stay planted, but he knew he had to tell Evie, and it killed him to think of how much it was going to hurt her.

He struggled to get himself up off of the ground. His balance was off, and he swayed a little, fighting the shock of what just happened. He could feel tears coming and knew once he saw her and told her, it’d take everything he had in him to keep himself from losing it. He had to keep it together—for her sake.

He pushed himself through the shushed crowd of onlookers, seeking her. She was at the edge of the circle of people. He could see the top of her golden hair, but he knew she must have heard something because when he got a look at her, he saw absolute horror.

She was white as a ghost, paler than pale, and her mouth was gaped wide open. Her blue eyes were dead, and she wasn’t moving. She wasn’t doing anything. She was just standing there, staring into the unknown.

“Evie,” he whispered to her.

She heard him but didn’t respond.

“Evie, it’s your dad.” He was trying to be gentle, to say it in the most soothing tone he knew how. But he knew there was no easy way to tell her what he had to. There wasn’t a magical way to tell someone that they had just lost their father. Bad news is just that – bad, and no matter how the news is delivered, it doesn’t change the weight of its devastation.

He was conflicted, trying to decide what to do. Did he take her to him? Did he take her away from him so she wouldn’t have to see the stark reality? She answered his internal questions and took a step forward, moving without any expression. He walked beside her, standing next to her as she inhaled a deep breath and peered down at her father.

Evie wailed. It was horrifying – the worst sound Finch Mills ever heard in his life—a myriad of emotions: heartbreak, shock, and regret all rolled into one guttural moan. She collapsed to the ground, flailing against Gray and choked by her uncontrollable sobs, crying into his chest. “Daddy,” she murmured.

He wanted to shelter her from the pain, to take it all away. There was nothing he could say. No right words. Nothing that would make it better. He did the only thing he could. He knelt beside her and wrapped his arms around her.

Chapter 23

It was all a blur. One minute Evie was crying over her father’s dead body, the next she was in her house curled up in a ball on the living room couch. She could still smell his aftershave lotion on the pillow. She didn’t know if she should sniff it or throw it against the wall. Everything in that room reminded her of him: the plaque from The South Carolina Agriculture Association, the picture of him at the State Fair when he was just a kid standing next to his prize pig with a wide, toothy grin, and that awful Dolly Parton statue that she always hated because it was gaudy and cheap, but now all she could do when she saw it was start to cry.

The clock read eleven thirty P.M. She was fighting to keep her eyes open and couldn’t remember what had transpired over the past few hours. There were conversations with police officers and a paramedic, but she didn’t know what she said. She didn’t even remember how she got home. It all happened so fast. She always heard people say that about death – that it comes quickly, faster than a blink of an eye, and as she lay on the living room couch, she realized the truth to that statement. She had just lost her father and would never get him back. Her heart sank at that thought, and she buried her head into the pillow. She wanted him back, oh God did she want him back in her life. A new never-felt-before feeling of emptiness consumed her as she quietly sobbed, wondering if the ache she felt at that moment would ever fade.

Their voices carried from the kitchen. She heard them mention her name more than once, and they weren’t quiet about it, either.

Finch made his way into the living room and knelt in front of her. “Evie,” he whispered. “Why don’t you go on to sleep?”

“I can’t,” she croaked. Sleep? She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t do anything except lay there.

“Try,” he said, and she could hear the desperation in his voice.

“Katie?” she asked. Katie didn’t know about her dad, and she needed her. She needed her best friend more than ever.

He jumped up and said, “I’ll go get her.” He wanted to do something. Anything. “Doris, Mouse, and Friedrich just got here.”

So those were the voices
, she thought. She couldn’t put two and two together because her brain was a foggy mess. Any simple notion or thought was too much exertion at that point.

“I’ll be right back.” He went into the kitchen and came back with Mouse, Doris and Friedrich following.

Doris’ thundering steps vibrated the end table. The glass lamp clattered against it. She bent down and peered into Evie’s eyes. “Hey, hon,” she said in a hushed voice, but even her hushed voice was loud. She patted her on the head, the way you would a small child. “I’m real sorry. Your daddy...” she started, and Finch shook his head, giving her the signal to shush.

“Can I get you something?” Doris asked.

“No,” Evie answered.

Doris looked at Friedrich and Finch with helplessness. “I can make tea,” Friedrich said.

“Tea, now there’s a good idea,” Doris said with wide eyes.”Mama used to make me tea when I was blue.”

Friedrich and Doris talked about the best way to make a cup of tea. Friedrich argued that tea should be strong with nothing added while Doris said a cup of tea was crap unless honey and cream were added.

“That is not tea,” Friedrich said to her, and Doris smacked her lips in response.

Finch bent down and whispered to Evie, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get Katie.”

“Okay,” she murmured. She continue to lay on the couch with her eyes open, staring off in the distance.

Friedrich and Doris went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. Mouse sat next to Evie. He fidgeted and shifted the way he sat, crossing one leg over the other. She could feel him moving on the couch. He was little and didn’t weigh much, but his movement was obvious. Doris and Friedrich’s voices grew louder from the kitchen, and Evie heard cabinet doors slamming and dishes clanking.

After several minutes, they each came back carrying two cups of tea.

Evie sat up, and Doris moved in front of Friedrich before he had time to hand her his cup of tea. “We figure you can drink the one you want.” She handed the cup to Evie, and she cupped it with both hands, blowing on the surface before taking a sip.

She swallowed and said, “Thank you.” It was sweet, really sweet, and all that did was remind her of Gray’s sweet tooth. He would’ve loved that tea.

Friedrich stuck his cup in Evie’s face and nodded with enthusiasm. “This will make you feel better. It is stronger,” he said with confidence.

Evie peered at Mouse with uncertainty. He shrugged, and she traded cups with Friedrich, taking a sip of his strong black tea.

“Thanks,” she said and handed him back the cup.

“You want mine, Honey Lamb?” Doris asked hopeful.

“No,” she answered and dabbed her wet eyes. “Thank you,” she said to them. “I just can’t...” and Doris gave her an understanding nod and sat down across from her.

They all three stared at her, and under normal circumstances, Evie would feel compelled to be polite, to make small talk and offer them something to drink or eat. Gray had always preached manners. When company came over, he made sure to wear a clean shirt and offered whatever they had in the kitchen.

“Want me to draw you up a warm bath?” Doris offered, and Evie shook her head no. She tried to give her an appreciative smile.

“I don’t have anyone left,” Evie said. She felt the weight of what she said, and her knees buckled as she stood up.

Friedrich held her by the arm.

She lightly tapped him on the arm and said, “I’m okay.” But she wasn’t, and they knew that. “I’m going upstairs. Y’all can stay here tonight if you want. Help yourself to whatever I have,” she said and slowly made her way up the steps and went to her room.

***

Katie climbed into Evie’s bed and lay down beside her, spooning her while she sobbed into her pillow. Finch stood at the threshold, conflicted, feeling like he was intruding if he stayed but abandoning her if he left. It was a private moment between two best friends, and although he had very strong feelings for Evie, this wasn’t his moment to share with her. He gently closed the door and headed down the stairs.

Doris was asleep in Gray’s recliner: her mouth was wide open and her arms were folded against her chest. Mouse lay on one side of the couch while Friedrich lay on the other. Mouse snored, and the sound was reminiscent of a tractor or yard equipment. For someone so small, he had the lungs of a horse.

Friedrich woke the moment Finch entered the room. “How is she?” he whispered to Finch.

“How you would suspect,” he answered with a deep breath. He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled. “This isn’t going to be easy on her.”

“Death never is, Finch.”

“I mean her trying to run this place by herself.”

“Certainly people in town can help,” Friedrich said.

“I don’t know, but it kills me to think we have to leave soon.”

“Life has to go on, Finch. It can never stop its place in time just because there is heartache.”

Finch patted him on his bicep and said with sarcasm, “You’re getting all philosophical on me, Freddy.”

He smacked his lips. “You know I don’t like that nickname.”

“You’ve called me worse,” Finch said.

“That’s because you deserved it.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“I am rarely wrong.”

“All right already,” Finch said. “You know, you guys don’t have to stay here tonight, right?”

“We’re not going anywhere. She is your special friend, and we are your family,” he said.

***

When Finch lost his mother, several people in the carnival integrated themselves into his family. Without anyone left with a claim to his name, except a father who he rarely saw, friends like Doris, Friedrich, and Mouse were all Finch had.

Finch went through all the stages of grief, focusing more on anger than anything else. At the age of fifteen, when he felt as if the world was already against him, his path became filled with too many obstacles. It was easy to give in and be mad at everything that stood in his way.

But they wouldn’t give up on him. His mother was too important to them, and Finch was just like a son, a nephew, a cousin. He was a part of their tight-knit circle.

Friedrich was the one that got through to him, who shared a personal story about his own life and upbringing that resonated with Finch and caused him rethink his anger. Friedrich came from a long line of gypsies who had migrated to Germany a hundred years before the Second World War. Once Hitler was in charge, most of his family was taken to concentration camps and eventually killed. When Finch heard, that at the young age of five, Friedrich lost everything and everyone and eventually overcame it, he knew he could handle his loss.

***

Of the entire group, Finch and Friedrich were the only ones who knew their way around a kitchen. Doris could boil water but that was about it, and Mouse usually ate food that didn’t involve the use of a stove. Friedrich wasn’t as skilled as Finch in the kitchen, but he knew enough of the basics to fix a decent meal. Finch detested crappy food—the kind he grew up on in the circuit—and he vowed to learn how to cook once he got his own place. Once he had his very own kitchen, he experimented with spices and ingredients and found he had a knack for cooking.

“I gotta do something, I can just stand here and watch y’all,” Doris said.

“You can make the coffee,” Finch said. He wiped his hands against his apron that read, “Kiss the Cook.” He grabbed a nearby spatula and flipped the sausage patties over.

Friedrich whisked eggs together in a mixing bowl, and Doris opened the pantry door searching for the coffee grounds. “She’s got enough cans of food to get us through a nuclear holocaust,” she said, pointing to the stacked shelves. They continued with their tasks, unaware of their noise level.