Where I Left Her by Amber Garza

Author:Amber Garza
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liitle Brown, Book Group
Published: 2021-08-24T00:00:00+00:00

19

SATURDAY, 10:00 P.M.

TWENTY-NINE HOURS

AFTER DROP-OFF

The sky outside the window betrayed how late it was. The phone in Whitney’s lap remained silent. “God, I wish I could go back in time and say no to her spending the night at Lauren’s. I wish I’d kept her here last night, then she’d be home with me right now.”

Smiling, Natalie said, “My mom used to say, ‘If ifs and buts were cherries and nuts, we’d all have a Merry Christmas.’”

“What?” Whitney laughed, and then felt guilty. How could she laugh with Amelia missing?

Natalie gently touched Whitney’s arm. “You can’t go back in time, and it’s pointless to think about what you wish you would’ve done. The only thing you can do now is move forward.”

At Natalie’s words, a memory formed.

Training wheels off. Helmet strapped on.

Amelia’s little light-up shoes resting on the bike pedals. Whitney’s hand gripping the seat.

“Okay, start pedaling,” Whitney instructed. Amelia obeyed, and Whitney ran behind her, holding tightly to the pink banana seat. Amelia white-knuckled the white handlebars, the pink, yellow and white plastic fringe flapping in the breeze.

Once they got a good rhythm going, Whitney said, “Amelia, I’m going to let go, all right?”

“No, Mommy, I can’t do it.”

It was a Saturday and they were in the parking lot of American River College. Not a car in sight. “You can,” Whitney insisted. “Just keep pedaling.”

As Whitney released her grip, Amelia slowed down.

“Nope. Keep pedaling. You can do it. You just gotta keep pedaling.”

Amelia pumped her legs.

“There you go, sweet girl. You’re moving forward.” Whitney clapped, so proud of Amelia as she pedaled through the parking lot, broad smile across her face.

A knock on the door startled them both.

Natalie smiled. “It’s probably Bruce.”

Whitney hooked her arm around the back of the couch and scooted upward, staring expectantly at the door as Natalie answered it.

She tried to rein in her disappointment when Bruce stood in the doorway. He held a duffel bag in one hand and a pillow in the other. He wore a T-shirt with two handprints on it that read Best Dad Hands Down, sweatpants, flip-flops and a baseball hat that fit a little too snuggly on his head. To Whitney, Bruce embodied the word dad. He had the “dad look” and he never ran out of “dad jokes.” It was almost impossible for her to picture him being anything other than a dad, even though Natalie assured Whitney that he’d been quite the catch when they’d met.

Natalie gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He stood awkwardly, his gaze sliding toward Whitney.

She understood. It was hard to know how to behave during your own crisis, let alone in someone else’s. At funerals, Whitney never knew what to do. She’d stand there awkwardly as if her arms were too large for her body, mumbling apologies and empty platitudes.

“Come on in, Bruce.” Standing, Whitney waved him over, hoping to ease some of his discomfort.

He stepped inside, dropping the duffel bag on the ground and handing Natalie the pillow. Then he took a few steps forward and pulled Whitney into one of his big bear hugs.

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