Page 33 of To the Moon and Back
“The Survivor Tree?” Brady stood and helped her gently to her feet. Maybe because of the weather, there was no one else on the patio near the elm that day. Just the two of them, making their way to the tree trunk.
He still had hold of her hand. When they reached the tree, Brady put the palm of his other hand against the bark. “Every bit of this tree was ripped to shreds. Glass and metal. Who knows what else.” He paused. “Its branches were sheared off.” Brady glanced at her. “It even caught fire.”
“It did?” Jenna pressed her free hand against the trunk, too. “You could never tell. It’s so . . . strong.” That was what surprised her most. The tree was easily the biggest and most beautiful at the memorial.
“Which is why I love this place.” Brady pulled back and Jenna did the same. They faced each other. “If the old elm can be strong again . . . so can we.”
“Yes.” It was something Jenna desperately wanted to believe. But for that moment it was enough to be here with Brady.
For a second he looked like he might kiss her. But then he gave her the slightest smile. “Is it weird? That I’m holding your hand?”
“No.” It wasn’t just that he was the cutest boy she’d ever seen. Somehow holding hands here at the memorial with someone else who had lost his mom seemed perfectly normal. Better than normal. She felt the corners of her lips lift a little. “It’s nice.”
“Good.” They walked down the stairs to the pond and found a low-slung stone wall. He released her hand as they sat side by side, facing the water. Close enough that his arm brushed against hers. He waited a minute. “I can’t believe you haven’t been here.”
His tone didn’t hold any judgment. Just surprise. If she’d known she might meet him here, she would’ve come sooner.
She glanced at him. “I can’t believe you come every year.”
“It’s my way . . . I don’t know.” He breathed in, deep and slow, and leaned toward the pond, elbows on his knees. “My way of keeping her with me.”
“Mmm.” Jenna let that settle for a minute. “I don’t think about this place.” She hesitated. “When I think of my parents, I guess I think about heaven. They . . . went there together.” Jenna smiled at Brady through fresh tears. “That makes me feel better.”
“I get that.” Brady looked past her eyes to her heart. “If they were anything like you . . . I wish I could’ve known them.”
“Me, too.” Jenna lifted her eyes to the sky. “Sometimes . . . I’m not sure what I remember is even real.” She shifted her gaze and let herself get lost in his eyes. “Tell me about your mom.”
Brady sat up straighter and took her hand again. “She was beautiful.” He was in no hurry. “Her smile was like the sun.”
Jenna kept watching him. It was sinking in, the fact that she and Brady had both lost their parents when they were five. Right here. On the same day. “Do you remember her?”
“Not like I want to.” Brady sighed. “Maybe that’s why I come every anniversary. I don’t want to lose her. The part of her I can still see and hear.”
They got up and walked to another bench, one near a grove of trees at the other side of the memorial. The clouds were darker still, and a cool breeze had picked up. They sat facing each other this time. He didn’t reach for her hand, but it didn’t matter. Their hearts were still connected. Jenna searched his face. “What about your dad?”
“I never knew him.” The hesitation in Brady’s eyes was gone now. Completely. “After my mom died, I lived with a friend of hers. Then the state moved me to foster care and I stayed in the system. One house to the next.”
Jenna leaned forward. This time she took his hand in hers. “Even now?”
“Yeah.” He looked at where their fingers touched. “It’s fine. I’m gonna be a firefighter. I’ll be on my own soon.”
Her heart broke for him. She figured she knew the answer, but she had to ask anyway. “A firefighter? Because . . .”
“Yeah.” He managed a quick smile. “Definitely.” He saw all the way to her soul. “So some other little kid doesn’t have to go through what I went through.”
They talked about growing up in Oklahoma City and how every April 19 they felt alone. Like no one could understand what they were facing. “The bombing didn’t just happen to the city.” Brady removed his hand from hers and laced his fingers behind his head. He stared across the grounds of the memorial. “It was our tragedy.” He glanced at her. “It’s personal for you and me. It happened to us.”
Us. Jenna loved how he said that. She took a quick breath. He might as well know the rest of her story. “I grew up with my grandma.” She told him about the time her teacher had showed images from the bombing and how upset she’d gotten. “My grandma never made me go to school on April nineteenth again.”
“But you never came here.” Brady shifted so he could see her better.
“I think . . . somewhere in my childhood I allowed myself to believe a fantasy. That my parents were still alive. Living overseas somewhere like London or Rome. And one day they’d come back and we’d all be together again.”
“So being here—”
“Yes.” She had the feeling he knew exactly what she meant. What she was feeling. “Being here makes it real.”
The breeze gusted now. Brady looked at the sky and back at her. “Storm’s coming.”
