Page 127 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“Maybe sharing isn’t so hard after all.”

CHAPTER 24

WILLOW

IT’LL BE OKAY - SHAWN MENDES

Dragging the bag of soil across the cabin’s generous garden, I curse under my breath. It’s heavy, but I’m determined to do this alone. The whole flowerbed is prepped and ready to go, though it’s taken time for me to work up the courage to begin.

Killian got the lily plants I requested from over in the town’s main allotment. They’ve been waiting for me for a couple of weeks now, but if I don’t plant them now, they will die soon. I’ll never be ready to do this.

Some things in life don’t get easier with time.

The wounds scab over, but never fully heal.

With sweat pouring from my forehead in the sunshine, I drag the soil over to the quiet spot in the corner of the cabin’s garden. It took me a long time to choose this place. Using my bare hands, I dig several trenches, leaving space for the small plants.

Planting the lily plants, I pack them with more soil before watering each one. It’s slow, methodical work that focuses my mind. I zone out from the world, finishing the whole patch and cleaning up any loose ends.

In a few weeks, the flowers will bloom.

Just in time for summer.

Reaching into the plastic bag that Micah presented me with, I pull the freshly carved sculpture out. It’s small, spanning the size of my palm. He spent all night crafting a pair of angel wings with last month’s fateful date stamped on the bottom.

Placing the hand-carved wings amongst the flowers, the memorial is complete. That’s when my resolve breaks. Hot curtains of tears spill down my cheeks, stinging in the air. I glance up at the cloudless sky.

“I’m so sorry, little one.”

The light, silent breeze answers me.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep you in this world, and you never got the chance to live. I wish we could have met you. We didn’t get enough time together.”

Wiping my cheeks, I run a finger over the intricate angel’s wings. My chest threatens to explode with the sheer weight of pain rolling through me. Despite making progress, focussing on paint samples and furniture brochures, recent events are still so raw.

The pain is indescribable.

But more so, the sense of shame.

I couldn’t keep my baby alive inside of me. Without knowing it, I failed my own child, before it was even born. That’s a very particular brand of self-loathing that only a mother can understand.

Deep down, I know it wasn’t my fault. If the roles were reversed, and someone I loved had been through this ordeal, I’d hate to think of them punishing themselves for something so out of their control. But that doesn’t help me now.

Other people’s empathy has done nothing to ease my guilt. The guys want to help and keep encouraging me to open up to them, but it’s so hard to talk about this. It feels safer to be alone with my grief. They can’t understand.

“You’ve grown your angel wings now.” I grant myself a tiny smile. “Say hello to Pedro for me. I hope he’s keeping you company up there. We’ll see you one day.”

Sunshine warms my face, drying the tears on my cheeks. It feels like an invisible ghost is kissing my skin, the warmth whispering a silent message.

“For now, you’re our guardian angel.”

I stay crouched in the dirt, silently crying, until there’s nothing left in me but bitterness and regret. It feels like hours have passed when the crunch of footsteps approaches.

“Willow?”

With a sigh, I force myself to stand and face Lola. She tentatively slides through the freshly painted garden gate, daring to enter the garden. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in weeks. My avoidance has worked until now.

She looks devastated, her clear eyes lined with painfully heavy bags and brimming with tears. Her silvery hair looks haphazard, like she climbed out of bed and didn’t have the heart to fix it. Even her yellow floral dress is unusually creased.

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