Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,50

had to give him credit for trying to hide his grin as he waited for me to sign his computerized tracking contraption.

I supposed he figured I’d ordered just about everything else a woman might need in life. Why shouldn’t I order up a date?

Sadly, I actually bought that theory myself for a moment or two.

The box was larger than I’d imagined the membership materials would be, so I grabbed my coffee mug and headed for the kitchen table.

Thirty minutes later, I sat elbow deep in paperwork and promotional materials, all touting the features and benefits of speed dating--the Dating Now way.

No matter how many times I flipped through the colorful leaflets and slick brochures, my gaze kept returning to one thing.

My appointment card.

You have a date with destiny.

Apparently I was to meet destiny this coming Friday night at seven o’clock in the Sunset Room of the Atlantic Grille. Somehow the whole idea of speed dating in the Sunset Room of anything was a bit too cliché for me.

But there were better things to worry about. Like, what would I wear?

I took a swig of my tepid coffee. The boots were a no-brainer, but what would I wear with them?

There was always the option of wearing nothing but the boots, but I imagined that if the Dating Now people wanted nudity, they’d call themselves Naked Dating Now or Nudity Now or something more...well...naked.

I shook off the thought and shoved every piece of paraphernalia back into the box. I had days to obsess about my upcoming date with destiny. For now, I had more pressing matters.

Like the to-do list I’d avoided since my dad died.

Sure, I’d sent copies of Dad’s death certificate to every organization under the sun, but this was different.

This was the list that read revise Mom’s Will, help Mom change car title, bank account, house deed, utilities and credit cards to her name only.

There was more to it--a lot more to it.

But the plan for today was to start small. Today, my mother and I planned to upgrade her cell phone from the one I’d given my parents eleven years earlier as a Christmas present.

The morning had grown unseasonably warm by the time I headed south toward my mother’s house, so much so, in fact, I felt inspired to do something I rarely did.

I stopped off at the cemetery.

I avoided coming here more often than not. Call me a bad mother, call me whatever you want, but visiting this spot never failed to rip out my heart, leaving me raw and emotionally void for days.

I pulled the car to the side of the lane next to the big black tombstone I used as a landmark and climbed out. I carefully navigated the path toward Emma’s grave, my dad’s grave, my grandparent’s graves.

My steps faltered when I spotted the flowers--fresh arrangements on all three graves. In addition, a well-worn teddy bear sat tucked against the side of Emma’s stone.

Who on earth would have left this?

I reached for the little guy, stroked his nose and wondered how long he’d been keeping Em company.

As far as I knew, Ryan had only been back twice since our daughter’s funeral. Once on what would have been her first birthday and again at Dad’s funeral.

I’d put my money on my mother. She’d no doubt been up early and had taken advantage of the gorgeous weather.

Yet, the teddy bear had been here a lot longer than since this morning.

A flicker of guilt whispered through me.

I should stop here more often. I should sit and talk or think or pray. But I just plain didn’t have it in me.

This wasn’t where I wanted to be when I thought of Emma.

Each time I knelt here, I pictured her tiny white coffin covered in a spray of flowers. I remembered our friends and family leaving the graveside while I stayed behind, unable to walk away for the final time.

I remembered Ryan’s words as he’d reached to pull me back toward the car.

“She’s not here,” he’d said.

He’d been right. She hadn’t been here then and she wasn’t here now.

Not in spirit, anyway.

I pushed myself up from my knees and stared at the sky. A pair of birds soared past and I realized Emma was everywhere.

Everywhere I wanted her to be.

With me. With Ryan. With my mom.

“Take care of her for me,” I whispered to my dad’s tombstone before I turned to walk away.

I usually sobbed as I drove through the huge iron gates of the cemetery, angry at the world.