Hard Edge - Tess Oliver Page 0,9

looked both ways before crossing, an old habit and one that I’d gotten scolded about ignoring more than once. It was a quiet, residential street that was shaded with old trees and rarely saw traffic. Growing up, it had been the perfect street for an impromptu soccer game. Sometimes other kids from the street would join us, but most of the time, it was just Grady and me in a match against Caden. Both Grady and I were athletic, but, even together, our skills couldn’t hold up to his brother. Caden just had the whole package, speed, strength, balance and a keen sense of when to strike. He could have been a star varsity athlete in high school if he’d wanted it. But organized sports just didn’t hold his interest. Caden liked fast motors and speed and anything that could set your hair on fire, metaphorically speaking. I wondered if Grady’s death behind the wheel of a car would change that. Or maybe Caden had slowed down anyhow. His broken leg must surely have put a dent in his enthusiasm for racing.

I stepped onto the brick path that led to the Stratton house. After all these years, the same brick, just below the first step, was still missing. Weeds had grown in to take its place. I reached the front door. It had been painted with a new coat of blue, but everything else about the front stoop was familiar. Again, I was temporarily transported back in time and I was standing on the front stoop waiting for Grady to go on a bike ride to the park. But then the cold grip of reality squeezed my chest.

I worked up the courage to knock.

The door swung open before my knuckles touched it. Grady’s dad, Kevin, looked up over the rim of his eyeglasses. His eyes were puffy and small and nothing like the bright eyes I remembered. It was as if someone had washed the life and spirit from them.

A woman stepped into the entry behind him. She was an aunt who I’d met several times at holidays, Sally’s older sister, Bev. Grady’s mom, Sally, followed behind Aunt Bev, looking pale, drawn and slightly dazed as if she’d been taking something to ease the pain.

“Kenna, I didn’t recognize you.” Grady’s dad took hold of the casserole dish.

“My mom said you can freeze it,” I blurted quickly to fill in the gap in conversation.

“Kenna? Kenna Ridley from across the street, right? This is so kind,” Aunt Bev said as she stepped quickly forward to take the casserole from his hands. “We’re just on our way out to finalize arrange—” Her voice broke off. “I’ll just put this in the refrigerator.” She walked off with the lasagna, leaving me alone in the small entry with Grady’s mom and dad, two people who I’d been close to growing up. I couldn’t think of one word to say to them. What was there to say? Sorry was just a pathetic, two syllable word that did no justice when two people had just had their hearts and lives ripped to shreds.

The silence was not tense or awkward. It was raw and real. Even the close set walls of their small entry seemed to be aching with the pain of it. My throat tightened as if someone had tied a rope around it. Sally had a hard time not swaying on her feet as she lifted her arms to me. I walked to her, my tears flowing like rivers before I covered the three feet of floor space.

We held each other for a long time. Dozens of memories dashed through my mind, like Grady and I sitting in the kitchen taste testing Sally’s cookies, or the familiar, lemony aroma of her perfume when she’d lean over us to help with a jigsaw puzzle. Sally was always smiling, always in a good mood, but I doubted she would ever be that carefree and happy again.

I sniffled and turned to hug Grady’s dad too. He felt more solid, more steady on his feet than his wife, but he wasn’t anywhere near to the big shouldered man with the booming laugh I remembered. He was a thick, strong man, but he seemed hollow and breakable as I held him.

Aunt Bev had returned with a bundle of tissue in her fingers. I took some and wiped my eyes. “If there’s anything you need, just let us know.” It was the only sentence I could get out without breaking