Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Kent walked away from the podium and sat down in the chair next to her casket. The funeral home director invited people up to speak about Palmer. One by one, her coworkers came forward and told stories about Palmer, making Kent laugh. An older woman approached Kent and asked to speak with him privately. In the hall, she introduced herself as the former director of the home where Palmer grew up and asked if he’d be okay with her speaking about Palmer.
“No, I’m not,” he told her. “No one knows about her life as Faith, and she’d want to keep it that way,” he explained. “Not being adopted and not knowing her family was something Palmer struggled with greatly. She would not want any of those people to know. I’m sorry.” Kent was angry with this woman. Not only for showing up, but also for asking if she could speak. As far as he was concerned, she was part of the past that Palmer had longed to forget, and there was no way he would give this woman any time at his wife’s expense. It was right then, he vowed to himself, he would find Sarah Cousins and get to the bottom of Palmer’s kidnapping.
After they’d laughed at all the stories and shed more tears, people began to leave. Kent’s parents stayed and waited for him. Tonight, he would go to Palmer’s apartment and be there for the first time without her. He wasn’t prepared to, but it had to be done.
The funeral director told Kent it was time. He went over to Palmer’s casket and removed her engagement ring and wedding band. He slipped them into his pocket and then kissed his wife for the last time. “I love you.”
Kent followed his parents out of the funeral home. The director would call him when her ashes were ready for pickup. There would be no city cremation for the woman who had stolen his heart, not that he would’ve allowed that to happen regardless. With or without her becoming his wife, Kent would’ve taken care of Palmer. He would’ve seen to it that she had a proper burial, or her ashes spread. As of now, he had no idea what he was going to do with her ashes, but he thought about returning to New Mexico and spreading some there or in Las Vegas next year on their anniversary.
Kent’s dad drove his son to Palmer’s apartment. He pulled up to the sidewalk and shut his car off. “Do you want me to come in?”
Kent shook his head. “No, I’ll be okay.”
“Call me when you need a ride. I’ll come back to get you.”
Everything in the lobby reminded him of Palmer. From the fireplace to the fake leather sofa they’d sat on as they made their plans. He took the elevator to her floor and pulled her keys out of his pocket. Somehow, in her wisdom, she’d managed to keep her stuff together for him. She’d set everything in the glove box.
Kent used her key to open her door. The moment he stepped in, he broke down. They’d been gone for over two months, and her apartment still smelled like Palmer. It felt like she was there, greeting him with open arms, welcoming him home. He set his stuff down and didn’t bother to wipe away his tears; more would fall. He noticed a box on the island, addressed to him, in Palmer’s handwriting. The postmark said New Mexico.
He went to her desk, grabbed her letter opener, and sliced through the tape. The flaps popped open with a woosh. Kent peeked inside and saw a red leather journal. He pulled it out, looked at the binding, and then flipped to the first page.
My dearest Kent,
If you’re reading this, then that means the octopus has won. I know you’re probably wondering how I’ve sent you this box, and no, it’s not some ghostly mail delivery. Raúl was kind enough to help me out. You see, I finished this journal before we left his home, and I wanted you to have it to remember our trip. I hope you’ve kept the other one as well or maybe there’s two. I don’t really know.
In case I’ve forgotten to tell you along the way, thank you. I’ve never had a friend like you, and I know I’m going to miss you. Someday, when you’re on the beach watching the sunrise, remember our trip to Chatham, and if you ever visit again, don’t feed the sharks.
Please remember to live. Live for me, for your daughter, and the future family you’ll have some day. Carry with you the joy you brought to my life, in such a short amount of time, and know I was happy. You made me happy.
You’ll be a father soon, and I wish I could be there. Just know, I’ll be watching over you.