Free Unbound by Georgia Bell Page B

quickly or as slowly as I liked. No
expectations, no deadlines, no proscriptions on bent spines or crumpled pages.
I was not gentle on my books. I read while I ate, I read in the bathtub. At
night, I rolled over on top of my books that had fallen between the covers as I
dozed. For me, the worn pages and tattered covers were a sign of devotion. Like
the Velveteen Rabbit, the books I read were only real when they were loved. And
I understood that love was not always gentle.
    Sunday
was gloomy. Staring out of my bedroom window at the rain slashing through the
trees, a melancholy fugue settled over me. I was actually looking forward to
returning to work the next day, eager to be distracted from my thoughts of
Eaden, and the doubts that were beginning to cloud my judgment. It had felt
exciting and mysterious when his very existence had seemed uncertain, his
appearances unpredictable. Knowing that he was real meant that I could really
lose him, the same way I had lost the other men in my life.
    The
morning of my father’s funeral, we had stood outside the church in the pouring
rain, watching the men who carried my father’s coffin walk towards the open
hatch of the black limousine. The pallbearers were dressed handsomely, long
dark coats to protect their suits and fedoras atop their heads. That had been
my father’s request. Fedoras.  
    Rain
mixed with my tears as I recognized my Uncle James among them, his stoic face
broken with grief, and my cousin Neil, gangly legs marking his transition from
boy to man.
    Longing
for Jacob, I was angry at him for not having to experience this loss. What
would he have looked like on this day; bearing the coffin of the man he would
have called his father? Needing him, missing him, I mourned, too, for the
consolation he would never be able to give me.
    Some
of the pallbearers were church employees; present to ensure that loved ones did
not stumble in their grief and drop the heavy burden they carried. As the men
placed my father’s coffin in the long black car, I lost what little control I’d
been able to maintain. Wracking sobs punched up from the pit of my stomach to
find their way into the world and hunching over to contain them, I wrapped my
arms around myself and sobbed desperately for the men in my life to come back
to me.
    Dimly,
I registered the hand that rested gently on my arm as my sorrow vanished and
was replaced by a peace I’d known only a few times before. I think I recognized
it instantly. Startled, I found one of the church pallbearers standing directly
in front of me, gazing at me with a deep and honest compassion. His grey eyes
did not pity me, but regarded me with sadness and understanding that riveted me
to the spot. Stunned and helpless, I stared as he turned and quickly strode
back into the church.
    Did
I know…? Recognition beat against the thick walls of my
stupor. Where had I…? My
grief returned as quickly as it had fled as my grandmother swept me into her
arms, rocking me gently.
    “Hush
hush, Rabbit. It will be okay,” she had crooned, and lost in my tears I had let
his eyes fade from my mind and my memory.  
     
     

Chapter Five: Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
     
    Eaden
was the first thing I thought of each morning and the last thing on my mind
each night before I went to sleep. The week passed in agonizing slow motion, and
hope that bloomed upon awakening began to wilt as the day passed, without a
glimpse, without a single sign that he’d returned. He wasn’t there when I ran
or when I walked home and I didn’t see his reflection in store windows. Late at
night, when I looked out my living room window, there were only leaves swirling
across the empty lawn. Vacillating between hope and despair, I wondered if he’d
already left me forever.
    My
session with Alex was strained.
    “Something
has changed,” she observed halfway through our meeting.
    “Yes,”
I said. There was no point in denying it. “I can’t talk about it yet.”
    She
frowned slightly.