The Accident

By Becky Coburn

Amy cannot seem to get over the loss of her husband Michael who has died in a car accident. She meets Henry, an older man at church who has lost his spouse under tragic circumstances as well. The attraction is immediate but they both soon wonder if it based on a mutual need or is it God's will for their life. Amy's daughter Jenna doesn't help either as she throws a wedge between herself and the man she believes is trying to replace her father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jul 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201851965

Book preview

The Accident 

Becky Coburn

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE ACCIDENT

MAYA

LAURA BRIGHTMAN

Chapter One

Amy sighed and stared dejectedly out the window at the rain. It was grey and miserable outside of her home, but she knew she should still go to church. Michael would have wanted her to go to church.

She'd heard all those stories, too, about people who found meaning in their lives in church after their husbands had died. She'd heard of all those people who found comfort in religion, in the fact that God had a plan for them. But she didn't really believe that, most days.

She went to church because she liked the community, because she wanted to be a good person, because she wanted to believe. But it was difficult to believe when, at just thirty-seven years old, she was already a widow.

On days like these, though, she didn't need to be back home. She didn't need to see the pictures of Michael and her, smiling on their honeymoon in Ireland. She didn't need to see summers at the boardwalk, or winters at his parents' place out in the Vermont countryside surrounded by snow. She didn't need to remember any of that.

It hurt, it really did.

Even getting dressed for church was no relief. She was still in her mourning period, and everything was some shade of black or grey—or a dark brown, if she was feeling really daring. Most of the clothes had been bought after Michael's death; before he'd died, she had worn bright colors that really showed off her mood. She wanted to start wearing things like that again—to start wearing the turquoise necklace that he'd bought her on their third anniversary, to start wearing the brightly-colored silk scarf they'd bought in the market in Turkey—but she didn't dare.

Everyone expected her to still be in mourning. It was only respectful for her to still be in mourning. And it wasn't that she wasn't still in mourning; she would never get over losing Michael. She just wanted to be herself again as well.

That morning, she walked slowly to church and picked a spot towards the back. Once upon a time, she'd treated Sunday service as one of the prime social outings of the week, but now, instead of standing around chatting before the service, she avoided everyone's pitying stares. No one really knew what to say to her anymore, and she wasn't really sure what to say to them either. It felt as though a chasm had opened between her and the rest of them, and she wasn't sure how to bridge it.

Good morning, Amy, Henry said, sliding into the pew beside her and offering her an easy smile.

Good morning, Henry, Amy responded, ducking her head a little.

Henry was a nice man, a little older than she was but still incredibly attractive. He had been one of the most supportive people she knew through all of this, most likely because Henry's wife, Dina, had passed away a few years before. Of everyone that Amy knew, he was the one to understand her the most. They didn't really talk all that much, but even just knowing that he was there was a comfort. She had his number in her phone, and if she ever really needed something, she knew she could call him.

The service passed in a blur. The pastor was going on about forgiveness and the acceptance of God's plan, and although she usually enjoyed hearing his sermons, this one cut a little too close to home.

Henry looked over at her and gave a small grimace at the end of the sermon. You okay? he asked in an undertone. And that was one of the things that she really appreciated about the man: he always seemed to be able to read her emotions more than anyone she'd ever met, except for Michael.

She shrugged a little. I guess so, she said. It's just...

Henry put a warm, calloused hand over the back of hers, squeezing for a brief moment before pulling away again. Do you want to go get coffee?

Amy blinked at him for a moment and then nodded. She knew they didn't really have anything in common with one another and couldn't fathom what they would talk about, but she also wouldn't mind a little company. Yeah, she agreed simply.

They walked down the street from the church and ducked into the coffeeshop there. Henry insisted on paying, leaving Amy blushing and uncertain by the time they reached a table. She didn't think this was a date. She hoped Henry didn't think this was a date. Although... For a moment, she allowed herself to consider what it would be like if this was a date.

If there was anything that was going to make her feel more like herself again, it would be getting on with her life, doing something normal. And Michael would have wanted her to move on, to fall in love with someone else. He wouldn't have wanted her to be lonely for the rest of her life...

But it was too soon, and she knew that. So she tried her best to keep the conversation light, talking about the book she was reading when Henry asked how she was doing.

How's Jenna?

Amy frowned, wondering how best to answer that question. The thing was, her sixteen-year-old daughter...hadn't been coping well with the death of her father. And Amy couldn't really blame her. But she'd started acting out, skipping school, refusing to go to church, and wearing all sorts of unseemly clothes. Amy didn't know how to get through to her, just like she didn't know how to get through to the people at her church. But with her daughter, it felt like things should be easier. Instead, they felt like strangers.

Henry shook his head, looking sympathetic. I'm sure she'll come around, he said quietly. She must be feeling very confused right now, and we all know that school doesn't teach you to deal with the pain of losing a loved one.

Amy shook her head. It's common knowledge that she hasn't been going to school? she asked, even though she wasn't