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Rebecca

R ebecca hated this, but Victoria had insisted that it be done. Rebecca had turned over all the planning to her mother, as the mere thought of arranging such a thing made her cry. She didn’t think they needed to have a memorial service for Mitch, but that didn’t matter.

Donovan had sent Mitch’s luggage from the Hilton in Saudi Arabia to the address in the United States Rebecca had provided. Victoria had brought the bag to Rebecca.

Since Rebecca had watched Mitch pack it, it held no surprises, except a couple of photos of her and then of she and Mitch together in New York. It hurt, and although she had copies of the same photos, she liked having the set he had taken with him.

“We must have a memorial service,” her mother had said, and arguing with her was futile. Victoria was acting like Mitch’s mother so Rebecca knew she couldn’t stop it.

“If you want it done so badly, then you can arrange it,” Rebecca had retorted.

“Listen, I know you don’t want to do this. This doesn’t kill hope. It just helps us to move forward.”

It would not help Rebecca to move forward.

First of all, they still didn’t have Mitch’s body. Second, Mitch wasn’t religious. Third, what they were doing was morbid. Fourth, Mitch would have hated it.

Rebecca wore a designer black maternity dress that her mother had purchased for her and stood on the beach next to her parents, Alex, and her cousins, Adam, and Spencer.

A handful of Mitch’s friends had assembled as well.

Alex had sent the plane to New York for them, and Adam had hosted them as they flew to Portland and eventually driven to Yachats.

It was hard for Rebecca because she knew most of them, and they were in disbelief that she had married Mitch and was actually his wife.

To see that she was pregnant had a lot of them shaking their heads in disbelief.

Victoria had asked a nondenominational minister from the Yachats local community church to officiate and read a prayer from the Bible as they did a little memorial service by the ocean for Mitch. The minister was happy to comply, and Rebecca wondered how much her mother had donated to the church.

They all held white roses that they were going to lay in the surf, which was getting closer with each word the minister spoke.

After he finished, each person said a little something about Mitch.

Alex said, “I remember when we met. I thought Mitch would be a good wingman because he had this great smile. Then we started talking, and I realized Mitch was a heck of a nice guy. He wasn’t just my best friend.

I came to think of him as the brother I never had.

I miss him each and every day. I will be there for Mitch’s Bex, who just happens to be my sister.

I will make sure the baby knows about her dad—the good things, not the things we vowed never to tell another living soul.

” His last line elicited a chuckle from their friends.

Rebecca was the last to speak and had a hard time putting her feelings into words.

“To my darling husband, our time together was too short, but I think in those few short weeks, we had the best time of our lives. Thank you for our daughter. I will raise her to know what a loving and kind person that you were. You are in my heart forever, my darling. Happy 31 st birthday.” She had more to say, but she was crying too hard to get a word out.

Her mother and father hugged her as she cried.

They ended up back at the beach house where staff borrowed from the Stark Hotel in Portland had put together a sumptuous buffet lunch with an open bar that was ready to drown anyone’s sorrows.

“I’m glad you thought of that,” Garrison said to Victoria as they stood on the deck and enjoyed the rare early spring sun that had decided to grace the day.

“What?” Rebecca asked, holding a glass of ginger ale as she joined her parents.

“I bought out two of the little hotels in town so Mitch’s friends and our staff could stay the night instead of facing a three-hour drive back to Portland.”

“That was a good idea. I just wanted to thank you. It was a nice service,” she said and felt that all too familiar lump form in her throat.

“It needed to be done, and now it is over,” her father said.

“I never need to live this day again,” Rebecca said.

Each parent wrapped an arm around her, but they didn’t speak. They just watched the water and let their own thoughts ebb and flow with the breaking waves.