BooksBarbecue
Back Goodbye to the Dead
Chapters (73)
  1. Goodbye to the Dead
  2. Also By Brian Freeman
  3. Title
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. CONTENTS
  8. PROLOGUE
  9. THEN
  10. 1
  11. 2
  12. 3
  13. 4
  14. 5
  15. 6
  16. 7
  17. 8
  18. 9
  19. 10
  20. 11
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. NOW
  46. 36
  47. 37
  48. 38
  49. 39
  50. 40
  51. 41
  52. 42
  53. 43
  54. 44
  55. 45
  56. 46
  57. 47
  58. 48
  59. 49
  60. 50
  61. 51
  62. 52
  63. 53
  64. 54
  65. 55
  66. 56
  67. 57
  68. 58
  69. 59
  70. 60
  71. 61
  72. FROM THE AUTHOR
  73. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

He knew what love at first sight was. He’d asked Cindy again at the end of the summer, and that time she’d said yes, although they didn’t tell anyone they were engaged. Not her father. Not Stride’s mother. It was their secret for a while.

Good things have happened at this bench.

And bad things, too.

Yes, and bad things. That’s life.

He came here at turning points. Good, bad, up, down. In many ways, this was ground zero for who he was. Put a pin in a map, and this was where you would find the soul of Jonathan Stride. In Duluth. On the Point. By the water. Not staring out at the lake but inward at the calm harbor and the industry of ships and docks. Life in the northland.

He wondered what Cindy would have said about Janine, now that they knew the truth. Her friend was guilty after all; her friend had used and deceived her. And yet he knew the person Cindy was. She would still be sad. She would still cry that Janine was gone. He felt that same sadness himself, but it wasn’t really for Janine’s death. She’d simply been one last open door to another time in his life. A door that had finally closed.

Tell me you’re not still pining after me.

That was what Cindy would say. And the answer was no. Not anymore. For a long time, he’d refused to let go of her, but not anymore.

‘I need to tell you something,’ he said aloud, as if she could hear him.

But there was no need to say it. Wherever she was, she was at peace with herself and with him. She would understand what he wanted to do next. She would say he’d already waited too long. You’ve got someone in your life you’re scared of losing again. And that’s a good thing.

Yes, it was a good thing.

He wished he could touch Cindy again, or smile with her, or have her with him for a few more seconds – but when he stared at the empty bench, she was gone. She’d been gone for years. There was nothing around him but the bay and the sand. It was the story of their relationship. She was there, and she was there, and she was there, and then she was gone.

He was alone.

Except he wasn’t. Not anymore. Not if he didn’t want to be. Not if he believed in the future.

*