Treasure (version 2)

Chapter 37 Keepers

It was dreary and biting cold. Clouds pouted a pending snowstorm in the upper elevations of Marietta.  The overcast of the sky brought a memory to Roman that he'd rather not remember. Knowing the risk that he could be at that same location by the end of this day left his nerves grated. The pull to re-enter that day hurt, but he was so drained, he couldn't resist it...

***

Black clouds hung over the cemetery as dark and menacing as malevolent angels, stretching as far as you could see. Empty tree limbs bent and howled against the bitter winds and driving pelts of icy rain. The mourners of Calista Gray stood huddled together, black clothes and umbrellas fluttering. The drone of the minister seemed lost to the wind.  His sadness reflected in constant pauses and wiping his eyes. You couldn't tell where the rain fell and the tears streaked. He'd married Calista and Roman only three years prior. 

Zara glanced up at Roman while holding his hand as tightly as possible.  She could feel the weight of his massive frame leaning against her.  Two inches over six feet is what she remembered. Zara balanced her weight to hold him as her heels sank into the mud.  Thick black locks lifted and fell beneath the wool cap that he was wearing.  Grief marred his normally happy, hazel eyes and a deep dimple in his right cheek.  He hadn't shaved in two days.  Though Zara had tried to get him to do so, he couldn't.  So he wrapped a grey scarf around his stubble and told her that he'd deal with it another day.

She felt so helpless, yet in her heart, she knew that being there was enough.  They'd always been together; met on the playground in second grade – twenty-one years later the bond was still there. One of his tears fell against her cheek and had frozen before she could wipe it away. 

He lowered his head towards her ear.  "How in the hell am I a widower at twenty-eight, Zara? How?"

His eyes pulled away from her at the whining of cables as the casket got lowered into the ground.  His hand slipped from hers. Roman forced the tears back, held his head high, and walked a few feet towards the casket holding a single red rose.  He mumbled a few inaudible words then let the rose drift from his fingers, landing on the eternal bronze box.  Roman turned; he leaned over and moaned, but quickly covered his mouth and suppressed what should have been released.

The mere sound ripped Zara from where she stood.  She hobbled over to him and wrapped elbows.  "No more," he choked out.

"Okay."

They walked away from the crowd and headed towards the limousine.  The driver opened the door, warmth blasted from the cabin.  They slid inside.  Roman rested his head on her shoulder.

"You have to leave tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Stay, Zara. Stay for the rest of the week."

***

"God, don't let me bury another wife."

Though that memory was five years in the past it was as vivid at that moment as it had been on that day. He wished that he could blow the clouds away that surrounded Zara's home. Their power to invoke such a dismal memory needed to stop. That day, long ago, Roman lay asleep on Zara's lap, his long legs bunched up on the seat. He needed rest. At that moment he could feel himself waking up like on that day. The softness of Zara's hand threaded through his hair and stroked his shoulders.  It was as if he could feel her hands on him right now. Within seconds, his cell flashed.

He glanced down, hating the name that flashed but merciful that it had slashed him from the dark memory. A knot formed in his throat, wishing that he didn't need to pick up the phone. But it was Calista's sister.