Make sure to catch part 1 here.
The night was dark. Full of rain and thunder and lightning. Electricity flickered on and off until a huge popping sound shut it off for the rest of the night. Lucille hadn’t collected candles or found a flashlight. She’d just sat in her dining room waiting for sunrise.
And it came.
In oranges and pinks and reds. Clouds split, fizzling into the sky. A rainbow spanned the atmosphere.
“Edgar would have loved this,” she said aloud. “How he loved the few moments after a storm.”
A key turned in the front door. Trudy walked in.
“Mom?” Trudy called.
“At the table,” Lucille answered. “Can you believe the storm?”
“Is your power out?”
“Yeah. Went out about 2:30 this morning.”
“How terrible.” Trudy looked at her mother. “You aren’t thinking about wearing your bathrobe to the funeral, are you?”
“The graveside is going to be a muddy mess.”
“Are you thinking you’ll wear black?”
“Hopefully, they’ll have all the mud covered.”
“Mother. We have to get you dressed. We’re supposed to be at the funeral home in less than half an hour.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey.” Lucille looked at her daughter. “I’m just not looking forward to it. You know, all my life I loved picking out what I’d wear.”
“I know, Mom.”
“But how am I going to pick out the right thing to wear today?”
“I’ll find something for you.”
“That would be perfect. Thank you.”
She stood, flipped on the coffee maker. Nothing happened. She remembered the storm knocking out the power.
“We’re going to have to stop on the way for coffee,” she yelled toward the ceiling, hoping Trudy heard her.
She looked at the sink. White porcelain with chips that revealed some kind of black material. Edgar had installed that so many years ago. And the faucet. The back splash. Counter tops, flooring, windows, paint. Her Eddie had done all of it. He’d been so skilled and strong. There was nothing around the house he couldn’t fix or replace.
Except her. He never figured that out. But, then again, most of her damage he never knew about. But he’d tried. And she loved him for it. She only wished she’d been able to love him enough. She always knew he loved her more than she could have ever loved him.
“How about this one?” Trudy walked to Lucille, carrying a burgundy dress.
“Yes,” Lucille didn’t turn around. “That’s fine.”
“It’s the one you wore at your 50th anniversary party.”
Lucille couldn’t hold back a small chuckle. “Oh, yes.”
“What’s so funny?”
“If you only knew.”
Lucille went into the guest room to change.