Take Care, Sara

way.
    “Sure?”
    She nodded.
    Lincoln kept her plastered to his side, his arm strong and steady and enough to keep her standing. Somehow she got through it. Somehow she didn’t scream or break or collapse. Sara’s body trembled as the casket covered in white roses was lowered into the ground, her eyes filling with hot tears. She blinked and they fell to her cool cheeks, warming them.
    People were leaving. She watched, bleary-eyed, as Lincoln’s father finally pulled his wife away and headed for their vehicle. Sara stared at the hole in the ground that held her husband’s body and would be his home from now on. Searing hot pain lashed through her heart, a fiery whip of devastation. What if she crawled into the hole with him? Sara would if it meant she’d be closer to him. She could close her eyes and forever sleep.
    “You lied to me,” she whispered, dashing a hand across her face to make room for more tears. “You said you’d never leave me.” Sara’s voice cracked. “But you did. You left me.”
    A movement caught her eye and she looked up from the black hole. Lincoln stood on the other side of it, tight-jawed. He wore a gray suit that matched the shade of his eyes and a red tie. His hair was in need of another cut, the waves taking over and unruly once more. One lock of dark brown hair hung on his forehead, giving him a boyish look.
    As she stared at him, he morphed into her husband. His build turned rangier, he shortened a few inches in height, and his eyes were a piercing blue. “I didn’t lie to you, Sara.”
    She inhaled sharply as she lost her balance, careening dangerously close to the edge of earth that led to the grave. Lincoln swore and raced toward her, gathering her in his arms and roughly pulling her back.
    “What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded.
    Sara studied his features. It was Lincoln. Gray eyes, sharp features, wavy hair. Relief and disappointment warred inside her, and she went weak in his arms. “What did you say? When you were over there?”
    “What? I didn’t say anything. I watched you almost fall into a grave and thought I’d better rescue you.”
    She waited for Lincoln to admit he’d spoken the words she’d heard and seen her deceased husband say. Only he didn’t.
    “I’m losing my mind,” she said softly.
    “I won’t argue with you there.”
    Sara gave him a sharp look.
    The smile that flashed across his lips was thin and didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re all a little crazy at times, Sara. Sometimes that’s the only way to deal with life.”
    Lincoln began to walk away, his back stiff, his strides precise as he took himself farther and farther away from where his brother’s body would reside for all eternity.
    ***
    The unwanted guests with their sad eyes and words of condolences that mimicked every single other persons were finally gone. Lincoln helped clean up even though she’d told him to go. His suit jacket was slung over the back of the recliner and her eyes kept going to it, wanting to remove it so Lincoln’s scent didn’t replace his.
    Her husband would be honored and surprised by all that had attended the services. He’d had a cocky and sometimes arrogant demeanor that had made people think he’d thought he was better than others at times, but that hadn’t been it at all. He’d actually thought he was less than. She’d never understood why. Sara knew that wall of self-confidence had hid the insecurities of a man who’d wondered if he was all that good time and again.
    Sara had seen it; she’d known the true soul of the man who’d acted one way and had really been another. He’d always thought he had to prove something to someone; that he was good enough, or maybe just to himself. But knowing all those people cared for him and mourned the loss of his life; it would have eased some of that. She hoped it would have anyway. Not that it mattered, because he’d never know.
    She looked at his brother. He’d always gone the other way; he really didn’t care what people thought. They’d grown up in the same house and they’d been raised by the same people and they were nothing alike. How did that happen? He was so pale. Lincoln’s shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his shirt and tie were rumpled. He looked tired, his mouth bracketed in sadness, an impossible weight dragging his shoulders down from their normal proud stance.
    The scent of dish soap mixed with the turkey and dressing sandwiches from the local deli and