All That Mattered

 It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. The hedges were different, bigger, the stone darker, but the path was still there, edging along the side of the house, between the swinging gate that hung mid-path, the one she used to run through as a child.  She smiled at the memory, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.  The wind had picked up, the breeze rustling the trees in the yard, whipping her dress around her bare legs. April wasn’t the warmest month, but she needed to come on this day, the nineteenth; the day she last saw this place. She was eight the last time she was here, before she was pulled away from her home, the only place she’d ever known. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to come back here until now, as if the memories needed to fade just enough so that it wasn’t painful, a place where only the good parts remained. 

Pulling her jacket tighter around herself, she turned to face the house once more, the stone steps calling to her, the dark red door a mouth waiting to swallow her whole. She used to love this house, love it’s nooks and crannies, it’s fires that warmed her in winter, the big, open windows that led to a beautiful garden her and her mother had planted. But it all ended too soon. Her emotions were so mixed being here; the playful moments she remembered were trying to be overshadowed by the dark ones, the part of her life that began after time stopped. 

The shots rang out in the early hours of the morning,  one-sixteen to exact. Her parents were having one of their parties, some charity event; all of the elite were present.  She used to like sneaking out of her room on those nights,  peeking through the rungs of the bannister to watch the people below; women in beautiful gowns, jewels sparkling underneath the lights. She'd take her doll and pretend to dance along with them, imagining herself twirling in her father's arms,  like they'd do on nights he didn't have to work.  Both of her parents were in the medical field,  leading groundbreaking work in testing for new diseases, figuring out the mysteries. She loved hearing about the people they helped; she was proud of them, but she always craved more time. The one thing she desired, the one thing she could never get back,  was time.

That night,  no one thought about anyone's comings and goings; many went outside to smoke,  only to re-enter and join the party once again.  That day was blustery, the wind heavy,  the chill creeping in at night,  so coats and jackets were aplenty; no one knew. 

The man entered through the same place as everyone else,  up the stone steps, through the bright red door in the front,  into the entryway. When he wore a long coat,  smiled and said hello to everyone he passed, no one assumed the night was over, that her life was over.  When he pulled the gun and six shots rang out, it was too late to stop him.  By the time he was tackled to the ground,  the gun skittering across the marble floor, both of her parents were dead. She was later told his daughter had a disease they couldn't quite figure out, one of those mysteries they ran out of time to solve, and he was angry. Angry that her parents were supposed to be the best of the best, and they had failed that man and his daughter, that he felt his little girl's life meant more than theirs and so they would pay for that.  But in that moment, after the noise of the gun had been silenced, everyone either scattering or rushing in to help, Emma Grace Cartwright had become an orphan. 

She closed her eyes,  her own screams echoing in her head. She wasn’t sure what her purpose of coming here was, but she felt a pull within her that wouldn’t budge. Her life was so different from the adults’ lives she was used to seeing in her youth; full of parties, glamour, excitement. Hers, now, was what she considered average. She worked as a nurse, wanting to emulate her parents in a way, but still wanting to be able to be home with her kids some nights, something she desired more of as a child. Her husband, Lukas, was also in the medical field, working in the cancer center, helping miracles happen.  They were a beautiful match, meeting during clinicals, both of them commenting on how well the other was doing, catching one another’s eye when working in the maternity area, as if knowing it would one day be them.  They had two wonderful children, ten month old twin boys, both with bright blond hair, like her own, like her mother’s. Iain and Jude were the reason she was here, what had brought her to the home she’d kept herself away from for so many years. So many times she’d wished her mother were there to share in her pregnancy, feel the little kicks, the growing of her belly. That her father could have walked her down the aisle, then three years later held her sons in his arms, singing to them like he did her. 

She blinked back  tears at the memories and could-have-beens, feeling the first droplets of rain on her head, reflecting her emotions. She quickly made her way up the steps, stopping at the red door long enough to take a breath, but not long enough to lose her nerve. She opened the door(no one bothered to lock a home not used anymore, though she still paid the groundsmen to keep the outside neat) and stepped over the threshold. The inside was dim, the lights didn’t work anymore, but the little bit of light coming in through the windows was enough. She hoped to have a look around before the storm overshadowed what little sun was left. She spun a circle in the foyer, the place where coats and jackets were hung, admiring the beautiful flooring below, the old wallpaper that still hung above the chair rail that ran along the perimeter of the foyer. As she stepped forward, it opened up into a great room,  the one where all the parties and charity events were held. She gasped when she saw the spot where it happened, the suddenness of it catching her off guard, then held her chin higher and looked to the spot above, where the stairs off to the left led to a long hallway, the railing preventing its occupants from tumbling to the floor below.  It was her spot, the one she spent a lot of time, admiring, mimicking, screaming.  The thought was enough to make her flee, but she held her ground. She had to face this, had to make this a place worth coming to again; it was, after all, her family home, given to her in her parents’ will when they died. For years she avoided coming here, to the place where the horrible thing happened, and yet, as she steadied herself, took deep breaths  (years of therapy and breathing was all she took away from it), and stared at the place her parents died, her chest began to loosen, her fists, unclench, and her heart began to build itself back up again. She knew it would take much longer than the moment she stood in that room and she would probably have to convince herself each time she entered the house through that very same front door that things were okay, but eventually she would be okay. Iain and Jude and Lukas would join her here in the coming month as Spring blossomed, birds sang anew, and the life she once knew and the one she now lived collided. After all, there were nothing but memories here, some awful, but mostly beautiful, and even if it took her longer than she wished to be comfortable here once again, she was finally home and that was all that mattered.