Chapter 44 Visiting Her Parents at the Cemetery
The sharp morning sun streamed through the heavy curtains of the hotel room, but the bed was already empty.
In the bright light of the bathroom, Chloe aggressively scrubbed her face with cold water.
She turned off the faucet and stared up at her reflection in the mirror. Her complexion was still slightly pale from the heavy drinking the night before, and her golden-brown hair hung loose around her shoulders.
She dried her face with a towel, applied a light layer of moisturizer, and carefully gathered her hair into a neat, low ponytail at the nape of her neck.
Turning to her suitcase, she pulled out a tailored, long-sleeved black dress. It fit her perfectly, the dark fabric accentuating her slender waist while maintaining a somber elegance.
After hesitating for a long moment, she unzipped her makeup bag. She meticulously applied foundation to hide the exhaustion in her skin and finished with a soft tint of lipstick.
She needed to look beautiful today. She needed to look perfect for Alvin and Carol. She had to show them that she was fully grown, that she had survived, and that she could finally take care of herself.
Chloe took a deep, shuddering breath, grabbed her coat, and opened the door to step out into the hallway.
Nathan was already waiting for her. He was standing quietly by the elevator, holding an incredibly vibrant bouquet of freshly cut sunflowers.
He had chosen them specifically for Carol.
Twenty-four years ago, right before Nathan had visited her parents' house for the very first time, he had nervously asked Chloe what kind of flowers her mother liked.
At the time, Chloe had completely blanked. Carol had lived a hard, working-class life; she had never received a professional bouquet of flowers before. Chloe honestly didn't know what she liked.
So, she had marched into the kitchen and asked, "Mom, what kind of flowers do you like?"
Carol had wiped her soapy hands on her apron, thinking for a moment before smiling. "I like sunflowers."
"Sunflowers? Why?" Chloe had asked, tilting her head.
"Because you can eat the seeds, obviously!" Alvin had chuckled from his armchair in the living room. "There used to be a massive field of wild sunflowers near our first apartment. Your mom would sit out on the porch with a giant plate of them, shelling the seeds one by one. She looked so goddamn sweet."
"You're the sweet one! You always picked the green ones that weren't fully ripe yet just to annoy me!" Carol had blushed furiously at the memory, playfully swatting Alvin's arm with a dishtowel.
"Oh, come on! I was just worried the ripe ones would get snatched by the birds before I could get them to you!" Alvin had leaned closer, grinning like a teenager. "I just wanted to make sure you got them."
Carol had smiled softly, and Alvin had laughed, a deep, booming sound that filled the house. Chloe had stood in the doorway, watching her parents share that quiet, enduring love, before pulling out her flip phone and texting Nathan: My mom likes sunflowers.
The next day, Nathan had arrived at their doorstep in a perfectly tailored suit, carrying a massive, expensive bouquet of ornamental sunflowers and a luxury gift box.
Chloe had panicked slightly, realizing he had bought the expensive florist variety—the kind that didn't actually produce edible seeds. She was terrified Carol would be disappointed.
But to her utter surprise, Carol's weathered face had completely lit up the second she opened the door. She had practically dragged Nathan inside, continuously raving about how absolutely gorgeous the flowers were and how happy they made her.
From that day forward, Nathan had unfailingly sent a massive bouquet of sunflowers to their house for every single Mother's Day and every single one of Carol's birthdays.
It got to the point where Alvin used to grumble at the dinner table that Nathan’s standing in the household was rapidly eclipsing his own, joking that his future son-in-law was entirely too good at manipulating his wife.
Now, standing in the hotel hallway, forty-two-year-old Nathan looked devastatingly handsome in a severe black suit and a dark tie. His deep-set eyes were calm, anchoring her immediately.
"Let's grab a quick breakfast downstairs first," he said softly, handing her a coffee. "The cemetery is on the outskirts of the county. It's a bit of a drive."
"Okay," Chloe murmured, her voice sounding hollow. "Should we stop somewhere to buy more flowers on the way?"
"We don't need to. The visitor center at the cemetery has a florist," Nathan replied smoothly, guiding her toward the elevator. "I already ordered arrangements this morning, and I packed some of those pastries your dad used to like in the trunk."
Chloe nodded, following him toward the underground parking garage in an absolute, suffocating daze.
They reached the Bentley. Just as Nathan reached for the door handle, Chloe suddenly stopped. She reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his suit jacket. Her fingers were trembling violently.
"Nathan," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I'm scared."
What she really wanted to scream was: I don't want to go.
She couldn't bring herself to say the words. She had spent the last month mentally preparing for this exact moment. She had survived a coma, crossed decades, and flown across the country. But now, standing in the concrete garage, she was entirely paralyzed.
She didn't want it to be real. If she didn't see the headstones, maybe it was all just a nightmare.
Chloe’s eyes burned red. She pressed her lips tightly together, but tears immediately spilled over her lashes, ruining the makeup she had just spent half an hour perfecting.
Nathan turned back. He looked at her trembling hand violently clutching his sleeve. Without a word, he reached out, wrapping his large, warm hand completely over hers, squeezing with absolute, unshakeable strength.
"Chloe," his voice was deep, steady, and incredibly gentle. "Alvin and Carol have been waiting for you for a very, very long time. Let's go see them, okay?"
Chloe choked on a sob, aggressively wiping the tears from her face with her free hand. She nodded. "Okay. Let's go."
For the entire forty-minute drive to the cemetery, Chloe sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly out the window. Her tears never stopped falling. She wiped them away again and again until she finally gave up, letting the hot saltwater soak entirely through the collar of her black dress.
When the Bentley finally crunched onto the gravel of the cemetery parking lot, the sky was overcast and biting cold.
Carrying the massive bouquet of sunflowers and a woven basket of offerings, Nathan guided her up the gentle, manicured slope of the lawn. They walked in silence for ten minutes until Nathan finally stopped.
He released her hand.
They stood before a beautifully polished, meticulously tended double headstone.
Nathan slowly crouched down, removing the pastries and mementos from the basket, arranging them with agonizing care at the base of the granite.
Chloe stood frozen beside him. She stared blankly at the two small porcelain portraits embedded in the stone.
Then, her legs completely gave out.
She collapsed onto the grass mat in front of the grave, landing hard on her knees. The dam she had been holding back for weeks violently shattered. The agonizing, guttural sobs tore out of her throat, echoing across the silent cemetery.
She reached out with a trembling, ungloved hand, gently tracing the freezing, carved letters of their names with her fingertips.
"Mom... Dad..." Chloe choked, practically pressing her face against the cold stone. "Your girl is finally back. I’m so sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry it took me this long to come home to you."
Standing above her, Nathan closed his eyes, his own vision violently blurring with tears.
He looked down at the photograph of Alvin on the headstone. Suddenly, the memory of the very last time he had seen the older man alive flashed brutally behind his eyelids.
By that point, Chloe had been missing for sixteen agonizing years. Mason was ten years old, entering a hostile, rebellious phase that was draining Nathan's already frayed sanity. Alvin’s health had been deteriorating rapidly for a decade.
Nathan had been sitting in his lab when he received a call from a rural police precinct in the Pacific Northwest. They had found an elderly man wandering aimlessly on a freezing highway. The man was severely demented, carrying nothing but a plastic bag full of missing person flyers and a scrap of paper with Nathan's phone number on it.
Nathan had immediately abandoned his research, booking an emergency flight to the Northwest to retrieve his father-in-law.
They hadn't seen each other in nearly five years. After Alvin had legally surrendered custody of Mason to Nathan, the old man had devoted the absolute entirety of his fading life to hunting for Chloe. He lived in cheap motels, had no fixed address, and eventually just faded entirely off the grid.
When Nathan finally rushed into the rural police station, he saw Alvin sitting on a metal bench by the radiator.
The man was completely unrecognizable. He was emaciated, wearing filthy clothes, his hair entirely white.
"Are you his son?" the desk sergeant had asked.
"No. I'm his son-in-law," Nathan had answered, his chest tight.
"Well, even as a son-in-law, you shouldn't let a man with advanced Alzheimer's wander the interstate," the officer reprimanded him harshly. "He almost froze to death. What if he had wandered into traffic?"
"You're right," Nathan had nodded, swallowing the urge to explain that the man was a ghost. He walked over to the bench, gently crouching down. "Alvin. Let's go home."
Alvin had looked up. His face was ravaged by the elements, his eyes clouded with utter confusion. "Who are you?"
"I'm Nathan. I used to come to your house for dinner. Do you remember?" Nathan had tried patiently.
The old man violently shook his head, pulling away. "I don't know you. I have to go. I need to find my daughter. She's gone."
With trembling, frostbitten hands, Alvin had frantically dug into his plastic bag, pulling out a wrinkled, sun-bleached missing person flyer. He shoved it directly into Nathan’s chest. "Look. Here is her photo. Have you seen her? Have you seen my little girl?"
Nathan had looked down at the twenty-year-old photo of Chloe smiling on the paper. A physical, agonizing pain had ripped through his heart.
"He doesn't know his own name," the officer whispered from behind them. "All he knows is he has to find this girl. We checked her records. Her social security was officially deregistered a decade ago. She's legally dead."
Nathan’s nose stung violently. He looked at the old man’s desperate, hollow eyes.
"Of course I've seen her," Nathan had lied, his voice breaking. "She's my wife, Alvin. Don't you remember? Chloe came home. She's waiting for you right now. She's at our house."
Alvin had frozen. He nodded rapidly, a desperate hope igniting in his eyes. "Yes. Chloe. My daughter's name is Chloe."
"That's right," Nathan squeezed the old man's shoulder.
"Has she... has she really come home?" Alvin asked, his voice trembling like a child's.
"Yes. She's safe. She's home," Nathan had swore, the lie tasting like ash on his tongue.
Alvin had finally smiled, a broken, euphoric grin. "Good. Good. Take me back. I want to go home, too. I want to see my Chloe."
Tears had finally spilled over Nathan’s lashes as he gently hooked his arm under the frail old man, slowly walking him out of the police station and back to Chicago. Nathan had moved him into the mansion, but Alvin's body had completely given out. The old man died in the hospital less than two months later, still believing his daughter was waiting in the next room.
Now, standing in the freezing Minnesota wind, forty-two-year-old Nathan stared down at the granite headstone.
"Alvin," Nathan whispered, his voice incredibly thick, the tears finally sliding down his face as he looked at the photograph of the man who had loved his daughter enough to walk the earth until his mind literally broke.
"I didn't lie to you this time," Nathan rasped to the empty air. "She really did come back."