“Good morning, sweetheart,” she says, her voice as wrinkled as the smile lines under her sparkling blue eyes. “Such a blessed day, isn’t it?”
At ninety-two, she’s as sharp as a tack but fragile as china. I loop my arm into hers and lead her carefully down the gravel sidewalk. Her grandson is supposed to mow and maintain the yard, but judging by the overgrown weeds and the grass that hits mid-calf, he hasn’t been here in a while. I mentally add it to my to-do list when Ada stops and squints toward my truck.
“Ooh! We have company today,” she says, suddenly beaming.
“That’s Leighton,” I say. “She’s an … acquaintance.”
Leighton slides from the passenger seat to the middle, giving up her spot for Ada.
“Hi,” she says. “I’m Leighton.”
Ada extends her hand, her veins showing through her paper-thin skin. “Very lovely to meet you, Leighton. I’m Ada Flowers.”
“I love your hat,” Leighton says.
“It was a gift from my granddaughter two Easters ago.” Ada smiles, proud, as I help her up and hand her the buckle of the seatbelt.
Five minutes later, I pull into the church parking lot. The bells play a vaguely familiar tune, not unlike the one they played on our wedding day years ago.
Allison always knew the songs.
I assist Ada, standing back as she takes off down the sidewalk, waving down one of her friends. I try to give her some space here, let her do her own thing. I’m simply her ride—not her keeper.
“You going to go in?” Leighton asks.
I almost forgot she was here.
“Nah,” I say. “I usually wait out here.”
I haven’t been able to step foot in here, not since Allison died. Sitting in the back row, staring at the altar where we said our vows while she’s buried in the cold, hard ground, feels wrong.
Leighton’s eyes slide the length of me. “But you got all dressed up.”
“It’s a sign of respect.”
Her red lips press together, like she’s thinking hard about something.
“Go on in.” I check my watch. “Service is about to start.”
“Come with me.”
My feet may as well be anchored to the concrete as I shake my head. “No.”
“I’d really like it if you came with me. I’m not good at this church stuff. I don’t even know the Lord’s Prayer.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Don’t you just want to feel some peace for one tiny little hour of your life?” she asks. “I know I do.”
“Be my guest,” I say, arms folded as I peer down my nose.
“Why won’t you go in? It’s just a church. Everybody’s welcome.”
“Well aware.”
Leighton places a palm flat in the air before. “Sorry. I’m pushing again. See you in an hour?”
“Yep.”
Slipping a clutch under her arm, she trots across the parking lot and heads for the double doors, disappearing inside.
As soon as organ music begins to play and the latecomers head in, I make my way across the street to Resting Hills Cemetery, picking a handful of wild violets along the way.
Chapter Fourteen
Leighton
“Molly, can I ask you something?” I hand over two cartons of fresh eggs Monday just before lunch.
“Of course. Come on in.” She carries them to her double fridge, frantically moving things out of the way to make room. I can’t imagine it’s easy keeping a stocked kitchen with a house full of growing boys, but somehow Molly makes it look that way.
I follow her, drawing in a deep breath. “What … happened to River’s wife?”
Molly stills before slowly turning to face me. Her face is sheet-white and her hooded eyes open wide.
“Did River … did he tell you?” she asks, speaking slowly.
Shaking my head, I say, “No, no. I found an obituary.”
Molly’s hand splays across her chest and her eyes fall to the floor. She’s quiet, and now I feel like a jerk for even asking.
“It’s okay. It’s none of my business.” I wave my hands, wishing I could erase the last thirty seconds of my life.
“It was a car accident,” she says, eyes still down. “She and Emma were heading into town to grab a few things while River was in the field. Came over a hill on a gravel road and hit a combine head on. Combine was in the middle of the road instead of driving on the shoulder. No one knows why. Guess the farmer just wasn’t paying attention.” Molly sighs, her shoulders rising and falling, and then she shuts the fridge door. “Just a freak accident. An awful, horrible, heartbreaking freak accident.”
I take a seat at her kitchen table, trying to wrap my head around the pain and agony River must’ve suffered at the news that his little family had been taken away in the blink of an eye.
“He still won’t talk about them.” Molly takes the seat beside me, picking at her cuticles. “It’s been five years, and he won’t even say their names. None of us are allowed to either.”
“Everybody deals with grief in their own way. He just needs more time.”
Molly huffs, cracking a humored smile. “You don’t know River. He’s as stubborn as they come. If we let him, he’d go the rest of his life treading the same old water, wallowing in this guilt he’s inflicted on himself.”
“Guilt?”
“He was supposed to run into town. He got behind in the field and she offered,” Molly says. “Not a day goes by that River doesn’t blame himself.”
“Surely he’ll snap out of it someday, right? He can’t go on like this forever … never smiling … refusing to move on …”
Molly’s dark eyes settle on mine. “I don’t think he has any intention of moving on. I think he’s going to stay in that farmhouse all by himself for the rest of his life.” Molly exhales. “That was Allison’s dream home, by the way. I thought you should know that. She loved that house, and I mean loved it. She took such good care of it too. You’d have been proud.”
Warmth washes over me, and my mouth pulls into a tight-lipped smile. “That makes me really happy to hear.”
“Little Emma used to run around the yard barefoot all the time.” Molly stares into the distance, laughing. “Chasing the dog. Getting into trouble. She was always talking too, always asking questions. We always said she had an old soul. She was just wise beyond her short little years.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it would be, as a parent, knowing you weren’t there to protect your little girl.”
“It destroyed him,” she said, shuddering. “I’d never seen a man so shattered, Leighton. For a while there, we were all convinced he was going to die of a broken heart, and that’s not an overstatement. The man wasn’t eating. Wasn’t taking care of himself. Wouldn’t leave his house.”
I sink back in my seat. Everything’s starting to make sense now.
“God, I feel like a jerk,” I say.
“Why?” Her brow arches.
“I was giving him crap for being so temperamental and closed off,” I said. “I should’ve left him alone about it. I had no idea …”
“Don’t beat yourself up. You couldn’t have known.” Molly rises, drawing in a cleansing breath as she fans her face. “Sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve talked about that. Allison was a good friend of mine too and Emma was actually my goddaughter. It all still feels like yesterday, I guess.”