“Peachy,” I told him.
I wasn’t, but hell if I was going to stick around and watch my dad and grandmother duke it out. And no way was I going to hang out at the guesthouse and wait to be summoned. I was sure both Mom and I were going to catch grief for it later, but right now I didn’t care.
“Let’s roll,” I told Cole.
We arrived at the cemetery about fifteen minutes later. It wasn’t a big place, but there were plenty of headstones. Cole parked about midway into the grounds, along a road that never seemed to straighten out as it wove through the many graves. Once he’d parked, we got out and he motioned me over to the left side of the lane. We then picked our way through the gravesites, careful not to disturb any of the flowers and mementos placed there by loved ones.
Cole stopped in front of a brass grave marker and stood there solemnly. For a moment I thought he’d brought me to Amber’s final resting place. When I took in the marker, however, I felt a well of sadness so intense that I sank to my knees. It read simply:
HERE LIES BEN SPENCER
BELOVED SON AND BROTHER
AUGUST 5TH, 1968–MAY 23RD, 1987
“Hey,” Cole said, immediately at my side. “Lily, what happened?”
I shook my head and squeezed my eyes closed, trying to push away the wave of grief that’d come out of nowhere. Taking a deep breath, I let it out as slowly as I could and swallowed hard a few times. When I thought I had a grip, I opened my eyes and tried to smile to reassure Cole that I was okay.
“Sorry about that,” I said, getting to my feet.
He helped me up. “Was it a panic attack?”
“No, nothing like that.” I chanced a glance at the marker again and had to bite my lip to keep myself from crying. “I don’t know what it is. I just saw his grave and I felt so sad.”
Cole gently squeezed my arm. “It’s Amber,” he said. “It’s gotta be her.”
“Oh, wow,” I said, realizing he had to be right. “Of course it is. She catches me off guard all the time, and I never think it’s coming from her until after I’m really upset.”
Cole motioned to his left with his chin. “She’s over there.”
The sight of her gravestone made me super-nervous. “Wow,” I said. It suddenly became very real. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Cole walked close to me as we made our way to Amber’s grave. When we got there, I was stunned. The gravestone was chipped, cracked, and pitted, and there were big black splotches on the white stone that looked like paint. Clearly, the headstone had been vandalized over the years.
“Who would do this?” I asked, bending down to take a closer look.
“Huh,” Cole said. “It looks worse than the last time I saw it.”
“Why?” I said, unable to help myself as I reached out to touch the gravestone. I felt another wave of hurt come over me, but not nearly as intense. Then a burning, fierce anger formed in the pit of my stomach, and I wanted to punch the person or persons who’d done this to poor Amber’s grave.
“Don’t know,” Cole said. “But this isn’t the original gravestone. I think it’s, like, the third one. Maybe the fourth. Her mom keeps replacing it, and some asshole keeps wrecking it. You’d think Mrs. Greeley would buy a brass plaque like my uncle has, but she keeps paying for new white marble headstones.”
“That’s so sad,” I said, thinking of the lovely woman who’d been so kind to me. “Why would someone do this?” I repeated.
Cole shrugged slightly, but I knew the answer, and I suspected he did, too. Someone blamed Amber for Spence’s death.
I put the flowers on her grave and tried to think of what to say. “Amber,” I whispered. “I’m sorry that life didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to. I’m sorry that Ben was killed and that you were blamed for it. I don’t blame you. I know you were innocent. And I don’t know who killed you, but I’m sorry that it happened.”
Next to me, Cole squatted down and lowered his head, as if in respect for my words.
I cleared my throat and struggled with what to say next. “The thing of it is, Amber, I’m really, really tired. Your nightmares aren’t letting me get any sleep. And they’re freaking me out. I want you to know that I’m grateful to you for showing up in my life, but you need to let me go, Amber. You need to let me live as Lily Bennett. You need to let me sleep through the night. Okay?”
I waited then, in silence, not for an answer, but for the feeling that Amber had left me. That what I’d said had convinced her to move on. But I felt no different than I had before I’d come to her gravesite.
“Did anything happen?” Cole whispered after a long pause.
“I don’t know,” I told him. “Maybe.” The weariness I’d been struggling against came back with a vengeance, and I suddenly felt dizzy with fatigue. “We should go,” I said softly.