“True. Here’s hoping it decides to arrive more quickly than not.”
“You can’t rush genius. Then again, you’re not a genius. Just my brother…”
I laugh at the goofy face she’s shooting me, then pull her to a stop. “Come on, Squirt.”
“Hey! You can’t call me that anymore.” But her giggle tells me she doesn’t really mind.
It’s good to hear her laugh after all the junk life has put her through. Good to see her happy. I wish she was pursuing her dreams and would find—or at least admit to herself she might have already found—a good man to settle down with. But for now, the laughter’s enough.
And I’m glad I’m here to hear it.
“If the shoe fits. And you do have tiny shoes for your tiny feet.” It’s true. Mare’s petite all over.
Unlike Lucy, whose tall willowy frame puts her much closer to my height. If she was the one standing beside me, I’d only have to tilt my chin down and see right into those big, beautiful blue eyes?—
I nearly groan out loud at the path of my thoughts. Get out, get out, get out of my head!
“It’s Mom’s fault, not mine.” Marilee’s smile trembles. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“To find some inspiration. And finish handing out these fliers.”
We wait for a couple of moms with jogging strollers and then duck up the sidewalk toward Olive Paradise, which sells olive-infused oils and other delicious-smelling knickknacks. Maybe here we can find something to use on my sandwiches.
My arm drops from Marilee’s shoulders to open the door, and a bell jangles overhead. The proprietor, Ned Chamberlain, looks up from behind the reception desk and waves, then goes back to his computer.
Marilee starts toward Ned, but I snag her elbow. “Help me browse for inspiration first.”
Her eyes light up, and she starts perusing. I do the same. Reaching for a bottle, she brings it close, her glasses slipping to the edge of her nose as she reads the label. Then she holds it up and smiles. “Okay, but seriously. Bacon olive oil.”
“Hmm. That could work. But I already have a bacon-inspired sandwich.”
“Oh, true. That’s the one with the maple glaze, right?” At my nod, she purses her lips together and mmms. Then she looks at the bottle again. “I wonder if this would jazz up my corn muffins? Ooo, or we could try it in Mom’s mashed potatoes. What do you think?”
We analyze the pros and cons of bacon olive oil for a few minutes before Marilee decides to give it a try. Sounds like Jordan—who she’s cooking dinner for tonight since she’s babysitting at his house—is going to be the lucky guinea pig of Marilee’s genius. She definitely bakes more than she cooks, but Mom taught us both well.
And once again, I’m caught unaware by the equal parts grief and relief that fill my chest. Grief that I wasted so much time away from the one person who knew exactly what I was feeling the last six years. Relief that I’m finally here.
That I’m right where I should be.
“Mare.” I turn back to studying the labels and absently pick up a bottle, reading the label but not really reading it. “I’m sorry.”
I can feel the heat of her gaze on me. “Sorry for what?”
“That I wasn’t here for you. After…”
Her hand touches my arm. “You were grieving too, Blake.”
“Yeah, but Lucy told me I should stay. She told me about Donny. How bad he was to you.” No, he didn’t hit her, but he bruised her spirit all the same. I can see it now. That Lucy was right.
I shift my gaze again, forcing myself to look at the sister I more than failed.
Her bottom lip is tucked away between her teeth, and she’s staring at the ground. Marilee shakes her head. “Donny was my stupid decision. No one forced me to marry him.” Finally, she looks up at me, and her voice is quiet. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Fine, we won’t. But I’m still sorry. You were dealing with a lot—probably more than I even realized—and then Mom and Dad died. I just…” I rub the back of my neck. This isn’t easy to say, but it should have been said years ago. “I shouldn’t have left like that. Can you forgive me?”
“I already have, Blake.” Then my sister is hugging me around the waist. “I’m just so glad you’re back, even if just for a little while. Though…” She shakes her head. “Never mind.”
“No. What?” If my sister has a request of me, the least I can do it listen to it.