Page 133 of A River of Crows

He gave her a quick kiss. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just the normal.” She inhaled. “The ham smells delicious.”

Dylan carried it into the kitchen. “Can I put it in the oven, so it stays warm?”

“Sure.” Sloan opened the oven door. “The turkey’s certainly not going in.”

“Yeah,” Ridge said. “Should I go change its bathwater?”

Sloan touched the side of her forehead. “Ugh. Just drain the tub and put the bird in the fridge.”

Dylan suppressed a smile. “We’ll cook it over the weekend.”

“I know, I know. You told me, and I forgot.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Dylan pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“So, I get the feeling Ridge wants to go to Dad’s,” she said after Ridge was out of earshot.

“But you still don’t want to?”

“No. I’m too angry.”

“So be angry tomorrow.”

“Huh?”

Dylan wrapped his arms around her. “Remember? Today’s Thanksgiving. No being angry on Thanksgiving.”

Sloan pursed her lips. “I should have never agreed to that.”

“I get it, I do,” Dylan said softly. “But Kyle apologized. Brad and Felicity have always been cool to you. Anna took you to see your dad as a kid. Can you imagine what she was going through, yet she still did that? And I understand you don’t want to hear this, but nobody killed your mom.”

Sloan pulled away. “You don’t know that.”

Dylan sighed. “What I do know is you can’t let bitterness poison you. Not like Caroline did. You’ve got to let this go, Sloan.”

This wasn’t like Dylan to challenge her, but he was right.

Ridge came down the hallway, carrying a turkey wrapped in a bath towel. “You may want to bleach your tub,” he said. “Unless you want to soak in salmonella.”

“Ridge, what would you say to having lunch at Dad’s?” Sloan asked.

Ridge stopped. “Really?”

“Why not?” Sloan shrugged. “You came all this way for a turkey. I’m sure Anna’s isn’t still dripping with dirty bathtub water right now.”

“You sure it’s okay?” Ridge asked. “You aren’t going to get angry at them?”

She took Dylan’s hand and squeezed. “No, not today.”

“Well, that was awful,” Sloan said as she spread out a blanket at Crow’s Nest Creek that evening.

Ridge plopped down. “Not awful, just awkward, but I could tell it meant a lot to Dad. Hey, here they come.” He looked up at the sky as a group of crows flew overhead. “Dylan didn’t want to join us?”

“He said he was tired, but I think he just wanted to give us some time alone.” Sloan looked out at the river. The rough water frothed and crashed—like it was vying with the crows for Sloan’s attention. She thought back on all her times here at Crow’s Nest Creek. Her earliest memory here came to mind first. Standing in a shallow ford of the river, holding hands with her parents, singing “Ring Around the Rosie.” They’d circle, fall, splash, laugh, stand up, and do it all over again.

Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down.

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