Page 63 of Captiva Book Club

Becca’s steps were slow, almost hesitant, as if delaying the moment when she would face the reality of their absence.

The green grass underfoot was well-manicured, and the scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the warm, humid air, a reminder that even in winter, Florida held on to its warmth.

When she reached her mother’s plot, a small smile tugged at her lips despite the sadness weighing her down. She held her belly and stood on the uneven ground in front of the headstone. The headstone was simple, just as her mother would have wanted.

Julia Powell: Beloved Wife, Mother, and Friend.

The words were etched into the stone, a permanent testament to a woman who had meant so much to so many.

Becca knelt beside the grave, brushing away the leaves that had gathered around the base. She noticed the fresh flowers immediately--a bouquet of white lilies, her mother’s favorite. Her father must have been here recently. Even now, with his new life and new wife, he hadn’t forgotten.

“Hi Mom,” Becca whispered, her voice trembling as she spoke. She paused, the words catching in her throat. She felt the tears welling up, but she blinked them back, not ready to let them fall just yet.

“I wanted to come talk to you. There’s so much I wish you were here to share with me.”

She reached out and touched the headstone, her fingers tracing the letters of her mother’s name. “I’m pregnant, Mom. I’m going to have a baby. A little girl.” Her voice cracked, and she finally let the tears come. They fell silently, sliding down her cheeks and dropping onto the earth beneath her. “Her name is Eloise Julia Wheeler. I wanted to name her after you, to keep a part of you with us.”

Becca sat back on her heels, her eyes closed as she let the emotions wash over her. The cemetery was quiet, the only sound now the soft rustling of the flowers in the breeze.

“I wish you were here,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wish Gran and Grandma were here too. I feel lost without you all. I want to be strong for my daughter, to give her the same love and wisdom you gave me, but it’s so hard without you.”

The grief she had kept at bay for so long surged up, overwhelming her. She pressed her hand to her chest, as if she could somehow soothe the ache in her heart.

“I wanted to talk to Dad about how I’m feeling, but he’s always so busy with work. I know he’s happy with Ciara, and I’m glad for him, I really am. But it’s not the same, you know? I miss the way things used to be, before everything changed.”

She looked up at the sky, watching as the clouds shifted and darkened. “I’m scared, Mom. I’m scared I won’t be a good mother, that I won’t live up to the example you set for me. I’m scared that I’ll mess up somehow, that I’ll fail Eloise, then feel like I’m failing you.”

Becca took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of the ocean, and she closed her eyes, letting the familiar smell calm her.

“Chris is going to be an amazing father. He’s trying to understand how I feel, but the truth is there are some things that only a mother can help with.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bundle—a knitted baby that she had made herself, soft and pink, with tiny white flowers crocheted along the edge.

“I made this for Eloise,” she said, gently placing the hat on the grave. “I wanted you to have something from her to show you that she’s already a part of our family, even though she hasn’t been born yet.”

Becca stayed beside her mother for a long time, talking to her and her grandparents, talking about her fears and hopes, about the things that had happened since she had last visited. She poured out everything she had been holding inside, letting the tears come freely now, feeling a strange sense of peace even as the grief threatened to overwhelm her.

She stood up slowly, brushing the grass and leaves from her maternity dress, and looked down at the grave one last time.

“I love you, Mom,” she whispered. “I’ll keep coming back, and I’ll bring Eloise with me when she’s born, I promise.”

With one last look at the grave, Becca turned and walked back down the path, her heart a little lighter than before. The cemetery was silent, the only sound now the soft whisper of the wind and the distant murmur of the sea.

Becca knew she wasn’t alone, not really. The women who had shaped her life were still with her, in her heart, in the strength they had given her. She would pass that strength on to her daughter, just as they had passed it on to her.

She got into the car and slowly drove toward the exit. As she reached the gates of the cemetery, she paused and looked back one last time.

Becca smiled softly, her heart filled with love and longing for her mother, Grandmother and Gran, and whispered into the wind, “Thank you for showing me the way. Stay with me. I’m going to need you all, every day…always.”

CHAPTER 22

Maggie spotted Byron Jameson walking up the driveway of the Key Lime Garden Inn, a large poinsettia plant in his hands. She smiled, thinking about how their friendship had improved over the last year. The sight warmed her heart, to see him embrace the spirit of the season despite the difficult year he’d had.

She wiped her hands on a towel and hurried to the door, opening it just as Byron reached the front steps.

“Byron! What a lovely surprise,” she said.

“Good morning, Maggie. Is Paolo home? I thought he’d like to see the beautiful poinsettia plant I bought this morning. He might recognize it since I bought it at Sanibellia,” he said, chuckling and finding humor in his observation.

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