Page 131 of Just Like That

“Hey, kid.” I lowered to one knee. “You weren’t supposed to hear all that.”

He raised his chin and his eyes sparkled. “Then you shouldn’t have talked so loud. I did hear it. You love her and you love me and we love you back.”

I glanced up at Hazel, who was crying. She lifted a shoulder and nodded with a smile. “We talked about it. We love youa lot.”

Emotion tightened my throat. I brushed my hand down Teddy’s arm. “Can I take you somewhere? There’s something I’d like to talk with you about.”

We pulledup to Sullivan Farms, and Teddy grinned as Three-Legged Ed ran circles around my car.

“Don’t hit him!” Hazel shouted.

“I won’t.” I put the car in park. “That dog has about twelve lives, but I’m not trying to take one from him.”

My sister Sylvie walked down the porch with little Gus gripping her shoulder. Her hand shielded the sun from her eyes. “Morning! This is a surprise.”

Hazel and Teddy walked with me as I went to her. “Sorry for the intrusion. I was hoping to talk with Teddy up that way.” I gestured toward the small family cemetery where Mom had been laid to rest on their land.

Sylvie offered a soft, understanding smile. “Of course.”

“Did you talk to Abel?” I asked.

Her lips pressed together. “Just a few minutes ago.”

My hand found her free shoulder and I squeezed. “I’m sorry, Sylvie.”

She sighed. “That’s kind of you to say. I’m just wrestling with the guilty feelings ofnotfeeling all that bad about it, you know?”

I swallowed hard. “I know what you mean, but we’ll be okay.”

She smiled and looked down at Teddy, who was letting Ed lick his fingers. “Yeah. We will, won’t we?” She turned her attention to Hazel. “Can I get you a cup of coffee? Tea? I was just making an English muffin with some of Duke’s homemade blueberry jam, if you’d like to sit for a while.”

Hazel looked at me and smiled. “I’d love that.”

I nodded as my sister and Hazel walked up to the porch. “Come on, Teddy. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

A frown dusted across his face, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulder. Together we walked past the large barns and the blueberry fields. Most had been picked over, and the farm itself was in the throes of preparation for winter. We climbed a small hill and wove through trees until a clearing came into view. Headstones dotted the small meadow, some very old and one very new. New grass had grown over her plot and someone—Sylvie, I’m sure—had placed a small bouquet of wildflowers at the base.

Concern laced his sweet face, but he slipped a trusting hand into mine.

We walked to the new headstone.

“Maryann King,” Teddy read aloud. “Who is that?”

I crouched to pick a few weeds around the headstone. “This is my mother.”

Teddy’s eyes went wide.

“She died when I was about your age, but she was missing for a very long time. Now she gets to be here among the trees and the flowers.” I pushed through the ache in my chest. “That way, if any of us ever needs to talk to her, we know where to find her.”

Tears glistened at the corner of his eyes, and his voice was small. “Do you talk to her?”

My lips twisted. “No, I haven’t been very good about that. Sometimes it hurts a lot to talk about her or think about her too much.”

He nodded, because he understood it all too well.

“But I’d like to get better at that and I think coming here is a good start.”

Teddy’s hand gripped mine and gave me the bravery to continue. “I thought maybe if you think she’d like it here, we could lay your mom’s ashes to rest here too. That way you can always come talk with her.”

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