Page 117 of Juniper Bean Resorts to Murder

I clear my throat. “Okay.”

“We are at the cemetery.”

My heart sinks; I knew it.

“If you aren’t ready to be here,” he says in an unusually sincere voice, “we can leave right now. But you’ve been telling me for months that you want to come see Sandy and your mother, and you’ve been putting it off. If you still truly aren’t ready, that’s okay; I’ll turn this car right around.” He hesitates, and his voice is stronger as he says, “But if you’ve reached the point where you’re running away rather than still healing, you might consider getting out of this car with me and going to see them.”

The silence that falls between us is loud, but my heartbeat is louder.

“Take your time deciding,” he says. “Take off the bandana if you want, or leave it on. You decide. Let me know when you’ve made up your mind.” He sighs and shuffles around in his seat. “I’m going to close my eyes and rest for now.”

I reach up and untie the bandana immediately, letting it fall away just in time to miss the sharp sting of tears that comes to my eyes. Then I look over at the man in the seat next to mine.

He’s leaned his chair back, one hand resting comfortably over his stomach. The distant lights of the cemetery illuminate the night just enough for me to see that his eyes are closed, but the hand that’s still holding mine is tight.

He’s awake. He’s just giving me privacy.

And he’s right; I have been putting this off. It’s not a matter of being ready anymore; I’m just scared.

I’m scared to look at the tombstone of Sandra von Meller, who died because she saw me pulling into town.

I’m scared to look at the tombstone of my mother, whose story I now know completely.

I’m scared of what I might feel. It was easier when I felt like Nora Bean had wronged me. What if I still feel angry?

You’re allowed to feel angry,my therapist has told me time and time again.You’re allowed to feel compassion for your mother while also taking issue with how she treated you. You’re allowed to love someone while also being glad they’re no longer part of your life. You can understand why someone treats you badly while also refusing to allow them to treat you that way. Those things are okay.

I believe her. I really do. But understanding something with my brain and understanding it with my heart are two different things, and I still have a ways to go on that front.

I take a deep breath, my eyes searching everything I can see of the cemetery from the car. Then I turn to Aiden.

“Let’s go.”

His eyes pop open immediately, and he nods, putting his chair into the upright position. When his hand lets go of mine and reaches to turn the keys in the ignition, though, I smile.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean let’s goin.”

“Oh,” he says. In the darkness I can see his gaze darting over my face. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I say, a strange peace settling over me. “I’m sure.” Then I look down at my shoes—pink heels that will sink right into the ground. “You gonna carry me?”

A little smile pulls at Aiden’s lips. “Of course,” he says.

I nod, and we both take that as our signal to get out of the car. We drove Aiden’s, sadly; I wanted to take Sunshine to her first prom, but my grumpy boyfriend said everyone would laugh at us if we rolled up in a yellow clunker. That started a long, heated debate about not caring what other people think, which ended with us sprawled on the floor, laughing and kissing and laughing some more.

Aiden rounds the car and pulls me just close enough to drop a kiss on my forehead. Then, without warning, he leans down and scoops me into his arms, the tulle of my skirt spilling everywhere.

“Hey,” I yelp. “Some warning, please.”

“I’m about to pick you up,” he says as he starts out across the gravel parking lot, his voice bland.

I roll my eyes.

He continues to carry me past the parking lot, past row after row of graves, heading toward the back corner where both my mother and Sandra are buried.

We reach Sandy’s grave first; it’s a large, marble affair that shines with the reflected glare of the lights placed here and there around the cemetery. Aiden sets me gently on my feet.

I approach Sandy’s grave with unsteady steps, forcing myself to breathe deeply. And for a few minutes, I just look.

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