Page 191 of Secondhand Smoke

“I don’t like cheese.” She made a comical face.

“Well, you look really pretty in your dress.”

She might not have appreciated the finer points of sap, but Erin couldn’t resist preening when the chance presented itself. Her expression changed to one of satisfaction as she smoothed a hand down the bodice of her red dress. “Idolike it,” she admitted. “You actually picked out something that looks good.”

“Erin,” Helen scolded.

But when Erin’s head lifted, there were tears standing in her bright, makeup-free eyes. “I kinda can’t believe you’re really getting married.”

“Me either,” Sam admitted.

And then, to her shock, her little sister stepped in close and hugged her. “I’m glad,” Erin whispered. “You deserve it.”

~*~

The best man was bleary-eyed, but in position, and Mercy was standing beside him in case he decided to pass out. Emmie and Holly assured him that every last detail was taken care of, and they were all set to go. The guests were being seated; Stella spotted him where he stood by the arena rail and waved at him with the fringed end of her red scarf. He waved back.

“Sweatin’ bullets yet?” Ghost asked, materializing beside him. These days, he marched through life with a typical president’s blustering, but sometimes, the man slipped back into his original skin, that of the specter who could sneak up on anyone.

Aidan turned to his father. They were both dressed in black button-ups with thermal underlayers, their cuts buffed with oil. Maggie had declared them “mirror images” earlier. So Aidan guessed he was staring at his future self – however exact a replica that might turn out to be.

“Nah,” he said. “Why does everybody keep asking me that?” RJ had gone so far as to say, “I don’t pray, but I’m gonna pray for you, man.”

“It’s just the shit people say. We gotta give you a hard time, you know that.” Ghost’s eyes tracked over him, assessing. “Youarecalm, aren’t you?”

“This is the smartest thing I’ve ever done,” Aidan said. He tried to smile, but it was thin.

Ghost studied him a long moment, then glanced up the hill toward the house, where the women had gone for one last gathering before the bride came down. “Your Sam,” he said, voice edged with faraway emotions of memory, a little nostalgic. “She’s nothing like your mother.” His gaze came to Aidan, and gave him the strong sense that his father was trying to convey something to him, non-verbally. Something urgent; something heneededAidan to understand.

“You know,” Aidan said, “I don’t have any actual memories of Mom.”

“You don’t?”

“I remember the day she left,” he said, recalling the slant of late winter sun through the windows, turning the dust motes into swarms of fireflies. “I remember she wasn’t crying.” He’d thought that strange, for some reason, her with the American Tourister luggage set all stacked up by the door as the cabbie came to fetch them. She’d been in high heels and her mother’s diamonds and she’d looked down at him with the driest, coldest eyes. “She said, ‘You’re better off with him. You’re his kind.’ That was the last thing she said to me, and we didn’t speak again until ten years later.” She’d shown up on the day he should have graduated high school, appalled to learn he’d dropped out.

“But I don’t remember anything else about growing up with her,” he continued. “I almost think my mind just wiped her out.”

“Self-preservation,” Ghost said wryly. “You’re not missing much. She was a shit mom. Always at the salon. She woulda turned you into a total pussy if she’d stuck around.”

They shared a chuckle and matching grins.

“Thank God for Mags,” Aidan said.

“Thank God,” Ghost agreed.

“Dad?” Aidan said, struck with a sudden, intense curiosity.

“Yeah?”

“Were you scared when you found out Ava was gonna be a girl?”

“Shitless,” Ghost assured, nodding. “Having a girl’s different; all you see is every dangerous thing, and all you expect is pink tutus and tea parties.” He smiled. “But then you realize they’re people too, and then you realize they’re damn tougher than you are. Mama died when I was little,” he said, voice going soft, “and then Olivia was everything I’d been told to expect – shallow, vain, vicious. Mags showed me what a strong woman looks like. And then so did your sister.” He put a hand on Aidan’s shoulder and squeezed. “Sam’s strong, and smart. She’ll handle all the shit you can’t. And don’t make the mistake I did,” he added, “and treat your little girl like she doesn’t know her own mind. Save yourself five years of grief, yeah?”

Aidan nodded. “Yeah.”

~*~

There would be many moments in Aidan’s life that awed and humbled him, left him feeling small and reverent. Joyous moments, tragic ones. But as an old man, he would tell his children that the moment of total and complete sea change – the moment that laid the groundwork for all the others, for all gorgeous sights – was the moment their mother walked down the aisle toward him. In a converted riding arena, watched by the only family that mattered to him, under a cold and brilliant January sky, Samantha Walton walked arm-in-arm with her mother toward him.

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