Page 209 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
“Ben, tell Abe we’re going to need shovels,” Liam yelled back at her father, who they had left standing by the Rover, shaking his head as they darted across Haven’s lawn toward the forest. “Oh, and get my dad!”
Carter jogged to keep up with them. “Why the hell does it always sound like someone is singing out here?”
Holding her veil with one hand, Jamison listened. She might not enjoy wearing wedding dresses in high-stakes situations, but at least this time, she’d had the foresight to put on tennis shoes before they left to get their marriage license. “Still don’t hear anything, Carter.”
“It’s there. I swear, it’s there.”
They were nearing the tree line, with the wide yawning entrance to the forest trails dead ahead. “I know you want to hurry, but maybe we should pause and think about this. I mean, how would Michael know about Haven’s past?” she asked, slightly winded. “How would he know anything about Grace and Tommy?”
“It doesn’t matter.The edge of the stonefinally makes sense. I’ve just been too tired to see it.” Liam squeezed her hand tightly as they ran. “I guess I just needed my wife to help me work through it.”
She would not giggle at hearing him saymy wife. She wanted to. She wanted to go out and meet strangers, saying, 'Hello, my name is Jamison Cohen, and this is my husband.'
And she would.
Later.
Right now, they had a graveyard to dig up.
Hitting the forest trail, Carter skidded to a stop when they reached the fork in the path. “What the fuck?” His head spun around in every direction. “What the hell is out there?”
Liam slowed to a stop. “The first time I came here, the energy in this section hit me so hard I almost drew my weapon.”
“It was cute,” Jamison told Carter. “He tried to protect me and everything.”
“Yeah.” Carter rested his hand on the gun holstered on his hip. “I can understand why people think this place is haunted.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Liam trudged ahead, the temperature dropping the deeper they walked into the forest. The thick canopy above blocked all sunlight, making the entire section feel suffocating with its eerie stillness. Everything would be different once they rounded the curve ahead, and the trees thinned to reveal the graveyard and the bayou beyond. “The graveyard is like nothing you’ve ever seen.”
“So, are we just picking a spot and digging?” Jamison asked as they neared the curve. “Or what?”
“My guess is that he buried the journals under the stone bench Abe placed near the front corner when he overhauled the site. It’s got the best view of the entire graveyard, and you can see the bayou.”
“You can also see the spot where CeCe died if you think about it.” Turning the corner, they stopped, the graveyard waiting on the right and up a small incline. Jamison shivered, unable to stop herself. “Michael probably sat there when he came to see her.”
“Holy. Shit,” Carter exhaled. “This is just here? In what is basically the backyard? A freaking massive graveyard with those creepy spikes and statues and—”
“Dead people,” Liam finished with a pat on Carter’s shoulder. “Welcome to Haven House.”
They walked side-by-side up the slope, the trees groaning around them in the wind. At the tall wrought-iron gates, Carter tilted his head back to take it all in.
“Uncle George would lose his damn mind if he saw this.”
“I don’t know how old the graves are,” Jamison said, weaving through the headstones toward her mother’s. She kneeled and gently brushed the pine needles and moss from the top of Laura Jean’s marker. “But Liam’s right. If he buried them, it’s probably by the bench.”
While Liam and Carter examined the ground near the corner seat, Jamison took a moment to have a long overdue talk with her mother.
“Hi, Mama,” she whispered. “I got married today.”
Smiling softly, she ran her fingertips over the smooth marble. “It wasn’t a beach wedding like we planned, but it was perfect. Daddy cried, and Simone made fun of him. Everyone was able to be there, and I think… I think you were there, too.”
A light breeze gently lifted her veil, teasing it in the air before settling it again against her shoulders.
“I think you'd like him. Liam. He’s steady. Kind. He’s the other half of my soul and never lets me down. Not even with the tough stuff.”
A hush settled over the graveyard, bringing with it the kind of quiet that felt less like absence and more like attention. Like something—or someone—might be truly listening.
“You have a new grandson. His name is Albert Benjamin Fairweather, and he has gray eyes like Evie, but she thinks they’ll turn brown like Samuel’s before too long. I don’t know anything about babies, so maybe Evie’s right.”
